years ago. A third entry was scrawled and difficult to read, but I could make out enough of the letters. Det. K. Diaz. Diaz had taken the file almost eight years ago, and never returned it.
I thanked the clerk, then went back to my car. The train was gone. The earth no longer shook with its enormous rolling weight, but somehow the parking lot and train yard seemed smaller without it. I called Diaz on her cell, but her message picked up. I asked her to call, then phoned her office. A duty detective named Pier-son answered.
"She isn't here."
"When do you expect her?"
"Got no idea, man. You want to leave word?"
"How about Pardy?"
"Pardy isn't here, either."
I left word they should call, then hung up. Police officers never list themselves in the phone book. They stay unlisted so the criminal sociopaths they arrest can't shoot out their windows. But Diaz had given me her cell number, and cell accounts have billing addresses. I called a friend of mine at the phone company. She used the number to identify Diaz's cell provider, from whom she obtained the billing address. A cop would need a court order for something like this, but Dodgers tickets work even better.
I looked up the address on my Thomas Brothers, then went to see what I would find.
Diaz lived south of Sunset Boulevard in Silver Lake, on a winding street that had once been crowded with Central American refugees. The bottom half of her duplex had recently been painted a bright turquoise blue, but the tiny front lawn was nappy from poor care. I parked on the upslope, then went to her door. I knocked. The building was so small the pounding must have filled the little apartment.
"Diaz, it's Cole."
I tried the door, then stepped back and studied the upstairs apartment to see if anyone was home. I couldn't tell. I knocked again.
"Diaz?"
A horn honked behind me. I turned, and saw Pardy idling in the street. I wondered if he had been watching the house or following me. He tapped his horn again, and waved me over.
"What are you doing here, Cole?"
I hesitated. I wanted to tell him about the murder book, but I also wanted to see what was inside her house.
"I dropped by to see her. How about you?"
Pardy glanced toward the apartment like he knew I was lying, and ignored my question.
"Is she home?"
"She didn't answer."
"Didn't answer her phone, either. C'mon, get in."
"I'm okay."
"It's too hot to stand out there. C'mon, sit where it's cool."
I went around the tail of his car, and got in. He studied me, and I wondered what he was thinking.
He said, "Diaz never told me you were friends. How do you know where she lives?"
"She gave me her address."
"Was she expecting you?"
"I just dropped around. I wanted to talk about Reinnike."
Pardy nodded, but didn't comment, and I wondered again why he was here.
"How about you, Pardy? Are you close to making an arrest?"
"I'm working on it."
"So you came over to talk about it with Diaz."
"That's right."
"Why not just talk at the office?"
Pardy checked his rearview mirror, then studied her apartment as if he expected to see something new. He made no move to move the car.
"Let me ask you something, Cole. Did you find anything that explains why Reinnike had those clippings?"
"No."
"Nothing that connects you to him?"
"Nothing."
Pardy stared at me, and I stared back. He glanced at her apartment again, and I was sure we suspected the same things. He just couldn't bring himself to say it.
"Now I have a question for you, Pardy. What if I said a cop killed him? What would you say to that?"
"I'd say you'd better have your facts together and your ass covered. I'd say you better have a slam-dunk case with every i dotted and t crossed. If you don't, you'd damned well better keep your mouth shut until you do."
"Did you talk to Chen?"
"Yeah, about the registration. I spoke to the sheriff up in Canyon Camino a couple of hours ago. Keller owns a gas station up there. So far as the sheriff knew, Keller never said anything about a son. He said Keller lived alone."
"Do they know why he came to L.A.?"
"Didn't even know he was missing. They're going to try to locate a next of kin."
"Did you tell them about the arrest you're thinking about?"