seizures is another.'
'Yeah,' I said, 'it's probably all fantasy getting far afield.
Would you please eat? Your pickiness is making me nervous.'
He smiled for my benefit and took fork in hand. Both of us faked fascination with our food.
'Huenengarth,' he said. 'Don't imagine there'd be too many of that name on file. What's the first name?'
'Presley.'
He smiled. 'Even better. Speaking of which, I ran Ashmore and Steph.
He's clean except for a couple of traffic tickets that he didn't get around to paying before he died. She's been clean for a long time, but a few years ago she had a DUI.'
'Drunk driving?'
'Uh-huh. Caused a collision, no injuries. First offense, she got probation. Probably got sent to AA or a treatment center.'
'So maybe that's why she's changed.'
'Changed how?'
'Got thin, started putting on makeup, got into fashion. Image of the young professional. She has a designer coffee maker in her office.
Real espresso.'
'Could be,' he said. 'Strong coffee's part of the reformed alkie thing-to replace the booze.'
Thinking of his off-and-on flirtation with the bottle, I said, 'You think it means anything?'
'What, the DUI? You see any evidence she's still boozing?'
'No, but I haven't been looking for any.'
Any clear relationship between alcoholism and Munchausen?'
'No. But whatever problem you've got, booze makes it worse.
And if she had the typical Munchausen background abuse, incest, illness-I could understand her hitting the bottle.'
He shrugged. 'So you answer your own question. At the very least it means she's got something she'd like to forget. Which makes her like most of us.' As we left the restaurant Milo said, 'I'll try to find out what I can about Dawn Herbert, for what it's worth. What's your next step?'
'Home visit. Maybe seeing them in their natural habitat will give me some kind of insight.'
'Makes sense. Hell, while you're out there you can do a little snooping-you've got the perfect cover.'
'That's exactly what Stephanie said. She suggested I nose around in their medicine cabinet. Half- joking.'
'Why not? You shrinks get paid to poke and probe. Don't even need a search warrant.'
On the way home I stopped off at the Ashmore house-still curious about Huenengarth and wanting to see how the widow was doing.
A black wreath hung on the front door and no one answered my ring.
I got back in the car, cranked up the stereo, and made it all the way home without thinking about death and disease. I checked in with my service. Robin had left word she'd be back around six. The morning paper was still on the dining room table, neatly folded, the way she always left it.
Recalling Dan Kornblatt's peevish comment in the cafeteria, I paged through the paper, trying to find what
