“Poetic,” said Cohen. “But the truth is, I’m not sure Richard will be able to continue.”

“Ursula being the creative force.”

“Exactly. Without Ursula, I’m not sure there’ll continue to be a business.”

“So your client has no motive.”

“Not that I see.”

I said, “Mr. Fellinger said the latest conflict arose around a year ago.”

Cohen shrugged.

I went on. “Mr. Fellinger also said he was optimistic about the issues finally being laid to rest.”

Cohen laughed.

Milo said, “You disagree?”

“I’m an old man, Detective. My powers of prediction have waned. Why was Ursula meeting with Grant today?”

Milo smiled.

Cohen said, “No matter,” and rested his cigar in an onyx ashtray. Bracing himself on the desk, he rose to his feet, tottered, took a deep breath. “Obviously, you’ll be talking to Richard if you haven’t already done so. What he chooses to tell you is his prerogative but I can’t say any more.”

He held the door open. “Beautiful, elegant woman. How are the daughters handling it?”

“They don’t know yet.”

“You’ll be informing them soon.”

“Part of the job, Mr. Cohen.”

“Don’t envy you. Will you also be informing Richard? Because I’d prefer not to.”

“We prefer the same thing, sir. Please don’t call him or talk to anyone about the murder.”

“Murder,” said Cohen. “Snap of the finger and we’re gone.” Swaying, he gripped the door frame, took several more deep breaths. “If there’s nothing else, gentlemen, I have a doctor appointment.”

In the lobby of Cohen’s building, Milo said, “Ursula’s mouthpiece sticks up for Richard and Richard’s mouthpiece thinks the world of Ursula. Next, I’m expecting a van full of hippies distributing daisies.”

“Peace and love,” I said. “Meanwhile, Ursula’s in a van on her way to the morgue.”

He stared at me. “Isn’t cynicism my gig?”

“A little sharing never hurt anyone.”

“Know what Oscar Wilde said about cynics?”

“They know the price of everything and the value of nothing.”

“Silly of me to ask. Now what’s the atomic weight of molybdenum?”

“No idea.”

“Thank God for small blessings.”

CHAPTER

4

I’d parked the Seville in a Beverly Hills metered lot, found myself looking for cameras. I picked out a few but plenty of blank spots remained.

I pointed that out to Milo.

He said, “Ursula’s killer staked the place out beforehand?”

“I would.”

He laughed.

I started the engine. “Where now?”

“The station to drop off the surveillance disks, then Richard Corey’s condo …” He consulted his notes. “Jamestown Way, Mandalay Bay. Unless I arrest Daddy first, it’ll be his job to tell the daughters.”

He alerted Moe Reed, and the young detective, blond and pink as ever, big arms threatening to burst through his sleeves, was waiting outside the station to take the CDs.

“Have fun, Moses.”

“Movie night?” said Reed. “Maybe I’ll call out for pizza.”