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Milo saluted, gave the wolf grin, said “Thanks for your service,” and flashed his badge at the guy’s gaping mouth as we traded places.
“Sir,” said the parking enforcer. Pimply with a gaping mouth. He looked to be around fourteen.
“I know, amigo, it’s a red zone. As in blood. As in we’re investigating multiple murder. Appreciate your cooperation.”
Gunning the engine, he pulled into the westbound traffic stream, cursing silently.
I said, “Delage no longer works there.”
“No one has any idea who the hell he is. All the barbers are freelancers, longest any of them has been there is a seasoned veteran hand of eleven months. She said the place was sold two months after she arrived to a group based in San Diego that has a bunch of other facilities. One thing, though, there’s a little cooler next to the register. Free beer while you wait.”
“Thinking of trying it out?”
“The thought occurred. Anyway, no brick-and-mortar workplace fits with Delage going to clients’ houses. The night of the murder, there were no signs he’d cut Cordi’s hair so it’s definitely looking like a social visit. So maybe just like you said, her new BFF, she was the target, he was unlucky. Let’s pray for the whole mess to go public soon and kick something up. I’ll get you home.”
At a light near the Roxy, he said, “There’s still the databases to run Delage through. Your computer’s faster than mine. Mind if I bop in for a sec, see if I can learn anything about The Hair God?”
I said, “Mi casa es suresearch facility.”
Andsucafeteria. I phoned Robin.
She said, “Hi, handsome. When are you coming home?”
“On the way.”
“Great. I felt uncharacteristically domestic so I’m going to fix us a nice dinner.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said. “Milo wants to do some work in my office.”
“Got it,” she said. “Take out an extra steak. Or two.”
CHAPTER
19
There’s nothing like a dog to make you feel appreciated.
When I get home and Blanche is in the main house, she runs up to greet me as if we’ve been separated for eons. When she didn’t show herself, I figured she was out in Robin’s studio. Then I smelled kitchen aromas and got it: Devotion has its limits.
The table was set, complete with pitcher of ice water and a bottle of Rioja.
“Hi, guys.” Robin stood over the range, managing two skillets as she pan-seared massive slabs of beef.
Blanche sat at her feet, beatific expression on her flat face. Messiah’s arrival was imminent.
Milo’s eyes took on a similar glow as they shifted to the steaks. Counting.
Robin turned and smiled and winked.
He said, “You shouldn’t have.”
“I’ll call you when it’s ready, do what you need to do.”
He kissed her cheek. I kissed her lips.
Blanche ignored both of us and kept her nose on the prize.
—
