“So what do we do now? I can’t see the Toyota parked up there,” said Paul.

“Berman would have moved it if she’s still there,” said George. “Maybe I can shimmy over the gate . . . Wait, someone’s coming.” Driving slowly down the long driveway was a white truck. The heavy iron gates swung open and the truck slowed to a stop. The men could see that the driver was not Zachary Berman.

“Let’s ask this guy,” said George. “See what he knows.”

The driver of the truck sounded his horn—Paul’s Subaru was blocking the way. The driver stuck his head out of the truck window. He was a blond-haired man with a deep tan. “C’mon, guys, can you move your car?”

“Is the boss man around?” said George.

“Mr. Berman? I’m his tree guy. I didn’t see him, but I don’t usually see him anyway. Look, I want to go to my next job and you know I can’t let you in. Have you buzzed up to the house?”

“Come on, George,” said Paul. “Get in! We’re in the man’s way.”

“Just a second,” said George. He wandered over to the truck and stuck his head in through the passenger-side window.

“Sorry, we don’t mean to get in your way, and we’ll move in a second, we’re just wondering if Mr. Berman’s around. It’s important to us. We’re old friends. I’ve come all the way from L.A. I just wanted to say hello.” George was at his most amiable—in his ultra-casual outfit he looked quite benign, and the gardener just wanted to be on his way.

“I don’t think he’s here. One of the guys who looks after the flower beds says he went on one of his trips.”

“Abroad?” said George.

“I don’t know where he goes. I just know that when he’s here, everyone’s on their best behavior, and right now, there’s a couple of the gardeners sitting out back drinking coffee and taking their time. I commented on that, and they said Berman’s away somewhere. But where, you’ll have to ask someone else. The gardener guys should be coming down within the hour.”

“Thanks,” said George. “We’ll come back.”

“If I see anyone when I come back tomorrow, who shall I say stopped by?”

“Just a friend,” said George, and waved a casual good-bye.

George got back in the car, where Paul was waiting.

“What was that about?” said Paul as he backed out of the way to let the arborist pass.

“Berman’s apparently gone on a trip, or so the guy heard from one of the gardeners. But he doesn’t know if it’s foreign or domestic or anything. But Berman’s apparently not around, at least not around here. How about we stop by Nano, see what we can find there?”