“Two of ’em, yuppies,” said Kwok. “Mr. Pretty Boy and Miss Pretty Girl in the BMW. What they were doing with her I could never figure out, I even wondered about a porno shoot, something like that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a hidden place, having to go in through the back. And those two looked like actors.”

“Good looking.”

“Too good looking,” said Kwok. “Like they spent a lot of time in front of the mirror. Especially him. Also, the two of them didn’t fit with her. She was like one of those Goths, you know what I’m talking about?”

“All-black clothes, the wigs,” said Milo.

“That Bettie Page wig they showed on TV was a favorite. You know who Bettie was, right? Hottest pinup in the history of the world. Once in a while I find her memorabilia, sells immediately. The Goth thing, one of my daughters went through that, a phase, so I know all about it. She was too old—the German—to be acting like that, but she did.”

“Unlike the other two.”

“The other two were preppies—Ken and Barbie, you know? It just didn’t fit. So I figured porno. Turns out it was even worse, huh?”

A six-pack photo lineup would’ve been optimal procedure but all Milo had were photos of Des Backer and Doreen Fredd, hers postmortem.

Kwok nodded. “Yup, that’s them. So they’re all in it together?”

“Right now, we’re unraveling their relationship.”

“Bunch of firebugs planning who-knows-what, right next door, that’s just great,” said Kwok. “You noticed when you got here that the whole front of her window is blacked over, from the street it looks closed. We’ve got lots of back-door tenants here—musicians use the place five to the north for rehearsals, there’s a girl, they say her brother’s a movie star, I forgot his name, uses hers for a photography lab. But none of them causes problems. I tried to tell the traffic cops something was off about her, they couldn’t care less.”

I said, “Off how?”

“Way she walked, talked, when I tried to tell her about the parking situation, she just looked through me. Like I didn’t exist. Like I was nothing to her.”

“When’s the last time you saw her here?”

“Not for a while, I’d have to say … a month. What exactly did she burn down?”

“We’re still working on that,” said Milo.

“Meaning none of my business? Fine, just as long as she doesn’t come back and blow me up.”

“If you do see her again, here’s my card, Mr. Kwok.”

“You’re not going to keep an eye out for her—surveillance?”

“We’ll be doing everything to catch her, sir.”

Kwok hadn’t taken the card. Milo held it there.

“You’ll take me more seriously than those traffic cops?”

“I already have, sir. Your help is deeply appreciated.”

Kwok pocketed the card.