Peaty’s left hand flexed. Gray shirt fabric shimmied. “Guthrie.”

“Guthrie Avenue in L.A.?”

“Yessir.”

Milo asked for the address. Reynold Peaty thought for a moment before giving it up. Just east of Robertson. A short walk from Michaela Brand’s apartment on Holt. Close to the death scene, too.

“Know why we’re here, Mr. Peaty?”

“Nossir.”

“How long have you been working here?”

“Five years.”

“So you know Michaela Brand.”

“One of the girls,” said Peaty. His bushy eyebrows twitched. The fabric over his gut vibrated harder.

“Seen her around?”

“Coupla times.”

“While you were working days?”

“Sometimes it stretches,” said Peaty. “If I get here late.”

“You know her by name.”

“She was the one did that thing with him.”

“That thing.”

“With him,” Peaty repeated. “Pretending to be kidnapped.”

“She’s dead,” said Milo. “Murdered.”

Reynold Peaty’s lower jaw jutted like a bulldog’s, rotated as if chewing gristle.

“Any reaction to that, sir?” said Milo.

“Terrible.”

“Any idea who’d want to do something like that?”

Peaty shook his head and ran his hand up and down the broom shaft.

“Yeah, it is terrible,” said Milo. “Such a pretty girl.”

Peaty’s small eyes narrowed to pupil-glint. “You think he did it?”

“Who?”

“Meserve.”

“Any reason we should think that?”

“You asked about him.”

Milo waited.

Peaty rolled the broom. “They did that thing together.”

“That thing.”

“It was on TV.”

“You think that might be connected to Michaela’s murder, Mr. Peaty?”

“Maybe.”

“Why would it be?”

Peaty licked his lips. “They didn’t come here together no more.”

“For acting lessons.”

“Yessir.”

“Did they come separately?”

“Just him.”

“Meserve kept coming but not Michaela.”

“Yessir.”

“Sounds like a lot of your days stretch into nights.”

“Sometimes he’s here in the day.”

“Mr. Meserve?”

“Yessir.”

“By himself?”

Head shake.

“Who’s he with?”

Peaty shifted the broom from hand to hand. “I don’ wanna get in trouble.”

“Why would you?”

“You know.”

“I don’t, Mr. Peaty.”

“Her. Ms. Dowd.”

“Nora Dowd comes here during the day with Dylan Meserve.”

“Sometimes,” said Peaty.

“Anyone else here?”

“Nossir.”

“Except you.”

“I leave when she tells me I done enough.”

“What do she and Meserve do when they’re here?”

Peaty shook his head. “I work.”

“What else can you tell me?” said Milo.

“About what?”

“Michaela, Dylan Meserve, anything else that comes to mind.”

“Nothing,” said Peaty.

“The hoax Michaela and Dylan tried to pull off,” said Milo. “What’d you think about that?”

“It was on TV.”

“What do you think of it?”

Peaty tried to chew on his mustache but the clipped hair was too short for a tooth hold. He tugged at his right muttonchop. I tried to think of the last time I’d seen a set that overgrown. College days? Portrait of Martin Van Buren?

Peaty said, “It ain’t good to lie.”