“In other words, no. Okay, that’s life, it was a year old, anyway. But should a miracle come down from above, the one thing I ask is that you only return it if it’s in perfect shape. If it’s not, just donate it to some police charity and let me know so I can write it off. Here today, gone tomorrow, right, Lieutenant?”

“Good attitude, ma’am.”

“My husband thinks I’m pathologically insouciant, but guess who looks forward to getting up in the morning and who doesn’t? Anyway, there wasn’t much cash in there, maybe eight, nine hundred dollars and I put a stop on the magic plastic.”

“Had anyone tried to use the cards?”

“Thank God, no. My AmEx Black’s limitless. The phone’s no big deal, either, it was time for an upgrade. Now, let me tell you about that guy who was checking me out. He was already there when I pulled into the lot, so he wasn’t stalking me or anything like that. What probably happened is he was casing the lot for a pigeon— that’s the right term, isn’t it?— and he saw me as a perfect little dove.”

“Because of the purse.”

“The purse, my clothes, my demeanor.” Bony hands traversed bony flanks. “I was dolled out, guys. Even when hunting le grande bargainne, I refuse to dress down.”

“How was this person checking you out?” said Milo.

“Looking at me. Right through his car window.”

“His window was rolled up?”

“All the way. And it was tinted, so I couldn’t get a good look. But I’m sure he had his eye on me.” Curled lashes danced. “I’m not flattering myself, Lieutenant. Believe me, he was looking.”

“What do you remember about him?”

“Caucasian. I couldn’t make out details but the way he was turned I had a full view of his face.” A red-nailed finger touched a collagen lip. “By Caucasian, I mean light skinned. I suppose he could’ve been a pale Latino or some kind of Asian. Not black, that I can tell you for sure.”

“He stayed in the car the whole time?”

“And continued to watch me. I just know he was following me with his eyes.”

“Was the engine idling?”

“Hmm...no, I don’t think so...no, definitely not.”

“Everything you saw was through the glass.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t just what I saw, it was what I felt. You know, that itchy tingle you get on the back of your neck when someone’s watching you?”

“Sure,” said Milo.

“I’m glad you understand because my husband doesn’t. He’s convinced I’m flattering myself.”

“Husbands,” said Milo, grinning.

Wasserman’s return smile tested the outer limits of her skeletal face.

“Could there have been more than one person in the car, Ms. Wasserman?”

“I suppose so, but the feeling I got was one person.”

“The feeling.”