“That crap is too rich for our blood,” said Ralph. “Like sugar diabetes; you indulge but you pay. We had enough of the Big Four, met at Ernst, left that world forty years ago. Why’re you asking about Century City?”

Milo avoided an answer. “Did Katherine run errands for you?”

“What, like gofering?” said Ralph. “No, her value was sitting right there.” He pointed to the left-most desk. “Excellent employee, we’ve replaced her with a girl who comes in part-time. Good enough but Kathy was better.”

Milo said, “So she never left the office.”

Maureen said, “Never? That I wouldn’t say. Occasionally she’d go out for us. Infrequently.”

Milo said, “For what?”

“Picking up lunch next door at Thai Temple, they get an A from the health department. Sometimes we’re in the mood for Mexican but we don’t like Don Pepe since they got a C, so she’d drive to La Fiesta Buffet on Fulton.”

Ralph said, “Mo, they don’t care about our eating habits. Once in a blue moon, we’d ask her to deliver papers to a client.”

“Nothing in Century City.”

Maureen said, “I don’t think so …”

Ralph barked, “What, Mo?”

“Remember that lawsuit, honey?”

“Be specific, Mo.”

“That landlord, the Iranian—Hooranian, Hoorapian?”

“Frivolous,” said Ralph.

“Sure was,” said Maureen, “but weren’t the other side’s attorneys in Century City?”

“Heartless developers,” said Ralph. “Who remembers?”

Milo said, “What was the lawsuit about?”

Maureen said, “Clients of ours, the Hoor—no Har—the Hargarians, that’s it, the Hargarians, a nice couple, they owned a couple apartment buildings in North Hollywood, some developer bought up the rest of the block, tried to force them to sell by going to the city claiming they were neglecting the property, causing a public nuisance.”

“Frivolous,” Ralph repeated. “And nasty.”

I said, “What was the outcome?”

“What do you think? The bastards made life miserable for the Hargarians and they sold.”

Maureen said, “I think the other side’s lawyers were in Century City. Or maybe it was the developers. Ralph and I only got involved at the end, when they were negotiating the terms of the sale, the other side wanted a look at tax records to verify rental income.”

“Katherine Hennepin delivered the records?”

“I’m not saying that, Lieutenant, I’m only saying it’s possible.”

Ralph Gross said, “I didn’t deliver them and you didn’t.”

“True,” said Maureen.

“Who does that leave, Mo?”

Maureen said, “Hold on,” and began tapping computer keys. “Hmm, nothing on Hargarian … no listing for Hargarian.”

Ralph said, “You probably got the name wrong.”

Maureen silenced him with an outstretched palm. Tap tap tap. “Here it is, three months ago … Shagrarian … ah, yes, three hours’ billing for Katherine’s services—ah, I remember, she was so sweet, she volunteered but I insisted on including it on her hours worked.”

She beamed. “Maybe I could be a detective, Lieutenant.”