The Last Detective
checked his pager, looking unhappy with me.
    “We don't know that, Mr. Chenier. Once SID reaches the scene, we'll investigate more thoroughly. Mr. Cole might be jumping at conclusions without enough evidence.”
    I said, “I'm not jumping at anything, Gittamon. I came here because I want you to see for yourself. SID is on the way now.”
    Richard glanced at Gittamon, then stared at Lucy.
    “No, I'm sure that Mr. Cole has it right. I'm sure this man is every bit as dangerous as Cole believes. Cole has a history of drawing people like this. A man named Rossier almost killed my ex-wife back in Louisiana thanks to Mr. Cole.”
    The corners of Lucy's mouth tightened with pale dots.
    “We've been over that enough, Richard.”
    Richard kept going.
    “Then she moved here to Los Angeles so another lunatic named Sobek could stalk our son—how many people did he kill, Lucille? Seven, eight? He was some kind of serial killer or something.”
    Lucy stepped in front of him, and lowered her voice.
    “Stop it, Richard. You don't always have to be an asshole.”
    Richard's voice grew louder.
    “I tried to tell her that associating with Cole puts them in danger, but would she listen? No. She didn't listen because our son's safety wasn't as important as her getting what she wants.”
    Lucy slapped him with a single hard shot that snapped on his cheek like a firecracker.
    “I told you to stop.”
    Gittamon squirmed as if he wished he were anywhere else. Myers touched Richard's arm.
    “Richard.”
    Richard didn't move.
    “Richard, we need to get started.”
    Richard's jaw knotted as if he wanted to say more but was chewing the words to keep them inside. He glanced at Lucy, then averted his eyes as if he suddenly felt awkward and embarrassed by his outburst. He lowered his voice.
    “I promised myself I wouldn't do that, Lucille. I'm sorry.”
    Lucy didn't answer. Her left nostril pulsed as she breathed. I could hear her breathing from across the room.
    Richard wet his lips, the awkwardness giving him the air of a little boy who had been caught doing something naughty and embarrassing. He moved away from her, then shrugged at Gittamon.
    “She's right, Sergeant—I'm an asshole, but I love my son and I'm worried about him. I'll do whatever I can to find him. That's why I'm here, and that's why I brought Lee.”
    Myers cleared his throat.
    “We should see this hill Cole described. Debbie's good with a crime scene. He should be in on this.”
    Gittamon said, “Who's Debbie?”
    Richard glanced at Lucy again, then sat on a hard chair in the corner. He rubbed his face with both hands.
    “Debbie DeNice; it's short for Debulon or something. He's a retired New Orleans detective. Homicide or something, right, Lee?”
    “Homicide. Phenomenal case clearance rate.”
    Richard pushed to his feet.
    “The best in the city. Everyone I brought is the best. I'll find Ben if I have to hire Scotland-fucking-Yard.”
    Myers glanced at Gittamon, then me.
    “I'd like to get my people up to your house, Cole. I'd also like a copy of those names.”
    “Starkey has the list. We can make a copy.”
    He glanced at Gittamon.
    “If SID is on the way, we'd better get going, but I'd also like a quick brief on what we know and what's being done, Sergeant. Can I count on you for that?”
    “Oh, yes, absolutely.”
    I gave him directions to my house. Myers copied them onto a Palm Pilot, then offered to carry Ben's computer down to Gittamon's car. They left together. Richard followed after them, but hesitated when he reached Lucy. He glanced at me, and his mouth tightened as if he smelled bile.
    “Are you coming?”
    “In a minute.”
    Richard looked at Lucy, and the hardness around his mouth softened. He touched her arm.
    “I'm staying at the Beverly Hills on Sunset. I shouldn't have said those things, Lucille. I regret them and I apologize, but they're true.”
    He glanced at me again, then left.
    Lucy raised a hand to her forehead.
    “This is a

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