“What do you mean?”

“All those performance dreams that never came to pass. Sometimes people live through their kids.”

“Was she a stage-door mom? Brad did tell me she tried to get the kids on TV. As a group— singing and dancing. He said he could carry a tune but the others were tone-deaf.”

The photo-covered wall of the PlayHouse theater floated into my head. Among the famous faces, a band I hadn’t recognized.

Kiddy quartet of mop-haired youngsters...the Kolor Krew. “What was the name of the group?”

“He never said.”

“When did all this take place?”

“Let’s see...Brad was about fourteen when he told me, so it must’ve been right around then. He laughed about it but he sounded bitter. Said Amelia dragged them to talent agents, made them sit for photos, bought them guitars and drums they never learned to play, gave them voice lessons that were useless. Even before that she’d tried to get Nora and Billy Three jobs as actors.”

“Not Brad?”

“He told me Amelia only included him in the band because the other two were hopeless.”

“He call her that?” I said. “Amelia?”

She thought. “I never heard him call her ‘Mom.’ ”

“Nora and Billy have any success at all, individually?”

“I think Nora got some dinky modeling jobs, department store stuff, kiddy clothing. Bill Three got nothing. He wasn’t smart enough.”

“Brad told you all this,” said Milo. “You and he talk often?”

“Just during those parties.”

“What about as adults?”

“Except for one face-to-face twelve years ago, it’s been the phone and not often. Maybe once every couple of years.”

“Who calls who?”

“He calls me. Christmas greetings, that kind of thing. Mostly showing off how rich he is, telling me about some new car he bought.”

“Twelve years ago,” I said. “That’s pretty precise.”

Marcia Peaty fooled with her napkin. “There’s a reason for that and it might be important to you guys. Twelve years ago Brad got questioned on a Vegas case. I was doing hot cars, a D from headquarters calls me, says a person of interest is tossing my name around, claiming we’re kissing cousins. I find out who it is, call Brad. It’s been a while since we’ve talked but he turns on the charm like it’s yesterday, great to hear from you, cuz. He insists on taking me to a big dinner at Caesars. Turns out he’d been living in Vegas for a year, doing some kind of real estate investment, never thought to get in touch. And once he didn’t need me I didn’t hear from him for seven more years— Christmas, to brag.”

“About what?”

“Being back in L.A., living well and running the family real estate business. He invited me to visit, said he’d give me a spin in one of his cars. As in he has a lot of them.”