Capital Crimes (9 page)

Neither Barnes nor Decker answered.

“I’ve been with my
mom
for the last week! The pop was just a couple of days ago, right? I’m a superhero for the people, but even I can’t be in two places at the same time.” Sly smile. “Maybe next year. I’m working on my superpower mojo.”

Decker said, “Where were you the night before last?”

“I told you, I was with my mom.”

“That tells us bullshit cause she’ll lie for you,” Barnes said. “Let’s try again. Where were you the night before last and what were you doing?”

Bledsoe tapped his toe. “Let me think, let me think. Uh, last night…” He snapped his fingers. “We watched a DVD—
Boldface Liars…
” A laugh. “You two should know about that.”

“The night
before
last night,” Barnes said.

“Okay, okay…uh…let me think.”

“Make it a good one, Marshall,” Decker said.

Another snap of the fingers. “Mom and I went out to dinner. Cody’s Family Restaurant, I paid with a credit card. That should be even easy enough for you clowns to check out.”

Barnes said, “What time did you eat?”

“Nine…maybe a little earlier. The place was pretty empty. The waitress’s name was Kris. Big tits, ugly face. Anything else?”

“What’d you eat?” Barnes asked.

Bledsoe laughed. “Chili cheeseburger, onion rings and a Coors. Mom had the same except she ordered curly fries. She loves her curly fries.”

“What did you do after dinner?”

“Went back to Ma’s, drank a couple of brews…watched a little TV. I guess I knocked off around twelve.”

“What were you watching?” Barnes asked.

“Uh…some old movie. Robert Mitchum and some nice-looking piece of old-fashioned ass. Piece of shit. I turned it off before the end. Can I go now?”

Barnes remained stoic but Bledsoe’s alibi was too damn specific and he wasn’t happy. If someone verified him in LA at nine, it would have been difficult—though not impossible—for him to travel four hundred miles, do the murder in the early-morning hours and drive back down. There were also planes, but Barnes figured a guy like Bledsoe would be memorable, easy enough to check out. Bledsoe could have ordered the hit, so he wasn’t off the hook. But bottom line: no evidence to pursue an investigation.

Decker asked, “How did you know Ernesto Golding was popped?”

“Good news travels fast.”

Again, Decker kicked the chair out from under Bledsoe’s ass. Marshall cursed and stood up, again, wiping off his pants. “Shit! You can keep persecuting me, man, but it won’t help your fucking cause! I had nothing to do with his death or the lesbo.”

“So how do you know about Ernesto Golding being popped?” Decker said.

“I knew the cunt that set him up.”

“Name.” Decker flexed a leg.

“Ruby Ranger. She’s doing a long stretch of time, which is probably okay for her. I think she also likes girls. Guess they’re everywhere.” Big grin. “Minus one.”

A knock; the door opened. Marge Dunn handed Decker a piece of paper. Decker read it and nodded. “Your arraignment is scheduled in two hours, Marshall. You’ll be put in a holding cell and when the time comes, cuffed again and driven to court. After you pay your fines, you’ll be lucky to have cab money. Then again, you can always hock your truck. You won’t need it since your license will be revoked—”

Bledsoe gave a sick smile. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“You got three speeding tickets, two going excess of eighty-five.”

“This is so bogus.”

“Then there are all the parking violations. What’s the problem, Marshall? Have trouble reading signs?”

Something in Bledsoe’s eyes told Barnes that Decker had hit a nerve.

Decker said, “The grand total for your ass to stay out of jail is five thousand, six hundred and twenty bucks.”

Bledsoe glared at Decker, muttering to himself. “Fucking asshole kike!”

Decker’s leg shot out again and Bledsoe buckled under his own weight and went down. He looked up from the floor, spittle running down a corner of his mouth. “I’ll have your badge for this.”

Decker laughed. “Great. I could use a vacation.”

