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of my brothers is a special effects expert, my other brother is an engineer, and I'm the imagineer. My sister-in-law does the marketing."

"Sure, you're like Disneyland," Finn said.

"Pretty much. I think it up, my brothers figure out how to make it, and we sell our games to whoever can afford them. We used to have a huge business with conventions and corporate events. The market's down a little, but it will come back. Still, we're better off than most."

"Are you here every day?" Finn asked.

"I come in every day. We have other spaces where we test small models. We do the final construction and real time testing here," Peter said, tiring of his tutorial. He was curious about Finn. "So, what exactly are you looking for?"

"I'm talking to people in the complex to see if they remember anything unusual last night. This went down in the three story building on the other side of the park—"

"Oh, Enver and Emi. It wasn't Emi that got taken out was it? I'd feel awful if it was Emi," Peter said. His response wasn't personal, it was sympathetic.

"No. She's fine," Finn said. "We are trying to identify the victim."

"Doesn't Enver know who was in his own place?" Peter asked.

"It would seem not," Finn said, not wanting to go into the particulars of the party.

"You sure it was a human?" Peter laughed and then held up a hand. "Sorry, I'm not joking about a dead person. It's just that Enver and Emi, well, you know what I'm talking about. Companion doll is a nice name for making a hunk of plastic a person can screw. It is totally weird."

"So you know the Cucas well?" Finn said.

"Nobody around here knows anybody well. I think Emi is super cool. She's a visionary; a real construction whiz. Honest to God, what we could do if we teamed up," Peter said. "Which we almost did"

"She was going to work for you?"

"No, not for us. We were talking to them about collaborating on a haunted house deal. We were going to build some movable units. That's what we call them. Enver calls them companions. Enver was going to paint them. He's got a fine hand. That man can paint a movable unit like nobody's business.  It would have been awesome to work with them."

"Why didn't your deal work out?" Finn asked.

"Emi and Enver just dropped off the map." Peter's expression changed to one of sincere confusion. "I was surprised. We were paying top dollar. Emi seemed so excited to take it to the next level."

"Did you have them sign an NDA?" Finn asked.

"No, it never went that far. We each brought something to the table," Peter said.

"Did you find someone else to collaborate with?"

"We did and they're fine, but the project won't be all that it could be. Enver is a genius with a paintbrush, but Emi has a super cool way to create smooth moving limbs. I tried to get the secret out of her, but she wouldn't tell. She showed us a prototype and whatever she did with those joints was brilliant." He smiled in a nod to his professional admiration. "I think she has a patent pending on the joint bearings mechanism she was using. I wouldn't have told me either because she's going to make a fortune if she can get it into production. Just imagine how something like that could impact prosthetics." Peter waved his hand knowing this was neither here nor there. "Whatever happened, the partnership never materialized. We moved on. It was just business."

"When was this?" Finn asked.

"Six months ago; maybe eight. I'd have to check. My brother was the point man. I have heard that Enver told one of his neighbors he was working on something that was  amazing. Far reaching. World changing."

"Want to guess what it might be?" Finn asked.

"That's artist talk, my friend," Peter scoffed. "I mean, give me a break. No matter how good he is, those dolls are nothing more than an American pie for a bunch of rich old dudes. If they hit big money, I'm guessing it has something to do with Emi's joint bearings."

Finn nodded, adding to his notes as he did so: joint bearings/ patent/ money/check Asylum men - investors?

This time Finn drew a box around the notes because big money was always important. Possible outside investment. Mitzie's mention of an NDA. Peter's talk of a patent pending. Bev's assessment of the victim as a bitch wanting to bring down a successful man.  Moneyed guests waiting to see something revolutionary. All were nice little bits of string that might weave themselves into a ribbon that would eventually tie up a motive for murder.

"You have a telescope on the roof. I'd like to take a look," Finn said.

"Do I have a choice, you being a cop and all?" Peter said.

"Of course." Finn smiled. "But with you being a good citizen, I know your choice will be the right one."

Peter grinned, set aside his drink, and popped off the table.

"You know, I bet if you worked here for a week you would be a lot of fun."

Feeling he was quite fun as it was, Finn didn't bother to comment. He followed Peter to a freight elevator.  He was grateful to reach the roof where Peter's voice didn't fill every inch of space.

"'Tisn't this prime." Finn walked toward the edge of the roof and put his hands atop the retaining wall. "I'm surprised some developer hasn't put up a shiny new high rise."

"It will happen as soon as this part of town is considered cool," Peter said.

Finn knew he was right. The immediate surrounding area was nothing but small industrial buildings. Beyond that, the City of Angels rose in a skyline that had become  as identifiable as New York's. It glittered in sunlight, but Finn knew it was only the clement weather and distance that made the place look like Oz. Wilshire Division was proof of that. It was part Emerald City, part crumbling dark Gotham. He

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