As Corporal Pappas drove off, we inspected the scene, achieved no insights. A call to the auto lab supervisor verified the arrival of the Corvette.

The trunk and glove compartment had been emptied but the VIN number traced to a vehicle registered to Salvatore Fidella. Moderate fire damage to the interior left plenty of vinyl and metal to process for prints, fluids, and fibers. Same for the remnants of a partially burned blue cap already processed and found devoid of prints or DNA. A handful of scorched fibers with metallic content suggested brass or gold thread, maybe an insignia.

Milo reached Detective I Sean Binchy at the station, directed Binchy to run an image search on south el monte baseball team.

"When do you need it, Loot?"

"Now."

"Sure... here we go, they're called the Eagles... here's a group picture, game they won from Temple City, they're all smiling."

"What color are their caps, Sean?"

"Navy blue."

"Any insignia?"

"Looks like a snake--no, it's an S, probably for 'South.'"

"Gold?"

"Right on, Loot. Anything else you need?"

"Pray for world peace, Sean."

"I already do that every morning, sir."

We drove back to L.A., stopping at a place on Colorado for take-out coffee that we drank while in motion. Just west was Pasadena and that got me thinking. But I didn't have enough for sparkling conversation.

Milo said, "The kid pays girls to buy ice so he can ice Freeman in a dramatic way, then mops up Fidella for good measure, only question is why. With Elise's proclivities and Fidella being a lowlife, maybe sex and education got jumbled up together in a particularly nasty way."

I said, "Martin was careful enough to set Elise's murder up with surgical precision and to wipe Fidella's house clean amid a horrendous scene but left his hat in the car--and the car out in the open?"

"Teenagers, Alex. You're the one always saying they're unpredictable. Or maybe he's reached that point: big drop in adrenaline, tired of running, and ready to get caught. We can discuss this till forever but right now he's a good lead. The car gives up the same prints as Fidella's garage, I'm going public."

I said, "Prep school makes noble attempt at diversity but best intentions fail, the manor-born sail into their dream schools, Martin Mendoza ends up in jail. The chief--and Darwin--will be pleased."

"Yeah, it stinks, but that doesn't make it untrue." He finished his coffee, chewed on a cold cigar, drove faster. A few freeway exits later, he said, "Life ain't a surprise party. We both know that."

No message from Darwin on his desk but the chief had left an unfamiliar number.

One ring then a familiar voice on conference. "Talk, Sturgis."

Milo filled him in.

"Fool leaves his hat in the car. He's that strong for the Italian, we'll get him for Freeman."

"It's looking that way, sir."

"Find those girls."