“That could get expensive,” Harper pointed out. “There must be dozens of women named Emily Johnson in the area. Assuming she’s from Los Angeles.”
“Well, before we do that, my associate and I—” he glanced again at Sam who tried to look as much like Jules’s associate as possible instead of a man whose brain was melting from burning questions about that horrific wig “—will start at Devonshire Place. See if there’s any mention of Ms. Johnson in Mr. Devonshire’s personal office. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be photos of the two of them on the mantle.”
Milt the Junior laughed, but then caught himself. “He was never big on family portraits or photos of any kind unless they were taken by the photographer fromVariety,” he told them, then gave another of those big shrugs. Again, no radical movement from the “wig.” “But, hey, who’s to say? Maybe he mellowed in his final years.”
“Was the estate in Burbank Mr. Devonshire’s only property?” Jules asked.
Milt said, “Yes,” as Harper said, “No.”
Harper continued, “He also has—had—a... vacation home in Palm Springs.”
Milt was genuinely surprised. “He hated Palm Springs.”
“Well, it’s really in Palm Desert,” Harper said, as if thatwasn’t the geographical equivalent of tomato-tomahto. Palm Desert was a newer, less campy, even more wealthy section of the Coachella Valley. “It’s part of a golfing community.”
Milt sat back in his seat, and now the look he gave Harper was disdain. “Hedidn’t play golf—butyoudo.”
“Well, yes he did play in his later years,” Harper said primly. “His doctor insisted he exercise, and I talked him into giving golf a try. He bought the house in Palm Desert so we’d have a comfortable place to stay. You know how much he hated hotels.”
“Almost as much as he hated Palm Springs and golf,” Milt said. “But okay, there’s a house in Palm Desert, too. That’s... good to know.” He did not look happy about that, which was a little strange.
“When was the last time he was there?” Jules leaned in to ask, no doubt thinking that a trip to Palm Desert was in store, to sift through whatever personal items Dead Milt had left behind.
“Well.” Harper cleared his throat, and crossed that particular to-do item off their list by saying, “I’m afraid he never actually made it out there. The house closed a few weeks after his stroke. The big one, I mean. He had a small one, a TIA, about a month before that. I suggested, of course, that we kill the deal, since his mobility was affected—golfing was out, he was very unsteady on his feet after that—but he was adamant about proceeding. He thought the property would be a good investment—and it has been. It’s increased in value dramatically in the past few years. I go there regularly to do maintenance. In fact, I’ll be going there soon.”
“I bet you will,” Milt the Junior said. “Where exactly is it?”
Harper rattled off an address, and Jules added it to hisnotes as Milt the Junior made a big show of typing it into his phone.
“Since we’re looking for your father’s personal papers and files, why don’t we focus first on Devonshire Place,” Jules said, daring to look at Milt directly. “If you have time, maybe you could take us over there right now...?”
“Oh, no,” Milt laughed as he pocked his phone. “Noooo. Nope. I haven’t been there in years—I have no desire to go there now. Or ever. Never. Would be the right time. For me to go back. Sorry.”
“I’ll make arrangements for one of our assistants to meet you over there and let you in,” Harper said.
“It’s going to take us a while to do a thorough search,” Jules pointed out. “Days even. We’ll need a key.”
Harper said. “I’m afraid there’s no chance of that.”
“Oh yes, there is,” Milt shot back. “The place is mine, Ernie. Devonshire Place and the Palm Desert house, too.”
Harper bristled, clearly hating both the message and the nickname.
Milt wasn’t done. “Well, one tenth of a percent of it is for now,” he continued. “But if we can’t find Emily, everything goes to me, God help me—you said so yourself. That meansallof Milt’s shit, including the house and any paperwork that you have on file.” He turned to Jules. “I’ll make sure you get anything you need, including a key to both houses. You got the files from the accountant, right?”
“I did, thanks,” Jules said.
“The accountant?” Harper was not happy about that.
“Payroll files and tax documents,” Milt informed him. “I figured that was the first place to search for Emily.”
“I wish you had informed me.”
“Well, Ernie, I’m informing you now.”
“I feel certain there’s no pertinent information in those files,” Harper said stiffly.
“Actually,” Jules said, “there already was. I found the names and contact numbers of Mr. Devonshire’s housekeepers through the years—I think there were four of them.” He checked his notes. “Yeah. Helen Davis, Catharine Castor, Paula Giardella, and Rene Williams. I’ll be calling them first—they’re likely to be a good source of information.”
