Nod. “That’s another thing. About Prema. When the day’s over, it’s over. Some of them, they think they own you, it’s like slavery, you know? Do for me twenty-four-seven?”

“Not Prema.”

“Prema makes the rules and you’re expected to keep them but she keeps them, too.”

“She doesn’t exploit the help.”

“Trust me, that’s rare,” said Georgie Weiss. She rattled off the names of two other actresses and a male star. “Spent some time P.C.ing—private chefing—for them. Slavery.”

“Nice to know someone’s different.”

“You bet. Maybe it’s ’cause she has kids. She’s totally into them.”

“Eating healthy?”

“She’s like … an involved mom. But not crazy-healthy like every anorexic Westside bitch, they see a glass of juice they have a seizure. It’s reasonable stuff, just watch out for too much sugar and fat. That’s my food, anyway.”

“Good deal.”

“The best. I love it. Hope you find that woman.” She began to close the door.

Milo didn’t try to stop her physically. His voice was enough. “So you think Mel Wedd is going behind Prema’s back after hours?”

She studied him. “You’re trying to say he did something to that woman?”

“Not at all,” said Milo. “Just checking everyone out.”

“I just thought it was weird, Mel going over there. Because he works for Prema and obviously they’re not—it’s not like they’re a couple—so what could he be doing over there?”

“Mel’s the estate manager,” I said. “Maybe the entire property’s considered the estate.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Guess so.” Nervous smile. “Whatever, keep me out of it, okay? I just want to cook my food.”

The second hallway contained three rooms, instead of four. A utility closet at the rear housed the water heater and the A.C. unit.

The first door was unlocked. Bare mattress, empty nightstand and dresser. A portable crib stood folded in the corner.

Milo gloved up, had me wait as he went in, emerged shaking his head. “Nothing and it’s obviously been cleaned. But I’ll have it processed, anyway.”

The second room was locked. He said, “Stay here, make sure no one goes into Simone’s,” and left the building. Ten minutes later, he returned with a large ring of keys.

“Stored in the laundry room but none of the maids would tell me that, so I had to bring Prema down.”

“She inspires loyalty,” I said. “How’s it going with the computers?”

“Hard to tell with Burns, he’s so damn grumpy.”

“How come?”

“You’re the shrink.” Selecting a key, he unlocked the second room.

Tightly made bed, Bible on the nightstand. Framed pictures on the dresser.

Regloving, he ran through the same solo search. Opened a closet door wide enough for me to view the contents from the corridor.

Sparse supply of bland-looking garments.