“To shut them out, he’d have to be aware of them, Lieutenant. He acted as if they didn’t exist. How do you explain that to a child?”

Her hand touched her mouth. “I guess with that attitude, doing things to a baby isn’t so big a stretch.”

Milo said, “Back to Mel Wedd for a moment. Any idea why Mr. Rader would kill him? Assuming he did.”

Another easy opening, if she was manipulating. Once again, she didn’t take it. “No. I can’t imagine.”

Milo looked at me again.

I shrugged. Still your play, Big Guy.

He said, “Was Mr. Wedd involved in any of Mr. Rader’s activities with women?”

“Mel? Why would you ask that?”

“Wedd’s been spotted in the company of several attractive women. Streaming in and out of his apartment. Including Simone Chambord.”

“You’re saying Mel pimped for that bastard?”

“Or he might have been in charge of the finances.”

“What finances?”

“Paying women off when Mr. Rader was through with them. In Simone Chambord’s case, that may have included getting a car for her. A red BMW. It once belonged to Mr. Wedd but he reported it stolen and Simone Chambord was seen driving it.”

“Oh, this is all too much. What else do you want to drop on me, Lieutenant?”

“That’s it.”

“Insanity,” she said. “Okay, now what do we do about it?”

CHAPTER
52

The plan was logical, meticulous, elegant in its simplicity.

Even in the chief’s grudging appraisal. “Assuming you’re lucky, Sturgis.”

At eight thirty a.m., two days after my session with Prema Moon, the tutors from Oxford Educational Services drove through the stout wooden gate of her estate.

Newly scheduled all-day trip to SeaWorld, in San Diego, the kids had visited last year, begged to return. Prema had punted with the classic parental “Soon, one day.”

At seven thirty she announced, “Surprise!” to a quartet of sleepy young faces.

“How come, Mom?”

“Because Sam and Julie say you’ve all been great with your studies.”

“Oh.”

“Whoa. Cool.”

“When are we going?”

“Right now, everyone get dressed. Afterward, Sam and Julie will take you to a great Mexican restaurant and you can all stay up late.”

Mumbled thanks. Big smile from Boo.

At ten fourteen a.m. a brown, dust-caked, kidney-punishing Dodge van rolled through that same gate. Entering Prema’s spread required a thousand feet of climbing past the wrought-iron barrier that blocked access to the tree-shrouded private road. At the top were three identical barriers of weathered oak inlaid with oversized black nail-heads, each equipped with a call box.