“Doesn’t say. But it happens more often than you’d think. My mother, she’s in her eighties, likes to travel, tried to get one of those Global Entry Passes, make her life easier at passport control. They kept trying to pull up usable prints, couldn’t, so when she flies in, she still has to report in person. You see it more in older people, stuff wears out. Also in folks who’ve lived hard, been exposed to the elements, like your vic. Musicians, too—guitarists, they can really alter their fingers. It’s worse with computer scans, when you ink up manually you have better luck, but obviously that didn’t help with Ms. Santa Monica. Now that I’ve got her name I can go backward, start with her prints on file and see if the computer will accept fewer points of agreement. That happens, I’ll phone you—better yet, I’ll tell Sturgis. Bye, Doctor.”

“One more question. Who at Santa Monica PD picked up the case?”

“Says here Detective A. Barrios.”

“Do you have a number?”

She read it off.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s in my best interest,” said Szcyszcyk. “I hate sending Does to the crematorium, anytime we clear one, it’s a good thing.”

Detective Augustin Barrios had a deep, mellow voice and the speech cadence of a man resistant to excitement.

I began by running through my credentials just as I’d just done with Martha Szcyzcyk. Barrios said, “That’s great, working with a psychologist. What can I do for you, Doctor?”

“You recently picked up a case in Douglas Park. I might know your victim’s I.D.”

“Really,” he said. “Tell me.”

When I was finished he said, “Okay, I’m pulling Ms. Brand up … have a mug shot from when she was younger … I guess it’s possible.”

“She’s got a collection of mug shots, try the latest.”

“Oka-ay … yes, that’s her. Thanks, Doctor.”

“The crypt told me COD was undetermined. May I ask why?”

Barrios said, “Guess I’d better be conferring with Lieutenant Sturgis. Appreciate the tip, Doctor.”

An hour later, Milo phoned on his mobile. “Just heard from a Santa Monica D who’s all hinky about you.”

“Were you able to set his mind at ease?”

“Best I could.” He laughed. “Yeah, he’s okay, but not too pleased Brand could end up a homicide. He’d put the file away as undetermined.”

“So they said at the crypt. Barrios wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Blood on a nearby park bench fit with a bad fall. So did Deirdre having a BAL over three times the legal limit and no evidence of a struggle.”

I told him about Brand’s eroded fingerprints.