Free Motive by Jonathan Kellerman

long,” said Ashley. “Maybe it got awkward.”
    “Phyllis Tranh,” said Milo. “That’s a Vietnamese name.”
    “Yeah, she is. Mommy knows her from business, Phyllis retails.”
    Marissa said, “Her and Mommy used to get their nails done together. When Mommy went to Beverly Hills.”
    “All the nail places in Beverly Hills are Vietnamese,” said Ashley.
    “Everywhere,” said Marissa.
    “Phyllis like goes in and talks to them in their language and she and Mommy get vipped.”
    Milo said, “Did that change after Phyllis started dating your dad?”
    “I don’t know,” said Ashley. “No one ever said.”
    “I don’t know either,” said Marissa. “What people do is their own business, anyway.”

CHAPTER
6
    As we exited the house, one of the horses neighed and the other stared.
    Milo said, “My kingdom for a talking steed—no Mr. Ed comments, please. He was a dilettante.”
    He began working his phone as we returned to the Seville.
    Phyllis Tranh was chief financial officer of Diamond Products and Sundries. The CEO was Albert L. Tranh. Headquartered on Santee Street, east of downtown, the company sold goods on the web as well as in retail stores and served as a jobber for importers and wholesalers. The website could be accessed in English, Spanish, Chinese, Thai, and Vietnamese.
    Milo whistled. “They’re into everything from aquarium supplies to yeast. Including religious supplies for Catholics, Protestants, and Buddhists. Like you said, a woman with that background might serve as a nifty replacement for Ursula.” He loosened his tie. “Fooling with your friend’s spouse, same old story. Okay, let’s see where this entrepreneurial lady lives. Meanwhile, my head’s killing me, try to find a place for coffee before we get back on the freeway.”

    I drove out of Rancho Lobos Estates the way I’d come in. The guardhouse was unoccupied but the gate’s exit function was activated by pressure.
    As I hooked back onto Lobo Canyon, Milo kept searching for data on Phyllis Tranh.
    “Here we go, North Maple Drive in Beverly Hills. Lives with Albert Tranh.” He turned to me. “She’s married, it opens up a whole new chapter … looks like neither of them has committed a criminal violation. Pity. Onward to DMV—shit, never looked up Richard’s wheels.”
    That info egested quickly: Corey drove a two-year-old black Range Rover, Phyllis Tranh a three-year-old gray Maserati, Albert Tranh a seven-year-old Lincoln Town Car.
    Milo reached Moe Reed and asked him to be out on the lookout for all three vehicles on the security tape.
    Reed said, “Nice to have diversity, L.T. Been looking at a bunch of German engineering for the last hour. You’d think the whole world’s BMW and Mercedes and Audi.”
    “Nothing iffy, so far?”
    “Not yet. A couple of commercial delivery drivers who arrived early on did come up with records. But nothing close to homicide.”
    “How far from homicide?”
    “One guy did a short stint for forgery six years ago, the other had a narcotics conviction.”
    “Look into both of them, Moses. Unless something really juicy pops up.”
    “Ms. Maserati or Mr. Range Rover,” said Reed.
    “A boy can dream,” said Milo.
    In a strip mall on Kanan Road just south of the 101 I spotted promising signage over a storefront:
Tyrolean Gourmet: Baked Delicacies and Gourmet Coffee
. Inside were sweet aromas and immaculate floors, a long take-out counter filled with temptation.
    Only two ice cream tables for eating in. But for a woman in her sixties behind the counter, the place was empty.
    Instant smile. “Vut ken I do for you, Surzz?”
    Milo studied the glass case, selected a headache remedy in the form of a raspberry torte the size of a minor Alp as well as a similarly scaled slab of carrot cake.
    The woman said, “Und you, Surr?”
    The cake looked good so I ordered my own. We sat down with coffee and calories. He looked at my plate and chuckled.
    “What?”
    “Adonis actually ingests?