“We also have a link between Arlington and Cal Vitton. Cal interviewed him.”

“Yeah, Arlington does seem to have a few fingers pointing at him.” Decker drew arrows. “We have Arlington and Little, Arlington and Banks maybe—and Arlington and Cal Vitton. Nothing so far between Arlington and Primo Ekerling.”

“We have Banks and Ekerling, Banks and Little, and maybe Banks and Arlington. But not Banks and Vitton.” Marge thought a moment. “And let me add something more to the mix. When Darnell was in high school, he hung out with a bum crowd. He gave me a list of his old peeps. His two best friends had hopes of becoming rappers.” She consulted her notes. “Jervis Wenderhole, who went by the name of A-Tack, and Leroy Josephson, who became Jo-King. I found out that Josephson died. I don’t know where Wenderhole is, but I do know that he cut a couple of demos. He wasn’t very successful, but Rudy wasn’t a very successful music producer.”

“I’ll look into it.” Decker shrugged. “I think we need to explore this Banks and Arlington link. At least those two are still alive. Now Banks isn’t returning my phone calls. I’ve got one more secret weapon. If that fails, I’ll start hitting the streets.”

CHAPTER 18

ALTHOUGH DECKER HAD never met Rip Garrett, he recognized him by the look: overworked, underpaid, and pissed off. Physically the detective appeared to be in his thirties, medium height, medium weight, with a full head of dark hair and light brown eyes. He wore a tan suit, a white shirt with a wrinkled collar, and a red tie. Decker introduced himself, and the two shook hands. As soon as both men were seated at a corner booth and the waitress had taken their orders, Decker explained the situation and began in earnest to eat a few bites of crow.

“I should have called in the beginning. I wanted to see what I could find on my own before I bothered you.”

Rip Garrett looked him over. There was still anger in his voice. “Doesn’t look like you’re any farther along than when you started.”

“No, I’m farther along. I’ve now got a dead cop to contend with.” Decker gave a shrug. “He took a lethal dose of sleeping medication and had powder burns on his right hand. But I’m waiting for the official report. The fact that it’s taking a while makes me suspicious…that someone could have done it for him postmortem.”

“And why would you think that?”

“The timing. It gives me a bad feeling when I call up and arrange an appointment to talk to the guy about a fifteen-year-old case and he turns up dead.”

Garrett said, “Must be your karma.”