He flipped through his pad. “Stevie’s most recent rehab was about two and a half years ago, place called Awakenings, in Pasadena.”

He consulted his Timex. “Traffic’s gonna be unfriendly all the way east, but we could make it out there in maybe an hour, catch dinner before heading back. Remember that fish-and-chips joint on Colorado I was looking for last year when we worked the dry ice murder, turned into Thai, I was bummed? I’ve been back there and it’s pretty good Thai. You game for driving?”

“Sure.”

“Be sure to put in your gas voucher.”

“You’re into quaint rituals, huh?”

“What?”

“I haven’t gotten reimbursed for the last three batches I sent in.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It seemed petty,” I said.

“Shit. I was assured by the His Arrogance’s office that you’d be fast-tracked.” He snapped his phone open. “Bastards.”

Before he could punch in the chief’s speed-dial code, an incoming call was heralded by a few bars of Eine kleine Nachtmusik. This year, classical, last year, seventies rock.

“Sturgis.”

A young male voice said, “You’re a policeman?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Oh … you’re sure?”

“This is Lieutenant Sturgis, what can I do for you?”

“My name is Brandon Caspar, my father said I should call you about a tenant at our property on Russell.”

“Steven Muhrmann,” said Milo.

“Yes, sir.”

“Appreciate the call, Brandon. What can you tell me about Mr. Muhrmann?”

“I only met him once,” said Brandon. “When I gave him the key. That was almost a year and a half ago so I don’t remember much, except he was a little … I don’t want to say scary, more like not friendly. Kind of … trying to act like a tough guy.”

“Act how, Brandon?”

“It’s nothing I can put into words, know what I mean? He just snatched the key out of my hand, didn’t want me to give him the information about the unit we usually give. Where the circuit breaker is, the water main, the meter. He said he’d figure it out. When I tried to tell him I always explained to new tenants he said, ‘Well, now you won’t.’ Not joking about it—like he could kick my butt if he wanted, you know?”

“Hostile,” said Milo.

“He could’ve kicked my butt,” said Brandon. “He was big—not fat, buffed, like he lifted. This big, big neck.”

“Was he alone?”