“The joys of domestic life,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Give me a nice freeway pileup and I know I’m being useful.”
Milo picked up his mobile, barking, “Sturgis.”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“Up on Mulholland,” he said in an odd, detached voice. “Staring at dirt. Trying to figure out if I missed something.”
“Son, I’m going to bring some joy into your wretched life.” I told him about Ulrich.
I expected shock, profanity, but his voice remained remote. “Funny you should mention that.”
“You figured it out?”
“No, but I was just wondering about Ulrich. Because I positioned my car where the van was, walked myself through the scene. When the sun came up it hit the rear window and gave off glare. Blinding glare, I couldn’t see a thing inside. Ulrich claimed he and the girl discovered Mate right after sunrise, said he could see Mate’s body through the rear window. Now that was a week ago, and the van’s windows were higher than mine, but I don’t calculate that much of a difference and I don’t imagine the sun’s angle has shifted that radically. I was waiting around to see if the visibility changed over the next quarter hour or so. By itself it wasn’t any big deal, maybe the guy didn’t remember every detail. But now you’re telling me … Left the bastard’s address back at the station, I’ll run a DMV on him and the Stratton girl. Time for a drop-in.”
“The Stratton girl may be in danger.” I told him why.
“Sick?” he said. “Yeah, she didn’t look too healthy, did she? All the more reason to visit.”
“How’re you going to handle Ulrich?”
“I don’t exactly have grounds for an arrest, Alex. At the moment, all I can do is scope him out in his natural habitat—my story will be that I’m dropping in for a follow-up, has he thought of anything else? ‘Cause we’re stumped—he’d like that, right? The cops being stupid, my coming to him for wisdom.”
“He’d love it,” I said. “If he believed it. But this is a smart man. He’d have to wonder why, after Richard’s arrest, you’re knocking on his door on a Sunday morning.”
Silence. “How about I imply there are complications with the current investigation—stuff I can’t talk about. He’ll know I mean Zoghbie, but I won’t come out and say it. We’ll tango around, I can watch his eyes and his feet. Maybe Stratton will give off some kind of vibe. Maybe I’ll get her alone, later on in the day.”
“Sounds good. Want me there?”
Silence. Static. Finally he said, “Yes.”
When I walked into the bedroom, Robin was sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
“Morning.” I kissed her forehead and began to get dressed.
“What time is it? How long have you been up?”
“Early. Just a bit. Have to run and meet Milo up on Mulholland.”
“Oh,” she said sleepily. “Something come up?”
“Maybe,” I said.
That opened her eyes wide.
“A possible lead,” I said. “Nothing dangerous. Brain work.”
She held out her arms. We embraced. “Take good care of it,” she said. “Your brain. I love your brain.”
CHAPTER 33
MILO WAS PARKED on the road below the murder site, engine running, fingers tapping the steering wheel. I left the Seville a few yards away and got in the unmarked. He was wearing the same gray suit, but it looked ten years older. Driving east on Mulholland, he reached the Glen, headed north into the Valley.
“Where’d you get the address?” I said.
“DMV. No listings for Ulrich’s BMW or any other vehicle in his name, but the Stratton girl owns a two-year-old Saturn, has an address on Milbank. Sherman Oaks, not Encino. Too far east by two blocks.”
“Why tell the truth when you can lie?”
“Setting up the scene… He just loves this, doesn’t he?”
“Every detail,” I said. “Remember what you said about the only footprints being his and Stratton’s? He cleaned up after himself, but just in case he missed something, he gave himself a legitimate reason to leave behind trace evidence.”
“All these years . . . orchestrating . . . goddamn conductor.” He took one hand off the wheel, raised it toward the roof. “Lord, grant me the opportunity to shove his baton up his ass… . Anything else you think I should know before I approach him?”