CHAPTER 3

“May I have your name, please?”

The name tag pinned to the ample bosom of the short, round, sweet and efficient young woman behind the registration desk introduced her as Bethany, and her hand hovered over alphabetically precise columns of nametags for the annual black tie dinner and awards program of the Los Angeles County Chapter of the California Association of Licensed Private Investigators — ready to pounce on whatever name I might offer.

“Commoner. Raam Commoner.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Commoner. You’re Ms. Karl’s husband. I should have recognized you. Here are your badge and beverage tickets. You’ll be seated next to Ms. Karl at the head table. They’ll be calling everyone in to begin the program in about twenty minutes, but the bar is open now and there are complementary hors d’oeuvres in the lounge.”

“Thanks, Bethany. Do you know where Ms. Karl might be? She came early.”

“She’s in the events office with CALPI’s officers, going over the schedule and the speeches. You could probably find her if you go back down the hall. It’s the fourth door on your left.”

“No, I won’t bother her. I’ll just go have a drink. Thanks