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“True.”
“I mean, he threw a lieutenant through a glass window in the watch office once. They still talk about that at Hollywood Division.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
After they parked in the garage at the Cleopatra, Ballard reminded Maddie to follow her lead during the play with Rodney Van Ness. The strategy they had discussed while in the car was simple: Set him up with questions that would reveal his level of candor. If he lied, that would give them leverage.
There was a line of people snaking through a velvet-roped warrenin the lobby of the hotel. They were all waiting to check into their discounted rooms. Ballard scanned the space until she saw a man in a blue blazer with the telltale radio wire coiling up out of his collar and looping into his ear. She tapped Maddie on the arm and nodded in the man’s direction.
As they approached, Ballard pulled her badge off her belt, palmed it, and flashed it discreetly to the security man.
“We’re over from LAPD on a case,” she said. “Can you ask Rodney Van Ness to meet us in the lobby?”
“I don’t know who that is,” the man said.
“Last we checked, he was a security supervisor here.”
“Don’t know any Rodney Van Ness.”
Ballard nodded. There was no law about lying on LinkedIn. She started to wonder if the trip had been for nothing and blamed herself for not confirming Van Ness’s employment before leaving Los Angeles. It wasn’t hard to imagine what Captain Gandle’s response would be.
“Then could you call a supervisor down to talk with us?” she asked.
“That I can do.”
He raised his wrist to his mouth and spoke into a radio transmitter. He asked someone named Marty to come talk to two detectives from the LAPD.
“Marty will be down in five,” he said. “Wants you to wait over by the concierge.” He pointed across the lobby to a counter that had its own line of people waiting for attention.
“Thank you,” Ballard said.
“Hey, are they hiring at the LAPD?” the security man asked.
“These days, they’re always hiring,” Ballard said.
He looked at Maddie for a moment. “You seem kind of young for a detective,” he said.
“She just solved the biggest case in L.A. history,” Ballard said.
“Yeah?” he said. “Was it the O.J. case? You found out who really killed Nicole?”
“Funny,” Ballard said. “But not quite.”
They left him there and walked across the lobby to the concierge desk. They took a position to the side so people wouldn’t think they were trying to jump the line.
“It’s not officially solved yet, you know,” Maddie said.
“What do you mean?” Ballard asked.
“Black Dahlia. The DA has to sign off on it.”
“Maybe so, but I consider it solved and a closed case.”
“How long will it take them to decide?”
Before Ballard could answer, they were approached by a woman who also wore a blue blazer and had a wire loop over her ear, though hers was better camouflaged by her long hair.
“Are you the detectives from L.A.?” she asked.
