I made my way behind the Cadillac, gazed through both windows, was hampered by tinted glass.

I hazarded a look above the hood of the car.

Phil Suss sat on the rim of the pool, naked and tan, bulky muscles blunted by a coating of suet. Eyes shut, mouth agape as one of the women lay across the deck and tended to his lap. Across the water, at the shallow end, Frank Suss, pallid, thin but paunchy, embraced the other brunette. Her legs clasped his waist. The synchronized movement of their hips created a languid stroke never tried at the Olympics.

As I turned to leave, Phil pumped air with one fist. “Yes!”

Frank opened his eyes. Smiled dreamily. “Bro!”

“Bro!”

Both girls laughed. But it sounded rehearsed.

Robin rolled the Seville toward me and I got in. Before I could belt up, she was speeding away, passing Satori without a glance.

Hands clamped on the wheel, unsmiling.

“You okay?”

“Anything earthshaking?”

“Nope.”

“What, then?”

“What you’d expect.”

She frowned. “All of them together?”

“Separate but equal.”

“Right in front of each other. It’s almost incestuous. And those two hotties don’t have a clue what they’re dealing with.”

“Now they’ll have a chance to find out,” I said.

She put on speed, passed Steven Muhrmann’s death site. No reason for me to point it out to her. Same for where Tiara had lost her face.

The ride emphasized how close the two locations were to each other. Fast-action night of blood and surprise.

Robin said, “I wonder what that bumper sticker means. Has to be something lewd.”

It wasn’t.

A website on japanese bumper stickers translated the character as “peace” in a style of lettering called kanji.

Robin said, “Okay, time to get back to what I’m good at.”

lori divana combined with the Suss brothers’ names pulled up nothing.

I phoned Milo to give him the address on the log house’s mailbox.

Voice mail, again. Ditto at Moe Reed’s extension.

I tried Milo’s other acolyte, Detective I Sean Binchy.

“I think he’s downtown, Doc.”

“Must be a long meeting.”

Binchy said, “A lot of them are.”

“If you see him, have him give me a call.”

“Will do, Doc. Listen, could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“My sister’s sister is thinking about going into psychology. Can she talk to you about it, one of these days?”

“Sure, Sean.”

“Thanks. I’ll give Loot your message.”

“Could you look up a couple of addresses to see who pays taxes on them?”

A beat. “Doc, all these new privacy regs, they’re really clamping down on personal use. Some guys think the brass even has spy programs on us, recording all our keystrokes.”

“The info’s not personal, Sean, it’s part of Milo’s case.”

“But he hasn’t officially authorized it, Doc. I don’t want to be a wienie, but …”