No Cure For Love by Peter Robinson Read Free Book Online Page A

interviewing someone outside the Criminal Courts Building. Arvo turned south on Spring.
    The Threat Management Unit, part of the Detective Support Division, was located at 419 Spring Street, the south-west corner of Spring and Fourth, in the heart of shabby downtown Los Angeles. Across the street was the run-down façade of the old Pacific Grand Hotel – which now looked like the kind of place even a hooker might avoid taking her client – and a liquor store barricaded with mesh and metal grilles against the street people and aggressive panhandlers who infested the area.
    Arvo took the elevator to the fourth floor, turned left and walked along the flecked carpet. The unit was located at the far end of a largely empty open-plan office. The desks faced one another, each with a teal blue divider coming up to about shoulder height when the person was sitting, so the detectives could see one another over the tops. The lieutenant had his own desk at the far end.
    ‘Well, if it ain’t Pro -fess-or Hughes,’ said Eric Mettering when Arvo walked up to his hutch. There were only eight detectives on the Unit at the moment, and most of them were out. Eric had hung his jacket over the back of his chair. His top button was open and his tie loose. He ran his hand over his shiny bald head. ‘How’d it go?’ he asked.
    ‘Fine,’ said Arvo. ‘Had them hanging on my every word. Anything new?’
    ‘Nope. Pretty quiet morning, so far. Apart from the phone’s been ringing most of the time.’ He pointed to Arvo’s desk. ‘One for you. Called twice.’
    Arvo checked the message. It was from Stuart Kleigman, asking him to call back. Arvo knew Stuart, had worked with him before, and knew he wasn’t the kind of guy to cry wolf.
    Stuart answered on the third ring. ‘Arvo,’ he said. ‘Good of you to call. Can you come over to the studio?’
    ‘Problem?’
    ‘Weird letters.’
    ‘Hold on.’ Arvo covered the mouthpiece. ‘Where’s Maria?’ he asked Eric. He wanted to talk to her about the paperwork on the Sandi Gaines case.
    ‘Out in Devonshire talking to some guy who’s scared shitless his ex-wife’s gonna do a Bobbit number on him.’
    ‘When d’she leave?’
    Eric looked at his watch. ‘About half an hour ago.’
    Devonshire. The Valley. It was just after noon now, so that meant she wouldn’t be back for a while. Hell, the paperwork could wait. He took his hand off the mouthpiece. ‘Stu?’
    ‘Yeah. Look, Arvo, I can come over to Spring Street if it’s a problem for you.’
    ‘No problem. I’ll be there soon as I can.’
    ‘Great. Thanks. See you soon.’
    Arvo told Eric where he was going, then he left the building and got into his car again. The engine was still warm after his drive back from Pasadena.
    The security guard at the studio gate eyeballed his ID and waved him through. Arvo parked in the visitors’ lot and walked over to the long, narrow office building. He checked in at reception and went up to Stuart’s second-floor office.
    The door was ajar. Arvo tapped lightly and went in. He had already heard the TV set from the corridor and remembered it from his last visit. He wondered if Stuart always had it turned on while he was working. Right now it was showing a Flintstones rerun. Yabba-dabba-doo .
    ‘Coffee?’ Stuart offered.
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘Sit down.’ Stuart picked up the phone and ordered.
    ‘Can you turn the TV down?’ Arvo asked.
    ‘What? Oh, sure.’ Stuart pressed the mute button. Arvo could still see Barney Rubble from the corner of his eye.
    ‘You get used to it,’ Stuart said. ‘Can’t think without it on these days. And at least it’s a kind of constant noise, covers up the racket outside.’ He pointed to the window. Arvo had heard some shouting, so he went over and looked out.
    Opposite Stuart’s window was a street that the studio had constructed for a movie set so long ago no one could remember its title. But the street remained. It looked like thirties New York to Arvo –