Liam smiled, showing a mouth of brown teeth. “You’re a fan, eh?” Decker smiled enigmatically. “Let me tell you something, mate. Rudy is not only a prick and an asshole, but a sellout as well. Have you heard the shit he’s been producing?”

“Pretty bad, huh?”

“That’s the master of the understatement. Luckily the fans have spoken. His new CD tanked.” O’Dell shrugged. “I was in the area. Thought I’d give it a go before lunch. You know even if he was there, he wouldn’t answer. He knows the wolves are after him. How much does he owe you, mate?”

Decker said, “Actually nothing…”

“How’d you manage that?” The hazel eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re here to arrest him? A fuckin’ all right! Can I watch?”

“I’m sorry to dash your hopes, sir, but I just came to talk.”

His face fell. “Not as sorry as I am. I’ll make a bet with you. I bet you won’t be able to talk to Rudy more than five minutes without wanting to murder the son of a bitch.”

“I’ve heard similar sentiments,” Decker said. “I’ve also heard that he’s making money doing the ‘best of’ albums.” He looked pointedly at O’Dell. “Including the Best of the Doodoo Sluts.”

“I’m dealing with it legally.”

“Then this visit was for what purpose?”

“The bastard was trying to nick us blind,” Liam said. “Just a friendly talk before lunch.”

Decker didn’t answer.

O’Dell said, “It was actually Primo’s idea to fight back.” He paused. “Poor Primo. You must have heard about that one.”

“One of the reasons I’m here.”

“Why talk to Banks about Primo? They’re at war.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless you think that Banks…?” The idea of Rudy as a killer struck O’Dell as hilarious. His laughter sounded like dry hacking. “It’d be grand to pin Primo’s murder on Rudy, but I think you’re looking the wrong way. Banks doesn’t have the balls for it.” O’Dell’s eyes clouded. “Didn’t they arrest the fuckers who wiped Primo?”

Decker mopped up his brow. “It’s really hot here. You said you’re about to eat lunch. How about we do that and I’ll buy.”

O’Dell grinned. “You really are a fan, eh? Or maybe you’re one of those sneaky-arse reporters who’ll do anything to get the inside story of the Sluts.”

“No, I’m a cop. I saw a coffee shop down the street. How does that sound?”

“Bert’s? You ever eaten there, mate?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“The grease is so thick it drips off the ceiling.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll stay clear of Bert’s. Do you have a suggestion?”

“How about Millie’s?”

“Sure,” Decker said. “Where is it?”

“Three blocks away. We can walk it.”