15

A
fter Bledsoe was duly escorted out of the interview room, Barnes shut the door and lowered his voice. “Little rough, don’t you think?”

Decker faced Barnes, eye to eye. “Let him sue. I meant what I said.”

Barnes dropped the issue. Why piss off someone who was helping him out? Besides, he’d been in similar situations.

Decker said, “If Bledsoe gets jail time and his alibis don’t check out, I’ll give you a call and you and your partner can take a shot at him again.” Tight smile. He brushed back the ginger mustache. Bristly hairs spread and fell back into place. “It’d probably be better if I wasn’t around. Marshall wasn’t my most sterling interview.”

“Seemed fine to me, Lieutenant. Thanks for the help.”

Decker stretched. His hands reached the ceiling. “Look, I caused him some grief and I’m not sorry about that. I know he’s caused mischief down here. But I’m thinking that alibi had too much detail for you guys and if he’s right about the time frame, it’s going to be tough tying him in directly.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Barnes concurred.

“Cody’s restaurant is about twenty minutes from here,” Decker said. “Marge will give you directions.”

“Thanks. We’ll track down Kris the waitress and see what she says. Even if she alibis him, we’ll check the airports to make sure he didn’t take a quick hop north.”

As they left the room, Decker said, “I would’ve liked to see it work out better for you. Murder trumps everything and that guy should be put away.”

Barnes said, “He was a long shot, Lieutenant. Egging’s a far cry from blowing someone’s head off.” He took out his card and handed it to Decker. “If we can ever reciprocate, just let me know.”

“Will do. And have Marge Dunn give you her card…just in case you need anything else.”

“I’ll do that,” said Barnes. “Just in case.”

Kris, the thirty-year-old blond waitress with a large chest and a face Barnes thought more okay than ugly, remembered both Bledsoes. How could she forget them? He was a surly jerk and Mom was foulmouthed.

“They left like a dollar tip on a twenty-dollar tab and acted like I was lucky to get that.”

“Do you remember what time they left?” Amanda asked her.

Kris twirled a strand of too-yellow hair. “Late, like ten. Like I remember thinking that if I could, you know, finish off with these assho…these people, like I’d be done for the evening. I was more gone than there, you know?”

“Thanks for helping us out,” Barnes said.

“Sure. Is he, like, in trouble?”

Barnes shrugged.

“He must be in trouble. Like why else would the police be asking about him? Doesn’t surprise me. He had a strange look.”

“Strange, how?”

Kris bobbed her head up and down. “You know…looking over his shoulder a lot.”

“Really?” Barnes asked.

“Sort of.” Again, she bobbed her head up and down. “Kind of. Or maybe he was just hungry and wanted his food faster than we could give it to him.”

Amanda said, “You should be a detective yourself.”

“Thanks.” Kris smiled a mouth of white, straight teeth. “I watch a lot of
Law & Order,
especially
SVU.
Christopher Meloni is hot.”

As soon as the plane took off, Amanda closed her eyes and fell asleep. The state of bliss lasted approximately fifteen minutes, until turbulence woke her up with a start. A flight attendant was urging everybody to return to their seats and buckle up. Amanda looked to her left, at Barnes gripping the armrests with white knuckles. The plane rocked in a sea of wind, and Barnes turned green around the gills.

She said, “Turbulence isn’t dangerous.”

“So they say.”

“It’s true. You should feel it in a small jet. Cork in a bathtub effect. You get used to it.”

Barnes stared at her. “Well, thank God, I don’t ever foresee me having that problem.”

“Hey, how many times have I offered to give you a ride somewhere gratis?”

“I hate flying.”

“You get all the catering you want.”

Will’s big hand clamped on his gut.

Uh-oh, wrong thing to say.

She kept her mouth shut and the turbulence faded.

“Really,” she said. “Hitch a ride with us one of these days.”

“Too rich for my blood,” said Barnes.

Amanda didn’t answer.

