“It even got the best of a wily, manipulative woman like Qeesha. If her head had been clear, she’d have known from the way Donny shut out four kids that he wouldn’t take well to fatherhood. To being pressured.”

“Playing her usual game,” he said. “But out of her league.”

Footsteps at the mouth of the corridor made us turn.

Tyler O’Shea held a tired-looking Sally at the end of a slack leash.

Milo said, “Anything?”

O’Shea gave a thumbs-down. “Only dead thing in that forest was a really gross, rotting squirrel way at the back, that’s what was attracting her. Sorry, El Tee.”

“No big deal,” said Milo.

“You knew already?”

“I never know, kid. That’s what makes the job fun.”

“Oh. Okay. So we’re finished?”

“Not even close.”

CHAPTER
53

We came upon Morry Burns and Prema leaving the big house. Burns walked ahead of her, wheeling his dolly, now piled high with boxes. When he saw us, he picked up speed. Prema stopped, stood there for a second, walked back through her front door.

When Burns reached us, Milo said, “You’re really starstruck, Morry.”

Burns said, “Huh?”

“What’d you learn?”

“Her system stinks.” Burns cocked a head at the mansion. “All that dough, the kids have rooms like a Broadway production, and she cheaps out on crap hardware. I could get technical but it wouldn’t mean anything to you, so leave it at crap. Nothing’s linked, real pain to go through each machine.”

“Same question.”

“Huh?”

“Learn anything?”

Burns tapped a metal case. “Nah. But I took her hard drive, will dig deeper. Also drives from other machines they use—get this—to buy groceries. Or-gah-nic arugula. No need to encrypt that.”

“What about the kids’ computers?”

“Two desktops for four of them.” Burns cackled. “Maybe they’re learning how to share. She’s got them on every parental lock known to mankind, they’re lucky to get the weather. Maybe that’s why they hardly ever go online.”

I said, “Could be they like to read.”

Burns stared at me as if I’d talked in tongues. To Milo: “We through here?”

“Not even close.”

O’Shea and Burns took a lunch break near the pool. Take-out Mexican Milo had brought along.

We found Prema in her cavernous kitchen, sitting at a granite-topped counter drinking tea. No maid in sight. The CCTV screens remained inert.

Milo said, “Do you have those real estate documents?”

“You need to actually see them?”

“We do.”

She left, returned a few minutes later. “Here’s the trust deed on the entire property.”

Milo read carefully, per Deputy D.A. John Nguyen’s instructions.

“As you can see, I’m the sole owner,” she said. “I bought it before I knew him.”

A divorce lawyer would laugh at that but for Milo’s purposes, the deed was sufficient.