"I am lucky."

"Three-year stint," said Milo. "How long before that had she been in L.A. working for bad people?"

"A year."

"So she arrived seven years ago."

"You are good in math. I need calculators."

"Did she talk about living anywhere else but Colorado?"

"Yes, but now I don't know what's true and what is not."

"We can sift that out, Olga. Where else did she say she lived?"

"Texas, Arizona, Oklahoma."

"Not New Mexico."

"No."

"What else can you tell us?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, huh?"

"Unfortunately."

I said, "What did she do after she quit?"

The hand left her breast and fluffed her hair. Curls expanded then sprang back like metal springs. "The computer."

"She started selling herself online?"

"Not selling," said Koznikov. "Advertising. For relationship."

"She told you she wanted a relationship."

"I don't meddle with the baby birds."

"But you found out she'd gone online."

"Things get around."

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"The computer," she said, "is magic. It can be black magic."

"No security," I said. "Unlike a face-to-face business with guys like William for protection."

"William sells furniture."

"Did you ever find out who she hooked up with online?"

"My guess is a rich man."

"She never told you."

"I don't meddle."

"Things get around," I said.

"They do."

"You didn't resent her leaving."

"Some jobs you can do when you are tired."

"Not Tara's."

"The cow with empty udders doesn't give milk."

"Why do you guess she was with a rich man?"

"I saw her getting out of a car," said Koznikov. "Rodeo Drive, the fancy stores for the skinny girls. Nice little BMW. She carried bags."

"From which stores?"

"Too far to read the bags."

"Was she by herself?"

"Yes."

"You a.s.sumed a rich boyfriend was paying for her shopping spree."

"She didn't have an MBA."

Milo said, "I'm going to give you a fact, Olga. Because we value your help. The rich man she found was named Mark Suss."

"Okay."

"Old guy. Was he one of her regulars?"

"I don't know this Suss."

"You know another Suss?"

Koznikov tugged a curl. "I don't know him, I don't know what Tara did with him, I don't know anything."

"She never talked to you about Suss?"

"How do you spell this?"

"S-U-S-S."

"Short name," she said. "It's real?"

"Quite. Rich Beverly Hills family."

"You think they hurt her?"

"Not at this point. How about the bad men she worked with before she found guidance? Would any of them still be angry enough to hurt her?"

Koznikov's laugh was the sputter of a faulty ignition. "We are talking dirt."

"Dirt can have a bad temper."

Her eyes chilled. "Dirt gets stepped on."

"So no need to bother looking for her first pimps."

"No need." She rolled a hand into a fist. "This Suss, you have talked to him?"

"He died."

"Ah."

"After she left, did she ever return to you?"

"For what?"

"A social call?"

She went quiet. Relaxed pudgy fingers.

"Olga?"

"Okay, I will tell you something. She came back one time. For advice."

"When?"

"Maybe two years. Give or take."

"A year after she retired."

"Okay."

"What'd she want advice about?"

"How to build a good relationship."

"With who?"

"She didn't say. Later, I see her in her little BMW, the clothes."

"Striking it rich and wanting to settle down?" said Milo. "Every call girl's fantasy."

"Big joke to you," said Olga Koznikov, "but not always funny."

"It happens, huh?"

"I could give you names. Girls acting in movies, wives of rich men. Even lawyers."

"Even."

Koznikov grinned. "Not everyone knows how to use the mouth right."

I said, "Tara wanted to build a relationship. Something more than s.e.x."

"She was happy, I was happy. She was a nice girl."

"What else can you tell us about her?"

"Nothing." Staring at us. "Now it's really really nothing." nothing."

Milo said, "Did William know her?"

"William sells furniture."

"Even so."

"Even so, no."

"Back in the theoretical days, you had others like him. To set limits."

Koznikov held out her hands.

"Was one of your musclemen a guy named Steven Muhrmann?"

Koznikov yanked a curl hard enough to shake loose several snowy hairs. They floated midair, wafted onto her desk. She brushed them away. "Why do you ask about him?"

"So he did work for you."

Her fingers drummed the desk. She picked up the soda can, crushed it with one hard squeeze. "Briefly."

"When Tara worked for you."