He said, “Don’t be sore, pard.”

“The hell I won’t. Being pissed is a God-given right even for rich folk.” She wagged a finger at him. “And it’s rather poor judgment of you to alienate me, especially after making a date with that tall drink of water. You might need a lift to LA.”

Barnes reddened. “We didn’t make a date—”

“You exchanged numbers, William. What do you call that?”

“Just being polite—”

Amanda laughed. Will’s blush was hilarious. From green to pink; today her partner was a Christmas tree.

She said, “She seemed nice if my opinion means anything. And she certainly understands the biz.”

“It’s nothing, Amanda. Just being courteous.”

“You’re not going to call her?”

“I didn’t say that. Should the timing be right—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can we drop this?” The seat belt sign turned off. Barnes felt more relaxed. He didn’t mind her ribbing but now he wanted to focus on work. “How about we talk about the case since that’s what we’re getting paid for?”

“Mr. Workaholic,” she said. “Yeah, you’re right. Now that Bledsoe and Modell have sunk to the bottom of our short list of suspects, I’m not feeling too perky. But I guess it puts us back in standard territory: someone close to Davida.”

Barnes nodded. “Someone close enough to her to know she was a closet drinker. The question is, who among her friends did she piss off that bad?”

“The gonorrhea can’t be ignored. Who she got it from and did she give it to someone. Tomorrow, we should talk to Minette and find out if she knew Davida was sick. If she doesn’t, she’s got to get tested. And if she doesn’t test positive, we have to find the partner who gave it to Davida if for no other reason than the public health issue.”

“And if Minette is infected,” said Barnes, “we have to find out if Minette gave it to Davida or was it the other way around.”

“You talked to Minette’s boyfriend…what’s his name?”

“Kyle Bosworth.”

“What about him as the bad guy?”

“What’s his motive?”

Amanda said, “Maybe he gave the clap to Minette, who gave it to Davida. Maybe Davida was going to tell Kyle’s partner about his infidelity and Kyle killed Davida to shut her up. People lead that kind of complicated life, anything can happen.”

“From what people have been telling us about Davida and Minette, I don’t see Davida caring all that much about Minette’s indiscretions.”

Amanda thought for a while. “Then what about this, Will: Alice Kurtag told you she thought Davida might have been having an affair with Jane Meyerhoff. Didn’t you say that Jane was married a bunch of times?”

“Three times. Donnie Newell said it.”

“The point is, Jane has sex with men.”

Barnes felt his cheeks go hot and looked away, but Amanda didn’t appear to notice. “Maybe
Jane
got the clap and gave it to Davida, who gave it to Minette, who gave it to Kyle. That would be a reason for Minette to be furious. In addition to it being evidence of Davida’s infidelity—”

“Alleged infidelity. And Minette definitely cheats.”

“So she rationalizes it—Davida works all day, leaves her high and dry, but Davida has no excuse. The fact that Minette chose a man could be her way of pretending it didn’t count.”

“Kind of nutty. And narcissistic.”

“She has that theatrical quality about her, Will. Phoning ten times a day, maybe staging that break-in. The point is, Minette had plenty of reason to be angry at Davida. And she’d likely know about Davida’s drinking. Who better to sneak up and blow Davida’s head off? Plus the fact that it was probably done when Davida was sleeping could indicate a woman.”

“Why?”

“We’re a sneaky bunch.”

“Hey,” said Barnes, “I’m bringing you up on sexism charges at the next Berkeley Truth Council.”

“Don’t go there, pard.”

Both detectives laughed.

Barnes said, “Do you think that little Minette is big enough to handle a shotgun?”

“Talk about sexism—yeah, I do. All she had to do was handle it for one blast.”

“Her hands were clean,” Barnes said. Answering his own question: “So she washed them good.”

“Minette as the shooter would also explain staging the ransacking. What better way to turn suspicion away from yourself than to be a victim of a crime?”

