CHAPTER 16It was still dark when I pulled off the freeway in West Los Angeles and called Lieutenant Shapiro. He wasn’t in and I left a message with his sergeant.
“Here’s what to do,” I said. “Pick up Joe Caccelli on the complaint I told the Lieutenant I would sign. Pick up Ed Fogel the movie director on a charge of conspiracy in kidnapping—Caccelli’s charge. Bring them both to twenty-six-oh-five Redgrave Avenue in Culver City, to identify the body of Michele Armande. Better start now.”
“I’ll call the Lieutenant,” he said.
I got back on the freeway and drove to Culver City. Not till then did I give much thought to the load I was carrying. The sweat broke out all over me at once. I slowed to forty-five miles an hour and hugged the right side of the road. I tried to think of what a highway
