” “The kiddie-pop group Amelia tried to market

“Who?”
“The kiddie-pop group Amelia tried to market.” I described the publicityshot on the PlayHouse wall. “The Dowd kids plus one. Maybe there’s someone elsewho can fill us in about the good old days.”
He said, “You feel like researching the history of bubblegum music, be myguest. I need another face-to-face with the sib who really ain’t one. Startingwith a drop-in at the BNB office. If Brad’s not there, it’s over to his house.Eventually, a day at the beach will be on the agenda.”
I said, “Think Billy even knows he owns the Latigo property?”
“Brad bought it and put it in Billy’s name?”
“Brad lives near the ocean, has surfed enough to grow knots on his knees.Meaning he knows Malibu.A nice, secluded oceanview lot on the land-side might appeal to him, especiallyif it was paid for with Billy’s money. Being in charge of family finances, Bradcould get Billy to sign on the dotted line. Or just forge Billy’s name.Meanwhile, Billy pays the property tax and doesn’t have a clue.”
“The assessor says there are no structures on the lot. What would Brad useit for?”
“Meditation, planning a dream house, burying bodies.”
“Billy pays, Brad plays,” he says. “Nora’s no business type, either. MeaningBrad can basically do what he wants with all the money.” He rubbed his face.“All this time, I’ve been looking for Peaty’s stash spots, but Brad has accessto dozens of buildings and garages all over the county.”
“He came right out and told us he stores his cars in some of theproperties.”
“He did, indeed. What was that, playing mind games?”
“Or bragging about his collection. This is a guy who needs to feelimportant. I’m wondering if it could’ve been him watching Angeline Wassermanfrom that Range Rover.”
“Why would it be him?”
“Last time I saw him, he had on a nice linen suit. There were a bunch justlike it hanging from a rack at the Barneys outlet.”
“Snappy dresser,” he said. “Maybe a regular, just like Wasserman. Heobserves her, knows she’s absentminded, lifts her purse.”
“The goal was to get her phone, he couldn’t ’ve have cared less about themoney or the credit cards,” I said. “The more I think about that, the better Ilike it: well-dressed middle-aged guy who shops there all the time, no reasonto suspect him. Angeline might know his face but the Rover’s tinted windowswould’ve prevented her from realizing it was him. It was his ride sheconcentrated on, anyway—‘twinsie karma.’”
He retrieved Wasserman’s number from his pad and punched it. “Ms. Wasserman?Lieutenant Sturgis, again…I know you are but just one more question, okay?There’s a gentleman who shops at the outlet regularly, mid-forties,nice-looking, white hair—you do…oh…no, it’s more…maybe…okay, thanks…no, that’sit.”
He hung up. “‘That’s Brad, I see him all the time. Did he have something stolen,too ?’”
“Seeing him as a victim, not a suspect,” I said, “because he’s well-off andstylish.”
“You got it. ‘Great guy, terrific taste, you should see the gorgeous cars hedrives, Lieutenant, each time a different one.’ Turns out Angeline and ol’ Bradask each other’s opinions about outfits all the time. He’s always honest but hedoes it with ‘sensitivity.’”