“Not always. Sometimes they’re not.”

“Or maybe he got arrested as an adult.”

“That I have checked out. Banks was hauled in for disturbing the peace, drunk and disorderly, and a DUI when he was in the Doodoo Sluts. The incidents took place in West Hollywood and out of town. Nothing he did went down in our district, so Vitton wouldn’t have dealt with Banks on those charges.”

“Too bad.”

“I’m still thinking about what Banks could have done as a teenager…” Decker drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. “It’s true that Banks’s juvenile records might be sealed. But even if the records are sealed, memories aren’t. Vitton’s partner, Arnie Lamar, is still alive—at least for the time being.”

Cindy made a face.

“I meant it as a joke, but maybe I’m a little worried about him. Anyway, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to pay Lamar a visit on Sunday and tell him my concerns. And while I’m there, I’ll ask if a guy named Rudy Banks ever showed up on their radar.”

CHAPTER 21

THE SHELL OF a 240Z took up valuable driveway space. It had no tires, no seats, and no interior to speak of except for the dash and steering wheel—both original and in surprisingly good shape. The chassis had been lifted upward and was resting on a set of bricks. The Datsun had several generous dents, and the silver paint job was faded and pocked with orange rust stains. But even so, it was a good-looking car—streamlined and way ahead of its time. There was a tool-box nearby, but no feet were sticking out from underneath the car’s carriage. The doors to the four-car garage were closed.

Decker scanned the yard for signs of Arnie Lamar, but came up empty. The ground had been baked from the recent heat wave, turning stone hard with sizable cracks. Red ants were scampering in and out of the fissures. The metal scrap strewn and spangled across the front area reflected blinding sunlight.

Walking up to the front door, Decker got a hinky twinge when he saw that it was wide open, although the screen was closed and locked. He knocked on the doorjamb, gently at first, then louder when he didn’t get a response.

This was not promising.

Looking through the mesh, Decker could make out Arnie’s tidy but dimly lit living room. He could hear a whirring fan and feel a tepid draft blowing out the door.

What to do?