Capital Crimes (15 page)

“You bet,” said Barnes, figuring he sounded pretty mellow. The gun in his hand was so cold that he wondered about frostbite.

Halfway to the cabin’s front door, the detectives agreed that Barnes would do the talking and Amanda would be on the watch for any weird behavior on Parker Seldey’s part.

A second after they’d reached that accord, two booms exploded into the night and the sweet air turned sulfurous.

Barnes hit the ground and reached out to push Amanda out of the firing line. She did the same for him and their fingers touched momentarily.

Then both of them stretched on their bellies and two-handed their guns.

A hoarse voice screamed, “Get the hell off my property!”

Barnes screamed back: “Police. We just want to talk to you, Mr. Seldey.”

“I don’t want to talk to you!”

A flash from the doorway was followed by another concussive burst. Something whizzed by Barnes’s right ear. Sighting a stand of small oaks, he crept and slithered for cover, while motioning for Amanda to do the same.

Not knowing if she could see him.

Hearing her I-told-you-so. Minus the usual good-natured inflection.

She did have someone to go home to…he made it to the trees.

Amanda had gotten there first.

Both of them holding their breath as Parker Seldey stepped into the porch light. Rifle in one hand, flashlight in the other.

Seldey swept the earth with the electric torch.

Amanda whispered, “Don’t move, pard.” Without warning, she crouched, straightened a bit, kept her body low, and ran toward the car.

Seldey shouted something incoherent and aimed the rifle at her back. Barnes fired first. Seldey pivoted toward the source, shot three times, missed Barnes by inches.

Barnes scooted back, struggling for silence. Seldey advanced on him, sweeping with the flashlight, muttering, breathing hard.

When he was twenty feet away, Barnes began to make out details, limned by sparse moonlight. Baggy T-shirt, shorts, bony knees. A thatch of hair, the woolly outlines of an untrimmed beard.

Seldey got closer. Barnes smelled him—the hormonal reek of fury and fear.

Seldey swept the ground. The beam must’ve caught a glimpse of something because Seldey hoisted the rifle and aimed—

Noise to his back made him pivot. A car engine racing.

Seldey aimed at that—was knocked backward by white light.

Amanda flashing the high beams, blinding Seldey.

The startled man fired into the sky.

Barnes was on him, wresting the gun away, pounding Seldey’s face.

No resistance from Seldey and Barnes rolled him over, put his knee on Seldey’s back. Was ready to cuff him but Amanda did it first.

Everyone panting.

They rolled Seldey over and had a look at him. Mountain-man hair almost obscured patrician features. Sharp brown eyes. Maybe not sharp. Inflamed.

Seldey said, “Why’re you here? There’s no full moon, they only come with the full moon.”

“Who’s they?” said Amanda. Squeezing the words out between gasps.

“My friends. The forest people.” Seldey laughed. “Just kidding. Do you guys have any weed?” Rattling the cuffs. “And maybe you should take this shit off. If you do, I can put you out of your misery.”

22

W
ithin an hour, dozens of enforcement officials had collected outside the cabin. Parker Seldey was taken away and the structure was taped off.

By the early-morning hours, an arsenal had been removed, including three shotguns. Seldey was living like a savage in the insect-infested cabin, with no outdoor plumbing and food rotting in tins. No phone or computer but Seldey had brought a ham radio and a battery-op VCR. A CS unit from Sacramento scoured his meager belongings. Don Newell showed up at three
AM
but didn’t do much other than stand around.

Barnes and Amanda borrowed a sheriff’s phone that worked and told the story to Captain Torres. Being woken up didn’t endear them to the boss and Torres wasn’t mollified by Amanda’s assurance that they’d had consent from the legal owner to enter the property.

Blood spatter on Parker Seldey’s jeans and shirt calmed him down a bit.

“But I’m reserving judgment until you get real evidence.”

That happened two days later—a rush DNA matched the blood to Davida and word had it Seldey’s attorney would be going for a plea, some sort of mental health explanation.

