“Take it as a compliment. Besides, how do you know he’s a sleazeball?”

“Who else would you be asking me about?”

“He’s a music producer. A former partner of Primo Ekerling.”

“The guy stuffed in the Benz.”

“Good memory.”

“My brain may be swimming in booze, but alcohol is a wonderful preservative.”

“Ekerling and Banks were in a punk group called the Doodoo Sluts in the late eighties.”

“I was twelve, Decker.”

“You’re a musician.”

“Classical musician.”

“Ever heard of the group?”

“Rings a tiny bell. What do you want with Banks?”

“Banks isn’t returning my phone calls.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.”

“You have any suggestions as to how I might get his attention?”

“No.”

“Do you have any relative in the recording industry that might evoke some reaction in the man?”

Donatti laughed. “I have friends everywhere. Watch your back.”

“I could give you the same suggestion. How about a name?”

Silence over the line. Decker waited him out. “Sal Crane.”

“Sal Crane,” Decker said as he wrote it down. “What does Sal do?”

“Sal does a lot of things.”

“In the music business?”

“How should I put this?” A long pause. “Sal works in…compensation. For instance, if a group covers a song, Sal makes sure that the original artists get royalties.”

“Using his name might be helpful then. Would he mind if I used his name?”

“No, he wouldn’t like it at all. But if you mention him to Banks, I’m betting that he wouldn’t call Sal to verify that you’re a friend. And even if he did, Sal wouldn’t take his call. Sal doesn’t like to be bothered by the little folk. It makes him irritated.”

“Sal’s got a temper?”

“Don’t we all.”

CHAPTER 17

RINA POURED THE coffee. “Who were you talking to in the closet last night?”

Decker hid his face behind the newspaper. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you get up, close the closet door, and speak in low tones.”

Busted. “A snitch.”

Rina grinned. “Sure you weren’t playing virtual life behind my back?”

“Check my computer,” Decker said. “If there’s anything racier on it than the Porsche Turbo convertible, I plead guilty.”

Rina sat down. “First of all, why would you be speaking to a snitch? And second, why was your snitch calling you so late?”

“In answer to your first question, I’m working on an actual homicide instead of doing paperwork like a normal lieutenant. A lot is riding on a solve and I need help. Second answer is, snitches don’t keep banker’s hours.” He looked at her and smiled. “Any other questions, Ms. Curious?”

“Just one. Do I have to be careful?”

Decker looked at his wife’s face—a mask of concern. “About what?”

“About weird people showing up on our doorstep.”