On day six, Milo phoned at three p.m.

“Someone finally misbehaved. Want to guess who?”

“Easy odds,” I said. “Fellinger.”

“Shit, you’re no fun. Last night around eight Sean followed him and Mrs. F. to LAX. Ol’ Grant schlepps her luggage, hugs and kisses her and escorts her into the terminal. Then he goes to dinner. Want to guess where?”

Rising excitement in his voice made those odds easy, too. I said, “Century City shopping mall.”

Silence.

“I’m wrong?”

“No. You. Are. Right. If you’ve got that good of a Ouija board, why the hell can’t you solve the case for me?”

“No big deduction. He got into it with Deirdre Brand there. I figured he might consider it part of his turf.”

“Right … okay, whatever, he had pizza and beer at a touristy place but no obvious hunting of humans ensued. He just stuffed his face and emptied a mug then drove to the Norman Hotel on the Strip.”

“Don’t know it.”

“Yeah, you do. Used to be a grungy tiki-motel-type dive called the Islander, now it’s a hipster hub, painted white, upside-down signage.”

“That one,” I said. “Rock stars and actors who last a season.”

“No paparazzi according to Sean so maybe even the C-list has moved on. Anyway, you wouldn’t figure a place like that for a guy of Fellinger’s age and looks, right? However, turns out there’s another group that frequents the place.”

“Working girls.”

“They congregate at the bar wearing mini-dresses and trawling for clients. Our man Grant didn’t take long to rent two lovelies. Light-blond and dirty-blond, per Sean, he said together their ages maybe added up to Fellinger’s.”

I said, “Did they seem to know Fellinger?”

“Not that Sean could tell. Brief chitchat, Fellinger pays for a room with cash, rides up to the fifth floor. The girls finish their Cosmos and do the same. Sean drinks root beer and gets all nervous about what’s going on up there, figures he’ll give it forty-five minutes then hazard a look. At forty-one, both girls are back in the lobby, leave the hotel and walk up Sunset. Fellinger appears fifteen minutes later, gets his Challenger from the valet, and drives west. Sean’s choice is either talk to the girls or stick with the surveillance. He follows Fellinger home, nothing else happens all night. I know it’s not profound but it confirms that Grant’s a bald-faced phony. Moment his wife steps into the security line, he’s thinking playmates.”

“If he can fool his own wife that easily, Kathy and Frankie would be no challenge.”