Milo punched in Robin’s cell as I headed to Holmby Hills. Her voice filtered through the dash-mounted speaker. “Hi, babe. Long day?”

Milo said, “And not over yet, Sugarplum.”

“Big Guy,” she said, laughing. “You’re his receptionist?”

I said, “No, I’m his unpaid driver.”

“Or I’m his patient,” said Milo. “How’s it going, kid?”

“It’s going well. You guys sound far away.”

“It’s the hands-off,” I said, “ergo the lack of privacy. I should be home within the hour.”

Milo said, “Privacy? There’s something to hide from Uncle M?”

Robin said, “Never, m’dear. Not over yet as in making progress or just the opposite?”

“Nothing plus nothing, Rob. I’ll get him back to you A-sap.”

“Come on over for dinner, Milo. I’ll grill something.”

“I drool in anticipation, but Dr. Silverman is expecting a cozy dinner.”

“Rick can come over, too.”

“Thanks, kiddo, but he’s on call until late. The plan is we grab something at Cedars.”

“Cafeteria food is cozy?”

“Love hurts, darling.”

A single uniform remained at the construction site, leaning against his cruiser and talking on his cell phone. Yellow tape ran along the fence. The chain was still loose enough to allow a walk-through.

Milo sat up and shot his jaw. “Oh, gimme a break!” Jabbing his finger at the parking ticket pinned under one of the unmarked’s windshield wipers.

Before I cut the engine, he was out, ripping the summons free.

The patrolman lowered his phone. Milo strode over to him. “Were you here when they papered me?”

Silence.

“You just let it happen?”

The uniform was young, smooth-faced, muscular. A. Ramos-Martinez. “You know the traffic nazis, sir. They’re on commission, sir, can’t talk them out of nothing.”

“Did you try?”

Ramos-Martinez hesitated, decided against lying. “No, sir. I was keeping my eye on the scene.”

“Gee, thanks, Officer.”

“Sorry, sir. I thought that’s what I was supposed to do, sir.”

“That’s a lot of sirs. How long you been out of the service?”

“Eight months, sir.”

“Overseas?”

“Anbar Eye-raq, sir.”

“All right, you get a pass, but next time speak up for truth and justice. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Not much, sir.”

“Not much or nothing?”

“Pretty quiet, overall, sir,” said Ramos-Martinez. “That security guard came back, said he was still officially on the job. I told him he could stand out on the street but couldn’t gain access. Or park his car anywhere on the street. He usually pulls up here on the dirt, wanted to again. I told him it was part of the scene. He decided to leave.”

“God forbid he should get cited.”

Silence.

“He put up any fuss?”

“No, sir.”

“You pick up any ulterior motive on his part? Like wanting to get back in there and alter evidence?”

“He didn’t argue, sir. Guess guarding it now’s kinda horse after the cart, sir.”