The men occupied a narrow height range: six to six two. Broad, square shoulders, narrow hips, angular faces that seemed curiously static. The women varied more in stature but their body shape was uniform: long legs, flat bellies, wasp waists, high-tucked butts, high puffy bosoms.

Manicured hands gripped plastic bottles of water and cell phones. Wide hungry eyes questioned our presence. Milo stepped into the middle of the porch and the acting students cleared space. The light played up every crease, pit and pucker and pore. He looked heavier and older than ever.

“Evening, folks.”

Dubious stares, general confusion, smirks and side glances of the kind you see in middle-school cafeterias.

One of the young men said, “What’s up,” with practiced slur.

Brando in On the Waterfront? Or was that ancient history?

“Crime’s up, friend.” Milo moved the badge so that it caught light.

Someone said, “Whoa.” Snickers petered to silence.

Milo checked his Timex. “Wasn’t class supposed to start ten minutes ago?”

“Coach not here,” said another Adonis. He jiggled the front door handle.

“Waiting for Nora,” said Milo.

“Better than Godot.”

“Hopefully, unlike him, she’ll show up.” Milo’s wolf-grin caused a reflexive tooth-bare from the young man. The guy threw back his head and a sheet of dark hair billowed, then flapped back in place.

“Nora late a lot?”

Shrug.

“Sometimes,” said a young woman with curly yellow hair and lips so bulbous they resembled tiny buttocks. That and blue saucer eyes gave her a stunned mien. Inflatable doll barely come to life.

“Well,” said Milo, “this gives us time to chat.”

Swigs from water bottles. Flips of cell phone covers nursed forth a series of electronic mouse-squeaks.

Milo said, “I assume you guys heard about Michaela Brand.”

Silence. A nod, then two. Then ten.

“Anybody has something to say, it would be much appreciated.”

A car drove west. Several of the acting students followed its diminishing taillights, grateful for distraction.

“Anything, people?”

Slow head shakes.

“Nothing at all?”

“Everyone’s freaked out,” said a dark, pointy-chinned girl with coyote eyes. Deep sigh. Her breasts rose and fell as a unit.

“I saw her a couple of times but didn’t know her,” said a man with a shaved head and bone structure so pronounced he seemed carved out of ivory.

“That’s ’cause you just started, Juaquin,” said the pillowly-lipped, curly-haired girl.

“That’s what I’m saying, Brandy.”

“Briana.”

“Whatever.”

“You knew her, Briana?” said Milo.

“Just from here. We didn’t hang out.”

“Any of you know Michaela outside of here?” said Milo.

Head shakes.

“She was, like, quiet,” said a redheaded woman.

“What about Dylan Meserve?”

Silence. Notable edginess.

“None of you knew Dylan?”

“They were friends,” said the redhead. “Her and him.”

“Any of you see Dylan recently?”

The red-haired girl pulled a watch out of her purse and squinted at it.

“Nine sixteen,” said Milo. “Nora generally this late?”

“Sometimes,” said Curly Blonde.