“Then we have something in common, Mr. Cline. I’m investigating a homicide.”

“Homi-who? Someone got killed? Who?”

“Kat Shonsky.”

Cline’s posture loosened as if he’d been shot up with Valium. “You’re kidding.” He smiled.

“You think it’s funny?”

“No, no, it’s — that’s — totally bizarre. You really came at me from left fucking field. Who killed her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. What’s bizarre?”

“Someone getting killed.” Cline’s mouth got hard. “Why are you talking to me about it?”

“We’re talking to everyone she dated.”

“Count me out, we never dated. She picked me up in a club, we had sex for a few months, then we both realized we were faking and said why bother.”

“Hard for a man to fake,” said Milo.

“You’re being literal,” said Cline. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t happened to you. I’m not talking losing it, I’m talking being there without being there.”

Milo didn’t answer.

“Fine,” said Cline, “you’re macho mellow, can do it with a can of liver. For me, it got empty. Because she was never there. We decided to be friends, just hang out. That didn’t work either.”

“How come?”

“’Cause we didn’t like each other.” Cline drew back, maybe realizing the implication. “Listen, the last time I saw her was maybe half a year. I’ve had two girlfriends since then, you want to talk to them, be my guest, they’ll tell you I’m safe as milk.”

Cline fired off names. Milo wrote them down.

“You’re actually going to call them? Unreal. Fine, do it, why not, could work for me with Lori, maybe she’ll get interested again.”

“Why?”

“Making me look dangerous and all that,” said Cline. “Being safe is my issue. Lori thought I was average to nothing. Mostly I feel like nothing. Don’t eat, don’t sleep, and now you’ve fucked up my career.” Shrill laughter. “Hell, maybe I’ll cut my wrists.” Rubbing his arms. “And it’ll be your fault.”

Milo said nothing.

Rory Cline said, “I know, I know, get some rest, do yoga, take my vitamins. Sorry, Charlie, it’s like the ad for that gym. ‘I’ll rest when I’m dead.’”

Milo said, “Then I guess Kat’s resting.”

Cline shut his mouth. Tried to stand still and settled for rocking on his heels. “Unbelievable.”

Milo asked where he’d been when Kat Shonsky left the club.

Cline said, “Here.”

“In L.A.?”

“Here,” said Cline. “Working. Down in the bowels, eating shit.”

“Working over the weekend.”

“What’s a weekend? You want to check with the security logs, I can’t stop you, but please don’t, it’s only going to fuck me up further.”

“You do that a lot?” said Milo.

“Do what?”

“Work weekends.”