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“Let’s just say official policy.”
“Yeah, yeah, how long you gonna be?”
“Hard to say.”
We walked past him. He stood there, looking defeated.
Milo said, “I know, it’s sad. C’mon.”
—
We strode past the second attendant, younger, shorter, chubbier. His eyes rounded at the sight of the badge and he saluted as we entered the building. The lobby was a fifty-foot, glass-domed atrium bottomed by black terrazzo. A uniformed guard behind a central station didn’t look up. Elevator banks filled both lateral walls.
Four chrome-legged gray faux-suede couches were arranged in a perfect square around nothing. One human being in all that space. A small woman perched on the edge of the leftmost couch who got up and click-clacked toward us on spike heels.
“Lieutenant? Lulu Mastrecht.” Throaty voice.
“Thanks for meeting with us, ma’am. This is Alex Delaware.”
“Alex.” A smile began melting around the edges and ended up wistful. Her hand was firm and soft. Narrow and tiny like the rest of her.
Lulu Mastrecht was around the same age as the parking valet but with smooth, rosy-cheeked skin. Five foot two with the heels, maybeninety pounds fully dressed, with silver hair cut short and feathered at the front. Her face was heart-shaped, prettied by oversized blue eyes and an undersized, uptilted nose. She’d probably been called cute for most of her life, either loved or despised it. She wore a fitted, royal-blue, mannish shirt over black jeggings, and gold in all the strategic places.
“Do you mind if we speak right here? I like to keep business and personal separate.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
Lulu Mastrecht returned to where she’d been sitting and we settled to her right.
Close enough for me to see pink rims at the outer edges of her eyes. Among the gold was a broad wedding band studded with emeralds.
She crossed her legs, let a foot dangle. The shoes were white with red soles.
Milo said, “Again, thanks, ma’am.”
“Of course. I’m still trying to wrap my head around Gio.” Long sigh. Longer, slower head shake. “Such a sweet guy, it makes no sense.”
“How did the two of you meet?”
Given the wedding band, a question that could’ve led to tension. Given the wedding band, why had she agreed to talk?
Lulu Mastrecht’s shoulders relaxed, loosened by pleasant memory.
“How did we meet? At the Four Seasons on Doheny. I was there for a business meeting that ended early.” Semi-smile. “That’s business-speak for it didn’t go well. It was too late to come back to the office so I decided to drown my sorrows in the bar. Not my thing, drinking alone, but that night it felt like the right thing to do. The funny thing is, I got strange looks from the host. Finally, I figured out he suspected I was some kind of sex worker.”
Full smile. “Pretty crazy, huh, at my age. I chose to take it as a compliment. But I didn’t want to give the wrong impression, so I took a corner table, sent a few texts, ordered my drink, kept my head down and logged onto Forbes.com.”
“Minding your own business,” said Milo.
“Making a point of it,” said Lulu Mastrecht. “I.e., ignoring the men who were in there. By my second drink, they must’ve figured out I was legitimate because they left me alone. I’m midway through it and this young, gorgeous, beautifully dressed guy comes in, looks around, and sits two tables away. I’m thinking, ‘Oh boy, he’s got the same impression, what is it with this place?’ So I ignore him completely, keep reading. A few minutes later, I look up, the way you do, it’s natural right? And his eyes are on me. He smiles, which takes me by surprise so I smile back. He summons the waiter, says the next one’s on him and moves to the adjacent table. I continued to shine him on but it’s hard. Knowing he’s there. When the drinks come, he waits a sec, then pulls his chair close and says, ‘Ah, you’re reading a business article,’ in this adorable accent, and tells me he’s in business, too—designer shoes. So I’m figuring the hooker thing is out of the way, why not enjoy some attention?”
She shrugged. “We made pleasant conversation, he walked me out, and we parted ways. But yes, I did give him my office number and by the time I got home and checked for messages, his was one of them. I didn’t answer but he called the next day and invited me to dinner. I said no but how about coffee. Which we did in the afternoon at a place I like in Brentwood. It was pleasant, and classy, and again, nothing happened.”
A fingertip brushed the fringe of her hair. “The next time, something happened.” She leaned forward. “Gio was the most tender man I’ve ever met. In every regard. Why anyone would want to harm him…” Her voice cracked. “I just can’t fathom this.”
Milo said, “It may have had nothing to do with him, Ms. Mastrecht.”
“What do you mean?”
