The Wedding Guest

Chapter 39

Back at Milo’s office, he began researching the pink obelisk.

Completed in 1984, before the city imposed height restrictions. Ninety-four units.

The roster the assessor kicked out made him groan.

Fewer than half the owners were cataloged as individuals; the majority had shielded themselves behind ambiguously named trusts, holding companies, and limited liability corporations.

Milo said, “No one’s listed as Homicidal Asshole, aw shucks.”

He phoned Binchy and Reed, asked them to keep up the watch on Amanda Burdette, adding the details of the pink tower.

Just as he’d turned away from his computer screen an incoming email caught his attention.

As he read, his lower jaw dropped. Inching closer to the message as if he’d missed something, he rubbed his face. Sat back and pointed.

Milo said, “Would ‘hell, yeah’ be over-eager?”

Robin put down her fork.

Dinner had been a surprise greeting, fragrant and just-plated as I got home. Grilled cumin-rubbed lamb chops, hummus, spicy carrots, and tomato-based Turkish salad. She’d cooked the meat. The sides had come from a take-out place in Pico-Robertson, not far from the run-down studio apartment of a ninety-three-year-old Spanish guitarist who could no longer drive and whose fingers failed at restringing his ’46 Santos Hernandez.

Robin had been servicing Juan’s prize instrument for a long time and considered her visits welfare checks.

I said, “This is delicious. So how’s he doing?”

“Such a sweet man, it’s sad. While I was working, he tried to show off with some Villa-Lobos on his other guitar, the cheapie. He managed to hit a few good notes that reminded me he was one of the best. But mostly...” She shook her head. “Anyway, you can thank him for dinner. I brought him a sandwich from the old deli and noticed a new place nearby. Kosher Tunisian. Smelled great, so I figured why not? What do you think?”

“Terrific. I’ll clear and wash.”

She smiled. “I’ll accept that offer unless Big Guy calls and you need to run out again.”

“Nope, the day’s over. Maybe tomorrow morning will be interesting.”

“The honeymooning couple. Think it’s some kind of confession?”

“To multiple murders? Unlikely. Milo’s been wondering about Garrett as the high-IQ boyfriend but that’s never felt right to me. Yes, he knows something about Poland, but in terms of direct involvement?” I shook my head. “If Amanda’s visit to the condo is relevant, it backs that up. Garrett was in Italy so it wasn’t him she came to see.”

“Hmm,” she said, cutting a small piece of lamb and chewing it.

I said, “What?”

“What if she was being sisterly and checking out his place for him while he was away? Watering plants, tidying up.”

“Unless he’s managed to conceal millions, he doesn’t own a unit there. Plus Amanda doesn’t come across as the tidying type.”

“Your basic sloppy student?”

“I have no idea about her personal habits,” I said. “She doesn’t come across as other-directed.”

“She wouldn’t do a favor for her brother?”

“I guess anything’s possible.”

We ate some more.

She put down her fork. “So what do you think he wants, honey?”

“To pass on information he’s been withholding about Poland,” I said. “In the best of worlds he’ll identify The Brain and clarify the link to Skiwski.”

“Why step forward now?”

“Conscience? Fear? Who knows?”

Robin smiled. “Am I being annoyingly Socratic?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I just don’t have answers.”

“Hopefully tomorrow will clear it all up.”

“As Milo would say—”

“My mouth, God’s ears.”

“Your mouth, there’d be a good chance.” I leaned over and kissed her hard.

“Whoa. I surprise-feed you, you get romantic, huh?”

“What, I’m all gastrointestinal tract?”

“Darling,” she said. “You’re a prince among men but you do have a Y chromosome. Please pass the carrots.”