He said, “Hmm,” and took out a pair of gloves. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
Kneeling, he examined the contents of the purse, removing a wallet holding a driver’s license, five $20 bills that he fanned, and a pair of credit cards. Then: a vial of Princess Night perfume, a compact, an eyebrow pencil, and a tube of lipstick.
Putting everything back, he stood. “You have a preference on case numbers?”
Petra said, “Her stuff seems a whole lot more directly evidentiary for you. But I can’t ignore what happened to her, because it could end up relating to a motive on O’Brien.”
“A vigilante thing?”
“Probably a stretch but this early I hate ruling anything out.”
I said, “It could be a vigilante thing not related to Marissa.”
Petra said, “O’Brien’s done it before and made someone mad?”
“You don’t start hunting in middle age.” I took in the room. “Also, it’s not a décor that would impress a fully conscious woman.”
“Putting it mildly,” she said. “And we did find date-dope. You think some avenger’s been stalking O’Brien and just happened to nail him the night he O.D.’d Marissa?”
Milo said, “You know what they say about karma.”
“Yeah,” she said, “but I’ve been on the job too long to believe it.”
“Ditto. Okay, how about this: Tag Marissa’s stuff with both our numbers and I’ll give the lab prior notice to prevent a filing snafu.”
“Perfect. Now the larger question: Where do we take it all work-wise?”
He grinned. “You missed me that much?”
Petra placed her hand on her breast. “How could I not, be still my heart. Hey, if we collab, do I get to tap Alex’s brain at will?”
“After filling out the appropriate forms. What kind of dope did you find?”
Petra opened the nightstand drawer. Inside were miniature, fish-shaped plastic squeeze bottles filled with clear liquid and capped in red.
“GHB,” she said. “The fact they look cute makes them doubly repulsive, no?”
She pushed the vials aside and pointed. “The oblong pills are diazepam—generic Valium—and the weed speaks for itself. There’s also plenty of booze in a kitchen cabinet.”
I said, “Smorgasbord of depressants.”
Milo said, “Predator’s apothecary.”
“A couple of great band names,” said Petra. “Okay, I’ll get a techie up here and make sure everything is double-tagged.”
A voice from the doorway said, “Hi, guys.”
D II Raul Biro, typically resplendent in a gray silk blazer, razor-creased black slacks, tab-collared white shirt, yellow-and-black paisley tie, and paper booties over his shoes, gave a thumbs-up and stepped in. His thick black hair was brushed back and furrowed by comb tracks. His eyes were acute and searching.
“Loo, Doc. Petra filled me in. Bizarre.”
Petra said, “Yup, once again, it’s Hollyweird.” To us: “If there’s nothing more, I’d like to start trying to get in next door.” Back to her partner: “I’ll try the owners of this palace again, they’re based in Vegas. How about you see how many uniforms we can mobilize for the canvass.”
“Sounds good.”
“Sorry for breaking up your day.”
