Jonathan Kellerman - Capital Crimes

“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…”

She started to cry. Barnes was right there with a napkin, but she elected to pull out a tissue from her exotic skin bag. She blew her nose and dabbed her eyes just as the waitress plunked down the glass. Barnes paid the bill and the tip and edged the glass closer to Jane. She sipped, took a second swallow. Half the whiskey was gone before she decided to resume the conversation.