“Solly? What’s up—” Creech’s lips quivered. His long face lost definition. “Oh, no.”
“Afraid so, Mr. Creech.”
“Solly?” said Creech. He touched his chest. “Oh, my my. Solly and I go way back, he was driving when I was still working for the school district. Solly Roget? Really? Haitian, salt of the earth, couldn’t find a nicer guy. When? Where?”
“Yesterday, a house in Bel Air.”
“Bel Air? Like a Manson thing? Where in Bel Air? I used to drive there. Mrs. Meldock, Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Robertson, I was the guy for the ladies who lunched.”
Milo said, “Off Benedict Canyon.”
“Not that big one, looks like an office building, you have to take off your shoes even in the motor court—the agent…Mort Medvedev?”
“No, sir.”
“Where, then?”
“Sorry, can’t give out details just yet, Mr. Creech. When’s the last time you saw Mr. Roget?”
“The last time.” Creech tapped his lower lip. “The last time would have to be…couple of years ago? Yeah, two summers ago, some violinist. At the Bowl. We were both doing a drive-and-wait, got put in parking spots right next to each other.”
“In your Town Cars.”
“What else?”
“Yesterday, Mr. Roget was driving a white stretch—”
“That monstrosity? Oh, boy.” Creech’s palm slapped his own cheek lightly. “Piece of garbage, you can’t get axle stability in something that big. Unless you build it like a semi and then it’s too stiff for livery. No resale value, Solly picked it up cheap a long time ago. I told him don’t go there, my friend, the kind of people want to ride something like that you don’t want to know. Guess I was right. Who were the customers? They the ones who did it?”
Milo said, “Doesn’t look like they were.”
“What then, a robbery?”
“It’s complicated, sir. We’re just starting out and trying to get to know Mr. Roget.”
“Been two years but I don’t see Solly changing from the way he was when I knew him. A sweeter guy you’d never meet. You ask me, that was part of his problem. Too nice. Got taken advantage of.”
“By who?”
“Customers passing bad checks—him taking checks, period, was naive. Not getting everything up front.”
“You know all this because—”
“He told me. At the Bowl. We had plenty of time to talk. I brought snacks, he also did. We snacked and talked. So were they lowlifes, the passengers?”
“We’re still gathering information, Mr. Creech.”
“You want, Lieutenant, you can give me names, I’ll see if they ring a bell.”
“You and Solly shared clients?”
“No, but people who use drivers use drivers.”
“Okay,” said Milo, “but please keep the names to yourself.”
“Promise. Shoot.”
“Richard Gurnsey.”
