7

Chaz Bowen lived in the second-floor apartment of a brownstone in east L.A. Donnie deciphered his name from the scotch-taped name tags peeling away from the buzzers, and rang the bell. There was no answer. He rang it again. Finally the intercom clicked on and a groggy voice growled, “Who the hell is this?”

“Donnie Martel.”

Moments later the door buzzed open. Donnie went up the steps to find Chaz hanging out his apartment door.

“You want to tell me what the hell happened?” Chaz demanded.

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” Donnie said, and walked in the door.

“You give me an assignment and you don’t know what’s going on? Piece of cake, you said. How hard can it be? Movie producer.” Chaz snorted. “If that guy’s a movie producer I’m a state senator.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are. We’re looking into it.”

“‘Looking into it’? Not good enough. I’m charged with attempted burglary. I can’t afford a conviction. What are you going to do about that?”

“Just keep your mouth shut and you’ll do fine.”

“That’s what the lawyer said. Then I got charged.”

“And released. That’s the important thing. Don’t worry about the charge. It’ll never get to trial. The important thing is you’re out on bail. You keep quiet, we keep you out of prison, that’s the deal. Let’s drink to it. You got any booze?”

“I got some sour mash.”

Donnie repressed a shudder. “Great. Pour me one.”

Chaz went to the cabinet and took out the bottle of whiskey.

Donnie stepped up behind him and shot him in the head.