“Deceptive, too … no telling how that’ll play into the hands of some nuclear-powered lawyer. If you’re deemed a police agent, it could open up claims of insufficient grounds, hence illegal search. Which is probably bullshit but with judges you never know. If you’re deemed to be a civilian, it could open you up to some ball-squeezing cross-examination, not to mention an invasion-of-privacy suit by people who can buy and sell you a thousand times over. That happens, forget any chance of a quiet life for the foreseeable future. These people are like governments, they go to war. You willing to take that risk?”

I said, “Sounds like you’re trying to discourage me.”

He put his chopsticks down. “I think long-term, Alex.” First time he’d used my name. “That separates me from ninety-nine percent of the population. Even at Harvard.”

He loved putting down the Ivy League, rarely missed the opportunity to bring up his graduate degree from the iviest of all.

I said, “You think I was wrong to dig up the information.”

“I think this could get nasty.”

“What happened to that baby was beyond nasty.”

He glared. “I got a white knight here.” Lifting a sparerib with his fingers, he chewed down to the bone, ingesting meat, gristle, and fat. “Take one, Sturgis. You not stuffing your face scares me. It’s like the sun stopping mid-orbit.”

Milo spooned some fried rice onto his plate.

The chief said, “Not into ribs, today, Lieutenant?”

“This is fine, sir.”

The chief smirked. “Establishing your independence? That makes you feel like a grown-up, be my guest.” To me: “This is a mess.”

He reached for the plate. Another rib got gnawed to the bone.

I said, “Another thing I did—”

“Another thing? Jesus Almighty, you figure you’re running your own investigation?” His eyes shifted to Milo. Milo’s head was down as he shoveled rice into his maw.

The chief turned back to me. “What?”

I told him about the morning’s hike. “None of the principals entered or exited the compound but I did learn that it’s a pretty busy place. In the space of three hours, I saw a seven-man groundskeeping crew, a grocery delivery, a repairman from a home-theater outfit, and a plumber. I copied down the tags—”

“Why?”

“I figured it might offer a possible way to get in—”

“Sturgis pretends to be a gardener or a plumber? Habla español, Sturgis? Know how to unclog a sink? I do, my father was a plumber, I spent my summers elbow-deep in rich people’s muck. You ever do that, Sturgis? Wade in rich folk shit?”

Milo said, “Frequently, sir.”

“Don’t like the job?”

“Love it, sir. It is what it is.”