The third was a Beverly Hills Courier Beverly Hills Courier social-pages item citing a benefit for breast cancer at the Crystal Visions Art Gla.s.s Gallery in Encino. social-pages item citing a benefit for breast cancer at the Crystal Visions Art Gla.s.s Gallery in Encino.

That one featured a full-color ill.u.s.tration.

Markham and Leona Suss, flanked by two sons and daughters-in-law, had posed in front of an array of vitreous abstraction.

Tara Sly's Sugar Daddy wore a navy blazer, aqua T-shirt, and indigo jeans. Trim man but the shirt stretched over a paunch that he seemed to flaunt.

Leona Suss was tall, bony, black-haired, around her husband's age. Her pink leather jumpsuit was body-conscious. Enormous horn-rimmed gla.s.ses distracted from the rest of her face.

The tendency for son to favor father continued with Dr. Franklin Suss, bald, lean-but-potbellied, dressed identically to Markham but for a maroon T-shirt. Clutching his arm was Dr. Isabel Suss, a short, compact brunette in an olive-drab pantsuit.

The genetic train ground to a halt at Philip Suss, who appeared around the same age as his brother. Several inches taller than Markham and Frank, he sported a full head of dark wavy hair, a thicker, broader build, and a flat belly. A rust-colored caftan-type garment hung nearly to his knees.

His shapely blond wife was attired in an orange sari embroidered with gold thread and was identified as the owner of the gla.s.s gallery.

Connie Longellos-Suss.

I searched using her name as a keyword, found nothing. Tried crystal visions crystal visions and learned on an art gla.s.s site that the gallery had closed six months ago. and learned on an art gla.s.s site that the gallery had closed six months ago.

I ran searches on both sons, learned about Isabel in the process. She and Franklin practiced together as dermatologists in Beverly Hills.

If Philip Suss was gainfully employed, the Internet hadn't found out.

Printing what I needed, I made my way to the kitchen.

Milo was forking spaghetti onto three plates. Blanche nibbled daintily on a Milk-Bone. Robin poured red wine.

She said, "Perfect timing, dinner's on, baby."

I said, "And I brought dessert."

*obin was the first to speak. "People find each other on the site by surfing randomly through profiles. But Muhrmann managed to hook Tara up with his cougar girlfriend's father-in-law?"

I said, "It's possible Daddies can narrow their searches using keywords. Cohiba Cohiba comes to mind." comes to mind."

"What's a Cohiba?"

"High-priced Cuban cigar. Suss mentions enjoying them and Tara says she's a nonsmoker but she doesn't mind if her date lights one up. Given what we know, that does seem like conspicuous branding."

Milo crumpled a still-clean napkin. "Muhrmann and Connie used Tara as a lure for Suss. Wealthy family, it has to be something financial."

Robin said, "Get your hooks in the old guy and start siphoning cash."

I said, "Connie's got a motive. Her gallery went under half a year ago but she had to know well before then that she was failing. Brother Frank's a doctor but brother Phil doesn't seem to have a job."

Robin said, "Maybe Phil's job was at the underwear company and he felt betrayed when Daddy sold out."

"Money plus revenge," said Milo. "A wealth of riches."

The three of us returned to my office where I searched markham industries markham industries. Most of the hits reported the sale, seen as a coup for Markham Suss. But predating those was the catalog of a garment trade show in Hong Kong listing the company's executive staff.

Markham M. Suss, President, Chairman of the Board, Chief Executive, Chief Operating Officer Leona A. Suss, Vice President and Chief Financial Officer Franklin D. Suss, M.D., Materials Consultant Philip M. Suss, Design Consultant

Milo said, "Daddy takes four t.i.tles for himself, no mistaking who's in charge. Officially Mommy handles the money and maybe that's real. Or she gets a salary to stay out of Daddy's hair. The boys get bulls.h.i.t t.i.tles, maybe a stipend."

I said, "What I find interesting is that even though Franklin has a career of his own, he tops Phil's billing. That could turn out just to be alphabetization. But if it's a sign of favoritism, Connie's anger quotient just got kicked up."

Milo said, "Frank's a skin doctor, for all we know he got paid to certify polyester as dermal-friendly. Phil, on the other hand...yeah, it's interesting."

Robin said, "Those kinds of jobs are pretty common in rich families. Nice way to avoid estate and gift tax."

Both of us turned to her.

"When my father got sick, he told me he wanted me to inherit as much as possible but he knew that no matter what he stipulated in the will Mom would hold everything back for herself. So he incorporated his cabinetry business and made me a majority partner. That gave me legal possession of his tools, his benches, and a whole lot of wood he'd been stockpiling, plus some cash he put into the company account. Without all that, I could've never started my own business."

I said, "How'd Mom react?"

"We never talked about it but I know she was mad, because when I asked for my old bedroom suite that Daddy made for me when I was seven, she said Daddy made sure everything was built-in because he wanted it to remain with the house. I knew he'd just put in elbow bolts for earthquake safety, but what was the point?"

She shrugged. "The point is money's always mixed in with ego. A family with big money can be a powder keg."

Milo said, "Frankie and Philly as consultants. Reminds me of the rooster who was pestering the hens so they castrated him and turned him into a consultant. One question, though: If Phil was getting serious dough through the company why would Connie lose her gallery?"

I said, "It's not what you make, it's what you keep. Or it's possible Phil had the means to save Connie but chose not to. Maybe their marriage had run into problems due to Connie's alcohol issues. If he found out she'd hooked up with Muhrmann in rehab, that could've been the tipping point."

He said, "Yeah, that would squelch spousal enthusiasm."

"Connie was in a position to know that her father-in-law was looking for love in cybers.p.a.ce. She and Muhrmann decided to use Tara as bait. And what Robin just said about ego beefs up the motive: On top of financial gain, Connie would be sticking it to the entire family."

