Alicia said, “Thisguy walks in front ofher. But love the shoes.”
Milo said, “Maybe the reason she digs Heck.”
“Nut for every bolt, huh—okay, the valet just drove up with their Porsche.”
She caressed the edge of a leather seat. “Speaking of which, very nice, L.T. Appreciate the ride-along.”
“Perk of the job, kid.”
—
They followed the couple back to Trenton Drive, watched them park in the driveway and enter their house. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen, twenty.
Alicia said, “Like Doc said, she’s a big one for prep. Maybe she’s calmed down and is calling her own mouthpiece.”
Milo texted Bel Geddes.
Happy to knock on your door.
Seconds later, Bettina Bel Geddes hurried outside, ponytailed, clench-fisted, wearing black velour sweats and pink Nikes.
Fifteen feet to the south, Milo flashed his brights.
She ran over, breathing hard. Milo and Alicia stepped out.
“I had tochange,okay?You’rethe one whowantedthis whole—I can’t exactly run inheels,canI?”
The passage of time had restored some of the attorney-edge to Bel Geddes’s voice. But it wasn’t a durable change and her volume faltered, dropping to a near-whisper at the tail end.
Milo said, “Let’s talk, Bettina.”
“Not here for God’s sake, the next block, I don’t want anyone seeing me with you.”
Alicia said, “We’re not contagious.”
“Please!This is badenough.” Bel Geddes’s voice broke.
Milo’s notes said,Det. Bogomil and I allowed suspect Bel Geddes to distance herself from her residence.
—
The three of them walked quickly to Walden Drive. Milo stopped on a quiet, tree-shrouded corner and said, “Here.”
Bettina Bel Geddes looked around and stood there, tapping a foot. Not impatience, this time. Fear.
People in poor neighborhoods often take to the streets after dark, escaping cramped, poorly ventilated quarters. The higher-priced spreads in L.A. become ghost towns, and Walden was no exception.
Bel Geddes said, “Okay. What’s this about?” Aiming for tough talk but falling well short.
“You saw the photo, Bettina.”
“Fine, I’m sleeping with another man. My husband’s not exactly a saint.”
Milo said, “Not any man, Bettina.”
“So he’s a client.”
“That’s irrelevant to us. Though it is kinda unprofessional. What does matter is the date of your mini-vacation in La Jolla.”