Barnes gave Laura Novacente the exclusive. In return, she invited him to her place for an “intimate dinner.” Being a gentleman, Barnes let her down easy.

Laura showed class.
Call if it doesn’t work out, Will.

Of course, I will.

The citizens of Berkeley were pleased with the arrest of Parker Seldey for the murder of Davida Grayson. Seldey being a registered Republican turned satisfaction to glee and someone talked about silk-screening a T-shirt capitalizing on that fact. Final message yet to be decided.

Everyone settling down.

Except Amanda Isis.

Early Friday morning found Barnes and Amanda at their favorite corner table at Melanie’s. He was on his second double espresso and his third muffin. She sipped foam off of her cappuccino and picked at her croissant.

Barnes was in a great mood, looking forward to a second weekend with Marge Dunn. He’d volunteered to fly to LA but Marge asked if she could come back up north.

Smart woman; nothing was as beautiful as the Bay Area on a crisp, cool day. Barnes figured to ask Amanda for more social advice, because the weekend in Napa had turned out perfect. He’d arrived with several ideas to run by her, but she was quiet—almost sullen.

“What’s wrong?” Barnes asked.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. You didn’t like the wine I sent you or something?”

“You didn’t have to send me wine, Will. I was just doing my job.”

“Your job was saving my life. The guy at the liquor store told me it was good stuff.”

“It was and I thank you.”

“So what’s bugging you, Mandy? And be honest. I’m not good at this shrink stuff.”

“Speaking of shrinks, I just talked to the psychiatrist who’s taking care of Seldey,” she said. “She says the guy’s clearly psychotic.”

“I don’t need a shrink to tell me that.”

“He’s actively paranoid, Will, as in unable to form a coherent plan of action. Yesterday he had to be straitjacketed because he scratched himself raw. He claimed that voices were telling him to repent by skinning himself like they did to Jesus in that Mel Gibson movie.”

“So he’s faking it, trying for reduced culpability.”

“He’s not trying to get out of anything. Just the opposite, he keeps ranting about shooting Davida, saying he’s proud of it.”

“All that’s the DA’s problem.”

“Maybe it’s our problem, Will. As in getting the entire picture. You see a guy that disordered planning a careful murder all by his lonesome? He says
voices
told him to kill Davida. What I’m wondering is, was one of them real?”

“Someone coached him?”

“Davida may have welcomed the homeless but given all Jane told Davida about Parker, you see Davida letting him in at two
AM
? His having a key would change the equation. What if someone pointed him in the right direction and said ‘Go boom’? Someone who knew him, realized he was crazy. Someone who had power over him. And might have a key. And knew she was drinking because she drank with her.”

“Jane?”

“Who else?” Amanda said.

“Why would Parker obey her? They hated each other.”

“That’s according to Jane. What do you remember about him?”

“Not much, he wasn’t a local. I think he grew up in Hillsborough or some other high-priced spread. Maybe went to Stanford.”

“Will, I’ve been asking around discreetly. No one from the good old days knows him, and he didn’t grow up in NoCal, he’s from Massachusetts.”

“So?”

“My point is that everything we know about him has been filtered through Jane. Jane told us she expected Parker to pay off the cabin. But if he was that compromised mentally, how could that happen? Maybe she let him stay because he was useful to her. She kept him on the side because she knew she was going to use him to murder Davida.”

“If Parker was crazy, why would Jane rely upon him? Hell, why would she marry him in the first place?”

“Maybe his pathology was under control—medicated officially or otherwise. Maybe being married to Jane helped him maintain. When she petitioned for divorce—and the paperwork says she initiated—he broke down. As to how she’d rely on him, she knew him well enough—understood which buttons to push.”

“Sounds like a movie,” said Barnes. “You’re stretching. Why?”

“It just doesn’t sit right with me. The guy’s too crazy to do it all by his lonesome.”

“What’s Jane’s motive?”

