Her lips worked. She looked ready to cry. "It's not easy- surviving. I keep waiting for something to happen to me, but my luck keeps running in the black. Sometimes it's infuriating- yet another day, the same old routine." Another wave. "All right then, be off. Abandon me. I haven't helped you, anyway."

"You've been very helpful-"

"Oh, please, none of that" But she reached over and took my hand. Her skin was cold, dry, so smooth it seemed inorganic. "Bear that in mind, Doctor: Longevity can be hell, too. Knowing things will inevitably go bad, but not knowing when."

Chapter 24

When I left, just after eight P.M., Wilshire was a pretty stream of headlights under a black-pearl sky. My head hurt- stuffed with history and hints. More hatred and intrigue in Treadway than I'd counted on. But still no connection to Claire Argent. Ready to end the workday, I called my service from the pay booth in the parking lot.

An earful: Robin would be delayed till ten, and a particularly obnoxious Encino attorney wanted my help on a festering custody case. He knew I worked only for the court, not as a hired gun, and he hadn't paid his bill for a consultation I'd done last year. Delusions were everywhere.

The fifth message was from Milo: "I'll be at my desk by seven-thirty, get in touch."

The operator said, "He sounded pretty irritated, your detective friend."

I drove to the station, announced myself at the desk, waited as the clerk called up to the Robbery-Homicide room. Uniforms passed in and out. No one paid me any attention as I scanned the Wanted posters. A few minutes later the stairwell door opened and Milo bounded out, brushing hair off his forehead.

"Let's go outside, I need air," he said, not bothering to stop. His suit was the color of curdled oatmeal, the right lapel stained with something green. His tie was tight, his neck was suffering, and he looked like a poster boy for National Hypertension Week.

We reached the sidewalk and started walking up Butler. Dry, acidic heat hung in the air and I wished I'd stopped for a cold drink.

"Nothing on Pelley, yet," he said, "so don't ask. It's the Beatty twins who've been occupying my day. Brother Leroy told people he had an acting gig."

"Which people?"

"His fellow juiceheads. Willis Hooks and I were down at the murder scene this evening. Not far from a liquor store where Leroy used to hang, along with some other grape-suckers. Couple of them said Leroy had bragged about becoming a movie star."

"How long ago was this?" I said.