Jonathan Kellerman - Capital Crimes

“Not really, but what?”

“I did nine months.”

“When?”

“Last year.”

“For what?”

“Grand theft auto.”

“You’re a car booster.”

“Just once, I was wasted. Never gonna happen again.”

“Uh-huh,” Baker said. “Do you have a substance-abuse problem?”

“I’m okay, now.”

“Tending bar?” Lamar stood up and stretched to his full height. He did that whenever he wanted to intimidate. “Don’t you think it’s a little risky for a guy like you?”

“It’s tea,” said Banks. “I don’t do nothing and I don’t know nothing. She’s the one who was here.”

Greta said, “That’s really true.”

Baker said, “Where were you last night, Byron?”

“Over on Second.”

“Doing what?”

“Walking around.”

“By yourself?”

“With friends. We went into a club.”

“Which one?”

“Fuse.”

“That’s Techno,” said Lamar. “How about the names of your friends?”

“Shawn Dailey, Kevin DiMasio, Paulette Gothain.”

“What time were you cruising Second?”

“Until about one or two. Then I went home.”

“Which is where?”

“My mother’s.”

“Where’s that?”

“ New York Avenue,” said Banks.

“The Nations,” said Lamar with a quick glance to Baker. Later, if he was in a mood, he’d have some fun. Neighbors like that and your alarm sucks…

“Yeah. I’m feeling antsy. Can I go have a smoke?”

They took his stats and let him go. The kid walked past the karaoke gear, disappeared through the rear door.

“He’s really a nice person,” said Gret. “I never knew he was in jail. How could you tell?”

Lamar turned his eyes on the waitress. “We got ways. What’s back there, through that door?”

“Just the bathroom and a little room where we put our stuff. I keep my guitar there.”

“You play?” said Lamar. “How come you used the machine?”

“House rules,” said Gret. “Some kind of union thing.”

“Who else was here last night?”

Gret said, “Our other bartender- Bobby Champlain- and me and Jose. Jose sweeps up after we close so he came in maybe ten to midnight.”

“Either of them have a criminal record?”

“I wouldn’t know for certain, sir, but I wouldn’t think so. Bobby’s around seventy, deaf in one ear, mostly deaf in the other, and a little…slow, you know? Jose’s real religious- Pentecostal. Bobby told me he’s got five kids and works two jobs. Neither of them would have recognized Mr. Jeffries, especially looking…well, different. I was the only person who did.”

“Mr. Jeffries looked older than you expected.”

Nod. “And a lot…you know, fatter. We might as well be honest.”

“But you recognized him.”

“My mama loved the trio…but her favorite was Jack. He was the star, you know. She has all the old LPs.” Sad smile. “We still got a record player.”

Baker said, “Who makes the house rules?”

“The owner. Dr. McAfee. He’s a cosmetic dentist, loves music. He worked on Byron’s mom’s teeth. That’s how Byron got the job.”

“Dr. McAfee around much?”

“Almost never,” said Greta. “Bobby Champlain told me he’s too busy doing teeth; Bobby started off working here when it opened, around a year ago. Dr. McAfee worked on his teeth, too. He lives in Brentwood. Dr. McAfee, I mean, not Bobby. Nowadays, he hardly ever makes it over. Last couple of weeks, I been opening and closing, and he’s been paying me a little extra for that.”

“What time did Mr. Jeffries show up?”

“I’d have to say around eleven fifteen, thirty. We close at midnight but the music stops at fifteen to. I was just about to start my second set.”

“Singing old favorites,” said Lamar.

The girl smiled. Those big eyes were brown and soft. “Singing’s in my blood. It’s my goal.”

“To get a record deal?”

“Well, sure, that would be great. But I just love singin’- sharing what I’ve got with other people. My goal is to one day be able to do that as my real job.” Her lips turned down. “Here I am talking about me and it’s so horrible about Jack Jeffries. When I found out, I was so shocked, I can’t tell you. He’s more from my mama’s time but she plays his records all the time and he had a beautiful voice. Just gorgeous. She always said it was a gift from God.” Small fists clenched. “How could anyone do that to him? When I found out this morning, I was horrified. And then I said ohmigod, I need to talk to them- meaning you- the police. I thought of 911 but they say if it’s not a real emergency, don’t use it ’cause it ties up the lines.”

“Why exactly,” said Baker, “did you think you needed to talk to us?”

Confusion clouded the brown eyes.

Lamar added, “Is there something specific you want to tell us?”

“No, but he was here, ” said Gret. “Sat right in that chair and drank two pots of chamomile and ate yellow-raisin scones with oodles of butter and listened to me sing. I couldn’t believe it, Jack Jeffries sitting there listening to me! I was so nervous I thought I’d fall down. Usually when I sing I make eye contact- connect with the audience, you know? Last night, I just stared at the floor like a stupid little kid. When I realized it, I looked up and wouldn’t you know, he was looking back at me and paying attention. Afterward, he applauded. I nearly ran off to the bathroom, but finally I built up my courage and went back out and got him more tea and told him how much I admired his music and that singing was my goal. He told me to follow my dreams…that’s what he did when he was my age. For a long time everyone discouraged him but he stuck it out and stuck with it.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“To hear those words from a superstar like that. I can’t tell you what it meant. Then he shook my hand and wished me luck. Left a nice tip, too. I ran out to thank him, but he was already talking to that lady and I didn’t want to disturb his privacy.”

She reached for a bar napkin, and wiped her eyes.

Lamar said, “What lady, Gret?”

“Some older lady. They were talking a little ways up, but not too far from the T. Then he walked her to her car…which was parked even farther up.”

“How long did they talk?”

“Don’t know, sir. I didn’t want to stare- didn’t want to be rude- so I went back inside.”

“But you definitely saw Jeffries talking to this lady.”

“Yeah, she just walked up to him out of nowhere. Like she’d been waiting for him.”

“Did Jeffries appear startled?”

She thought. “No- no, he didn’t look surprised.”

“Like he knew her.”

“I guess.”

“Would you say it was a long conversation or a short one?”

“I really couldn’t say, sir.”

“Did either of them look upset?”

“No one was laughing but it was too far away to see.”

Baker said, “Why don’t you show us exactly where they were standing.”

Lamar watched from where Gret said she’d been standing and Baker accompanied the girl as she paced off five yards, stopped and said, “Right around here. I think.”

East of the café. Direct route to the kill-site.

Baker had her point out where the woman’s car had been parked. Another three, four feet east. He brought her back to the café and the three of them stood out on the sidewalk.

“So you can’t say how long were they talking,” said Lamar.

“I really wasn’t staring the whole time.” She blushed. “I mean it’s natural, I’m not going to run away. Big-time superstar just walks in- just walks in by himself and sits down and listens ? We never get anyone important, never ever. Not like on Second or Fifth or over at the Songbird. Those places, you hear all kinds of stories about celebrities dropping in at the popular clubs. But we’re away from all that.”