thinking. Another connection to Vietnam. She handed the bag to Chen. She dry-swallowed another white pill, then studied me for a moment with a deep vertical line between her eyebrows.
'I want to try out something on you.'
'What?'
'Over by your house, this guy doesn't leave anything, one measly little partial that we could barely see. Here,
he leaves crap all over the place.'
'He felt safe here.'
'Yeah. He had a good spot down here where no one could see him, so he didn't give a shit. I'm thinking that if he got careless down here, maybe he got careless up at the street, too. There aren't many houses on this stretch, and we got that construction site right here around the curve. I've gotta call Gittamon and have patrol pull the door-to-door to this side of the canyon, but there aren't that many people to talk to. By the time Gittamon and the uniforms get out here, you and I could have it done.'
'I thought I wasn't supposed to be involved.'
'I didn't ask for a lot of conversation. You want to do it or you want to waste time?'
'Of course I want to do it.'
Starkey glanced at Chen.
'You tell anyone, I'll kick your ass.'
We left Chen calling SID for another criminalist, and walked back along the curve to the construction site. A single-story contemporary had been ripped apart to expand the ground floor and add a second story. A long blue Dumpster sat in the street in front of the house, already half-filled with trimmed lumber and other debris. A framing crew was roughing in the second floor while electricians pulled wire through the first-floor
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conduit. Here it was late fall, but the workmen were shiftless and in shorts.
An older man with baggy pants was bent over a set of plans in the garage, explaining something to a sleepy young guy wearing electrician's tools. The drywall inside the garage and the house had been pulled down, leaving the studs exposed like human ribs.
Starkey didn't wait for them to notice us or excuse the interruption. She badged the older guy.
'LAPD. I'm Starkey, he's Cole. Are you the boss here ?'
The older man identified himself as Darryl Cauley, the general contractor. His face closed with suspicion.
'Is this an INS thing? If someone's sneaking under the wire, I got a signed bond from every sub saying these people are legal.'
The younger guy started away, but Starkey stopped him.
'Yo, stay put. We want to talk to everyone.' Cauley darkened even more. 'What is this?'
Talking to people wasn't one of Starkey's strengths, so I answered before he decided to call his attorney.
'We believe that a kidnapper was in the area, Mr. Cauley. He parked or drove on this street every day for the past week or so. We want to know if you noticed any vehicles or people who seemed out of place.'
The electrician hooked his thumbs on his tools and perked up.
'No shit? Was someone kidnapped?'
Starkey said, 'A ten-year-old boy. It happened the day
before yesterday.'
'WOW.'
Mr. Cauley tried to be helpful, but explained that he
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divided his time between three different job sites; he rarely stayed at this house more than a couple of hours each day.
'I don't know what to tell you. I got subs coming and going, I got the different crews. Do you have a picture, what do they call it, a mug shot?'
'No, sir. We don't know who he is or what he looks like. We don't know what he was driving, either, but we believe he spent a lot of time around the curve where your crew is parked.'
The electrician glanced toward the curve.
'Oh, man, that is so creepy.'
Cauley said, 'I'd like to help, but I don't know. These guys here, their friends drop by, their girlfriends. I got another site over in Beachwood, last month a limo pulls up with all these suits from Capitol Records. They signed one of the carpenters to a record deal for three million
dollars. You never know, is what I'm saying.'
Starkey said, 'Can we talk to your crew?'
'Yeah, sure. James, you wanna call your guys? Tell Frederico and the framers to come down.'
