Techs dusted and processed. Van Nuys uniforms guarded the yellow tape out front. A gray-haired, stoop-shouldered Van Nuys detective named Wally Fishell showed up after the body was gone, looking sleepy and put-upon. After getting the facts from Milo, he said, "I'm happy to work with you, Lieutenant, but if you see this as fruit from the tree you planted, that's fine with me."

"Meaning farewell and good luck."

"If that's your preference," said Fishell.

"Because you're a pal."

Fishell looked as if he'd been slapped. "I'm not dumping, I don't want to get in your way is all."

"No prob."

"Look, whatever you want, Lieutenant. I been working like a dog, supposedly I'm off. The plan was to spend time with my granddaughter. She lives in San Mateo, I don't get to see her often enough."

"Go home, then."

"Naw, it's okay, I'm here already."

"Forget it," said Milo. "This is definitely gonna hook into mine."

"You have an idea who killed him?"

"Probably the same person who killed my vic."

Fishell waited.

Milo said, "That's as far as it's gotten. Go home and enjoy the granddaughter. How old is she?"

"Five."

"Great age."

"You bet. We were watching Dora the Explorer," said Fishell. "That's a cartoon show--you got kids?"

"Nope."

"Oh," said Fishell. "Well, thanks, I get back now I can finish Dora."

We waited around longer, in case the crime scene crew came up with anything dramatic.

No signs of forced entry. Fidella's slippers and three empty beer bottles with Fidella's prints were found in the living room.

No prints on the pool cue, probably wiped clean. Same for a bloodstained leather case. Screening the house for physical evidence would stretch until morning. No sign of any computers, but clear space on a bedroom desk and an old laser printer in the closet suggested a linkup had once existed.

Fidella's cell phone lay on the bed. Milo checked recent calls. Nothing since morning. He returned the phone to a tech admiring the murder weapon.

"Look at this, Lieutenant. Ivory handle, probably genuine. And this is real cute." Eyeing a middle section of rosewood imprinted with silver hearts, clubs, spades, and diamonds.

"This cost some serious bucks, Lieutenant. No table in the house so he probably took it with him to bars, pool halls, whatever."

"Or the killer brought the cue with him."

"And risk damaging something so cool?" said the tech.

"Depends on the payoff."

"For what?"

"Bashing in Mr. Fidella's skull."

"Oh. I guess, maybe."

We left the scene.

Roland Staubach observed, accompanied by Rufus and a fair-haired woman also in shorts and a tee. Neighbors drifted out of their homes and stayed to watch.

Milo waved.

Staubach returned the gesture woodenly before looking away.

Milo drove on. "All of a sudden it's a block doesn't want to know too much."