“Davida was going to dump her and it pissed her off. Or Davida was about to
out
her and she couldn’t handle it. You saw how squeamish she was when we talked to her at Lucille’s. What better way to get rid of Davida than to sic poor psychotic Parker on her, telling Parker that it was all Davida’s fault that they broke up in the first place? Davida dies, Parker’s locked up. Talk about killing two birds.”

“Inventive,” said Barnes. “You thinking of quitting and writing screenplays?”

“Granted, I can’t prove any of it, and maybe it’ll turn out to be fantasy. You want me to check it out alone, or with you?”

“That’s my choice?”

“You bet, pard.”

Barnes pinged a spoon against his demitasse. “If Parker’s
that
disturbed, maybe he’s got some prior hospitalizations that will tell us more about how his head works. Why don’t you check that out?”

“And you’ll talk to Jane.”

“I was thinking I’d look into Jane and Parker’s financials, see if she was supporting him and for how long. You want us to do everything together, fine, no more cowboy.”

Amanda laughed. “No, I was just asking. Let’s divide it up. You can even wear that string tie.”

23

I
t took the detectives several days to get a reluctant go-ahead from Captain Torres. With the evidence presented and corroborated, the boss had no choice but he told them to be “tactful.” Whatever that meant.

Giving the order to both of them but looking straight at Barnes. Amanda had covered him, claiming the hotdog to Seldey’s cabin was a joint decision, but Torres was no fool.

He kept his mouth shut and said, “Yes, sir.” Saluted behind Torres’s back as the captain hurried off to a meeting.

The Woman’s Association was doing a brisk lunch trade, tables of genteel ladies exercising their jaw muscles on gossip and the tri-tip special. Barnes felt stiff in a jacket and tie, but Amanda glided through the dining room in a navy suit with matching pumps.

The table they were looking for was in the corner. Six septuagenarian females chattering and wielding silverware with finishing-school precision. Five of them focusing their attention on a black-haired dowager in a black knit suit and pearl earrings. A thin old woman, bordering on emaciation, with shoe-polish hair drawn back in a bun. Her blue eyes flashed with excitement as she spoke.

Eunice Meyerhoff enjoyed holding court.

When Barnes and Amanda reached her table, she looked up. Blinked. Smiled.

“Good afternoon, Detectives, what are you doing here?”

Barnes said, “Hi, ladies, how’s everything?”

The women clucked pleasantries in unison. Eunice said, “We’re just about done with our meal. Would you like to join us for dessert?”

Amanda said, “Actually, Mrs. Meyerhoff, we need to speak to you in private. Just for a second.”

Eunice’s companions stared at her. She bristled. Beamed. “Why, of course.”

Barnes took her by the elbow. As they crossed the dining room, Eunice waved to other diners. When they got past the tables, her jaw tightened around her smile. “What is this about, Detective Barnes?”

“We need your help,” said Amanda.

“And how long will it take? Today is Boston cream pie, which I adore. The kitchen generally runs out if one hesitates too long.”

“Maybe the ladies should order dessert without you,” Barnes told her.

Eunice stiffened in his grasp. Skinny but tough, like an old wild turkey, annealed by challenge.

Out in the lobby, Eunice said, “Where shall we chat?”

Amanda said, “Let’s use your room. Nice and private.”

“I don’t—well, if you insist.” A frail smile. “I suppose…” She patted Barnes’s arm. “So muscular, William. You were always a good worker.”

The elevator ride was silent. Eunice fished out her key and opened the door to a surprisingly shabby little room papered in a lilac print. The carpet was worn, the drapery was gray and dusty and the place emitted a nursing-home smell. Leaded-glass windows let in some natural light but the day was overcast. Nearly all the space was taken up by a queen bed, a simple wood chair, a chipped nightstand that held a clock radio and an old Bakelite dial phone, and a folding suitcase rack.

Ancient Vuitton valise on the rack.

Eunice sat down on the chair. Slumping, as if making the most of her advanced age. But there was something sharp and distrusting in those eyes.

