Long, lithe body, sweet unlined face, huge, soft, vaguely unfocused eyes. Even in the bikini shots, they managed to project a hint of innocence bordering on bewilderment.

A man looking to play Henry Higgins would be attracted.

So would a power freak out for total domination.

Milo said, “She was a cutie, wasn’t she,” and reread the profile. “Vegan Mexican joints and animal shelters, there’s an investigative lead. Hell, maybe I’ll find a place that saves fuzzies and ladles out cruelty-free menudo and we can grab lunch along the way.” His eyes dropped to the bottom of the bio. “She wasn’t much for spelling or grammar, was she? Guess the sisters don’t edit much.”

I told him what I’d seen in her eyes.

“Little Miss Helpless? Yeah, that could get you in trouble.”

He turned to the second page.

SukRose Daddy #2198

Codename: Stylemaven

Residences: Western and Eastern Elites

Education: More Than I Needed

Occupation: Gloriously Nothing

Habits: Fine spirits and wine but in moderation, ditto Cohibas and other premium Cuban cigars. Premium is my benchword and don’t get me in a discussion of the embargo (can you spell “patently absurd?”)

Profile: A rich productive life redolent of been there—done it could have caused me to sink into the grand ennui and renounce the value of future exploration. Instead, I chose to embrace my good fortune and make creative, constructive, cohesive use of my freedom by embracing adventure and embarking on a trajectory of emotional, physical and spiritual collaboration with an equally fortunate woman.

Shallow is for planting vegetables; if you have no interest beyond the superficial, look elsewhere. I’ve developed a strong ethos rooted in the credo that while relational stability forms the bedrock of societal continuity, without change and novelty, it remains just that: sterile, inanimate. Rock. Life is not about the mineral, it’s about the animal but not in a vulgar sense. I’m referring to libido the way Herr Professor Freud intended it: a vibrant, soul-enriching life force that forms the raison d’etre of our very existence. Without passion, connection, synchronicity, there is only existence, not life.

Seeking: A woman who understands all this.

At the bottom of the printout, Brian Agajanian had printed in firm block letters:

MARKHAM MCREYNOLD SUSS

Below that: two bracketed dates documenting Suss’s sixty-eight-year life span.

The county certificate had been issued eight months ago, twenty-six days after Suss’s demise from natural causes.

Milo called and verified the certificate number.

He returned to Tara Sly aka Mystery’s profile. “A guy pushing seventy trying to keep up with that? I keep picturing natural causes as getting literally screwed to death.”

A few more calls verified that no one else with Suss’s name had a current driver’s license or residential address in California or New York.

“How does he come across to you, Alex?”