Another man might’ve bristled. Hansen sat in place, like an obedient child. “Yes, of course. I’m just—the King’s Men was just a stupid high school thing.” Slight slur in his voice. His eyes shot to the ceiling beams. A pliable man. The addition of booze made Milo’s job easier.

Milo pulled out his notepad. When he clicked his pen open, Hansen was startled but he remained in place.

“Let’s start with the basics: You were a member of the King’s Men.”

“I’d really like to know how you . . . never mind, let’s do this quickly,” said Hansen. “Yes I was a member. For my last two years at Uni. I arrived as a junior. My father was an executive with Standard Oil, we moved around a lot, had lived on the East Coast. During my junior year, Father was transferred to L.A., and we ended up renting a house in Westwood. I was pretty disoriented. It’s a disorienting time, anyway, right? I guess I was irritated at my parents for uprooting me. I’d always been obedient—an only child, overly adult. I guess when I got to Uni I figured I’d rebel, and the King’s Men seemed a good way to do it.”

“Why?”

“Because they were a bunch of goof-offs,” said Hansen. “Rich kids who did nothing but drink and dope. They got the school to recognize them as a legitimate service club because one of their fathers owned real estate and he let the school use his empty lots for fund-raisers—car washes, bake sales, that kind of thing. But the Men weren’t about service, just partying.”

“A dad with real estate,” said Milo. “Vance Coury.”

“Yes, Vance’s father.”

Hansen’s voice rose at the word “father,” and Milo waited for him to say more. When Hansen didn’t, he said, “When’s the last time you saw Vance Coury?”

“High school graduation,” said Hansen. “I haven’t been in touch with any of them. That’s why this whole thing is rather odd.”

Another glance upward. Hansen had never boned up on the body language of deception.

“You haven’t seen any of them since graduation?” said Milo. “Not once?”

“By the time we graduated, I was moving in another direction. They were all staying here, and I’d been accepted at Columbia. My father wanted me to go to business school, but I finally accomplished a genuine rebellion and majored in anthropology. What I was really interested in was art, but that would’ve caused too much tumult. As is, Father was far from amused, but Mother was supportive.”

A third look at his watch, then a glance toward the stairs. Only child hoping for maternal reprieve.

Milo said, “You didn’t really answer the question. Have you seen any of the other King’s Men since graduation?”