When Milo asked if empty dry ice bags and Elise Freeman's computer were part of the haul, he got put on hold. The answer, several minutes later, raised lumps on his jaw.

He clicked off, strode toward the unmarked. "No access to that information at this time."

We got in just as Captain Stan Creighton returned, necktie loose, jacket flapping, talking on a cell phone.

As we drove away, he was still on the phone. Talking faster.

A trio of ice-rental outfits were situated within five miles of the murder scene. At the closest two, no one had purchased any frozen CO2 for weeks. Both clerks said, "We do that mostly in the summer."

At Gary's Ice House and Party Rentals on Fulton and Saticoy, in Van Nuys, a muscular, puffy-faced kid with three eyebrow rings and a barbed-wire biceps tattoo studied Milo's card and said, "Yeah, dude bought a whole bunch." Staring closer. "Homicide? He's like a killer?"

"When did this happen?"

"I'd have to say Monday."

"What time of day?"

"I'd have to say seven."

"Morning or evening?"

"Evening, I close at eight."

"You sell a lot of dry ice?"

"Tailgate parties, long trips, not that much. Most places don't sell nuggets, just block. I asked Dude which one he wanted, he's like dry ice, thirty pound, in this Spanish accent. I gave him nuggets because we don't sell so many of those, why not get rid of 'em."

Out came Milo's pad. "Latino guy."

"Yeah."

"How old?"

"I dunno, thirty, forty? Looked like one of them dudes waits for day jobs outside the paint store over there." Pointing west.

"How'd he pay?"

"Three tens."

"How much dry ice did that buy him?"

"Thirty pounds of nuggets. They come in special bags, slows down the sublimation a little. That means the stuff turns to gas. Even with bags and an ice chest, you're gonna lose ten percent a day."

"This guy have an ice chest?"

"Not that I saw, he just carried the bags away."

"What was his demeanor?"

"His what?"

"His mood. Was he nervous, friendly?"

"I'd have to say kinda confused. And in a hurry."

"Confused how?"

"Didn't know squat about what he was buying," said the kid. "Took nuggets when most people like blocks and we even trim to size."

"How many bags of nuggets are we talking about?"

"Three ten-pounders. Dude really killed someone with D.I.? What, like froze someone to death? Or burned 'em? You gotta be careful with it, it touches you, it burns bad."

"How else could you hurt someone with it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is there anything besides freezing or burning that makes it dangerous?"

"Well," said the kid, "I use it to kill ants. You get something in a closed-off space, you put a piece of D.I. in and they get so cold their bodies stop working and also they breathe in the sublimation and die. It's carbon dioxide, that's the global warming gas."