Capital Crimes (5 page)

8

W
inding through the Berkeley hills on streets barely wide enough for a compact, Barnes went over the crime scene in his mind. After much prodding and some not-so-subtle threats, Minette Padgett had finally coughed up an alibi name.

Kyle Bosworth hadn’t said much over the phone other than to admit being with Minette from ten
PM
to a little past two. When Barnes wanted to interview him in person, Bosworth balked, but Barnes assured him it wouldn’t take more than a half hour of his time. Besides, it was better to have such interviews prearranged than to have the police barge in on him.

Finding the address, Barnes wedged his tiny wheels into a half space and felt lucky to get that. The sidewalks were pushed up and cracked from majestic pines that shadowed postcard lawns. About half of the houses were turn of the century, mostly California bungalows. The others were expensive remodels. Up in the hills, the real estate, like the air, was rarefied.

A tall, emaciated man answered Barnes’s knock. His amber hair was messy; his brown eyes, raw and red and drooping. He wore a blue flannel robe over red flannel pajamas, sheepskin slippers on narrow, pale feet. He gave Barnes a quick once-over.

“Mr. Bosworth.”

“In person.”

“Would you like to see some identification?”

“Not necessary. You look like a cop.” Bosworth’s smile was feeble. “
Hollywood’s
image of a cop.”

Barnes went inside. “Those guys are macho and good-looking.”

“Yeah, but there’s always one guy…how should I put it? You know, the older, craggy one who drinks too much, but still shows the rookies how it’s done.”

“That’s me, huh?”

“That’s you. Have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Barnes remained standing. “Did I wake you, Mr. Bosworth?”

“Actually Minette woke me. The first time she called, she was hysterical and she made me hysterical. It took a Valium to calm me down.”

“What time was that?”

“Right after she heard the news, about eight thirty maybe. The second time was a half hour ago.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“She said the cops were probably going to ask me questions.”

“Did she tell you anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Did she give you instructions what to say to me?”

“She told me to tell the truth.”

“And the truth is?”

Bosworth pointed to an oversized, square-back oak chair with plump red cushions. “Just what I told you. I was with her from ten to about two in the morning.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was with her.” Bosworth rubbed his eyes and yawned. “That’s all you need to know.”

Barnes said, “Do you have a live-in partner, Mr. Bosworth?”

Bosworth looked at him. “Interesting that you didn’t ask me if I have a wife.”

“My brother was gay. If I look like Hollywood’s crusty old cop, you look like the good-looking but dissolute, gay interior designer.”

“Set designer, please. I worked in Hollywood for ten years. I’ll go get some coffee.” When Bosworth stepped into the kitchen, Barnes took a peek around the place. The house wasn’t large, but it was done up nicely. All the original mahogany woodwork had been refinished, from the wainscoting to the crown molding. Leaded windows showcased a terrific view of the bay. The Craftsman-style furniture looked to be good-quality reproductions.

“How do you take yours?” Bosworth called from the kitchen.

“A little milk and sugar.”

Bosworth returned with a mug on a red lacquer tray. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Barnes took his coffee and finally sat down.

“You referred to your brother in the past tense. AIDS?”

“Jack was murdered ten years ago. His death is what brought me to Berkeley.”

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry.”

Barnes sipped coffee, placed the mug on the tray, took out his pad and a pencil. “How long have you known Minette?”

“We’ve traveled in the same circles for at least four years.”

“How long have you known her
well
?”

“About a year. We hooked up at the gym. Both our partners keep long hours. I prefer men, she prefers women but both of us have an aversion to loneliness. I’m sure Yves suspects something although I doubt if he suspects it’s Minette. When he comes home, there’s always tasty food on the table and a clean house so he doesn’t ask too many questions.”

“What does Yves do?”

“He’s a patent lawyer for Micron Industries. They’re very demanding, but he’s paid extremely well.”

“Where was he last night?”

Bosworth stared at him.

Barnes smiled.

“Actually, Detective, he was working at home. When I told him I needed to visit a friend in trouble, he barely looked up from his paperwork.”

“Was he up when you came home?”

“Yes. And I suppose you can ask him what time I came home. But I’d prefer that you don’t tell him any more details than necessary.”

“Did you know Davida Grayson as well as you knew Minette?”

Bosworth laughed. “Are you asking if I ever slept with Davida? I must really look like a stud.”

Barnes waited.

“I’ve never slept with Davida. Lately Minette wasn’t sleeping with her, either. She was beginning to wonder if there was someone else in Davida’s life.”

“Did she mention any names?”

The question gave Bosworth pause. “I don’t feel good getting someone involved based on Minette’s paranoia.”

“Minette’s paranoid?”

“She can be when she drinks.” Bosworth sighed. “Okay. Minette was sure Davida was fooling around with a woman named Alice Kurtag.
Dr.
Alice Kurtag. She’s a research scientist at the UC and her specialty is gene splicing. She’s a consultant on Davida’s bill. It seemed normal to me that they’d spend a little extra time together.”

Barnes looked up from his notes. “And what did Minette say to that?”

“She didn’t say anything. Maybe she’s just justifying her bad behavior by transferring it to Davida.”

“Do you know Alice?”

“I’ve met her a couple of times at Davida’s parties.”

“Is she gay?”

“I don’t know. Both times I met her, she wasn’t with a man, but that doesn’t mean anything. She was mixing but she wasn’t flirting. She just seemed…I don’t know…very businesslike. I don’t know anything about science or politics so we didn’t talk a lot.”

“Mr. Bosworth, would you mind if I tested your hands for gunshot residue?”

“Me?” Bosworth appeared shocked. “I’ve never held a gun in my life!” He held out his hands. “I just got a manicure yesterday. Will it ruin my nails?”

