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.
“Definitely,” said Galloway. “So what’s the deal?”
“We’re here for an emergency welfare check, Rudy. C’mere.” Drawing Galloway to a far corner of the covered drive, he stopped next to the phone-booth-sized valet stand and underhanded a photo of Amanda Burdette.
“Who’s that?”
“You’ve never seen her?”
For all his cop experience, Galloway couldn’t control his eyes as they ping-ponged from left to right. He knew Milo knew. “Oh, yeah—you know, you’re right, she has been here. She some sort of offender?”
“Why would you say that, Rudy?”
“You know,” said Galloway. “College kids, always with the dope.”
“She show signs of addiction when she comes to visit Mr. Nobach?”
Nobach’s name made Galloway blink. Running a finger around his collar, he licked his lips. “Naw naw, just, you know. College brats. They’re always playing around with the dope.”
“She is a college student, Rudy. So how come she visits Nobach?”
Galloway licked his lips. “Couldn’t tell you.”
“How often does she visit Mr. Nobach?”
Galloway looked relieved. A question he could answer honestly. “Not a lot—maybe I seen her…five times.”
“Over what time period?”
“Couldn’t tell you.” Resumption of eye-tennis. “It’s not like a regular thing.”
“Unlike this person.”
Underhanding a photo of Susie Koster.
Galloway’s mouth stayed shut but a gurgling noise rose from his gullet.
“Rudy?”
“Yeah, this one was regular. Kimbee. She lived here for a while. That’s why I know her name. She’d drive a little Honda down there and use one of his spaces.”
“Nobach’s.”
Nod. “What’s going on?”
“When did Kimbee live here?”
Galloway rotated his head. Scratched the ample flesh under his chin. “Look, I don’t wanna tell you something’s not true.”
“Best guess, Rudy. I won’t hold you to it.”
“A year ago? Three-quarters? They rode bikes together. That’s how I know her name. From him talking to her—turn right, Kimbee, we’ll go to Holmby. That kind of thing.”
Galloway looked at the photo again. “She wore