“Till midnight?”
“Beyond. Seriously clogged line.”
“So he couldn’t have done it,” said Barnes.
Minette didn’t reply.
He pressed her: “Who else had a key to your condo?”
“Lucille Grayson,” Minette said. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it.”
Amanda acted as if she took that seriously. “Why would she do that?”
“To piss me off. I told you the woman hates me.”
Barnes said, “Sorry, that night she was at the club with some friends. We know for a fact.”
“Well…that’s what her friends would say.”
“She was identified by dozens of people, and her nurse stayed with her the entire time. She wasn’t anywhere near the condo.” Barnes tried to get the woman to make eye contact. “Minette, one way or the other, we’re going to get to the bottom of the ransacking—”
“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the murder?”
“We’re doing both,” Barnes said. “And right now, we’d like to rule out a connection between the murder and the ransacking. To do that, we’ve really got to find out what happened at your place. Whoever did it, Minette, I just want you to rest assured that we’re going to nail him—or her—and throw his—or her—sorry ass in jail.”
Amanda said, “So if you know anything about it, now’s the time to say something because Detective Barnes and I really don’t want to be spinning our wheels.”
“See that’s what gets us really pissed off…when people lie to us.”
“Yeah, that really is a nuisance,” Amanda concurred.
Barnes said, “Even though we realize that sometimes people don’t lie to us on purpose, know what I’m saying?”
Minette shook her head slowly. Bloodshot eyes focused on something in the distance.
Amanda said, “People sometimes lie to protect someone or something. Would you know anything about that, Minette?”
“No.” Her voice was strong, but she started gnawing on her thumbnail. “You said you needed my help. What do you want from me?”
“For one thing, we’d like to know who might have ransacked your condo,” Barnes said. “Because it’s definitely an inside job.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“No valuables are missing.”
“I told you, some cash might be missing.”
“That’s just for show,” Amanda said. “Know how we know that?” No answer. “The ransacking was messy, but all of your dishes remained in the kitchen cabinets. None of that stuff was touched. A lot of disorder but almost no breakage.”
Barnes said, “Easier on whoever had to clean it up.”
Amanda said, “You know, Minette, if you have something to tell us, tell us now before it gets too far.”
Barnes said, “We know you’ve been under terrible stress.”
Amanda said, “We know you haven’t been yourself at all. We understand that it’s been an emotional time for you.”
Barnes smiled.
Amanda smiled.
Minette’s left cheek quivered. She hugged herself. Yanked at an errant strand of hair. “You have no idea.”
“How could we understand such loss?” Amanda said. “We can’t and we’re not even going to try. But we do have to get to the bottom of what happened in your condo. We do have to know what really happened.”
“What do you mean?” Minette sniffed. “If I knew what happened, I’d tell you.”
Barnes’s smile turned reptilian. “We think you know way more than you’re telling us.”
“So now’s the time to get it off your chest,” Amanda broke in.
“While we can still help you.”
“I don’t understand,” Minette whispered.
“If you tell us what happened, Minette, we can do something for you. You know, being so stressed out and all, we’ll understand.”
“But,” said Barnes, “if we waste valuable time trying to solve the ransacking and things begin to point in your direction…” He shook his head. “That’s going to look very bad, Minette. Very, very bad.”
Amanda leaned forward. “We think you know who did it, honey, and now’s the time to tell us. Because if you don’t tell us now, we can’t help you.”
“And we really want to help you.”
“Yes, we do want to help you. But first we’ve got to know what really happened.”
Minette cried silent tears. Amanda reached over and took her hand. “It’s all right, honey. You can tell us. It must be so hard for you. It must have always been so hard for you with Davida being away all the time.”
“I thought she was working.” Minette’s voice was clogged with emotion. “Now I realize she had someone else!” She burst into tears. “How could she do that to me! That bitch! A bitch that came from a bitch!”
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda said. “You must be terribly disillusioned with her.”
“Totally.” She sniffed back tears. “I thought she was working so hard.”
“You must be so angry.”
“I’m furious!”
“I bet,” Barnes said. “But you suspected the affair, didn’t you?”
Quickly, she made eye contact with Barnes, then broke it off. “I suppose I did.”
“You came home after the press conference, didn’t you?” Barnes said.
Minette hesitated. Gave a guilty-kid nod.
“You came home…alone, disillusioned, confused, upset…all those things, right?”
Nod, nod.
“Alone in the place that you once shared with Davida,” Amanda said. “You must have been beside yourself with confusion and anger.”
Barnes said, “So to get rid of those horrible feelings, maybe you threw something at the wall.”
“Just because you were so upset,” Amanda added.
“I was very upset.”
Barnes said, “And then it went from there.”
No answer.
“We need your help, Minette. We need the information straight-arrow truthful. You need to tell us what happened after you got home from the press conference.”
