Indy gave out one last yelp of protest and kissed her face.

Unconditional faith and love; maybe one day the Vatican will start canonizing canines.

“Anyway,” said Andrea Good, rising to her feet.

I said, “We’d appreciate hearing from your husband. Hope he heals up quickly.”

“Oh, he will. He’s a tough guy.”

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER
12

Ella Mancusi’s murder didn’t make the six o’clock news but it was the final segment at eleven p.m., complete with pompous baritone narration and close-ups of a blood-soaked knife blade taken from stock footage.

The toll-free tip line flashed for a second, but that was enough. When I called Milo’s office the next morning, I got a brand-new message.

“This is Lieutenant Sturgis. If you’re calling about the Mancusi homicide, please leave your name and phone number. Talk slowly and clearly. Thank you.”

I phoned Wilson Good, hoping a chat with his wife, bed rest, and civic duty might have loosened his tongue. No one answered.

Blanche was up for a walk and bounced along happily as we headed down the glen. Squirrels, birds, and cars amused her. Trees amused her. Rocks were hilarious.

A sinewy woman jogger paused to pet her. “That’s the prettiest dog I’ve ever seen.”

Blanche agreed.

At one p.m., Robin and I drove to Sherman Oaks and ate spaghetti at Antonio’s. Afterward, I asked if she could spare some time and we headed over to Katrina Shonsky’s address in Van Nuys.

Big-box complex on a treeless block. The air smelled of construction dust though no projects were in sight. All the charm of a heat rash.

Robin said, “I can see why she’d want to get away from this. Not that living in thirty rooms on twenty acres helps, if you’re lonely.”

“Thinking of someone in particular?”

She nodded. “He’s coming to town on business in a week or so. In between appointments, he intends to drop by to ‘visit my commission.’ It’s not that big of a deal but if you could be there, I wouldn’t mind.”

“He was inappropriate?”

“No, but when he talks to me he sounds so needy. Like he wants to get close — know what I mean?”

“An agenda behind the commission.”

“Maybe it’s silly,” she said.

“Conceited girl.”

She smiled. “So you’ll be there?”

She returned to her studio and I thought awhile about Ella Mancusi and Kat Shonsky. Could see no solid link beyond big black stolen cars.

I played with search engines, pairing variants of homicide and luxury car. When that came up empty, I substituted murder. Still, zero.

I began combining murder with specific automobile marques, went through Jaguar, Rolls-Royce, Ferrari, and BMW, with no luck.