Barnes turned silent.

After a few minutes, Amanda asked him what was on his mind.

“You’re making sense, Mandy.”

“Let’s ask around about Minette before we talk to her. You must know some people in common.”

“Why?”

“You seem to know everyone else attached to this case.”

“Sacramento,” said Will. “It can be a small town. Everyone went to public school back then. Even rich kids like Davida and Jane ended up at the same high school as us regular folk. Their fathers owned the ranches and our fathers worked the ranches…you really see this as a female thing?”

“Why not?”

“To me, it feels like a man’s murder—cold, calculating, precise.”

“Davida didn’t have many men in her life,” Amanda said.

“She had a few…starting with Donnie Newell.”

“Back to him?”

“I’m not saying he did it. But they were close enough at one time for Donnie to say she was a pistol…” A pause. “Both her and Jane…” Again, Barnes fell silent. “I am not sex-obsessed. At this moment. I’m just saying there could be something that goes way back. And speaking of men, Jane’s last divorce was extremely messy.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked around,” he said. “Other high school buds. Her last husband was a financial type who lost his job. Jane didn’t take well to that and she didn’t want him getting any of her first two husbands’ cash.”

“Asking around,” said Amanda, so quietly Barnes had to read her lips over the plane’s roar.

Annoyed. He’d hotdogged it without telling her.

“Like I said, it’s a small town, Mandy.”

“So you did.”

The place was dark and smoky with the band playing Texas swing. There was sawdust on the floor and beer was flowing in a continuous stream from tap to glass. Just a half hour from Berkeley, Mama’s was a different world. Barnes was on his second Heineken but his third plate of Buffalo wings, wondering if she’d bother to show. She hadn’t sounded all that enthusiastic over the phone, but who could blame her? They’d never progressed beyond a few months of dating and a couple of meaningless bounces between the sheets.

Besides, as he’d explained, the call was business, not personal.

A shapely blonde approached his table. Tall. Like Marge Dunn. Narrower, with coltish legs—a body that could definitely handle the miniskirt. But unlike Dunn, this face was worn, desperation tugging down the eyes. Barnes wasn’t in the mood to play therapist to another wounded soul.

“Looking for some company?”

Barnes smiled and shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m meeting someone here.”

“Some other time?” she suggested.

“Life is long.”

The blond woman didn’t exactly know how to interpret that. She walked away with an exaggerated sway in her hips and for a moment, Barnes wondered if he’d done the right thing by shutting her down.

His ruminations were interrupted when he spotted Jane at the door. He stood and waved her over. She’d dressed way over the Mama’s level: tailored black pantsuit, sapphire-blue silk scarf worn like a choker around her neck, filmy edges shimmering in the turbulence created by dancing bodies.

She walked gingerly across the sawdust in pointy, high-heeled black boots, carrying an oversized black bag that could have been crocodile. She had a long face and long teeth but elegant carriage and demeanor and a lush body saved her from horsy. Her jet-black hair was poker straight and thick, and flowed over her shoulders like an oil spill. She came over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Her eyes were soft blue, red around the edges.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Barnes said.

She looked at the chair, brushed off the seat with a paper napkin and sat down. “You couldn’t do better than this dive?”

“It’s on the way to Sacramento.”

“Thank you and I appreciate that, but so are a few fine restaurants, Will.”

“I like the music. How about some wings and a beer?”

“How about no wings and a Scotch?”

“That can be done.” Barnes signaled the waitress and ordered a Dewar’s on the rocks. Jane reached in her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “You always were kind of a cowboy.” She lit up and blew out a plume of smoke. “So, what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait?”

“I’m talking to just about everyone who knew Davida, and you knew her very well.”

Jane shrugged. “And?”

“What can you tell me about her?”

Her eyes got wet. “She was a remarkable person. Committed to what she believed in, very comfortable in her own skin. I admired her so much, I still can’t believe…”