“I was upset,” Minette said softly. “I threw a pillow at the wall.” The two detectives waited for more. “And…then I threw another pillow…and another. And then I turned over one of the couches. I was surprised that it wasn’t all that heavy. So I turned over the other one.” She was breathing harder now. “And then I saw Davida’s office, looking all neat…like it hadn’t been used in ages because it hadn’t been used in ages. And I just knew in my heart of hearts that if she wanted to really work, she could have worked at home. So I began to take things out of her file cabinets…and tear them up…and toss them because it’s not like she needed them anymore…” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “And then I went on to the closets. And I threw clothing all over the place…and then the dressers. And then…”
She was sobbing hard.
“I realized I had made a gigantic mess and that I’d have to clean it all up. And I was so alone and lonely and…”
More sobbing. Amanda offered her a tissue. “So then what did you do?”
“I turned the sofa back and put back a pillow, but that only made me angrier. And I felt so stupid. And scared…I don’t know who killed Davida, honestly, I swear I don’t know!”
“Okay, we believe you.” And Barnes did…sort of. She seemed too hysterical to pull it off. But he kept an open mind because he had been fooled before. “You were scared being alone. Then what?”
“I totally freaked myself out,” Minette said. “I started thinking—you know, like your mind gets hold of something and just keeps going? That’s what happened to me, the thoughts took over. Like whoever hurt Davida…maybe he’s coming to get me. And here I was alone in the place, which was now a total mess. I was so scared! I wanted to call the police. But I felt stupid telling them that I was freaked out and scared…you know?”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Barnes sa
id.
“Yeah, right!” Minette dried her eyes with a tissue. “You guys are quick with traffic tickets, but if I told anyone I was scared, I bet not one cop would have come out to see me.”
She had a point, Barnes thought.
Amanda said, “You must have really felt alone.”
“I did.”
“So then what did you do?” Barnes prompted.
“I called the cops and told them that our place had been tossed. I needed people to stop already with Davida and focus on me. She was dead, but I wasn’t.”
Minette’s egotism took neither detective by surprise, but her admission did.
“In the future,” Barnes said, “if you feel scared again, there are people who can help you and you don’t have to fib to get them to talk to you.”
“That’s all it was meant to be,” she sobbed. “A stupid fib because I was desperate! Am I in trouble?”
“You filed a false police report,” Barnes said, “so that could be trouble, yes. But I think the judge will take into consideration your circumstances.”
Minette nodded. “I should probably contact my lawyer.”
“Probably,” Amanda said. “If you can’t afford one, the county will give you one free of charge.”
“I’m okay with money.” She stood up on wobbly feet. “Can I call my lawyer now?”
“First, we need to read you your rights.”
Minette sat through the beginning of the routine, numb, inert. When Barnes got to the part about an attorney being provided, she said, “You just said that. I know all of it anyway from TV. I watch a lot of TV because she left me all the time.”
“She’s vain and egotistical and self-centered,” Barnes said once they returned to the other side of the one-way mirror. “But the real question is, did she murder Davida? We went through her house and her clothes. No blood-spattered clothing, nothing with gunpowder residue, no shoes with trace evidence of blood or carpet fiber. No gun registration and there’s no evidence that she’s owned an illegal firearm.”
“She could have hired someone.”
“Why would she want Davida dead?”
“Because she was cheating on her. Because Davida left her alone once too often.”
“Minette dealt with that,” said Barnes. “Doing her own cheating.”
“Minette is a selfish little bitch who probably flew into a narcissistic rage when she found out that Davida had someone on the sly.”
“Okay, so you like her.”
Amanda’s smile was weary.
Barnes said, “You really like her for it?”
“No, but I don’t want to rule her out. She’s unstable and she knew Davida’s habits better than anyone.”
No sense belaboring the subject. “Are you coming to Sacramento with me tomorrow?”
“Of course. Why are you even asking?”
“The memorial’s scheduled the day after the funeral. I set up the interview with Lucille Grayson for when it’s over.” Barnes smiled like a cat with feathers in his teeth. “Is that okay?”
“What’s on your mind, Willie?”
“After the funeral, I’m going to Don Newell’s place for dinner at five thirty.”
She stared at him. “And I’m not invited.”
“I can get you invited.”
“But…”
“It’s up to you.”
“But you didn’t mention me the first time around.”
“It was more of a social thing—old-boy barbecue.”
Amanda whistled. “Oh, man. First high school buds, then Jane Meyerhoff, then this. Maybe you’d like to take over the entire case by yourself?”
“C’mon, Amanda, don’t be—”
“You think I’m losing my touch? I was the one who just got Minette to confess to the break-in.”
Barnes had seen that as teamwork. He said, “That was great, but with Donnie Newell, there might be things I can—he might be uncomfortable talking in front of you.”
“Good-old-boy sex talk?”
“Woman talk,” said Barnes. “Specifically his relationship to Davida.”
“While you’re with him, I could talk to the wife who hated Davida. Or is she too hysterical and weak to pull it off?”
“I thought about that, Mandy, I really did. But then instead of the dinner being a friendly invitation, and the boys retiring for a cigar, it’s too much like a cop interview. You know, you take one, I take the other.”
He was making sense, although Amanda hated to admit it. “If you exclude me from anything one more time, I’m walking. This is a partnership, remember?”
