“Rochelle told me all about you. She said you were investigating the case on her behalf.”

“That’s right.”

“That’s so kind of you, dear. You’re obviously a very caring person. And so much prettier than that dreadful picture of you in the newspaper.”

Good Lord. Would I never live down that picture?

“Rochelle’s sleeping right now,” she said, glancing upstairs, her brow furrowed in concern. “Sedatives. The doctor prescribed them so she could get some rest. It’s all been such a nightmare.”

“I know,” I said, nodding in sympathy. “But I’ve made a few discoveries that might help Rochelle’s case, and I was hoping to give her a progress report. I’m sure her attorney would be interested in what I have to say.”

“I’m sure he would, dear.”

“Do you happen to know his name?”

“It’s Fitzgerald, I think. Or Fitzhugh. It’s Fitz-something. Or maybe it’s O’Connor. Oh, my. This whole murder thing has got me in such a dither. You’d better talk to Marty.”

“Good idea.”

“He’s at the office. The poor man is going to have to do an awful lot of root canals to pay all those legal bills.”

She gave me Marty’s office address and I started for the door.

“Wait,” she said. “Before you go, why don’t you come into the kitchen and have some brownies? They’re fresh from the oven.”

I took another sniff of that heavenly scent.

“With walnuts and peanut butter chips,” she added.

Bet you think I said yes, huh?

Oh, ye of little faith. You’ll be proud to learn I didn’t waste valuable time eating mega-calorie brownies in Rochelle’s kitchen.

No, siree. I ate them in the car on my way over to Marty’s office.

It was lunchtime when I showed up at Marty’s medical building in Westwood.

It was one of those fancy high-rises with a security desk in the lobby and an overpriced pharmacy where you practically need a cosigner to buy a tube of toothpaste. I rode up in the elevator with an enviably slim nurse carrying a container of peach yogurt and a bottle of Evian water. Now why can’t I eat a slimming lunch like that? I asked myself, brushing peanut butter brownie crumbs from my sweater.

I got off at Marty’s floor and headed down the corridor to his office. With any luck, Marty would be there. If not, I’d wait till he got back from lunch. Surely he’d be able to spare me a few minutes before his first afternoon appointment.