He took a bite of chicken, chewed slowly, enjoyed a pasta chaser, then another. When he put his fork down, he seemed distracted. "How does any of that lead to Tara getting her face blown off? If Markham were still alive, I can see a power struggle as motive. Tara realized she was doing all the dirty work, demanded a bigger share-or tried to go it alone and cut Connie and Muhrmann out. They got p.i.s.sed, expressed it with a .45 and a shotgun. But with Markham dead, there's nothing to fight over."

Robin said, "Unless Markham left some serious a.s.sets for Tara in his will and Connie coveted them."

"Fooling around on the side's one thing, Rob. Putting it in writing's a giant step into scandal."

"Exactly why he would've done it as a message from the grave. In his profile, Markham made a big deal about creativity. Setting up his mistress and wreaking havoc on his family could've been his last project."

I said, "With Markham dead, Tara would've still had value to Muhrmann and Connie if she agreed to help them snag another Daddy. But what if she refused? And what if her resolve was strengthened precisely because Markham had bequeathed her substantial a.s.sets? Connie and Muhrmann would be doubly frustrated. And that syncs perfectly with Muhrmann hitting his mother up for cash right after Markham's death. Tara got confident and cut him off."

"Overconfident," said Robin. "She had no idea who she was fooling with."

Milo put his fork down. "Thank you, Nick and Nora...none of it feels wrong." He hauled himself up. "Guess it's time to learn more about this lovely bunch."

*amantha "Suki" Agajanian's red Audi TT Roadster zipped into the lot behind her building at ten thirty-five a.m.

Milo knew the car was hers and that her real name was Samantha because he'd spent the early-morning hours researching her and her sister.

Preceding that with a look at the Suss family, using the Web and property tax rolls.

No additional financial details had surfaced following the sale of the company. As a privately held corporation, Markham Industries had done a good job maintaining its privacy.

One surprise: Philip and Franklin's shared birth date made them twins.

"'Bout the least identical I've ever seen," said Milo.

Despite the dissolution of Connie's gallery and her possible fling with Steven Muhrmann, she and Philip remained married and living together on Portico Place, not far from the Encino Reservoir. The P.O.B. she'd cited in her reference for Muhrmann was a mail-drop a few miles away, long since rented by someone else and the proprietors didn't remember anything about her.

Drs. Franklin and Isabel Suss were in their tenth year of paying taxes on a North Camden Drive house in the flats of Beverly Hills. Before that, they'd lived in a smaller place on Roxbury, south of Wilshire.

Leona Suss was the sole occupant of a two-acre estate on Hartford Way, just north of the Beverly Hills Hotel, and of a condo in Palm Desert. Both properties had been purchased by a family trust twenty-seven years ago.

None of the Susses had ever been married to more than one spouse.

"Too much G.o.dd.a.m.n stability, it's un-American," said Milo.

The Agajanian sisters, on the other hand, had each been divorced in their twenties, twice in Rosalynn's case. The founders of SukRose.net had been truthful about owning a Lake Arrowhead cabin but their city digs was a shared Hollywood Hills rental, just south of the bird streets.

Rosalynn drove the same model Audi as her sib, in silver. Columbia, Penn, and the U. verified both women's educational claims. One parking ticket each, paid punctually, comprised their contact with law enforcement.

The slot I'd found at the far end of the parking lot allowed us to watch Suki as she headed for the building's back door, pressing an iPhone to her ear. She smiled as she listened, smiled as she talked. Switched to texting and kept up the mirth. A tailored tweed jacket bisected firm, generous b.u.t.tocks, and skinny jeans made the most of her legs. Five-inch red stilettos caused her to teeter every few steps but the occasional loss of balance did nothing to shake her good cheer.

As if she'd put in a bid to purchase the universe, fully expected it to be accepted.

We waited until she'd disappeared into the building, spotted her entering the elevator. She looked up from her phone just as the doors began closing. Saw us and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow as we stepped in.

Milo gave a small salute.

She returned to her mini-screen.

The lift stopped at the second floor. Two of the other riders exited, leaving behind an older woman in a baggy plaid coat and bad makeup who looked ready to discipline someone. She'd been standing close to Suki, moved quickly to put maximum s.p.a.ce between them. Sniffed, as if the younger woman was emitting anything but Chanel No. 10.

Ding. Floor three.

Suki hesitated.

Milo said, "Ladies first."

The old woman said, "Someone get a move on." get a move on."

Out in the hallway, the texting continued.

"Morning, Suki."

"Morning."

"We need to talk."

"I don't think so. Brian gave you what you need."

"Brian gave us basics. Since then, life got complicated."

"For who?"

"That depends."

She looked up from the screen. "I don't appreciate being pressured."

"That sounds like something Brian told you to say."

"No. It's how you're making me feel. I don't deserve it."

"Let's go talk in your office."

"Do you have a warrant?"

"I can get one but I sure hope it doesn't come to that, Suki. For your sake, because once the process starts, it takes on a life of its own. As in your business gets closed down for as long as it takes our techies to replicate your hard drives and scour your records."

"No way you can do that."

Milo clicked his tongue. "That's what they all say, Suki."

"This isn't Syria or Iran," she said. "You need grounds for a search."

"We have grounds," he said. "No matter what you've seen on TV, murder cuts through the smog."

"No way," she said, but her voice faltered.

"The sad thing, Suki, is we probably don't even need your hard drives and going through them is going to be a major pain. All we're after are the answers to a couple of simple questions, so how say we all do ourselves a collective favor?"

"You just said everything was complicated."

"But you can make it simple again."

The door to a neighboring office opened. Two men in fitted suits and open-neck shirts came out laughing.