“Mandy, you know how much respect I have for you—”
“Don’t go there, Will. I’m too pissed off for condescension.”
“Look, I really do respect your opinion. As a matter of fact, I took your advice.”
She regarded him with narrowed eyes. “What advice?”
“You know…me and Marge Dunn. I rented a convertible. We’re going to drive through Napa and Sonoma, do a couple of tastings.”
Actually, Barnes hadn’t prepared a damn thing but Amanda’s idea had been a good one, and it seemed like a dandy time to tell her. “Any idea if there’s a cheese shop en route? I think a cheese, fruit and wine picnic would be great. You agree?”
Amanda sighed. “Actually, I do have an address. Also, try The Olive Press near Sonoma. And if she’s still tolerating you by the end of the day, I’ve got some dinner recommendations.”
“That would be super—”
“Now cut the crap and rent that car and stop bullshitting me. I’m still pissed, Will.”
“I know you are. How about coffee at Melanie’s? I’ll pay.”
She cracked up. “You think you can get me to come around with a measly mocha latte?”
“Lunch?”
“You’re getting warmer.”
“Chez Panisse? I know one of the waitresses, maybe if it’s slow—”
“Thanks, love to.” Amanda smiled. “I’ll pull out the car while you check your wallet.”
19
Though she had no children, Davida Grayson had left behind a legacy. Her lust for life, her obsession with justice for the underclass, her dogged pursuit of righteousness were iterated and reiterated by each speaker. Those who eulogized her knew her well enough to make it sound real. Everyone pledged not to let Davida’s dream of creating a new stem-cell line perish with her.
In the end, Lucille Grayson had acted with class and had allowed Minette Padgett to speak. Surprisingly, Minette was clear of thought and steady of balance. She spoke briefly—always a sign of discretion—and from the heart. If Barnes hadn’t known what a nutcase she was, he might’ve choked up.
When the hour was up, the casket was loaded into the hearse, and a community that had loved Davida offered its final good-byes. The graveside service was to be a small and private affair.
Amanda checked her watch as she and Barnes filed out of the auditorium. They joined the massive black wave undulating toward the exits. It was shortly after three. “Your man-to-man dinner still on for five thirty?”
“Far as I know.”
“Did you see Newell here?”
“I looked for him, couldn’t find him anywhere,” Barnes answered.
“We’ve got time to kill. Want to grab a cup of coffee?”
“Why not?”
She walked slightly ahead of him, made her way through the throng. Civil but still pissed off.
Outside the auditorium, Barnes caught up with her. “I called Newell this morning. You’re invited for dinner.”
“Why the change of heart?”
“Because you should be there. After dinner, I’ll take Donnie, and you occupy Jill Newell, just like you said.”
Neither detective spoke for several footsteps.
Barnes said, “You know I’m a loner, Amanda. I work well with partners but only up to a point. I feel a little bad about that, but not too bad. I am what I am. But that doesn’t mean that when som
eone calls me on my bullshit I can’t set it right.”
They walked a couple more steps in silence.
“Did you tell Newell I was definitely coming?”
“I said you might. Didn’t know if you had other plans.”
“I don’t now.”
“So I’ll call Donnie and tell him it’s a go.”
“How about if I call Jill and ask her if it’s okay for me to come to dinner? Then when she says yes, I’ll thank her personally and ask her if I can bring anything.”
“Woman to woman,” said Barnes.
“Person to person.”
As a state capital, Sacramento played a fine host to its politicians. It had classy restaurants, several art museums courtesy of Crocker Bank, concert halls, a few theaters and the ARCO arena with its NBA team, the almost-champ Kings. But like most cities, it had multiple identities.
In Sacramento’s case, that meant a mining history and agricultural presence. When the Kings made the play-offs, the fans came armed with cowbells.
Barnes had grown up in a semi-rural, farming community twenty quiet miles from the capitol dome, where, like most of his schoolmates, he learned how to shoot a rifle and use his fists. The music of choice was country for the masses and bluegrass for those serious about guitar and fiddle. Having a gay brother and living in Berkeley had altered Barnes’s perspective but had never totally erased it. As Amanda had pointed out, sometimes he reverted to the cowboy thing. Sometimes to his detriment.
But this wasn’t one of those times. Sitting at the Newells’ big pine dinner table, wearing his bolo tie, a soft pair of Wranglers and well-broken boots, he felt right at home.
The ranch-style house sat on ten acres of oak and eucalyptus in a semi-agi neighborhood with barns and paddocks. The furniture was a chain-store leather ensemble complete with two La-Z-Boy lounge chairs fitted with cup holders that faced a sixty-inch flat-screen TV. Whatever art in sight was made by the Newell kids. Most of the table conversation centered on the kids asking the adults to pass around the food. Everyone praised Jill on her fine cooking, which was no lie. Jill seemed to take little joy in the attention. Shy woman, she always had been.
During the meal, Barnes snuck several sidelong glances at Amanda who ate sparingly and complimented the behavior of the Newells’ three kids.
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