“If you were anything but a shrink, I might take comfort in that.”

He ran his fingers through black strands, trailed down to white sideburns—what he calls his skunk sticks—and plucked idly. “I rechecked every phone company, maybe we missed something and Frankie still had an account. Nada.”

I said, “What if he bought her a disposable and her world became his?”

“Personal hotline? What would stop her calling anyone else?”

“That’s assuming she’d want to. But even if she did, he could always examine her log.”

“You asked Reed to check shops that sell taxidermy and oddities. No luck?”

“He found a couple of places in Venice and Echo Park. Echo Park got me hopeful because it’s not far from Even Odd. But no one had ever heard of Frankie. I followed up myself, tried out-of-town shops—San Francisco, New York, and Boston. Everyone told me I was wasting my time, the stuff can be picked up at flea markets, thrifts, online auctions, general antiques stores.”

He stood. “I’m off to catch some beauty rest. Sorry for spreading all the good cheer.”

“Apology uncalled for. You’re the one sitting in a car all night!”

“Empathy,” he said. “That always come natural to you?”

It had.

I said, “Anything can be learned.”

CHAPTER

22

Day five. Near the end of Moe Reed’s daytime surveillance shift, during the second of two quick sneaks into the parking garage, the young detective narrowly missed coming upon Grant Fellinger and Flora Sullivan.

He was leaving an area just a few yards from where Ursula Corey had been gunned down when inaudible snippets of conversation caused him to duck behind a Buick SUV.

Stocky man and stork-like woman walking together. Aimed again for Sullivan’s white Cayman.

Taking a perpendicular route, Reed jogged around a corner, emerged due west of the Porsche, made sure Fellinger’s and Sullivan’s backs were turned, and hustled behind an SUV.

Different body language from the amiable chat Sean Binchy had witnessed. Reed called in.

“Wouldn’t call it a fight but definitely tense. She said something and got in her car and backed out fast. He didn’t wait around, just left.”

“Who did most of the talking?”

“Definitely Fellinger,” said Reed.

Milo said, “Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Guess it’s possible, L.T., but it seemed more business-like. Whatever they have going on could be falling apart, at some point we might be able to wedge them apart.”

“Wouldn’t that be peachy, Moses? You doubling on Fellinger tonight?”

“No, Sean takes over and you’re on Sullivan,” said Reed. “At least according to my schedule.”

Milo checked his own book. “You’re right, congrats on a night off. Got a hot date?”

“Sir, at this point any date’s fine with us.”

“I’m ruining your social life?” Milo laughed. “Sorry, go have fun.”

“The job’s fun, too,” said Reed. “More so if I didn’t need a bladder.”