"Franck as our bad guy also explains why Fidella got his brains bashed in. Franck had to finish both of them. Maybe he showed up at Fidella's house for a business discussion--now that Elise was gone, how would the scam continue. He didn't bring a weapon because he'd been there, knew Fidella had a pool cue. There is the matter of that alibi but he was up north for four days, could've had enough time by himself to fly down, do Elise, fly back. He was sleeping with her, may very well have a key to her house. And his presence wouldn't have alarmed her, she'd feel comfortable drinking in front of him."

"Then in goes the Oxy. So who are the two girls?"

"A couple of kids who'd do anything for a cute, older guy. For all we know, they're undergrads at Caltech. They could've even thought it was a prank. They're big on that, there: taking apart cars and reassembling them in dorm rooms, hacking into the Rose Bowl scoreboard."

He said, "The young guy driving away in the Vette could easily be Franck. And who better than a chemical engineer to orchestrate a controlled arson?"

"After ordering a South El Monte baseball cap that he leaves behind to set up favorite patsy Marty Mendoza."

"Evil," he said. "If there's something to the tip... okay, let's try to connect some dots, see if they lead to young Master Franck."

He phoned South El Monte High, talked to Jane Virgilio.

"Hi, it's Lieutenant Sturgis, again... no, not yet, but could you please check your student store and find out who bought an Eagles baseball cap within the last two months? Anyone who's not a team member... it's too complicated to explain right now, ma'am, and I'm really busy looking for Martin, so please check... yes, I know it's online but you must have access... yes, I'll be happy to wait."

After three minutes of toe-tapping, he gave a rocket-fueled thumbs-up. "Thank you so much, Ms. Virgilio, I'll be sure to tell the family you helped."

Grinning, he logged onto his PC. "Apart from players who lose theirs and the occasional alumnus, Eagle caps are a low-volume item, only one moved during the last sixty days. And get this, amigo: October twentieth."

"Twelve days after this year's SAT. Franck bought it himself?"

"I should be so lucky, but at least I've got a name: Brianna Blevins, address in North Hollywood. Which ain't that far from the ice place. If she turns out to be a voluptuous white girl, I'm gonna make her feel real uncomfortable. Yo Facebook!"

Brianna Blevins was nineteen years old, full-faced and prone to grinning vacantly, with gleaming black hair that hung past her waist and a pneumatic body showcased by a bikini shot that proclaimed Less Is Not More.

Not a student at Caltech; she'd graduated last year from North Hollywood High, was "looking for my place in the world."