the way in, I called Bill Vose to get an update. He sounded like he got less sleep than I. “The story seems to check out. Your friends left Sarah alone


and went to dinner. They were at the Fireside on Ventura Boule- vard. There is no sign of forced entry at the house. We contacted William Smythe-Jones, Sarah’s father. He’s flying in this afternoon, private jet to Santa Monica. “The car from the Bowl is clean; no prints. It was stolen a week


ago in La Habra. The ME says Sarah’s death was as we thought. She bled out after a wound to the femoral artery. It was not from close range; no pow- der burns. She would have gone quickly. Had she been in a hospital or had medics nearby, there would have been a chance, but a layman could not have controlled the bleeding. One of those things.” “Well, Bill, that leaves us with a lot of questions. It also revolves


sniff around an active police investigation, get deeply involved, probably have a high-speed chase or two, fire off a few rounds, and bring in the bad guys – all tied up in a nice red ribbon for us dumb cops to take off your hands?” I smiled. Bill had been my boss at the LAPD, more years ago


No one kills someone, blocks my car, involves my family, and gets away with it.


around me. They wanted me as the go-between. My only con- nection to Sarah was her friendship with Shirley’s sister in law, and that’s pretty remote. ... “Maybe I should look into the parking operation at the Bowl.


Someone there made sure that I parked in just the right spot and that only one specific car parked behind me. And they had to have set it up quickly, after Sarah was shot.” Bill said, “So you are going to go to the Hollywood Bowl and


than I liked to think. We had been down this path before, and he knew when I had something lodged in my craw I was going to work on it until it was resolved. In this case, I had been invited. My business card was found with Sarah’s body. Someone wanted me very close to this case. They were going to get their wish. “Why don’t we meet at


Ford’s in Culver City tonight and compare notes?” “OK, Paul, but don’t …” His voice trailed off. Bill


knew his warnings made lit-


tle difference to me. No one kills someone, blocks my car, involves my family, and gets away with it. I chuckled as I thought about the last sentence – blocking a car in LA was right up there with killing someone. I picked up Paulo at the office and we went to the headquar-


ters of Southern California Valet and Park. We were met by the owner, Antonio Petrochelli. I explained why we were there and he nodded. The police


had talked to him. He asked his Bowl site manager to come in. Jose Continued on Page 50


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