“Hmm,” said Sullivan. “Well, that’s a shame, but no way for me to know that. If my mother was lucid, I suppose she might’ve known. She and J.J.’s mother grew up together, more like friends than cousins. But Leticia—his mom—passed years ago and there’s not much left of my mom, mentally.”

I said, “Did you and J.J. grow up together?”

“Not at all, he’s from Connecticut, I was born in L.A., my father moved here to work for Lockheed—who cares about my life history? Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

Milo said, “So J.J. calls out of the blue, saying he needs a job—”

“He asked if I knew any openings for a paralegal, any kind of assistantship in the legal field. It just so happened that I’d been talking to Fellinger and he mentioned he was looking for someone. I thought, perfect match.”

“Because J.J. was smart.”

“Smart and experienced,” she said. “He’d worked at Skadden in New York, which is white-shoe, heavy hitter.”

Milo and I said nothing.

Flora Sullivan played with her glasses. “Did he lie about that, too?”

“We’ll look into it,” said Milo, “but almost certainly.”

She sighed. “What a mess. Still, homicide? This has nothing to do with the family. Nothing at all.”

“You have no idea where he could be.”

She shook her head. “When he called the first time, I asked him where he was staying. He said he hadn’t settled yet, would let me know. He never did.”

“You never pursued it.”

“There was nothing to pursue. The extent of our contact was that single call. I tried to be social, offered to get together once he settled but he never took me up on it. Since you’ve poked around, perhaps you’ve learned that my social life is rather constricted.”

“We wouldn’t know about that.”

Sullivan’s stare was long, searching, angry. “Well, I’ll take you at your word on that. The occasional fund-raiser, yes, and I try to get in a round of golf once in a while. But my focus is my husband. He’s paraplegic. Drunk driver.”

“Sorry, ma’am—”

“What’s done is done, one soldiers on.” She sat back. “Now please, let’s end this. It’s been a long day.”

Milo said, “We’ll be out of your hair in a sec. Do you have a phone number for J.J.?”

“I keep telling you—hold on … you know, I think I might. Only because I’m compulsive, when I get a call, I log it.”

Flipping open an iPad, she scrolled and read off seven digits.

Milo said, “That’s the one he gave Fellinger, Ms. Sullivan. It’s been disconnected.”

“Oh. Then I guess you’re out of luck.”

I said, “Working in the same building, you’d have to see each other occasionally.”