“You married the guy.”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said, looking down into her drink, waiting for Parker to drop it, but he was waiting her out, and she blinked first.
“I thought he was the love of my life. Turned out I wasn’t the only one who thought that.” She shrugged and made a funny face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “
“Nope. I’m still working on the joy of being me.”
“There he is,” Kelly said, nodding across the room. “Caldrovics. He’s coming from the back. Must have been in the men’s room. Greasy hair, scruffy goatee, looks like a homeless person.”
“Got him,” Parker said, sliding off the bar stool.
“And for God’s sake,” Kelly said, “whatever you do, don’t mention my name.”
He put some bills on the bar to cover the tab, then made his way across the room, through the yuppies in heat, past a couple of old bulldogs arguing about the president’s Middle East policies. None of Caldrovics’ pals noticed him approaching their booth. They were too caught up in themselves and in some tale Caldrovics was telling as he stood at the end of the booth with his back to Parker.
Parker put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Mr. Caldrovics?”
The expression was unpleasant surprise with a base of suspicion. He was maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. He still had acne. He was probably still having flashbacks of being sent to the principal’s office.
“I’d like to have a word with you, please,” Parker said. He cupped his shield in his hand and flashed it discreetly to Caldrovics.
Before the rest of the table could become interested, Parker moved away from it, his hand still resting firmly at the base of the kid’s neck.
“What’s this about?” Caldrovics asked, dragging his feet.
“Doing your civic duty,” Parker said. “You want to do your civic duty, don’t you?”
“Well—”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know your first name.”
“Danny—”
“Can I call you Danny?” Parker asked, walking him toward the back hall. “I’m Detective Parker, Kev Parker. LAPD Central Division, Homicide.”
“Homicide?”
“Yeah. When one person kills another person, that’s called homicide.”
“I know what it means.”
They went out the back exit to an alley where a couple of bar staffers were having cigarettes and looking bored.
“Let’s take a walk, Danny,” Parker suggested.
“This isn’t a very safe area.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m carrying a loaded weapon,” Parker said, tightening the tenor of his voice a little more with each word. “Two, actually. Do you have a gun, Danny?”
“Shit, no!”
“Well, that’s all right. I’m sure you’ll never need one.”
Caldrovics tried to put the brakes on. “Where are we going?”
“Just over here,” Parker said, giving him a little shove as they passed a Dumpster, where they couldn’t be seen by the employees behind the bar. “I thought a little privacy would be a good thing. I don’t like people eavesdropping on conversations. You know, like reporters. They never get the facts right, do they, Danny?”
He pulled his service weapon from his belt holster and kicked the side of the trash container. The sound reverberated like a gong. “Everybody out!”
Caldrovics jumped back, wide-eyed. “Shit, man! What are you doing?”
“Damn pipeheads,” Parker complained. “They’re always back in these alleys like rats in the garbage. They’ll slit your throat for a dime.”
The security light behind the building had the astonishing white brightness of a full moon. Parker could see the kid’s every expression but the kid couldn’t see his. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face.
“I need to ask you a couple of questions, Danny,” he began. “About that little bit you had in the paper this morning regarding the murder of Leonard Lowell, Esquire.”
Caldrovics took a step back toward the Dumpster.
“I’m the primary investigator on that case,” Parker said. “That means everything comes through me. Everyone who has anything to do with or to say about that case has to come to me.”
“I don’t have—”
“It’s protocol, Danny. I’m a stickler for protocol.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Caldrovics muttered.
“Excuse me?” Parker said, taking an aggressive step forward. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
“No.”
“Then you’re just stupid. Is that it?”
Caldrovics backed up another step, but Parker closed the space between them by another foot. “You’re so stupid you’d stand here and disrespect me to my face?”
“I don’t have to take shit from you, Parker,” Caldrovics said. “I did my job—”
“You’re not impressing me here, Danny. You’ve really gotten off on the wrong foot.”
“You can’t harass me like this,” Caldrovics said.
“What are you going to do? Tell on me?” Parker laughed. “You think I give a shit what anybody thinks of me? You think anyone gives a shit about what you have to say with no corroborating witness?”
They were close enough to kiss. Caldrovics was nervous, but doing a good job of trying not to show it.
“What have you got in your pockets, Danny?” he asked quietly. “You got a tape running?”
“No.”
Parker stuck a hand in the left pocket of the kid’s army surplus jacket, then in the right. He came out with a microcassette recorder.
“It’s not smart to lie to me, Danny,” Parker said, clicking the thing off. “The fuse on my temper right now is the size of an eyelash. I’ve got a murder that smells like week-old oysters, and you’ve got information I need. And now you’re lying to me.”
“I don’t know who killed the guy!”
“No? You seem to know things the rest of us don’t. How is that? Maybe you killed him.”
“You’re fucking crazy! Why would I kill him? I never met the guy in my life!”
“For money, for a story, for him having pictures of you doing bad things with little boys—”
“This is shit,” Caldrovics declared. He tried to sidestep Parker. Parker shoved him back against the Dumpster.
“Hey!” Caldrovics snapped. “That’s assault!”
“That’s resisting arrest.” Parker put both hands on him, turned him around, and slammed him face-first against the steel container. “Danny Caldrovics, you’re under arrest.”
“For what?” Caldrovics demanded as Parker pulled one arm and then the other behind him and slapped on cuffs.
“I’ll think of something in the car.”
“I’m not getting in a car with you, Parker.”
Parker jerked him away from the Dumpster. “What’s the matter, Danny? I’m a police officer. Didn’t your mother tell you that the policeman is your friend?”
“What the hell is going on back here?” Andi Kelly rushed around the side of the Dumpster and skidded to a halt at the sight of Caldrovics in cuffs and Parker pushing him toward the alley.
“Kelly?” Caldrovics looked at her, astonished.
“I saw you go out the back way with him,” she said. “It didn’t look right.”
“Butt out, Kelly,” Parker snapped. “What the hell are you doing out here? Looking for a headline?”
