“Oh. Good.”
“What’s her ETA?”
“Didn’t ask.”
Blessingame returned to the rear of the house and Milo speed-dialed.
“Hi, Basia,” he said. “Yeah, just found out…appreciate it…any idea when…great, see you then, bye.”
He clicked off. “Fifteen to twenty. She was at the U. lecturing.”
“Awesome,” said Alicia. “Basia rocks.”
“She’s also meticulous, meaning her evaluation’s gonna take time. Where are the techies?”
“Last I checked, on their way.”
“Why don’t you get the victim’s warrant so it’ll be in place when they arrive. Then see if Moe and Sean can help us scavenge.”
“Us? You’re going to participate?”
Milo grinned. “Man of the people. And you kids are my people.”
Alicia grinned back, produced her own phone, and stepped a few feet away.
I said, “What a dad.”
He said, “Closest I’m gonna come to parenting.”
A shouted “Sirs!” from the south swiveledus.
Katherine Santos jogged our way with the easy stride of a practiced runner. No heavy breathing but flush-faced.
Excitement.
“Got something, sir,” she said. “A neighbor says the victim has a daughter who’s a 5150.”
LAPD code for a mentally ill person eligible for a seventy-two-hour involuntary hold. The criterion: danger to self or others.
Milo said, “She’s caused problems?”
“Don’t know about that, sir,” said Santos. “I just meant she sounds pretty crazy.”
“Thanks. Where’s this neighbor?”
“Across the street, two down, the yellow one.”
“Name?”
“Hawkins. Mister.”
“Excellent, Officer. Keep going.”
Santos returned to the canvass and Alicia came over. “Warrant in the works. What was that all about?”
Milo told her.
She said, “A crazy person. That would fit with cutting Mommy’s arms off and deep-freezing her. The yellow house, huh?”
