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“Awkward City, got it,” she said. “I haven’t seen him for a while and he’s always with a date. Would that hurt or help?”
“Definitely help, she’s the one who ended it.”
“Good for her. When I say dates I mean different women.”
“That fits. Thanks.”
She looked me over. “Treat her good.”
“Promise.”
A group of four middle-aged men in expensive suits and gut-flaunting T-shirts stepped up behind her, laughing.
“Welcome, guys, we’ve got a nice table over by the bar.”
One of the men said, “Closer the better, gorgeous.”
Laughter all around. The hostess forced a smile.
I was back at our table when Robin returned.
—
Later that evening, after we’d burned calories and showered together, she slipped on a robe and tied her hair up. “I thought I’d sneak over and take a look at the Torres. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Go for it.”
When she was gone, I phoned Milo at home.
“What’s up?” he said. Clogged voice. Weary.
I said, “Aggiunta goes by Gio. He was a regular at the Bel-Air bar and took lots of women there. Not including Meagin.”
“How’d you find this out?”
“A not-so-confidential source.” I told him about the hostess.
He said, “Covert operation while your true love’s in the ladies’? Of course you told her what you were up to. Not.”
I said, “Need-to-know basis.”
“You also didn’t tell her you figured out she called me.”
“Same criterion.”
“So the guy’s a big-time player, no surprise.”
I said, “What I find interesting is he never took Meagin there and she was one of many. So maybe there was no long-term affair. They met jogging or at some other chance event.”
“Maybe…you realize what that does. Expands the jealous-husband thing way beyond Mr. March.”
“On the other hand, it was Ms. March who got shot.”
“Coulda been wrong place, wrong time.”
“Two straight to the heart?”
“The bad guy likes patterns.”
