probably way outta line there anyway. I mean, the police computer isn't exactly dial-a-job."
"Right."
"Hey, well, it was just a thought. You're looking good, man. Stay healthy and God bless. You're on my prayer list."
"Your what?"
"Found Jesus. A lot happens in four years. Go figure. Spent twenty years living a bullshit life before I discover the Big Guy is my savior. Now I got Jesus and Louie."
"And just who the hell is Louie?" Shane was grinning.
"Louie is the god of all moviemaking. If Louie smiles on you, you get big stars, big grosses, and it never rains on your beach shoot. In the film business we learn these things. Take care, Shane."
Nicky turned to walk down the corridor, and Shane felt instantly bad about brushing off the favor. How hard would it be to help little Nicky? Nicky, who had helped Shane with dozens of useful tips and never asked for anything in return.
"Hey, hold on," Shane called out, and Nicky turned to look back. "I changed my mind. I gotta go down to my old homicide table tomorrow to pick up my duty jacket anyway. I'll get somebody to run her. Gimme your card."
"You always were my favorite copper, even when you had the cuffs on too tight." Nicky grinned and pulled out an alligator wallet, removed some expensive-looking cards, then handed one to Shane. There was a logo of the Roman Colosseum embossed in gold. Under that it said:
CINE-ROMA -NICHOLAS MARCELLA, C . E. O .
"Carol White," Nicky said, "spelled just like it sounds."
"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow if I get anything."
They separated and Shane prowled around. He was really having a good time now. He had a second scotch on the rocks, spent some time talking to Catherine Zeta-Jones, and then later, Alexa was back at his side.
"Hi. Where'd you go off to?" Shane asked.
"Just meeting the other bridesmaids and looking at pictures of the dresses Nora ordered for us. I can't believe they're getting married in ten days."
"Right, right . . . I was just saying the same thing to Catherine Zeta-Jones," Shane said, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth.
"Get outta town. . . . Where?"
Shane pointed to the beautiful actress, who was wearing capri pants and a crop-top. She caught Shane's eye as he pointed her out to Alexa and waved at him.
"Down, girl," Alexa growled, then her expression changed. Now it was her no-nonsense look, the one she wore downtown at Parker Center.
"I've gotta go. We got a one eighty-seven out in Sunland that the CRASH unit is worried about. They want me to roll on it." She held up her cell phone. "Just got the call."
"Really? Who died?"
"They think it's Kevin Cordell, but the D . B . took so much lead that they're gonna have to do the I . D . with dentistry."
"Sometimes good old street justice works," Shane said, thinking it was about time somebody put Kevin Cordell on the ark. Kevin's street name was Stone, and he'd been a Crip O . G . for over twenty-five years. Stone ran the Front Street Crips, who pretty much controlled the major drug action throughout South Central L . A . Except for a nickel jolt at Soledad for accessory to second-degree murder, up to now he'd largely escaped justice.
"If it's really Stone, it could create a power vacuum an d w e could end up with Crips and Bloods shooting each other and anybody else who gets in the way," Alexa said.
"You need the car. . . . I can drive you."
"No. Nora will be really upset if we both leave early. The Sheriff's Department is doing us a favor and sending a unit over from the substation here. They'll taxi me over the hill."
"You really think they need the head of the entire Detective Services Group standing at a crime scene, looking down at the vic while a bunch of lab techs roll the body?"
"Hey, they're my detectives. I go whenever I'm asked. Besides, I'm only the acting head of DSG, so I try harder. I'm just holding that post till the chief appoints a captain to the job."
"Honey, Filosiani isn't going to replace you. You're acting head only because
"Right."
"Hey, well, it was just a thought. You're looking good, man. Stay healthy and God bless. You're on my prayer list."
"Your what?"
"Found Jesus. A lot happens in four years. Go figure. Spent twenty years living a bullshit life before I discover the Big Guy is my savior. Now I got Jesus and Louie."
"And just who the hell is Louie?" Shane was grinning.
"Louie is the god of all moviemaking. If Louie smiles on you, you get big stars, big grosses, and it never rains on your beach shoot. In the film business we learn these things. Take care, Shane."
Nicky turned to walk down the corridor, and Shane felt instantly bad about brushing off the favor. How hard would it be to help little Nicky? Nicky, who had helped Shane with dozens of useful tips and never asked for anything in return.
"Hey, hold on," Shane called out, and Nicky turned to look back. "I changed my mind. I gotta go down to my old homicide table tomorrow to pick up my duty jacket anyway. I'll get somebody to run her. Gimme your card."
"You always were my favorite copper, even when you had the cuffs on too tight." Nicky grinned and pulled out an alligator wallet, removed some expensive-looking cards, then handed one to Shane. There was a logo of the Roman Colosseum embossed in gold. Under that it said:
CINE-ROMA -NICHOLAS MARCELLA, C . E. O .
"Carol White," Nicky said, "spelled just like it sounds."
"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow if I get anything."
They separated and Shane prowled around. He was really having a good time now. He had a second scotch on the rocks, spent some time talking to Catherine Zeta-Jones, and then later, Alexa was back at his side.
"Hi. Where'd you go off to?" Shane asked.
"Just meeting the other bridesmaids and looking at pictures of the dresses Nora ordered for us. I can't believe they're getting married in ten days."
"Right, right . . . I was just saying the same thing to Catherine Zeta-Jones," Shane said, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth.
"Get outta town. . . . Where?"
Shane pointed to the beautiful actress, who was wearing capri pants and a crop-top. She caught Shane's eye as he pointed her out to Alexa and waved at him.
"Down, girl," Alexa growled, then her expression changed. Now it was her no-nonsense look, the one she wore downtown at Parker Center.
"I've gotta go. We got a one eighty-seven out in Sunland that the CRASH unit is worried about. They want me to roll on it." She held up her cell phone. "Just got the call."
"Really? Who died?"
"They think it's Kevin Cordell, but the D . B . took so much lead that they're gonna have to do the I . D . with dentistry."
"Sometimes good old street justice works," Shane said, thinking it was about time somebody put Kevin Cordell on the ark. Kevin's street name was Stone, and he'd been a Crip O . G . for over twenty-five years. Stone ran the Front Street Crips, who pretty much controlled the major drug action throughout South Central L . A . Except for a nickel jolt at Soledad for accessory to second-degree murder, up to now he'd largely escaped justice.
"If it's really Stone, it could create a power vacuum an d w e could end up with Crips and Bloods shooting each other and anybody else who gets in the way," Alexa said.
"You need the car. . . . I can drive you."
"No. Nora will be really upset if we both leave early. The Sheriff's Department is doing us a favor and sending a unit over from the substation here. They'll taxi me over the hill."
"You really think they need the head of the entire Detective Services Group standing at a crime scene, looking down at the vic while a bunch of lab techs roll the body?"
"Hey, they're my detectives. I go whenever I'm asked. Besides, I'm only the acting head of DSG, so I try harder. I'm just holding that post till the chief appoints a captain to the job."
"Honey, Filosiani isn't going to replace you. You're acting head only because
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