“It’s a simple swab called a DPA test. If you fired a gun, you’ll get little blue specks. If you didn’t, you won’t get any discoloration.”

“Did Minette agree to this?”

“She did. The swab turned up negative.”

“Do I have to agree to it?”

“No, but why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t like being considered a suspect.” When Barnes didn’t answer, Bosworth said, “Look, if I do it, does that mean that you won’t have to talk to Yves about yesterday night?”

“Not necessarily. But if you don’t have gunshot residue, I’ll put you a little farther down on the list. If Yves verifies your story, you’ll be way, way down the list.”

“Why would I make the list at all?”

“Don’t take it personally, Mr. Bosworth. It’s a very long list.”

Finishing her meal, Eileen Ferunzio wiped her mouth then reapplied her apricot shimmer lipstick. Amanda noticed that the state representative had barely made it through half of her Caesar salad. The woman looked drawn, her complexion ashen except for two smudges of pink that ran along her cheekbones. Her eyes were an uneasy mixture of green and brown, shifting with the intensity of the light. Eileen was a big woman—five eight or nine—with sturdy, square shoulders, long legs and a strong handshake. At odds with all that were her tiny wrists. Today those wrists were adorned by a gold Lady Rolex and a gemstudded gold cuff bracelet.

Amanda had met her at fund-raisers and she greeted Amanda by first name. Larry’s money.

“You’re not hungry, Eileen?”

“How can I eat? This whole thing is just terrible! I…” Eileen’s eyes moistened. “Do you know why it happened?”

“I wish I did.” Amanda put down her turkey wrap and wiped her mouth. “That’s why I’m here. What can you tell me about Davida?”

“She was a colleague and a friend.” Again Eileen’s eyes moistened. “I’ve known her for a while. Even before she got elected to the House, we worked together on various issues.”

“Which issues?”

“Davida’s a lawyer, you know. She went to Hastings.”

“Yes, I heard something about that.” Amanda smiled at Eileen. “Which issues did you work with Davida on?”

“She had worked as a lobbyist for The Partnership Against Domestic Violence. She was very effective. I, of course, am an activist in that area.”

Amanda said, “Eileen, I heard that you and she had been at odds on this latest bill—HS…”

The state representative looked away. “We had our differences, sure.” She turned back to Amanda. “What of it?”

“Given your voting record, I would have assumed that the bill was something you would have wholly endorsed.”

“Then you would have been wrong.”

Tension in Eileen’s voice. Amanda said, “What didn’t you like about the bill?”

“Just about everything.” Eileen shook her head. “In theory, cell lines and cell cloning seems to be the kind of issue that every liberal should get behind. In reality, we are pouring millions of dollars into something that has yet to be proven to be consistently if at all effective. I’m progressive but I am fiscally responsible and the initiative-based institute has accomplished nothing, so far. I happen to believe there are sufficient monies allocated for stem-cell research and related topics. I didn’t feel it was prudent to allocate the amount of money Davida was talking about.”

“Which was?”

“A half billion dollars over the next three years,” Eileen said. “She was dreaming. I told her to pare it down and then we could discuss the matter intelligently and who knows, she might even be able to sway me. She refused, so I refused.”

“What did that do to your friendship?”

Eileen’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m just asking a question.”

“Oh please!” Eileen’s face darkened. “I’m not stupid, and I resent the implication. I had nothing to do with Davida’s death and I’ll take a lie-detector test if you want to pursue this. But it is beyond insulting!”

“Where were you last night?”

“At home sleeping in bed with my husband.”

“Not at the capital.”

“Nor anywhere near Berkeley.”

Eileen’s district was a six-hour car ride from Davida’s. Amanda asked, “How did you travel here this morning?”

“I took a seven o’clock from my local airport. Anything else?”

“No offense intended, Eileen. I’m doing my job.”

Eileen huffed. “I suppose you are, but surely some independent thinking is called for.” Then, as if realizing something, she flashed a sudden, plastic smile. “I’m sorry, Amanda. This is all just so…traumatic.”

Larry’s money.

Amanda smiled back. “Just a few more questions?”

Sigh. “Sure.”

“How did your opposition to the bill affect your friendship with Davida?”

“It put a strain on it but we remained on speaking terms. It certainly didn’t discourage Davida from calling me frequently. Trying to convince me to change my mind. And I called her after the egging incident. I told her how horrified I was.”

“What did she say?”

“She thanked me for my sympathies, but she told me she’d rather thank me for my support. Then she went to work on me again. She was so persistent that I agreed to meet her later this week. She seemed so pleased about that.” Eileen swabbed her eyes with her napkin. “That was the last time I spoke to her. If you want to find out who did this, talk to those fascist cretins.”

“Which cretins in particular?”

“The Nutterly brothers.”

“They were in jail when Davida was shot.”

“Amanda, there are a helluva lot more White Tower boys than just the Nutterly brothers, and they all seem to congregate around Sacramento. Why aren’t you talking to them?”

“They’re on our official list.”

“Why are you talking to me
first
?”

“Because you were her friend, and I figured you could tell me who in the legislature was really after her.”

Eileen shook her head. “Lord knows the legislature has its share of SOBs but no one there would have
killed
her, for God’s sake. Stick around long enough, we’re all at odds with one another sometimes. That’s just the nature of the beast.”

“Did Davida ever talk to you about Harry Modell?”

“That psychotic weirdo? What about him?”

“I heard he sent her threatening letters.”

“He sends everyone threatening letters—” Eileen blanched.

“Including you?”

“Oh my God!” she whispered frantically. “Do I have something to worry about?”

“Do you still have the letters, Eileen?”

“In my nut file. I’ll get them to you ASAP.” She signaled the waiter for the bill. Her face had taken on deep worry lines. “Answer me honestly. Should I be nervous? I mean…should I get a bodyguard?”