“Because they’re busy. You want to run it down for me or not?”

“I already told you.”

“From the start, Powers. You told me what you did once you checked the car out. What made you check it?”

“There’s nothin’ much to tell. I usually make a pass by here each watch, chase away the dirtbags.”

He pointed across Mulholland and up to the crest of the hill. There was a line of houses, most on cantilevers, clinging to the crestline. They looked like mobile homes suspended in air.

“People up there call the station all the time, say they got campfires going down here, beer parties, devil worship, who knows what. Guess it ruins their view. And they don’t want nothin’ to spoil that million-dollar view. So I come up and sweep out the trash. Mostly bored little pissants from the Valley. Fire Department used to have a lock on the gate here, but a deuce plowed through it. That was six months ago. Takes the city at least a year to repair anything ’round here. Shit, I requisitioned batteries for my Mag three weeks ago and I’m still waiting for them. If I didn’t buy them myself, I’d be working the fuckin’ night watch without a flashlight. City doesn’t care. This ci-”

“So what about the Rolls, Powers? Let’s stay on the subject.”

“Yeah, well, I usually make it by after dark, but because of the show in the Bowl I swung by early today. Saw the Rolls then.”

“You came on your own? No complaint from up the hill?”

“No. Today I just cruised it on my own. On account of the show. I figured there might be some trespassers.”

“Were there?”

“A few-people waiting to hear the music. Not the usual crowd, though. That’s refined music, I guess you’d call it. I chased ’em out anyway, and when they were gone, the Rolls was what was left. But there was no driver for it.”

“So you checked it out.”

“Yeah, and I know the smell, man. Popped it with the slim and there he was. The stiff. Then I backed out and called the pros.”