“Act friendly but authoritative. Don’t go overboard on either. While you’re listening to him, let your eyes roam. Let him try to figure out if it’s cop curiosity or you’re looking for something. Let’s see how he reacts to the uncertainty. Ask him lots of questions, but keep it general. Out-of-sequence questions, like you do so well. Dropping in on him without warning is good. You’ll be the one orchestrating. If he gets nervous, he may do something impulsive. Like pack up and leave once he thinks you’re gone, or try to hide something—a storage locker. He’s likely to have one, can’t afford to have Tanya come across his souvenirs.”
“You’re sure he keeps them?”
“I’ll bet on it. Once you leave, can you get surveillance in place pretty quickly?”
“One way or the other, he’ll be watched, Alex. If I have to do it myself, he’ll be watched…. Okay, so you’re talking a one-man good-cop/bad-cop show. But keep it subtle. Yeah, I can do subtle. Even without the benefit of alcohol. What’ll you be concentrating on?”
“Playing impassive shrink. If I can get Tanya alone, I’ll take a closer look at her.”
“Why, you suspect her, too?”
“No, but she’s tiring of him. Maybe she’ll say something revealing.”
He bared his teeth in what I assumed was a smile. “Fine, we’ve got our plan. All that accomplished, then can I shove it up his ass?”
His gas foot was heavy and the ride took fifteen minutes, whipping us past canyon beauty and the barbered anxiety of hillside suburbia, accelerating into a too-fast left turn across Ventura. The Valley was ten degrees warmer. Encino appeared just past Sepulveda and the low-rise shops of Sherman Oaks gave way to mirrored office
buildings and car lots. Very little traffic this early on a sleepy Sunday. The 405 freeway ribboned across the intersection, parallel with the western flank of the white carcass that had once been the Sherman Oaks Galleria. The shopping center was shuttered now, all the more pathetic in death because of its size. Someone had plans for the space. Someone always had plans.
Milo drove a block, turned right on Orion, stayed parallel with the freeway, headed west on Camarillo, circling around to the mouth of Milbank, a shady street with no sidewalks. Single-story houses, well-maintained, dimmed by the luxuriance of untrimmed camphor trees. Off to the east, the freeway thundered.
Tanya Stratton’s address matched a white G.I.-bill dream box with blue trim. Carefully tended lawn, but less landscaping than its neighbors. No cars in the driveway, two throwaway papers on the oil spot. Shuttered windows, white-painted iron security grate across the front door, mailbox mounted on the steel mesh. Another white metal door blocked access to the rear yard.
“Someone likes their privacy,” I said.
Milo frowned. We got out, walked to the security door. A button was mounted on the front wall of the house, near the jamb of the security door. Milo pushed it and I could hear the buzzer sound inside the house. No answer. No barking.
I remarked on that, said, “Maybe they took Duchess on one of their early-morning walks.”
“On Sunday?” he said.
“Hey, he’s a fit guy.”
He lifted the lid of the mailbox. Inside were four envelopes and two circulars from fast-food restaurants. He inspected the postmarks. “Yesterday’s.”
He toed the grate. I watched his lips form a silent curse as he stared at the jewel-bright brass dead bolt. “Who knows what the hell’s in there, but Ulrich finding the body ain’t exactly grounds for a warrant. Hell, I don’t even exercise the warrants I do get.”
“You didn’t end up serving Richard?”
He shook his head. “So much for any future relationship with Maclntyre. Spent all night with my Glendale colleagues. Who, by the way, will not arrest you for trespassing a crime scene.”
“They wouldn’t know it was a crime scene unless I trespassed.”
“Technicalities, technicalities.” He punched the button again. Rubbed his face, loosened his tie, glanced over at the door barring the yard. “Let’s go back to the car, try to figure something out. Meanwhile, I’ll run searches on Ulrich’s aliases. He repeated the hiker M.O., used Michigan twice, so maybe he’s recycled an identity.”