Capital Crimes (28 page)

15

“H
e deserved it.”

Same interview room, same chairs, a different kid.

Lamar said, “He deserved it because…”

“He wouldn’t stand up,” said Gret Barline.

“For what?”

“His responsibilities.”

“To who?”

“All that sperm he shot around, like it was drain water.” The cuffs had been removed from the girl’s slender wrists. The heavy theatrical makeup she’d worn for her role-play with the dentist glowed salmon-orange in the bright light.

“A fertile guy,” said Baker.

He and Lamar were proceeding cautiously. The girl had made what could be construed as a spontaneous confession during her tirade against McAfee:
if
one construed “him” to mean Jack. But who knew what a judge would make of that? They hadn’t Mirandized Greta Barline out of fear that she would lawyer up.

And because they had no grounds, just the certainty that came from years of dealing with the messes that people made of their God-given lives.

Baker sensed the girl was a sociopath. But he wasn’t totally without sympathy. In the end human beings were frail beings.

Now she said, “Fertile turtle,” and laughed at her own wit. Her brown eyes were hot and a little scary, maybe to the point of craziness. When they traced her NCIC records, they found out she was twenty-eight, not the twenty, twenty-one they’d assumed.

Pushing thirty and old beyond even those years.

Ten-year history of bad checks, trespassing, soliciting, forgery, petty larceny. She’d served maybe a total of half a year, all of it in county lockups. There were muscles in those smooth little arms. A butterfly tattoo in the small of her back. Lamar remembered how much effort it had taken for both of them to restrain her. When they booked her, she came in at a hundred and eight, fully clothed.

He said, “So what was he supposed to stand up for?”

“Not what, freak-a-leak,
who
!” she said. “He was supposed to stand up for me—his flesh and blood.”

“You know for a fact that you’re kin?”

“My mama told me and she don’t lie about things like that.”

“When did she tell you?”

“As long as I can remember. I never had a live-in dad, just foster assholes and assholes who’d come in and out to see Mama.” Another laugh. “Plenty of in-and-out. Mama was always talking about him: Jack this, Jack that.” Wicked smile. “Jack had a nice little beanstalk on him.”

“How’d she meet him?”

“He and Denny and Mark did a concert in San Antone.”

Talking about the other two members of the trio like they were favorite uncles.

“And?” said Baker.

“And she had a friend who was working security and he got her a backstage pass and she got to meet all of them. They all liked her, but Jack liked her the most. She used to be real sexy before she put on a hundred extra pounds.”

Pantomiming a watermelon paunch and sticking her tongue out in disgust.

“So Jack and your mama started hanging out,” said Lamar.

“They fucked all night is what they did,” said Gret. “And the result is
moi.
” She pointed to her chest.

Nipples poking through the yellow tee, darn, he should’ve thought of a bra. Lamar said, “You’ve known your whole life.”

“I followed his career when I’d see a computer, like in an Internet café, I’d Google him. There wasn’t much happening in the last…ten years, but I still did it. Trying to figure out if I should try.”

“Try what?”

“Try to meet him. Maybe he’d see me and…” Nervous laugh. “People meet me, they like me.”

“I can see that.”

She batted her lashes. Arched her back.

Lamar said, “So you finally decided to…”

“I moved to Nashville about six months ago. For my singing career, you know. So it seemed like fate when I found out he was coming here.”

“Were you living in the Happy Night right from the beginning?”

“A couple other places before that. Happy Night was the best of ’em.”

“Then you got yourself a job at The T House.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d that happen?”

Gret drank from the Starbucks they’d brought her and rattled off the chronology. The horn-dog dentist had been one of many who’d showed up at the motel. Since he was richer, she extended herself to him and his little stage productions. Being long-divorced with no one else in the house, McAfee decided to move the show to Brentwood for occasional fantasy games. When the tourist family complained, she figured it was time to relocate permanently.

“When did you find out he owned a club?”

“Soon after,” she said. “I saw the bill for the karaoke machine, he told me what it was for. I said that’s bogus cheap shit, you should get a band. He said no way, I’m losing money as is.”

“Then you started working at the T.”

“It was the perfect match,” she said. “I got my stage and he got me. I need to
sing
.”

“Creative drive,” said Lamar.

The term puzzled the girl but she smiled and nodded.

He said, “So when did you intend to meet up with Mr. Jeffries?”

“
Mister
Jeffries,” she said, shaking her hair and taking a long time to fluff the yellow strands. “He don’t deserve the title. He’s a dog, just like Mama said.”

“Why’d she say that?”

“He left her knocked up and never returned her letters.”

“Why didn’t she file a paternity suit?”

“She tried, got a stupid San Antone lawyer. He wrote a letter and got a call from a big-time
Beverly Hills
lawyer who told her the choice was take some cash now and shut your face forever, or go to court and go broke because they had the money to drag it out for years. She took the money.”

“Your mama told you all this,” said Baker.

“All the time,” said Gret. “All the all the
all
the time. It was like her favorite bedtime story.”

“When you were a kid?”

“Even after. What I’m saying is she told it so many times it put
her
to sleep.” Laughing. “She snores like a pig.”

“What happened to the money?” Lamar asked.

