Jonathan Kellerman - Capital Crimes

Bledsoe stubbed out his cigarette. “I don’t have to talk to you clowns. All I have to do is lawyer up and that ends that.”

“No curiosity?” said Decker.

“What am I supposed to know?”

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“It’s complicated,” said Decker. Now Bledsoe was confused and trying hard not to show it. Decker shot Barnes a nod.

Barnes leaned in close to Bledsoe. “You’re known as a leader, Marshall. You give the orders, you don’t take them.”

Bledsoe shrugged.

Decker’s turn to lean forward. “We had a synagogue desecrated a few years ago. The guy who took the fall was some mope named Ernesto Golding. Definitely an order- taker. ”

“Who were his people?”

“White Tower Radicals,” Decker lied. “An organization near and dear to you.”

Bledsoe smiled and fluffed his beard. “If you’re asking me if I’m a member, I plead proud and guilty. But whatever you’re talking about, that Jew place or any other place, it wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t say it was you,” Decker said. “Did I say it was you?”

Bledsoe was quiet.

“ Marshall, I believe you. You know why? Something that important- trashing a Jew place- Ernesto had to be taking orders from a guy higher up than you.”

Marshall blinked. “And who would that be?”

“Ricky Moke- ”

“Ricky?” Bledsoe laughed. “Right.”

“He’s the man, Marshall.”

Bledsoe laughed again. “Don’t you turkeys know anything? Moke’s dead. He was eaten by a bear.”

“A mountain lion.”

“Either way he’s still animal shit. Before that, he was a peon.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Then you hear shit.”

“Either way,” said Decker, “Ricky’s gone. You’re saying that makes you the big guy?”

Bledsoe started to smile, cut it short, stayed silent.

Decker said, “How did it feel having someone like Moke muscle in on your authority?”

“Right.” Bledsoe huffed. “Ricky was a peon. ”

“So correct me, Marshall. Tell me what you know about the ransacking of the synagogue- straighten me out.”

“I don’t know shit about it, never followed any of that. And since Moke is dead and Golding was popped, I guess you’ll never know what really happened.”

“If you didn’t know anything about the case, how do you know Golding’s dead, let alone popped?”

Bledsoe smacked his lips together and said nothing.

“We can dance like this for a while but bottom line, you’re in trouble, Marshall. At this point, you could use someone on your side.”

Bledsoe let out a lone chuckle. “Let me set you straight, man. I didn’t ransack any kikehouse down here, and that’s the truth. Theoretically, if I had been involved, it wouldn’t have been a ransacking. Something would have exploded and you can bet your ass, there would have been kikes inside- the younger the bet- ” His chair flew out from under his butt and unceremoniously, he toppled to the floor. “What the fuck !”

“Sorry, I tripped and knocked your chair.” Decker exchanged glances with Barnes. Barnes didn’t emote.

Then the lieutenant turned to Bledsoe, gave him a tight smile and righted the seat. “Here, sit back down, Marshall. What were you saying?”

Bledsoe got up from the floor, wiped off his pants, stayed in the corner.

Decker was still smiling. “Have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Have a seat.” Decker’s tone took on menace. Reluctantly, Bledsoe sat down. Decker continued, “Well, you might not have witnesses against you for the synagogue but Detective Barnes here has very good news for us. His witnesses against you are still alive.”

“Witnesses against…” Bledsoe’s brow creased. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Two boys in the White Tower Radicals, Bledsoe,” Barnes said. “They nailed you on Davida Grayson.”

“ Who ?” Bledsoe asked.

“C’mon, we know you ordered the hit,” Barnes lied. “And those two boys are in custody and tripping over their feet to testify against you- ”

“Who the fuck is Davida Gray?”

“She’s a state representative from Berkeley,” Barnes said. “She was found the night before last in her office with her head blown off.”

Bledsoe’s expression made Barnes’s mood sink. Genuine puzzlement. It took the scruffy bastard a few moments to find his voice. “Uh…didn’t that happen up in Northern California?”

“Yes, it did,” Barnes said. “I’m from Berkeley PD.”

“You don’t have jurisdiction down here,” Bledsoe said.

“But I do,” Decker said. “Ransacking a synagogue is one thing, Marshall. Gunning down an elected official is taking your shit to a whole different level.”

Barnes said, “We can’t help you unless you start helping yourself. And you can start helping yourself by telling us what happened.”

Bledsoe leaned back in his chair. “I honestly don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms. “You guys are throwing me shit and trying to make me think it’s perfume.”

“Why would we do that?” Barnes said.

“Because that’s what you clowns do. Let me tell you something. You and your Jew masters are all on borrowed time.”

Barnes said, “ Marshall, why would we waste our time coming down here unless we had you cold?”

“’Cause you’re afraid of me and what I represent,” Bledsoe answered. “I don’t know anything about the dyke.”

“How’d you know she was a lesbian?”

“Because I read, Jack. Who are these imaginary fairies testifying against me?”

“Your peeps, Marshall.”

“Who?”

“Ray and Brent Nutterly?”

“Oh Christ!” Bledsoe made a pained face. “Those two idiots! They’re saying I had something to do with blowing a diesel dyke’s brains out?”

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.