“Sad thing was,” True had said, frowning, “Baby didn’t realize how little studio time the gig was gonna buy him, once I paid the band and everything else.”

“What’s everything else?”

“Equipment rentals, the soundman, the kid who hauled our junk, you know.” Moment’s hesitation. “My cut.”

“Not much left,” said Petra.

“Not much to start with.”

The second notation was for Wednesday and this one looked like an appointment:

RC on setup, Tele, J-45.

Petra had learned enough to know that Baby Boy played Fender Telecasters, so this was a date with an instrument repairman.

Then she flashed on the initials.

RC. Alex Delaware’s lady friend, Robin Castagna built and fixed guitars, and from what Alex had told Petra, she was the one who got called when serious musicians needed work on their gear.

RC. Had to be.

Repairman, indeed.

Petra doubted Robin could shed any light on the case, but she had no other leads and made a note to phone tomorrow.

She went home early, thinking of Alex and Robin’s cool, white contemporary house off Beverly Glen.

Those two, talk about a solid relationship.

Robin, unlike other people we know, had been smart enough to get herself a stable guy. Lucky break, especially cause the guy was a shrink, and Petra suspected most shrinks were high-maintenance.

Alex was good-looking to boot- another high-maintenance predictor. But despite all that, he had a what… a solidity about him. A little on the serious side, but that was better than the self-centered flakiness that seemed to afflict L.A. men.

Petra hadn’t spoken to Alex for a while. She’d considered calling him when Billy’s breaking-away had caused her to wonder about her skills as a… friend. Alex had been Billy’s therapist. But she hadn’t followed through. Too busy.