“Doesn’t sound like Schwinn’s secret girlfriend,” I said. “Or maybe I’m being sexist; I suppose women can steal cars, too.”

“This was no amateur. I print-powdered the wheel and the door handles. Nada. Nothing on the book other than my paws. They put the crook-lock back on. Picked it, didn’t slice it.”

“Same question,” I said. “A criminal pro, the department, or a rogue cop?”

“A rogue cop would mean Schwinn had a buddy back then or made a new one. I never saw him hang with anyone. The other detectives seemed to shun him.”

“Any idea why?”

“At first, I figured it was his charming personality, but maybe everyone knew about his bad behavior, could see he was ready for a fall. Everyone except me. I was a dumb-ass rookie caught up in my own paranoia. At the time I wondered if I’d been paired with him because I was seen as a pariah, too. Now, I’m sure of it.”

“Not that much of a pariah,” I said. “They got rid of him and transferred you to West L.A.”

“Or I hadn’t accrued enough time on the job to accumulate embarrassing information.”

“Or to develop street sources. Like the one who cued Schwinn right to Janie.”

He fingered the edge of the blue cloth binder. “Another burnout cop . . . maybe. But why send this to me a week after the deluxe version?”

“More covering of the rear,” I said. “Pacing himself. He couldn’t be sure you’d be seduced. You started investigating and qualified for the next installment.”

“More installments coming?”

“Could be.”

He got up, circled the room, returned to the desk but remained on his feet. I’d kept the drapes drawn and a razor edge of light ran across his torso diagonally, a luminous wound.

I said, “Here’s yet another theory: The IA man who interrogated you along with Broussard—Poulsenn. Any idea what happened to him?”

“Lester Poulsenn,” he said. “Been trying to recall his first name, and it just came to me. No, never heard of him again. Why?”

“Because the real target of renewing interest in the case could be Broussard. John G. built his career on an upright reputation, exposure of a cover-up would destroy him. Lester Poulsenn could have a good reason to resent Broussard. Think about it: A black man and a white man are partnered, but the black man is put in charge. Then the black man ascends to the top of the department ladder, and the white man’s never heard from again. Was Poulsenn also drummed out due to bad behavior? Or maybe he wasn’t good at keeping secrets. Either way, we could be talking about one disgruntled gentleman.”