“Okay, let’s think this through. Rand hooks up with Malley around five p.m., Malley drives him into the city, drops him off at the mall, and Rand calls you to set up another meeting? Why, Alex?”

First time using the victim’s first name. Some kind of transition had taken place.

I said, “Don’t know. Unless, Rand and Malley had made peace and Rand decided to keep the process going.”

He rubbed his face vigorously, as if washing without water. “Not much of a peace if Malley shot him. What, Malley dropped him off, then picked him up again?”

“Maybe Malley had more to talk about.”

“The two of them rode around together schmoozing about the bad old days, Malley decided to off him rather than let him eat pizza with you? Even if we can explain all that, the big question remains: If this is all about payback, why would Malley wait eight years?”

“Maybe he was willing to wait for both boys to get out but a C.Y.A. gangbanger beat him to Troy.”

“So he bides his time on Rand.” He drank coffee. “According to Daney, Malley was still heated up two years ago.”

“Malley wanted the death penalty,” I said. “Some wounds never heal.”

“Theory, theory, theory. So, now what? I intrude on a couple who lost their kid in the worst possible way because hubby gave Daney a dirty look two years ago and he drives a black pickup?”

“It could be touchy,” I said.

“It could require some serious psychological sensitivity.”

I took a bite of Danish. A few minutes ago it had tasted great. Now it was deep-fried dust.

“Do I have to spell it out, Alex? I’d rather you do it and I’ll watch.”

“You’re not worried my presence will disrupt?”

“The defense saw you as pro-prosecution, so maybe the Malleys will remember you fondly for the same reason.”

“No reason for them to remember me at all,” I said. “Never met them.”

“Really?”

“There was no reason to.” Funny how defensive that sounded.

“Well,” he said, “now there’s a reason.”

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15

Milo phoned DMV for current licenses and registrations on Barnett and Lara Malley.

Nothing for her. Barnett Melton Malley had a Soledad Canyon address, out in Antelope Valley.

“The birth date fits,” he said. “One vehicle, a ten-year-old Ford pickup. Black at the time of registration.”

“Soledad’s forty, fifty miles from Van Nuys,” I said. “After what they went through, I can see them wanting to get out of the city. Rural area like that, Lara would need to drive, so why isn’t she licensed?”

“They’re not living together and she moved out of state?”

“A tragedy like that can drive people apart.”

“I can think of a giant wedge,” he said. “Kristal was snatched from under her nose. Maybe hubby blamed her.”

“Or,” I said, “she blamed herself.”