“Young, good-looking, had a thick accent,” said Polito. “Bottle blonde but nice.” Shaping generous, imaginary breasts.

Monique, the waitress, observed his pantomime and frowned.

Polito waved her over. “Delicious, the salmon. He’ll take the check.”

She glanced at me, left.

“I was you, Doc,” said Polito, “I’d leave Monique a real generous tip. I come here from time to time.”

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER
22

When Polito left at two forty-five, the restaurant had emptied.

Monique drank coffee at the bar. I paid the check and left a 30 percent tip. She thanked me with wide eyes and pretty teeth.

“Mind if I sit here for a few minutes?”

“I will bring you more wine.”

I had over three hours before Roland Korvutz unfurled his napkin at La Bella. Killed some of it drinking a better Bordeaux than had come with lunch, and thinking about my conversation with the old detective.

Polito was troubled by the possibility that he might’ve had his prime suspect right in front of him and missed something crucial. But Dale’s slipping under the radar was no discredit of Polito’s skills; if Bright was a high-functioning psychopath, he’d have come across super-normal.

Shape-shifter.

If Bright’s corpse wasn’t embedded in the foundation of some Manhattan high-rise, he was probably living under a new name and identity in L.A., toying with the boundaries of gender identity, getting off on the art of deception and worse.

I phoned in for messages, had three: Robin, Milo, and a lawyer chronically lax about paying his bills, and deluded that I’d want to talk to him.

Robin said, “I miss you but the big separation anxiety is Blanche. Not a single smile and she keeps sniffing around your office. Then she insists on going down to the pond, has to sit on the bench exactly where you do. When that doesn’t work, she hops down and stares at the fish until I feed them. If I don’t toss in enough, she lets out that girly little bark. I keep telling her Daddy’s coming back soon, but the way she looks at me, she ain’t buying it.”

“Tell her I’ll bring back a souvenir.”

“She’s no material girl, but sure. How’s it going?”

“Nothing much so far.”

“I checked the weather online. Sounds pretty.”

“Gorgeous,” I said. “One day we should go.”

“Definitely. Got a nice hotel?”

I described the Midtown Executive.

She said, “One advantage, we’d be bumping into each other.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, plenty of bump opportunities. How’s work?”

“Picked up a couple of new jobs — easy repairs.” Brief pause. “He called this morning, wanting to make sure I’ll be in town when he’s here. He sounded different.”

“How so?”

“Distant — not brimming over with enthusiasm like he usually is. He claims he’s really into the project but the tone didn’t match the words.”

“Buyer’s remorse?” I said.