A few feet away, Gold Tooth glared.
Strobe’s claws were on the sandwich before Petra took a breath. Snarfing audibly. Making animal sounds.
With a mouth full of meat and bread and tahina dripping down his chin, he said, “Thanks, ‘Tective.”
“Bon appétit, Duncan.”
35
Milo followed the blonde. He’d been watching her building for an hour, tailed her as she and a group of coworkers left and walked a block west to the Century City Mall. Her companions were three other women, all dressed like the blonde in somber-colored suits. All were older than the blonde, who appeared to be twenty-five or -six.
Everett Kipper’s young squeeze, Stephanie.
She was shapely, of medium height, a good deal of it legs. She made no attempt to capitalize on that, her skirt was knee length. But she couldn’t prevent the way she moved naturally.
The blond hair was long and straight, platinum with an overlay of gold. From the back, she looked like every straight guy’s dream.
Milo appreciated her figure the way he enjoyed a good painting.
He followed the four women to the Food Court, where the coworkers veered into the warren of fast-food booths after one of them said, “You’re sure, Steph?”
Stephanie nodded.
Her friend said, “See you later.”
She continued walking, past the Brentano’s bookstore and the multiplex theaters, stopping to window-shop at Bloomingdale’s and several boutiques, then continuing until she reached a plaza at the south end of the mall. Benches and food vendors were scattered around a big square of sun-brightened stone.
Gorgeous day. Perfect for a meeting with someone you loved.
The complex was jammed with shoppers and tourists and white-collar types from the neighboring office buildings taking lunch. Milo bought a jumbo iced tea, melted into the throng, and strolled leisurely while keeping his eye on that pretty blond head.
When Stephanie stopped in the center of the plaza and didn’t move for a moment, he kept himself behind a corner, then ventured out on foot and stood with his back to her sipping tea through a straw. Positioned so he could watch her reflection in a shop window.
She tossed her hair, smoothed it over her ears. Removed her sunglasses, put them back on.
Waiting for the boyfriend? Milo was curious why Kipper had been looking so angry.
He kept his eye on the walkway. Kipper’s likely approach.
Stephanie bought a hot pretzel with mustard and a cup of something from a pushcart vendor, took a bench, and began eating.
Munching away, tossing crumbs to the pigeons.
Crossing those long legs.
Finishing most of the pretzel and the drink, she got up and bought an ice-cream cone from another cart and sat back down in the same spot.
Not a single glance at her watch.
Fifteen minutes passed, and she didn’t look the least bit impatient.
Another five. She yawned, stretched, looked up at the sun.
She removed her shades again. Took midday heat on her face.
Eyes closed. Mellowing out.
Not waiting for anyone.
Milo crossed the plaza, made a long, wide, circle, and approached her from the back. She wouldn’t see him until he was ready.
His badge was in hand, concealed by his fingers. She was sure to be startled by the sight of a big man bearing down on her, and he hoped the shield would focus her, avoid a scene.
She didn’t hear him coming, didn’t look up and open her eyes until he’d walked around to the front of her bench, was nearly on top of her.
Dark eyes, surprised. He looked past that, focused on the bruise that swelled her left cheekbone. She’d done well with her makeup, had almost concealed the purpling, but a bit peeked through- a rosy splotch deepening her smooth, tan complexion. The entire left side of her face was enlarged. Cosmetics couldn’t handle edema.
The badge scared her, and he pocketed it. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Especially today.”
“I don’t understand,” she said in a small voice. “Today?”
He sat down beside her, recited his title, emphasizing all the buzzwords. Lieutenant. Police. Homicide.
That did nothing to squelch Stephanie’s fear level, but it did focus her anxiety.
“This is about Julie, right?” she said. Trembling lips. “You can’t be serious.”
“Serious about what, Ms…”
“Cranner. Stephanie Cranner. Ev told me you’d been asking him lots of questions about Julie. That you probably suspected him because he was the ex.” Her hand rose toward the bruised cheek, then stopped and dropped into her lap. “That’s ridiculous.”
“He told you we suspected him,” said Milo.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” said Stephanie Cranner. Pleasant voice- youthful, lilting, but strained by anxiety. Everything about her radiated youth and health. Except the bruise.
“Did Mr. Kipper do that to you?”
The brown eyes dropped. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. It has nothing to do with Julie- not her murder, anyway.”
Milo slumped, made himself as small as possible, nonthreatening.
Stephanie Cranner sat up straighter. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”
“You just got here,” said Milo. “Usually you take forty minutes for lunch.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve been watching me?”
He shrugged.
“That’s outrageous,” she said. “I haven’t done anything. I just happen to be in love with Ev.” A beat. “And he loves me.”
Milo eyed the swollen cheek. “First time he’s done that?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Ah.”
“It is,” she said. “Absolutely the first time. That’s why I don’t want to make a big deal. Please.”
“Sure,” said Milo.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
He made no move to leave.
She said, “May I go now, Lieutenant? Please?”
Milo swiveled, eased himself a little closer, made eye contact. “Ms. Cranner, I have absolutely no desire to make your life difficult. I work Homicide, not Domestic Violence. Though I should tell you, the two aren’t always unrelated.”
Stephanie Cranner gaped at him. “This is unbelievable. You’re saying…”
“I’d be less concerned about your well-being if I knew what happened.”
“What happened was Ev and I had… words. A fight. It was my fault, I lost it. Got physical and started shoving at him, kept shoving, really shoving hard. He took it for a while, then finally he shoved me back.”
“With his fist?”
“With his hand,” she said, showing Milo a smooth palm. She wore two rings on each hand. Cheap stuff- thin gold, semiprecious stones. No diamond solitaire.
“His open hand did that?”
“Yes, it did, Lieutenant. Because I was charging him and the movement- all the force, we collided. Believe me, he was a lot more upset than me. Got down on his knees and begged forgiveness.”
“Did you grant it?” said Milo.
“Of course, I did. There was nothing to forgive.” She thumped a firm bosom. “I started it. He was defending himself.”
Milo sipped iced tea and let several moments pass.
“Lunching alone, today,” he said.
“He’s in a meeting.”
“Ah.” Using the old shrink word, again. After riding Alex about it for years, he’d found it a useful tool.
“He is,” said Stephanie Cranner. “If you don’t believe me, you can check.”
“And you were in the mood to be alone.”
“Is that a crime?”
“What got you so upset that you shoved him, Ms. Cranner?”
“I don’t see why I have to talk about it.”
“You don’t.”
“Then I won’t.”
Milo smiled.
She said, “You’re not going to let go of this.”
“I’ve got a job to do.”
“Look,” she said, “if you have to know, the fight was about Julie. Which is exactly why you’re wasting your time looking at Ev.”