Obsession

class peons not following her cultivated instructions.”

Milo said, “Gonna cover your butt and look for her ex?”

She swung her purse. “I’ll sic Raul on it, give him some training in long-distance sleuthing.”

“Smart guy?” said Milo.

“Smart but real new. Quiet, though. I like that. See you, guys.”

We returned to the Hilton parking lot.

I said, “One thing meeting Iona was good for. Now we understand Patty’s housing choices.”

Milo said, “A thousand a month in cash for three years makes thirty-six K she didn’t have to declare. Then ol’ Myron moves her to Hudson and she’s raised to two grand. How long did she stay there?”

“Around two years.”

“Another forty-eight, for a grand total of eighty-four thou. Toss in her salary at the hospital, plus five years of free rent, and it’s a nice six-figure haul. Talk about a sweet deal, Alex. The downside was no job security. The old man dies, sayonara.”

“She moved to Fourth Street,” I said. “Nicest place yet, but she stayed less than a year. Maybe paying full rent was jarring. Or she was determined to save her cash now that she had some. Eighty-four thousand even at a conservative rate of interest could double in ten years. If she participated in the stock-market boom, she could’ve done significantly better. Downshifting to Culver Boulevard meant living in a dump but it got her to homeownership. Without the windfall from Myron Bedard, she might never have pulled it off. Her portfolio’s what started me wondering about dope, but maybe it’ll boil down to savvy investing.”

“Helped along by a little tax evasion.”

“That, too.”

Isaac Gomez’s e-mail read:

Hi, Dr. D. We’re in Bangkok and I’m writing this from an Internet cafe but the connection’s tenuous and we’re moving on so don’t bother responding. I woke up thinking about that crime trace and realized I’d made a methodological error by limiting myself to cases classified as homicides, as opposed to manslaughter, aggravated assault, or anything else that could’ve developed into murder but wasn’t reclassified. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it right now but when I get back in a few weeks, I’ll dig around the data a bit more and see what I can come up with. Hopefully, I haven’t missed anything crucial. Heather says hi. Best, IG

I thought about that, decided Isaac was parsing too meticulously. Patty had said she’d killed a man. Everyone was dancing around that, but I couldn’t forget it.

I was sitting on the couch, contemplating a warming shot of Chivas, when Blanche waddled into the office and nuzzled my shin. When I stood, she danced around a bit, then raced out the door.

I followed her down the hall, across the kitchen, to the back door. She sped with surprising agility down the stairs to the pond. Zeroed in on the locked bin that held the koi chow and began butting it with her flat nose.

“You’re into seafood now?” I scooped out a few pellets and offered them to her. She turned her head in disdain.

Head-butted the bin some more. Stared up at me.

When I tossed food to the fish, she swiveled and watched. Panted.

Gave a hoarse bark until I threw more pellets.

“Altruism?” I said.

I know the experts will label it anthropomorphism but she smiled with pure joy, I’ll swear to it.

Robin found the two of us by the water. Blanche jumped off my lap and greeted her. The fish swarmed, as they do when footsteps sound on the stone pathway.

“They’re starving,” she said. “I’ll go feed them.”

I said, “They’ve already dined. Extensively, because Blanche has appointed herself Official Caterer.”

“I know,” she said. “She did it yesterday, too. Any progress finding Fisk?”

“Not yet.”

“I networked some more on Blaise De Paine. The only thing I can add is that maybe possibly could be his house in the hills is on one of the bird streets. But don’t put much faith in it, hon. The person who told me wasn’t sure where he’d heard it or even if it was De Paine and not some other crook and he had no idea which bird. No one’s heard of Fisk or Rosie, though there is a black guy named Mosey, does some deejay work.”

“Last name?”

She shook her head. “He’s probably not who you want. The person who met him said he was a nice guy.”

“Where’d he meet him?”

“She. Some party, she was one of the dancers, hired by an agency in the Valley, she couldn’t recall the name.”

“Memory problems?”

“Maybe a bit blurred by recreational substances.”

“The bird streets,” I said. “Fog upon L.A., friends losing their way.”

“Poor George. Remember when I met him?”

“Ten years ago, fixing the Rickenbacher.”

“Sweet man,” she said. “So gifted, so modest.”

She sat down, rested her head on my shoulder. Blanche watched us kiss. Trotted back to the stairs and observed us with serenity.

An almost parental joy.

Robin said, “Let’s go inside. Spread our wings.”

CHAPTER 22

By four p.m., Robin was sketching and I was at the computer running a search on mosey deejay.

One hit, no images.

Moses “Big Mosey” Grant was cited in a long list of people thanked for contributing to the success of a hospital fund-raiser.

Western Pediatric, where I’d trained and worked.

The party had been thrown a year ago by the Division of Endocrinology, the cause was juvenile diabetes, and the person offering thanks was the head, Dr. Elise Glass. Elise and I had worked together on several cases. I had her private number on file.

She said, “Hi, Alex. Are you back to seeing patients or is it still that police stuff?”

“As a matter of fact.” I asked her about Moses Grant.

“Who?”

“The deejay at your benefit last year.”

“Mosey? Please don’t tell me he’s in trouble.”

“You know him personally?”

“No, but I remember him. Huge but gentle and really good with the kids. Am I going to be disillusioned?”

“He’s not in trouble, but he’s been seen with someone who is. I’m sure it’ll turn out to be nothing.”

“I hope so. First he cut his fees, then he insisted on working for free, stayed extra hours. He understood what we’re about.”

“Diabetic relative?”

“Diabetic himself. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to be controlling it well. Toward the end of the evening, he was fading fast and I had to get him some juice.”