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parking lot. Across the street on the next block stood a new apartment building, and Matt had counted twenty-five units with windows and balconies.
    Before Matt left to give Laura the news, he and Cabrera had received word that a man fitting the description of the three-piece bandit had botched a holdup five blocks away about an hour before Hughes was killed. It didn’t feel like much of a long shot that the robber had become frustrated and moved to the lot behind Musso & Frank. When he spotted Hughes in the SUV, he tried again.
    Matt glided off the freeway and blew through the first red light on Los Feliz Boulevard. As he raced up the hill, rain began pelting the windshield, and he could feel his tires slipping on the asphalt. He glanced at the speedometer—a cool fifty—then looked back at the road. Water was already beginning to stream along the curb. He tightened his grip on the wheel and eased into the left lane instead of slowing down.
    Matt had transferred from the Pacific Division but was well aware of the string of holdups that had been occurring in Hollywood and along the Strip. The flyer that patrol units were passing out tonight had been posted at every station in Los Angeles County for the last six months. With each new holdup, victims were interviewed and reinterviewed, the flyer updated, and the composite sketch refined.
    A white male in his midtwenties, average in height and build, wearing shades and a hooded sweatshirt was too common to make an impression on anyone in LA. But the shirt and tie underneath, the gray flannel slacks, and the gun he was holding did. Even more, one of his first victims happened to be a gun enthusiast and was able to identify the pistol as a Glock 20. In spite of the heavy firepower, the young man’s demeanor hadn’t appeared overly threatening. According to most witnesses, he was soft-spoken and polite, the holdups conducted quickly, oftentimes while victims were distracted and just getting out of their cars. Months earlier, when the LAPD began passing out flyers in concert with the Sheriff’s Department in West Hollywood, a reporter from the Los Angeles Times read the description of what sounded like a young urban professional and gave the robber a nickname that stuck: the three-piece bandit.
    Matt didn’t like the nickname because he thought it softened the blow. No one who conducted their business at gunpoint could be considered soft-spoken or polite.
    The rain picked up in a hard wave and sounded like stones hammering the roof of the car. Matt slowed some as he hit the light at Franklin, then floored it down Western. Once he made the right onto Sunset, he thought about the gun. The Glock 20. It had been mentioned in the flyer and on TV, along with advice to the public on how to act if they were ever confronted by the man.
    If you must reach for something or move in any way, tell the robber what to expect so that he won’t be startled. A suspicious move may trigger a violent reaction, endangering your life and others. Follow the robber’s commands, but do not volunteer to help. The longer the robbery takes, the more nervous the robber may become, escalating the chances of a violent outcome.
    Matt wondered how Hughes had handled himself. His gut told him that Hughes knew the drill and would have complied. That there was no reason to fire the gun. No reason for the man in the suit to become a killer. Any response from Hughes would have occurred after the holdup, when the robber backed off and tried to get away.
    Matt drove down Wilcox and pulled into the lot behind the station. As he ran through the cold rain, all he could think about was Cabrera. He hoped his new partner had lucked out. He hoped Cabrera had snagged them a witness, or even better, a lead.

CHAPTER 6
    He found them in Grace’s office and, from the sullen looks on their faces, knew that something had happened and that it probably wasn’t good.
    Grace closed the door and moved over to his desk. Cabrera