"No, it's a rental, she was talking about renting a bigger place. And it's not like she was drinking the day I found her, there was no bottle in the bathroom. And why the hell would she put herself on ice, you answer me that."

Milo said, "At this point, Sal, we've got questions not answers. Let's get back to your schedule. After lunch, you drove around looking for possible employment. Then what?"

"Then like I said, I drove home and got on the phone and came up empty. You want my phone records?"

"If you don't mind."

Fidella stared. "You're serious."

"We need to be, Sal."

"Fine, look at my phone records, I got nothing to hide."

Milo had him sign a release form.

Fidella said, "You guys are unbelievable. You wanna bother, suit yourselves, but I can tell you what you're gonna find: I made calls to a buncha places downtown. Real short calls, no one gave me the time of day."

"Frustrating," I said.

"Been through it before, something'll turn up."

Milo said, "What time did you finish making your calls?"

"Musta been fiveish, five thirty. Took a walk over to Van Nuys Boulevard, there's a bar, Arnie Joseph's. I had a coupla drinks, some shrimp and wasabi peas and hickory almonds, and watched TV. Over there, they'll remember me, they know me. Just do me a favor, don't tell them I'm a suspect or nothing. I don't need no one looking at me weird."

"No problem," said Milo.

Fidella studied him. "What're you gonna tell 'em?"

"That you're a witness. When did you leave Arnie Joseph's?"

"Musta been eightish, eight thirty. What'd I do then? Go home, fix myself a sandwich--anchovies, tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese. Then I called Elise because she still wasn't picking up. So I watched more TiVo, had a beer, brushed my teeth and used mouthwash for the cheese and the anchovies, just in case Elise answered. She didn't, I said forget about her, she'll call you like she always does. Then I got worried 'cause this was longer than usual and drove over. Musta been close to elevenish."

"You were home for most of the evening."

"Seeing as the yacht was out of commission and the Malibu Beach house was being borrowed by Brad and Angelina? Yeah, I was home. Where else should I go?"

Fidella slumped and his eyes grew sad. As if his question had turned metaphysical.

"Nowhere to go," he said.

We left him pouring a third tequila.

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER
6

Milo drove a block from Fidella's house, parked, and called in a search for current wants and warrants. Clean, but Fidella had paid a fine for a first-offense DUI eighteen months ago. "Time to verify his whereabouts, I'll drop you off first."

"You see him as a serious suspect?"

"I see him as someone whose whereabouts need to be verified."

"Planning on taking Van Nuys to the Glen?"

"Yup."

"You'll pass that bar on the way."