Barnes said, “I have a few questions for you, Mrs. Meyerhoff. It has to do with some of your bank transactions.”

Those sharp eyes narrowed. “Well, I don’t think my finances are any of your business.”

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but we had to obtain certain facts.”

“What facts?” Her tone had hardened.

“Generally, your spending is quite light,” Amanda said. “That’s why we were surprised by two recent withdrawals that were substantial.”

“Two cashier’s checks,” Barnes added. “Ten thousand dollars each, over the last forty-five days.”

“So?” said Eunice. “Last time I checked the federal government was still allowing me to spend my own money.”

“We know who cashed them,” said Amanda.

The old woman grew silent. One red-nailed hand scratched the other.

“Parker Seldey,” Barnes said. “That’s quite a lot of money to give an ex-son-in-law.”

“We don’t like him much,” Amanda said. “He tried to shoot us. We’re curious why you like him.”

“You were trespassing!” Eunice blurted.

“No, ma’am,” Barnes said, “Jane gave us permission to enter the premises and Jane owns the premises.”

“Parker didn’t know that.”

A pause.

Barnes said, “That’s our point. You seem quite fond of Parker.”

Eunice’s mouth screwed up. “Whatever issues Jane has with him, he’s always been a gentleman with me. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Barnes said, “though I’m sure it’s hurtful to your daughter.”

Eunice grunted. “As if she cares what’s hurtful and what’s not.”

“She’s been hurtful to you?” Amanda asked.

“I can’t remember a time she
hasn’t
been hurtful! Always taking up with bums or drug addicts—using drugs herself, the stories I could tell you. Do you think that’s a daughter who cares about her mother’s feelings?”

“I’d say no,” Amanda said.

“Darn right, no!”

“Still,” said Barnes, “your being so close to Parker isn’t exactly sitting right with Lucille Grayson.”

“Am I supposed to care about that witch?” Eunice’s eyes spat fury. “Always bragging, bragging, bragging about her perverted daughter. I think I’ve had quite
enough
of Lucille Grayson, yes I have. I don’t give a hoot about her or her lesbian daughter and I don’t give
two
hoots what she thinks about me.”

“Is that why you’re paying for Parker Seldey’s defense?” Barnes said, risking a guess.

When Eunice didn’t answer, he thought: Yes! Sherlock lives!

Amanda read his mind, ran with it. “Your hiring Parker’s lawyer really puzzles Lucille Grayson.”

The old woman folded her arms across her chest. “I told you I don’t care about that biddy.”

“Your personal relationship with Lucille is none of our business,” Amanda said.

“Darn right!” Eunice said.

“However,” said Barnes, “Davida Grayson’s murder is our business. Parker confessed to killing her, so we know who actually pulled the trigger. We also know someone paid him to do it.”

“Those cashier’s checks of yours, Mrs. Meyerhoff. We know exactly what they were for because Parker told us. And it looks pretty incriminating. The first one was issued awhile before Davida was murdered, but the second was issued and cashed the day after her death.”

“Payment for a job well done?” said Barnes.

Eunice chewed her lip. Scarlet lipstick smudged the meager flesh.

Amanda said, “What did you tell him, Mrs. Meyerhoff? That Davida was responsible for Jane leaving him?”

“She
was
responsible!” Eunice snapped. “If it hadn’t been for that pervert, Janey wouldn’t be doing sick things.”

“What kind of sick things?” Barnes asked.

“I’m a lady!” Eunice retorted. “I don’t talk about things like that!”

“So you do blame Davida for Jane’s behavior.”

“You bet your backside I blame Davida. She’s always been responsible for Janey straying—back to grade school.”

“It wasn’t Davida who’s been married three times,” Barnes pointed out.

“Of course not. Why would she marry? She was a pervert! And Lucille defending her all the time. Enjoying it—if you ask me she’s that way, too.” Eunice punched a palm with her fist. Not much sound. Small bones.

She said, “After that biddy told me what Janey and her daughter were doing, I had to do something! No decent mother would do any less.”

