Milo stared at him.

“My dad says that all the time, sir.”

“Can I assume your fellow officers searched the entire premises—house and yard—as I instructed?”

“Yes, sir. Thoroughly. I was part of that. We found some soda cans toward the back of the property, dented and rusty, like they’d been there for a while. They were tagged and bagged appropriately and sent to the lab, sir. No weapons, or narcotics or blood or nothing like that, sir. CS techies said nothing interesting up in that room, either, sir.”

Milo turned to me. “Where’s the nearest hardware store?”

“Nothing’s really close. Maybe Santa Monica near Bundy.”

Back to Ramos-Martinez. “Officer, here’s what I need you to do: Drive to the hardware store at Santa Monica near Bundy, buy a good-quality padlock and the shortest chain you can find, and bring all that back A-sap.” Fishing out his wallet, he handed bills to the young officer.

“Right now, sir?”

“Before now, Officer. Put a move on—pretend it’s a code-two. Don’t call in to report your location, either. Anyone fusses, blame it on me.”

“No sweat, sir,” said Ramos-Martinez. “I don’t mind fuss.”

“That so?”

“Yes, sir. Takes a lot to get me worried, sir.”

The day had remained warm and the turret should’ve reflected that. Instead, it felt chilly and dank and my nose filled with stink that didn’t exist. The same stench I’d carried around for days after my first visit, years ago, to the crypt on Mission Road. Some old cluster of olfactory brain cells, activated by memory.

Milo slouched and chewed his dead cigar. “Okay, we’re here. Give me some thunderous insight.”

“If the killer stalked Backer and Jane, I’m wondering why he chose to strike here. The staircase is pretty well hidden and he’d have to sneak his way up in the dark, be careful not to make noise. If Backer and Jane were close to the staircase, he’d risk being seen or heard well before getting to the top. And with them higher than him, he’d be at a serious disadvantage. One good shove and our boy’s tumbling.”

He said, “So maybe our boy knew Backer and Jane came up here regularly to mess around, and had the lay of the place—pun intended. Hell, Alex, if the two of them were bumping around, heavy-breathing, that would’ve blocked out footsteps.”

“Familiarity with the site could also mean someone who’d worked here, a tradesmen assigned to the job. Maybe someone who knew Backer through construction. If you find a history of violence, stalking, sexual offenses, you’ve got something to work with.”

“Jane’s jealous sig-oth just happens to be Joe Hardhat?”

“That or someone who’d seen Des with Jane and grew obsessed with her.”

“Job’s been dormant for two years, we’re talking a tradesman who moved on.”

“Maybe not far enough.”