“Why not?” I said. “Or it was Peaty’s. Everyone at the PlayHouse seems to have known about Peaty’s staring and Brad knew about Peaty’s arrest record, so it’s not a big stretch to assume Nora could’ve found out. If Nora and Dylan wanted a scapegoat, they had a perfect candidate.”

“Years of picking off the weak ones and then they just decide to leave for the tropics?”

“Been there, done it. Time to explore new vistas,” I suggested.

“Brad told you that Nora would have to come to him for serious dough.”

“Brad’s been wrong about lots of things.”

He took the coroner’s file back, leafed through it absently.

I said, “Dylan had Michaela bind him tight around the neck. He pretended to be dead so effectively it scared the hell out of her. She also said pain didn’t seem to be an issue for him.”

“The old psychopath numbness,” he said.

A young, black, cornrowed waitress came over and asked if we were okay.

Milo said, “Please wrap this to go, and I’ll try that brownie sundae.”

Closing the file. The waitress caught the Coroner label.

“You guys in TV?” she said. “C.S.I. or something like that?”

“Something like that,” said Milo.

Deft fingering of cornrows. Eyelid flutter. “I’m an actor.” Big smile. “Shock of shocks.”

“Really?” said Milo.

“Extremely really. I’ve done a ton of regional theater in Santa Cruz and San Diego— including the Old Globe, where I was a main fairy in Midsummer. I’ve also done improv at the Groundlings and a nonunion commercial in San Francisco, but you’ll never see that. It was for Amtrak and they never ran it.”

She pouted.

I said, “It happens.”

“It sure does. But, hey, it’s all good. I’ve only been in L.A. for a few months and an agent at Starlight is just about ready to sign me.”

“Good for you.”

“D’Mitra,” she said, extending her hand.

“Alex. This is Milo. He’s the boss.”

Milo glared at me, smiled at her. She sidled closer to him. “That’s a great name, Milo. Pleased to meet you. Can I leave you my name and number?”

Milo said, “Sure.”

“Cool. Thanks.” Leaning in, she rested a breast on his shoulder and scrawled on her order book. “I’ll bring your brownie sundae right now. Totally on the house.”

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

We set out for the outlets at nine a.m.

Taking the Seville because “you’ve got leather seats.”

Beautiful day, sixty-five, sunny— if you had nothing on your mind you could pretend California was Eden.

Milo said, “Let’s do the scenic route.”

That meant Sunset to the coast highway and north through Malibu. When I approached Kanan Dume Road, I lifted my foot from the gas pedal.

“Keep going.” Slouching, but his eyes had fixed on the odometer. Imagining the trip from a killer’s perspective.