The coffeehouse got warmer and noisier as every table filled. Sleek people began milling at the entrance. Lots of peeved glances aimed our way.

Milo hooked his finger and we left. A woman muttered, “Finally.”

We drove to the station and ran into Sean Binchy exiting Milo’s office. Binchy’s Doc Martens gleamed as shiny as his rusty, gelled hair.

“Hey, Loot. I just took a call for you.”

“I tried to call you,” said Milo. “Anything new on Peaty?”

Binchy beamed. “We can arrest him if you want. Driving without a license.”

“He has a car?”

“Red Datsun minivan, old and messed-up looking. He parks it on the street, three blocks from his apartment. Which shows intent to conceal, right? The plates are inactive, originally came from a Chrysler sedan that was supposed to be junked ten years ago. Your basic little old lady from Pasadena. Literally, Loot. And guess what, that’s exactly where Peaty drove this morning. Ten East to the 110 North, off at Arroyo Parkway, and then he took surface streets.”

“Where?”

“Apartment building on the east side of town. He pulled mops and cleaning stuff out of the van and went in there to work. I tried to call you but your cell wasn’t receiving.”

“Designer coffee messed up the air,” said Milo.

“Pardon?”

“Go back to Peaty’s tonight, Sean. See if you can get a VIN number from the van and trace it.”

“Sure,” said Binchy. “Did I do wrong by terminating the surveillance, Loot? There were a few things I needed to do back here.”

“Like what?” said Milo.

Sean shifted his weight. “Captain called me in yesterday, I’ve been wanting to tell you. He wants me to work a new case with Hal Prinski, liquor store robbery and pistol-whipping on Sepulveda. Robberies aren’t my thing but Captain says I need breadth of experience. I’m not sure what Detective Prinski will want from me. All I can say is I’ll do my best to get back to Peaty.”

“Appreciate it, Sean.”

“I’m really sorry, Loot, if it was up to me, I’d be doing nothing but your stuff. Your stuff’s interesting.” He shrugged. “That illegal car buttresses Peaty being lowlife.”

“Buttresses,” said Milo.

Binchy’s freckles receded as the skin behind them deepened. “New word a day. Tasha’s idea. She read somewhere the brain starts deteriorating after puberty— like we’re all rotting, you know? She’s into crosswords, word games, to stay mentally challenged. To me, reading the Bible’s plenty challenging.”

Milo said, “The van buttresses, Sean. If you can’t spend any more time on Peaty, don’t sweat it but let me know right away.”

“For sure. About that call, the one that just came in? It’s related to Peaty, too. Individual named Bradley Dowd. Name’s in the Michaela Brand file. He’s Peaty’s boss.”

“What’d he want?”