a crotch tweak a greeting—those eggs aren’t getting too firm?”
I emptied the pan onto his plate.
He filled his mouth. Chewed like an industrial combine and swallowed. “Tastes like rib eye.”
“Good call.”
“That, Doge Mio, is the essence of friendship. Okay, so Denny and the redhead head to her house. She puts her hand on his ass. They’re both bouncing now, like a couple of bungee jumpers. He stays in there for an hour and a quarter, leaves by himself, cruises down to Ventura, drives to a bar in Studio City. I took a risk and peeked. He’s by himself with a beer. I go back to the car, he comes out twenty minutes later and goes home. Corinne’s car is back. I watched for a while to see if any sparks would fly but nothing.”
I said, “Maybe he drank to put booze on his breath as a cover. I’ve been downing shots by my lonesome, honey.”
“You’re a devious lad. Anyway, lights go out around eleven, I leave. But here’s the interesting part. While I’m sitting out there, I’m running a check on the girlfriend’s house and it’s owned by a woman named Sliva Cardell.”
“Relative of Leanza.”
“Close relative, Leanza’s mommy as verified by Leanza’s Facebook. Her and three brothers, no daddy of note. On Sliva’s page, there are old bikini shots that she posts as if they’re current. Googling her name pulls up real estate ads—she’s a broker.”
“Was she at the wedding?”
“Yup, her car shows up in the list from the parking lot and when I got home I found her in a few of the wedding photos. Including the one with Red Dress.”
He took another bite, wiped his hands, drew out his phone, and began typing.
I said, “Two girlfriends in one frame. Any eye contact between them?”
“Nope, my luck doesn’t extend that far. Sliva’s closer to the front, like she’s waiting to get to the bar and tank up. She’s putting on a little show for a bunch of younger guys surrounding her. Blue dress, super low-cut, bending and offering them a view of her maternal instincts.”
He pulled up an image on his phone, enlarged a section, and pointed. “This is Saucy Sliva.”
Still too small for me to catch subtle details. But nothing subtle about bright-orange hair cut in a short glossy cap, an electric-blue off-the-shoulder, low-cut piece of satin, and cleavage that could hide a paperback book.
Strong-shouldered woman, thick arms, white flash of smile. “Analysis?”
I said, “Obviously, Denny goes for the mousy type.”
Milo’s eyebrows shot up as he barked laughter. Chewing frantically, he pounded his chest, swallowed with a gulp, coughed, drank coffee. “Don’t do that while I’m eating.”
I thought: That limits me.
I said: “The doge obeys rules?”
“Everyone obeys rules. I can’t see any obvious link between shtupping a bridesmaid’s mom and Red Dress. Except what it confirms about Denny. This is a guy ruled by his gonads who’s been known to break the law. Like I said, brick by brick.”
He finished the omelet, examined the toast. “Whole wheat, fine, why not?”
I poured myself my fourth cup of coffee and sat down across from him. “I still think the method exhibits rage or sadism. Using dope to be able to look into her eyes. But there’d be another advantage to knocking her out first. Physical strength wouldn’t be a factor.”
“A woman.”
“There seem to be a few of them in Mr. Rapfogel’s life.”
“Hell hath no fury,” he said, pushing away the toast.
I said, “The obvious angry woman is Corinne but she’d be the last person to trash her daughter’s wedding and she’d be too conspicuous to slip away. Sliva, on the other hand, wouldn’t be missed. Does she look as sturdy in real life as in the pictures?”
“She’s no bikini model but she ain’t flabby, so sure, sturdy enough. Especially with a fentanyl backup.”
He pulled up Sliva Cardell’s image again. “Not much fabric to damage, here. And yeah, those arms are pretty substantial, no?”
He logged onto a Facebook page. Sliva in her thirties wearing a flesh-colored thong bikini that created a first impression of nudity. Voluptuous and hard-bodied, topped by shagged yellow hair that approached the crack of her buttocks. “Definitely not a wimp. So what, getting rid of the competition?”
I said, “The motivation seems lacking. We’re talking cold brutality in order to win a broke guy never known to be faithful. Unless she’s got some serious pathology going on.”
“Last night, she looked pretty enthusiastic about ol’ Denny. Maybe a younger, hotter rival tipped the scales. As far