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The two of them had posed flanking a city councilwoman, everyone with cocktails in hand. Gregory Blanding was tuxedoed, silver-haired, thickset, and bespectacled, with a warm smile. Renata wore a clinging, sleeveless yellow dress that set off long, center-parted black hair. Strong shoulders and a lean build suggested regular gym attendance. Also smiling, but with considerably less wattage than her husband.
I logged off and went outside to catch some sun before we clouded her day. Milo showed up early and we took off.
We’d barely exited my property and begun rolling down the bridle path that connects to the Glen when he said, “Any suggestions how to approach her?”
“Don’t know her.”
“You didn’t look her up while you waited?”
I stared at him.
He said, “Hey, you’re not the only one who can get clairvoyant.”
I told him what I’d learned.
He said, “Snagged herself a doctor.”
I said, “You’d know about that. And come to think of it, maybe your doctor knows her doctor.”
“Hmm. Why not.”
He phoned the man with whom he’d been living since I’ve known him. Richard Silverman is a trauma surgeon at Cedars-Sinai with a work schedule that rivals Milo’s. They don’t see much of each other but that seems to work out.
Milo managed to catch Rick between cases. “How’s your day going?”
“It’s going,” said Rick. “Actually, it’s going okay. What’s up?”
“I’m in the car. Alex is here.”
“So I shouldn’t say anything inappropriate.”
“Like that would happen,” said Milo. “We’re heading off to do a notification.”
“Oy,” said Rick. I’ve never seen him fazed by the blood, gore, and agony he sees every day. Emotional challenges are a different story.
“Oy, indeed, kiddo. I’m calling because my victim’s stepdad is a medico. ENT named Gregory Blanding. Know him?”
Rick said, “He’s in the tower on Century Park East, big group, they do a lot of ears but he’s throat. He also attends here. Never worked with him but we were on a committee together. Standards of care. He came across as a nice guy. Has a good reputation medically. That’s about it.”
Milo smiled. “Thanks. Thoughts on dinner?”
“If you can wait until nine thirty, ten, I’m game for a sit-down. No wine, though. Up early tomorrow.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Milo.
“Better than doing nothing. Right, Alex?”
I said, “You bet.”
Milo said, “I get famished, I’ll eat earlier then renew the experience with you.”
Rick said, “I figured.”
After ending the call, Milo said, “Good reputation medically. Wonder what he thought of his stepdaughter faking it.”
—
The house was a two-story pink stucco Mediterranean with a face as flat as a paper doll and undistinguished landscaping. A white Audi SUV sat in the driveway. Quiet block, no one out except a uniformed maid walking a rust-colored ball of yarn on legs, probably some kind of poodle mix.
