Diamond Aviation's waiting area was thirty feet high, walled in glass, with air spiced by cinnamon-flavored air-freshener. A man in a white jumpsuit dry-mopped the black marble floor. No jet-setters occupied the puce leather seating; off to the side, a couple of bored-looking pilots studied a computer terminal. One said something about weather in Roseville. The other said, "Maybe we'll get delayed enough to stick around and try that sushi place."

Without being asked, the same cute concierge addressed Helfgott by name as she set down a glass of soda water and lime.

"Change your mind about coffee, guys?"

"No, thanks."

"Anything else, Mr. Helfgott?"

"Not for the moment, Amy. Thank you."

"Anytime, Mr. Helfgott." She sashayed away. He drank, rotated his neck yet again.

Milo said, "Are you in pain, sir?"

"Chronic condition exacerbated by age and too-frequent air travel, Lieutenant. Yoga helped for a while, then some unfortunate personal training led to sprains precisely where I didn't need them."

He eyed Myron Wydette's jet through the glass, now being fueled by a tanker truck. Held his gaze and inhaled, as if yearning to be aloft.

"Nice piece of machinery, Mr. Helfgott."

"Work of art, Lieutenant. I won't pretend it's not immeasurably superior to commercial aviation, but in the last analysis, flying is flying. One strives to eat properly, stretch, hydrate oneself. Nevertheless, the hours of enforced immobility take their toll. As soon as we wrap up whatever it is you feel you need to do, I'm going to swim, then settle in a warm bath and pop off to sleep."

"Sounds good, sir. What have you been told about this meeting?"

"Mr. Wydette's office called me midflight to inform me that poor Elise Freeman had passed on and the police had requested to speak with me. I took that to assume an irregular death."

All the emotion of a Chia pet. He continued admiring the Gulfstream until his eyes lost focus. Somewhere else; maybe thinking about his bath.

Milo said, "If by irregular you mean other than old age, that's true, sir."

"How dreadful," said Helfgott. "May I ask when and where it occurred, and the particulars?"

"Several days ago, at her house, sir. The particulars remain the big question."

"I'm not sure I understand, Lieutenant."

"Mode of death hasn't been determined."

"So there's no obvious crime."

Milo didn't answer.

Helfgott finally swiveled away from the jet field. "And you requested to speak with me because..."

"Elise Freeman worked at Prep."

"Surely you can't imagine her passing has anything to do with her job."

"Was she happy at Prep?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Any job can be stressful, sir."