Everyone smiled.

The younger man said, “You ask me, using the gurney’s a bigger pain. You guys take the body, I can do the gurney.”

The woman said, “Anything to avoid the corpus delecti, Pedro.”

Pedro said, “You want to do the gurney, Gloria, I’ll do the body.”

“Kids, kids,” said Walt. To Milo: “Can’t take them anywhere.”

Milo said, “If you can use two more sets of hands, we’re at your service.”

Pedro said, “That’s okay, we’re CSI studs, can handle it all by the first commercial.”

Walt said, “Speak for yourself, action hero. As is, my back’s gonna bitch for a week, they want to help, God bless ’em.”

Milo scanned the slope. “Anything else down here other than him that I should be concerned about?”

“A little blood,” said Walt, “but most of it’s on the road and the first ten feet of the drop. We tagged and bagged skin fragments but all you’re going to get is more of this guy, there was no struggle.”

Milo checked the area anyway, nostrils flaring, then compressing. “How about two of you do the gurney, the rest of us will form the funeral procession.”

“It’s a plan,” said Walt.

We began the climb.

Pedro said, “The Lord is my shepherd. Too bad this ain’t a sheep.”

Chapter 31

didn’t hear from Milo the following day and my call to Gretchen asking how Chad was doing went unanswered.

Robin and I went out to dinner at an Italian place she’d heard about. Little Santa Monica Boulevard on the western edge of the Beverly Hills business district. Family-run, the wife cooking, the husband hosting, two teenage girls serving. Homemade everything, good wine.

Garlic breath for both of us, which is as good a definition of diplomacy as any.

When we got home and took Blanche out of her crate, she licked my hand with special enthusiasm. Did the same for Robin and belched. Now we had a consensus.

The doorbell rang.

Blanche raced to the front of the house and sat there, tail-stub wagging.

Robin said, “Someone she’s eager to see.”

A voice on the other side bellowed, “Must be my looks.”

She let Milo in. “Hope I’m not interrupting, kids.”

A cheek peck caused him to grimace. “Spaghetti con olio y mucho garlicko.”

“Master detective. I’ll go use mouthwash.”

“I was just thinking we could all go out. Alas.”

“We’re happy to feed you.”

He threw up his hands. “The sacrifices I make for friendship.”

As we walked to the kitchen, Robin said, “How’s Rick?”

“Meaning how come I’m dining solo?”

“No, darling. Meaning how’s Rick.”