“Well, let’s see. Hmm—oh, yeah, she drank away half of it. The leftover…uh, let’s see. Oh, yeah, she smoked
that
away. I figure there had to be more where that came from. I’m
owed.
”

“So how’d you know where to find Jack Jeffries?”

“A week before he was supposed to come, I called the hotel and said I had a flower delivery for when he arrived. They told me when to deliver.”

“How’d you know which hotel?”

“I tried them and the Loews Vanderbilt. Where else is he gonna stay?”

Baker said, “Did you try to see him personally?”

Gret grinned. “I didn’t just try, I saw him.”

“How?”

“Went there. Got all dressed up pretty and waited in the lobby. I had an iced tea…paid ten bucks out of my own pocket to drink and sit there and watch rich folk. Finally, he came out. Then he remembered something and started walking back to the elevators. I rode up with him. Pushed a button on the same floor and pretended to be staying there. We had a nice conversation.”

“About what?”

“First,” she said, “I sweet-talked him…things like ‘I recognized you right away, you look just like you do on the CDs.’ Which is bogus bullshit,
he
put on like a hundred pounds and he’s
old.
But he liked hearing those lies, everyone has their own favorite lies. That’s when I told him I was going to the Songbird concert…singing backup for Johnny Blackthorn. He said, No kidding, Johnny’s an old bud, and we started talking music. I know all about music, it’s my life.”

“All this is in the hall?” Lamar asked.

“At his door. I knew I could have gotten inside, but I didn’t want to. He’d try to fuck me and that would be gross.”

“Gross because he’s your father.”

“That for sure. But also,
he
was gross.” She stuck her tongue out.

“So how’d you get him over to The T House?”

“I told him I’d be singing and also helping out with the serving ’cause my daddy owned the place. I told him he should stop by, hear some good music if he wasn’t too tired. Then I told him I was thinking about giving up music because the lifestyle was tough. I told him I got into Vanderbilt dental school, maybe I’d do that.”

“Why dental school?”

“’Cause it sounded educated. Jack was impressed, and said that sounded cool. Then he said, ‘But if you really love to sing, don’t give up your dream.’”

“You were getting him on your side,” said Baker.

“I wanted him to hear me sing ’cause I’m worth listening to,” Gret said. “But I knew I had to be casual. That’s the way you got to do it with them.”

“Them being…”

“Men. They’re like fish. You cast the line, wiggle the bait a little, move it around real casual. I figured he’d show up. And he did.”

“What time?”

“Toward the end of my last set. A quarter to.”

“Quarter to midnight.”

“Yeah.”

She’d told them around eleven fifteen, eleven thirty the first time. Lying for the sake of it.

“What happened then?”

“I greeted him like a long-lost friend and sat him right in front. I even gave him free tea and yellow-raisin scones. Then I sang. Did a KT Oslin and a Rosanne Cash. Finished with ‘Piece of My Heart’—the Janis way, not what Faith Hill did to it. He was listening. Then…” Her blue eyes clouded over. “He just up and left. I gave the bastard free tea and he didn’t even have the courtesy to say good-bye.”

Just like he did to Mama,
Lamar thought. “So you went to the door and saw…”

“The rich bitch with the red Mercedes. My car’s red, too, it’s my favorite color. I could never get it to shine like that…” Tossing her hair. “They talked like they knew each other, didn’t look so friendly. Then she drove away and he started walking.”

Reaching for her coffee, she sipped. “Um, this is good and creamy! Thank you, sirs!”

Baker said, “Then what?”

“Pardon?”

“What happened next?”

“Nothing.”

“Gret,” said Lamar, “we found that knife in your purse. It matches perfectly to the wound on Jack’s neck. We also got your fingerprints on his clothes and his neck.”

Blatant lies. They were days from processing all the evidence.

Silence.

Baker said, “I reckon you carry that knife because johns can get rough, right?”

“Right.”

“We can understand that,” Lamar added. “A girl needs to take care of herself.”

“Right.”

“So why don’t you tell us exactly what happened between you and Jack Jeffries?”

“Hmm,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Can I have another creamy latte? They’re so expensive. I can’t afford to buy more than one a week.”

They got her the coffee and a croissant. She finished both and asked to go to the bathroom.

“Sure,” said Lamar, “but first I’ve got to bring a senior CSI technologist in to scrape under your fingernails.”

“Why?” said Gret.

“To match it to Jack’s skin.”

“I washed my hands,” she said.

“When?”

“Right after I…” Looking at the ceiling and toying with her hair and letting one hand wander to her right breast.

Lamar said, “You need to finish the story, Gret. We need to hear the whole thing.”

“
I
need to use the little girls’ room.”

Fondebernardi came in, pretended to be a crime scene tech and did the scrape. Greta Barline was accompanied by a female officer to the restroom and returned looking refreshed.

“That was good,” she said, focusing on Lamar.

Baker said, “Please finish the story.”

“It’s not much of a story.”

“Do us a favor and tell it anyway.”

She shrugged. “I saw him walking and I went after him…to ask him why he left without saying good-bye. Asshole gave me a funny look and kept going…ignoring me. He was all pissed off…probably because of that woman. Ain’t my fault, but he took it out on me, you know? A whole different Jack from the Jack in the elevator. I kept walking with him. It was real dark, but I could see the hostility in his…manner. The way he had his arms folded in front of him, looking straight ahead. Like I didn’t exist. That made
me
super pissed off.”