“I insist.” He waited for O’Dell a little longer than he should have. Finally, when Liam was in the stairwell and in front of him, Decker let the door close. They went down to the first floor without talking, drowned out by the clops of the shoes banging on steel steps.

WHAT DECKER HAD pictured in his mind was an almost forty-year-old rock star gone to seed—overweight and with a puffy face from alcohol and drug abuse. But as recently as a year ago, Rudy Banks was a good-looking man—a lean jaw with an aquiline nose, clear blue eyes, a clean white smile, and a cleft chin. He had dark curly hair, a couple days’ worth of beard growth, and his mug could have been on Page Six in the New York Post, the caption saying he was an up-and-coming actor.

The man’s image was so out of sync with his rotten personality that Decker checked several “find a face” search engines just to make sure he had the right guy. What had happened in this person’s life to turn someone that handsome into such a bitter, crude, and rude human being?

Maybe it was precisely because he had been good-looking. Being Mr. Adonis often led to failure to thrive; it simply wasn’t necessary to develop more substantial attributes.

Decker felt a presence over his shoulder and looked up from the screen and into the eyes of his elder daughter.

“Very nice,” she remarked.

“No, actually, he isn’t at all.”

“What did he do?”

“So far nothing.” Decker gave Cindy a peck on the cheek. “When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

He smiled at his detective daughter. She wore a simple black dress and black heels. Her hair was aglow with the colors of a raging fire. “You look lovely.”

“I try.”

“Where’s my man Koby?”

“He’s coming later.” She pulled up a chair next to him. “So who’s the guy?”

“Rudy Banks. He was a founding member of a punk band called the Doodoo Sluts. So was Primo Ekerling.”

“Aha.” She peered at the computer and started reading the text. “I heard that you and Rip Garrett reached a semi-rapprochement.”

“It’s always better to have cooperation than animosity. And why semi?”

“Rip and Tito still aren’t thrilled by your interference. But at least they don’t glare at me anymore.”

“Father knows best.”

“Father is what got me on the hot seat in the first place.” She stood up. “Why don’t you print out some of Rudy’s articles and we can go over them after dinner. Right now I’d like to help Rina in the kitchen. Not that she needs my help. She seems to have everything under control—like always.”

Decker pressed the print button. “I can help Rina. Why don’t you go spend some time with Hannah? She seems to prefer you to me.”