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different light. Her appalling childhood experiences explained so much of her behavior. “Records,” a formal voice said. “Jackson speaking.”
    “Hey, Dana, what’s up?”
    The voice relaxed as Dana Jackson recognized her caller. “Don’t even ask. It’s been crazy around here, all the gangs shooting each other and anyone else who gets in the way.”
    Pacific Division was responsible for a twenty-four-square-mile territory covering Venice Beach, Oakwood, Mar Vista, Playa de la Reina, where Claudia lived, and Westchester, an area attractive to tourists, and rife with gangs and drug dealing.
    “Keeps you in a job,” said Claudia. “Yeah, thank you so much, Ms. Citizen,” Dana said sarcastically. “Hey, I’m glad you called. Much as I hate to admit it, I’m dating another cop. I’ve got some of his handwriting to show you.”
    “Send it over,” Claudia said with sudden envy. Lately, it seemed as if all her friends had new loves in their lives. They all wanted her to analyze their handwriting samples, while she hadn’t dated anyone steadily in more than a year. In fact, over the last few months she had dated very little. Her personal life seemed to be headed nowhere. She could practically feel her allure slipping away.
    “I need a favor, too,” Claudia said. “I have to find the investigator on a case I’m working. He’s either from Wilshire or Beverly Hills. His name’s... hold on.” She read the note she had scratched to herself during her last update with Ivan Novak, where she had filled him in on her meeting with Nelson, and her lunchtime conversation with Zebediah. “It’s Vanderbosh. Detective Eugene Vanderbosh.”
    “Vanderbosh?” Dana repeated. “Sorry, girl, he’s in the hospital. Last I heard, he’s not expected to make it.”
    “No shit? What happened? Shot in the line of duty?”
    “Nah, heart attack. Too many donuts.”
    “Your compassion is touching, Dana.”
    “Aw, he’s a fat fuck. No one around here’s sheddin’ a whole lot of tears.”
    “My client didn’t think much of him, either,” said Claudia, idly doodling boxes around the edges of the electric bill that lay on her desk. “Listen, this is a suicide case. The heirs want me to look at the handwriting on the note. Can you find out if someone examined it on your side?” Dana gave a contemptuous snort. “Knowing Vanderbosh, he probably just made something up. That’s the kind of hardworking sumbitch he is. Was.” Claudia heard her fingernails clicking on her keyboard. “Someone has to be filling in for him on his cases. Let me find out who it is and get back to you.”
    “Can you get me the autopsy report, too?”
    “Why do you need that?”
    “For the tox screens. I need to know exactly what drugs were in her system. If she actually wrote the note, the drugs would have an effect on her handwriting.”
    “I get it. Okay, I’ll see what I can do. I can probably get you a cleansed copy of the Incident Report, too.”
    “Cleansed?”
    “The witnesses’ names are redacted. That’s blacked out to you.”
    “What’s the point of that?”
    “Hey, if someone got pissed off about something they read in our report and went after a witness, we’d be in deep shit. Gotta protect our asses from lawsuits, you know?”
    “Yeah, I bet. Okay, thanks, Dana, I owe you.”
    “That’s right, you do. I’ll fax you my guy’s writing when I send the reports. Just tell me the bad stuff. I already know the rest.”
~
    Claudia was rinsing out the plastic tray from her frozen lasagna when the phone rang and Kelly’s number popped up on Caller ID. She hadn’t heard from her friend since the funeral reception on Saturday.
    “Where have you been?” asked Claudia. “I’ve been calling you.”
    The boozy voice that answered was an instant red flag. “You gotta help me, Claudia.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “You have to tell me what to do. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. Help me!”
    “Take it easy, Kel, just