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don’t approve of—”
    “I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupted.
    She sighed heavily. “I just want you to be happy. I know you haven’t been happy this past year. So if going back will make you happy, then go back. You’ve got my blessing.”
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    She kissed me on the cheek and said, “
Gay Gezunt
.”

CHAPTER 2
     
    As we strolled down the brick path toward the sidewalk Duffy complained, “I had to park two blocks away. Not a single spot on this street. I guess there’s still enough Jews left in this ‘hood who can’t drive again until sundown tomorrow.”
    I wasn’t in the mood to chitchat with Duffy; I would have preferred to hit the crime scene alone. But I knew that since I was returning to Felony Special, I would have to keep it civil with him and maintain a rapport. If I wasn’t able to do that, there was no point in returning. He was my boss and there was nothing I could do about it. There would be a time to confront Duffy. It just wasn’t now.
    Duffy kicked an empty Old English 800 malt liquor can into the gutter. “This street has hit the fucking skids. You ought to get your mom out of here.”
    “I’ve tried. But she can walk to the synagogue. Her Hadassah chapter’s only a few blocks away. And one of her yenta friends still lives down the street. So she won’t budge.”
    Duffy slapped the back of my head. “She’s stubborn as hell—just like her son.”
    We walked the rest of the way in silence, past dozens of families on their way to shul, the men in dark suits and yarmulkes, the women wearing imposing hats and pushing strollers, the boys with their long side curls. We passed a duplex on the corner—Mrs. Pearl’s place, my mother’s last remaining friend in the neighborhood—with the only other garden that was still lush. The hibiscus in the front yard sprouted blood red blossoms and the flowers on the thick stands of oleander were so milky white they appeared to glow. The breeze carried the scent of gardenias.
    We climbed into Duffy’s unmarked Crown Victoria, raced down Fairfax, pulled onto the Santa Monica freeway, and then headed south on the Harbor Freeway, toward San Pedro.
    “So what’s happening with the Patton murder?” I asked. “I assume if someone had cleared it, I’d have read about it in the paper.”
    “Still unsolved.”
    “Who at Felony Special is working it?”
    “After all the hubbub surrounding the case,” Duffy said with a sour expression, “I had to ship it out. It’s being handled by South Bureau Homicide.”
    After Duffy and I left the unit, they changed the name to Criminal Gang Homicide Division, but everyone still called it South Bureau Homicide. “Christ, I mumbled. “They making any progress.”
    “I have no idea. I’m out of the loop on that one.” Duffy flashed me a sly look. “I know you’re probably figuring that while you’re working Relovich, you’ll have time to track the Patton homicide, too. Squeeze in some interviews, check out some suspects. Well, get that out of your mind. I want a full-court press on Relovich. I don’t want you distracted. That Patton case has caused you enough grief. Let South Bureau handle it. Leave it alone.”
    “I was thinking—”
    “I want you thinking about the case at hand. Forget Patton. Concentrate on Relovich. I called the Harbor Division lieutenant before I came over and he gave me a quick rundown. Homicide was last night. Coroner investigator gives time of death at around twenty-three hundred. The knucklehead busted out a back window. Probably a junkie hot prowl. Relovich’s wallet was open with cash missing. Ex-wife said Relovich always wore his father’s lapis ring and old Hamilton watch. Both were ripped off. Neighbors already been canvassed. No one heard the shot. No one saw anybody suspicious on the street. The next morning a neighbor looking for a lost dog knocked on the door, didn’t hear an answer, looked through a window and saw the body. Detectives