The Burnt House. Faye Kellerman

up directly.”

      “You want to talk to Priscilla, you go through me. For all I know, you could be an agent, trying to steal my lady. You just want to meet her, Detective Olivier. Don’t deny it!”

      Oliver decided to lay on the schmaltz. “Okay, Mr. Marlowe, you got me. I’d love to meet your lady.”

      “Now that you admitted it, we can get somewhere. So how do I know you are who you say you are?”

      Oliver said, “Sir, why don’t you come down to West Valley Division of LAPD and we’ll go together to meet the lady. That way you’ll see that I’m legitimate and you can see I actually work as a detective.”

      “Hmm …” Marlowe pondered the suggestion. “All right. I suppose I could come down and check you out in the flesh. If you’re legit, you can follow me to her house. She happens to live in the West Valley … Porter Ranch.”

      “Does she, now? Well, that’s certainly convenient for all of us.”

      “Not for me. I work in Hollywood.”

      “Then I appreciate your taking the time to go out of your way to introduce us. It’s really not necessary, especially since I’m so close—”

      “Now don’t you be getting any ideas about popping in on her, Detective Olivier. It’s a gated community with full-time guards.”

      “I wouldn’t do that, sir, that would be stalking. When is it convenient to meet you?”

      “It’s not my convenience, Detective, it’s Priscilla’s. I’ll call her up and call you back.”

      “That sounds fine, Mr. Marlowe.”

      The phone hung up abruptly. Ten minutes later, just as Oliver was pulling his Chrysler PT Cruiser convertible out of the police parking lot, his cell rang.

      “How about Monday at three?”

      It was Marlowe, no introduction necessary. Oliver said, “Sounds great. Thanks for setting it up so fast.”

      “I’ll come out to the police station to meet you. But no monkey business or I’ll have your badge.”

      “You’re welcome to it,” Oliver whispered.

      “What?”

      “Thank you very much, Mr. Marlowe, you’ve been a big help.”