“So you talked to Parker about it,” Amanda said.

“He was just as frustrated with Janey as I was.”

“I see,” Barnes said. “You know, Mrs. Meyerhoff, I think at this point, we need to inform you of your rights.”

“My rights?” She stared at him. “Is it your intention to arrest me?”

“Oh, yes.” Barnes stated the Miranda rights and asked her if she understood them.

“Of course I understand them! I’m old but I’m not senile.”

“You don’t have to talk to us,” Barnes said, “but if you want to tell us your side of the story, now’s the time.”

“We might be able to help you if we knew your side,” Amanda said. “But like Detective Barnes said, you don’t have to talk to us.”

“I know that!” Eunice squeaked. “I have nothing to hide. I’m proud of what I did. I defended my daughter. I prevented her from further debasing herself with that pervert!”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Amanda said.

Barnes said, “The more we know, the more we can help you.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Eunice said. “I told Parker what needed to be done and he agreed. I told him I’d give him money to pay off Janey for his cabin, but I don’t think he even cared about that. He was as furious at Davida as I was. I knew that Davida was a horrid alcoholic—God only knows how much she and Janey used to pack away in high school. I also knew that Janey had a key to her office. I took it one day and I made a copy. I told Parker to wait until the time was right.”

“Meaning?”

“When that pervert got herself so damn drunk, she’d fall asleep.”

“How would you know that?” Amanda asked.

“Because I had Parker install a hidden video camera.”

Barnes felt himself go hot. CSI had torn through the office. A lunatic plants a bug and no one finds it. “Where’d he install it?”

“Exactly where I instructed him to, in the light fixture above her desk,” Eunice said. “You know you can get tiny, tiny cameras no bigger than a nail head? I learned that from a movie and found the equipment online. She giggled. “Of my friends, I’m the only one online. One must change with the times.”

Amanda said, “So you knew when Davida was asleep because of the secret video camera. Where was the monitor?”

“I used to carry it with me, teeny little thing, sometimes the reception was fuzzy but as long as I was here in the city it worked fine. I don’t have it anymore. I have no use for it now that the pervert is gone.”

“So what happened when you found Davida asleep?”

“I think that’s obvious,” Eunice said.

“Tell us anyway. Better in your words than someone else’s.”

A sigh. “I happened to be in town, as Davida supped with Lucille. I knew Davida drank alone, at night, figured dinner with that biddy mother of hers would drive her to drink
that
night. I contacted Parker through his shortwave radio. It took about two hours for him to get down here and by that time, Davida had passed out.”

“Who had the key?”

“I did. I sneaked out of the club…those old guards…not worth a plugged nickel. I met him outside and we drove to the office.” Eunice smiled. “I kept guard while he did what he needed to do.”

A liver-spotted hand flew to one ear. “I heard the blast, it sounded pretty darn loud to me but no one seemed to notice. Parker emerged. He wore a long coat that concealed the gun and looked just like one of those homeless bums you people coddle. He escorted me back to the club. The guard was sleeping.” She chuckled. “Not that it mattered. Who’d want to break in and harm a few old ladies?”

Eunice stood and offered fragile wrists. “If you get pleasure arresting an old lady, indulge yourselves. I have heart problems and recurrent breast cancer. I am proud that I helped rid the world of that witch. That is my legacy to my daughter. Go ahead, Detective, cuff me.”

Barnes complied. More symbolic than precautionary. The bracelets were too big for her.

As they left the room, he took her elbow again.

“Ah, a gentleman! I’ve always appreciated a courtly man.” She smiled at Barnes, but he didn’t smile back. She let go with a big sigh. “Well, if you’re going to be
that
way about it, I suppose I
should
call my lawyer!” She turned to Amanda. “My cell phone’s in my purse. His name is Leo Matteras and he’s in the directory. Could you dial it for me, honey? Even if my hands weren’t tied up, I’d have some problems. Old alluring eyes just aren’t what they used to be.”