“Because of what he wrote on his website,” said Reed.
“Because of Dr. Delaware’s educated opinion about what he wrote. Onward: You and Alicia will be handling Strathmore after I set up entrance for you with the new manager. Do your best not to be noticed. In fact, wait in the car until I tell you. At best, the search will dud out. At worst, you’ll encounter a murderous psychopath, so be careful. Once I get you in, I’m over to the condo where you’ll go as soon as we’re finished here, Sean. It’ll take time to find side-street parking so you might not beat me by much. If you do get there early, take a stroll on Wilshire near the building but same rule: Don’t get spotted. Especially by the doormen, one of whom is ex-Pacific Division. He may be righteous but after working with rich people he may not. Once I arrive, I’ll deal with him. Next item.”
He listed the tags and description of Thurston Nobach’s M5. “All of you look out for it. You see him driving to or from one of his cribs, initiate a tail and let me know.”
Clicking on three cellphones as the car data got copied.
“Any questions?”
Binchy looked at Bogomil, who looked at Reed.
Reed flexed massive arms and smiled. “One thing, Prof. Is this going to be on the final?”
* * *
—
When we were all out in the hall, Binchy looked at me. “Doc going to be part of it, Loot?”
Milo said, “Protected and served by me.”
Bogomil said, “Good. This piece of shit sounds whack.”
CHAPTER
45
Milo lead-footed it to Westwood Village, drove around the corner from the Strathmore complex, and then drove an additional half block and parked. Once out of the car, he hitched his trousers, patted his holster, then patted a jacket pocket swelling just above the Glock.
I said, “Second gun?”
He said, “Once a Boy Scout, always prepared. I don’t need to give you the drill, do I?”
“Hang back, stay safe, don’t get in the way.”
“Bet you were always a good student.” Leaning into the breeze, he began walking.
* * *
—
Another prolonged push on the doorbell to Building B.
Darius Cutter said, “If this is some sort of—”
“It’s Lieutenant Sturgis again, Mr. Cutter. We need to talk.”
“You’re kidding—hold on.”
Cutter was at the door within seconds. Once it opened, Milo charged in, covering the lobby and stepping into Cutter’s office.
Cutter turned to me. “He looks pissed. What’s going on?”
“He’ll fill you in.”
“Great.”
By the time we got to the office, Milo had positioned his bulk to the left of Cutter’s desk, blocking access to the desk chair.
“Sit, Mr. Cutter.”
Cutter stared. “It’s kind of blocked?”
Milo stepped back, allowing Cutter just enough room to pass. When Cutter sat, he moved in closer.
Cutter looked up at him. “You’re making me feel like I did something.”
“God forbid.” Wolf-teeth. “You’re going to do something now: Tell me which unit is Thurston Nobach’s.”
“He’s involved? Oh, God.”
“Which unit?”
Cutter gulped. “He’s the boss’s son.”
Milo got taller.
Cutter said, “He doesn’t really live here, he just keeps a place for management. Not that he manages anything.”
Milo leaned in, inches from Cutter’s face, big hands flat on the desk, as if bracing for a leap. Cutter had tried to personalize the room. Blotter, iPad, a couple of framed photos. Milo lifted one of the frames. Cutter and an older woman. “Your mom? Looks like a nice lady. What unit?”
“This building,” said Cutter. “Top floor. B-four-twenty-five. At the back.”
“Is Nobach here now?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
“Since when?”
“Um…I guess yesterday? Around…I guess five p.m.?”
“Coming in or out?”
“Out.”
“Any idea where he was going?”
Cutter shook his head. “He just wheeled his bike out of the elevator.”
“He has a bike.”
“Nice one.”
“What color?”
“Silver. He left dirt tracks in the lobby. Like I’d complain.”
“What way did he turn once he got outside?”
“Right.”
“East.”
“Um, yeah.”
“When did you go off-shift?”
“Seven, I had stuff to do. Setting up—”
“He could’ve returned without your noticing.”
Cutter nodded. “You can’t tell me what—”
“What I can tell you is you’re going to walk out of the building with us. Two other detectives will meet us and you’re going to give them the key to B-four-twenty-five.”
“This is some kind of a raid? You don’t need a warrant?”
“Everyone asks that, too much TV,” said Milo, clapping Cutter’s shoulder. Cutter shuddered. “In fact, give me the key right now.”
“All I have is a master, sir.”
“Does it work for all three buildings?”
“Yes.”
“Even better.”
Cutter fished a jangling ring out of a desk drawer, removed a stainless-steel key, and handed it over. “You’re sure this is okay?”
“Better than okay. Let’s go, Mr. Cutter. Take a walk into the Village and get yourself a latte and don’t return until I tell you.”
“I’m on the job,” said Cutter.
“Your job right now is staying safe and being discreet. That means no calls to anyone.” Flicking the photo frame. “Even Mom. You seem like a good person. Don’t get yourself involved.”
“Oh, God,” said Cutter.
Milo walked to the door, texting. Cutter sat there for a second, then followed him out.
* * *
—
Reed and Bogomil met us outside the glass door.
Milo said, “This is Mr. Cutter. He manages the building and has furnished us a master key, which will get you access to Unit B-four-twenty-five. As well as to C-four-eighteen, where you-know-who lives.”
Cutter said, “Who?”
Milo winked. “Mr. Cutter has been super cooperative and now he’s going to get himself a latte.”
Bogomil said, “Enjoy, sir.”
Cutter said, “Actually, I’m a tea drinker.”
* * *
—
Milo waited until Cutter was out of earshot. “No idea if Nobach is here, try his place first. Wait until the hallway’s clear then knock, wait, knock, give him a chance. No response, go in armed but subtly—no big announcement. He’s not there, try Amanda’s, same deal. Once you’ve covered both places, call me.”
“Got it,” said Reed.
Bogomil nodded.
Milo said, “Stay safe.”
Bogomil said, “I always try. Life is good.”
CHAPTER
46
When it rains it pours: two parking spaces on Selby south of Wilshire. Milo’s unmarked nosed in front of Binchy’s current civilian drive, a grimy white Mustang courtesy the impound lot. The three of us walked toward the pink building, Milo patting both his gun bulges.
When we were a building away from the pink tower, Milo told us to wait and kept going. Striding past the condo, side-glancing, returning.
“Unfortunately, my boy Jeremy’s not there, just Rudy Galloway, the ex-Pacific guy, and another valet. I’ll take Rudy, you handle Other, Sean.”
Binchy said, “Handle meaning…”
“Make sure he doesn’t do anything heroic. Last time we were here, there was no one at the front desk and from what I could see, same thing now. But there has to be someone in charge with the keys. Ready?”
Without waiting for an answer, he sped off.
* * *
—
Rudy Galloway knew a cop when he saw one. Yards before Milo reached the portly valet, he tensed up. By the time Milo reached him, he’d shifted to a broad, collegial smile.
Only two black Mercedeses in the porte cochere, no one waiting to come or go.
Binchy veered to corral the second valet. I caught up with Milo. Already returning Galloway’s smile.
Galloway was saying, “West L.A., huh? Good deal, there. Rich folk, not a lot to do.”
“Stuff happens,” said Milo. “But yeah, I like it.”
“I mean sure, stuff happens everywhere, but I was with Pacific for twenty years. The gang stuff south of Rose could shrink your nuts.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Milo.