"For some folks it is. . . . Now that I know about the second BMW I'm gonna have to log and do some kind of follow-up . . . hopefully a basic DMV will sync with some neighbor's vehicle and that'll be it." He rubbed his ear, as if dreading phone work. "First things first. Follow up with my junior D's to see how the family list is going. If you're so inclined, you could do some research on Mate."

"Any particular theories you want checked out?"

"Just the basic one: someone hated him bad enough to slaughter him. Not necessarily a news item. Maybe someone popping off about Mate in cyberspace."

"Our killer's a careful fellow. Why would he go public?"

"It's beyond long shot, but you never know. Last year we had a case, father who molested and murdered his five-year-old daughter. We suspected him, couldn't get a damn bit of evidence. Then a half year later, the asshole goes and brags about it to another pedophile in a chat room. Even then it was only a lucky accident that we heard about it. One of our vice guys was monitoring the kiddie-rapers, thought the details sounded familiar."

"You never told me about that one."

"I'm not out to introduce pollution into your life, Alex. Unless I need help."

"Sure," I said. "I'll do what I can."

He slapped a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, sir. The suits are right miffed about a high-profile case popping up right now, just when the crime rate was allegedly dropping. Just when they thought they'd get some good publicity before funding time. So if you produce, I might even be able to get you some money fairly soon."

I panted like a dog. "Oh, Master, how wonderful."

"Hey," he said, "hasn't the department always treated you well?"

"Like royalty."

"Royalty . . . you and old Duchess . . . Maybe it's her I should be interviewing. Maybe it'll come to that."

4

I DROVE DOWN Mulholland and eased into the traffic at Beverly Glen. The jazz station had gotten talky of late so the radio was tuned to KUSC. Something easy on the ears was playing. Debussy was my guess. Too pretty for this morning. I switched it off and used the time to think about the way Eldon Mate had died.

The phone call I'd made when I'd first heard about it.

No answer, and trying again was a much worse idea than it had been last week. But how long could I work with Milo without clearing things up?

As I tossed it back and forth, the ethical ramifications spiraled. Some of the answers were covered in the rule books, but others weren't. Real life always transcends the rule books.

I arrived home hyped by indecision.

The house was quiet, cooled by the surrounding pines, oak floors gleaming, white walls bleached metallic by eastern light. Robin had left toast and coffee out. No sign of her, no panting canine welcome. The morning paper remained folded on the kitchen counter.