“What if she lawyers up?” Marge asked.
“Then that'll tell us something.” Another call was coming through the line. A private number. “Someone's breaking in, Marge. Set something up with Melinda and let me know, okay?”
“Will do. Good luck.”
Decker hung up and took the private call. “Decker.”
“What do you want?”
The low, smooth voice was instantly recognizable and made Decker sit up in the cruiser and grab his pencil and note pad. Normally, he would have thanked Donatti for calling back, but there was no such thing as chitchat with Chris. “What do you know about the Bennett Little murder?”
A long silence over the line. “You suspect me?”
“So far as I can tell, you were fifteen and in New York when it happened. Am I wrong?”
“Then why are you calling?”
“You were in L.A. when the murder was still fresh. You're a good listener. Maybe you heard something.”
Another pause. “It was a long time ago, and I have a substance abuse problem. If I ever had any long-term memory, it's gone by now.”
“But you remember the case.”
“A guy gets hit, you're wondering who's working the territory.”
“You think it was a hit?”
A small laugh came over the line. “Uh, yeah.”
“But no idea who?”
“Before my time. Is that all?”
“Speaking of abuse problems, I heard that Little's wife had a secret of her own.”
Another pause. “She gambled. What was her name? Rhoda, Melinda?”
“Melinda. Where'd you know her from?”
“My uncle was a silent partner in several card houses in Gardenia.” A beat. “This was a long time ago. Joey let go of the casinos ten years ago. He's dead, you know.”
“I do know.”
“Good riddance.”
“What can you tell me about Melinda Little.”
“I was sixteen. The woman was a MILF.”
“A MILF?”
“Mother I'd Like to Fuck. Red hot. What does she look like now?”
“She's still hot. Did her hotness get her into trouble back then?”
“Not with me, unfortunately.”
“Could there have been someone else?”
“There always could be someone else, but nothing I remember.”
“Did she owe your uncle money?”
“Decker, I didn't keep track of her. I had just moved out to L.A. and had my own problems. If she was in hock big-time, I never knew about it.”
“How about a cop named Calvin Vitton?”
A pause. “Vaguely familiar.”
“He worked the Little case. He just blew his head off this morning.”
“If I were you, I'd look into that.”
Decker made a face, although Donatti couldn't see it. “Thanks for the advice. Can you tell me anything about Vitton?”
“I recall that he was an old guy …” Another pause. “Let me think about him.”
“Fair enough. How about a guy named Primo Ekerling.”
“He's a music producer,” Donatti told him. “What'd he do?”
“Someone whacked him and stuffed him into the trunk of his Mercedes in a manner reminiscent of Bennett Little's murder.”
“This happen recently?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“Hmmm … can't keep up with everything. You might want to look into his case, too. Maybe Ekerling and the cop and Little share a common link.”
“And what might that be?”
Another small laugh. “You expect me to do your work for you?”
“You owe me one for plugging me.”
“No, no, no. I settled the score with that one, pal. If anyone owes, you owe me.”
“Bullshit. That one doesn't count.”
“Ask your sons if it doesn't count.”
Silence. Then Decker said, “Call me if you think of something.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Just because you would.”
“Why don't you call me if you think of something? 'Cause from where I'm sitting you're not only barking up the wrong tree, you don't even have a stump to piss on.”
MELINDA LITTLE WARREN was not surprised by the detectives at her door. “You should have called first. I'm about to go out.”
As the inscrutable Colonel Dunn would have said: the woman was a cool cookie. Even her blond hair was more ice than amber. She wore a kelly green silk blouse and a pair of chino pants. Her feet were housed in rhinestone sandals. Marge said, “How about giving us a few minutes?”
“If I thought this would only take a few minutes, I would let you come in. And if I thought it would help Ben's case, I'd let you come in. But I know what it's about because you've probably talked to the bastard.”
“The bastard?” Oliver asked.
“Don't play coy with me!” She was red with anger. “That man is a liar!”
“So tell us your side, because right now all we've heard is his story.”
“Like you give a solitary damn … oh fuck!” She threw open the door and walked away. The detectives took it as a sign to continue the conversation indoors.
The view from inside was lovely, but Melinda didn't notice. She was too busy pacing back and forth. “The fact that I may have had a little problem a long time ago does not impact upon what I told that tall detective. And it has zero to
