Capital Crimes

by Jonathan Kellerman

  As far as Barnes could tell, no thanks to Don who was loose and jocular and made no attempt to act parental.

  It was Jill who ran a tight ship.

  She was statuesque, about five ten, with a weathered oval face, high cheekbones, and piercing brown almond eyes that suggested Indian blood. Her lips were full but she rarely smiled. Her hands had been roughened by use, her fingers long but her fingernails short. She wore tight jeans and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. Her chestnut-colored hair was tied up in a high ponytail.

  Like that artist…Georgia O’Keeffe.

  “I don’t remember the last time I ate so well.” Barnes patted his stomach. “Man, that was terrific, Jill. Those ribs, unbelievable.”

  Jill acknowledged the comment with a slight smile and a soft thank you. When she got up to clear the plates, so did Amanda.

  “Sit, Amanda,” Jill told her. “The kids will do it.”

  “I really don’t mind,” Amanda said. “Besides, I know it’s a weekday and they must have homework. I sure don’t mind helping if you want them to get a jump on it.”

  “Well, okay—if you’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Jill nodded. “All right, you three, you caught a break. Go to your lessons and no computer privileges until all three of you are through.” She turned to her oldest—a fifteen-year-old boy named Ryan. “If I catch you sneaking online before you’re done, there will be hell to pay. Understood?”

  Her son gave her a look somewhere between a smile and smirk. “I hear you. Thanks for dinner.” Then he grinned at his father, who gave him a wink behind Jill’s back.

  Amanda, the millionaire, fit in seamlessly. She said, “I can wash or dry.”

  Barnes knew she’d grown up hard. Could still relate to anyone.

  “We have a dishwasher,” Jill said.

  “Even better, I’ll load.”

  “You need help, hon?” Don asked, not even pretending to mean it.

  “We’re fine,” Amanda answered.

  Don said, “Jill, would you mind if I show Will your new shotgun?”

  “Go ahead,” Jill said.

  “Your new shotgun?” Amanda said.

  “Jill’s a crack shot,” Don said. “We could use people like her for SWAT but I’d rather have her cooking.”

  Jill frowned. “Shooting people don’t interest me.”

  “See, there’s where we’re different.” Newell managed to kiss his wife before she could turn away. “See you in a bit, ladies.”

  After they were gone, Amanda took in a pile of dishes and began to push the leftover food into the garbage. “Where’d you learn how to shoot?”

  “My daddy. He took me hunting when I was ten. At the time, I hated it, but I loved my daddy, so I went along. I never like to kill any animals, so I took up skeet. I discovered I had a good eye and good coordination. When I was fifteen, I started entering competitive shooting. I have enough blue ribbons to paper my powder room. But to me, competition is silly…a guy’s thing, you know? But it made my daddy real proud. The shotgun’s for turkey hunting. Donnie bought it for me—one of those gifts men get you ’cause they want to use it themselves.”

  “Donnie’s the hunter in the family?”

  Jill nodded. “I used to just tag along, you know, but lately I decided if I was going to cook the holiday turkey, I should be honest about where our meat comes from. So now I pull the trigger. I gotta say, there is nothing like fresh game. It is positively delicious.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “You hunt?”

  “No…but neither did my dad…not that it mattered.” Amanda smiled. “I didn’t have such a great relationship with my father, but I don’t dare complain. My husband more than makes up for that deficit.”

  Jill was silent. Then she said, “We all have our crosses to bear. Donnie’s got good intentions.” She shrugged. “You know what they say about good intentions.”

  “I do.”

  “He just gets caught up in stuff,” Jill said. “He don’t always think things through. It’s cost him some promotions.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Instead of studying for the Sergeant’s tests, he’s helping this old friend or that old friend or just shooting the bull down at Brady’s.” She faced Amanda. “Sometimes people take advantage of him.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Not good at all.” Jill exhaled. “But like I said, he’s a good man.”

  Actually, she said he had good intentions, but Amanda didn’t correct her. “How long have you two been married?”

  “Twenty-one years. We met in high school.”

  “Oh.” Amanda feigned ignorance. “Did you know Davida Grayson? She was also a local.”

  “Yes, I knew Davida.”

  “Were you at the memorial service today?”

  “Donnie was, but I couldn’t make it. Conflict with the school…parent-teacher thing.” Jill shrugged. “It must have been sad.”

  “Very.”

  “To be honest, I didn’t want to go…too freaky, you know? To know someone who was murdered.”

  “Were you and Davida friends?”

  “Oh heavens no. I didn’t like her at all back then, but that was probably ignorance. She’d already come out when I was a sophomore and I thought it was gross—you know, women with women.”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyway, that was a lifetime ago. It didn’t help my feelings that Donnie had dated her also. Did you know that?”

  Amanda shook her head. Keep those bald lies coming.

  “Anyway, after she came out, Donnie was sorely traumatized. He got lots of ribbing from his friends.”

  “I can imagine. Did you start dating him right after?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. The rest, like they say, is history.” Jill smiled tightly. “How many children do you have?”

  Changing the subject. Amanda said, “None, yet.”

  “They bear watching. Kids. My oldest one really bears watching. He’s sneaky…like some other people I know.”

  The implication was obvious, but Amanda didn’t press her for more. When people opened up too quickly, there was often a backlash of anger. “You ever practice shooting on your own property? What do you have here, like twenty acres?”

  “Ten and a half but it looks bigger ’cause a lot of it’s clearing. Sometimes when I’m in the mood, I do target practice on a bull’s-eye that I got hanging on the trees. If I used my shotgun on the oaks, I’d blow them to a stump.”

  “Well, maybe one day we can go shooting together. I’m not a bad shot but there’s certainly room for improvement.”

  Jill hid a smile. “Be happy to show you whatever I know.”

  “That would be great.” Amanda was very satisfied with the turn of events. Both Donnie and now Jill could be suspects. If she went shooting with Jill, it would be a good way to pocket some shotgun casings.

  Barnes looked at the twelve-gauge Browning Gold Lite pump gun. “Nice piece of equipment. Didn’t know you were a hunter.”

  Newell gave him a chance to hold it, then took it back and placed it on the gun rack, locking the bar into place. “Oh, yeah, for some years now. Life can get tedious, Willie. A man needs a hobby.” He turned to Barnes. “You’ve been itching to get me alone all evening. What do you want to talk about?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Don’t turn that question with a question shit on me,” Newell said. “I’ve been a cop long enough for you to respect me. Now either spit it out or go home.”

  Barnes said, “Fair enough. You need to tell me about your relationship with Davida Grayson and you need to be honest.”

  Newell smiled and shook his head. “I knew this was coming.”

  “So you’ve had time to think about it.”

  “Nothing to think about, Willie. Davida was an old friend and a controversial politician. If she needed police help, I was happy to give it to her. Buddy, that’s it.”

  “What about your
past with the woman?”

  “That’s what it is, Will. It’s a past.”

  “I need to know about it, Donnie, because this case seems to revolve around it.”

  “How so?”

  Barnes was caught in his lie. “Wish I could tell you, but you know the drill.”

  “Am I considered a suspect?”

  “You were one of the last people to talk to her. I only have your word what the conversation was about.”

  The men were silent. Newell shrugged. “Like I said, there’s been nothing between us for the last twenty-five years. Not that I would have minded, because at one time, I was crazy about that girl. She fucked like a bunny, you have no idea. When you’re seventeen, that’s all a girl’s got to do to make you crazy about her.”

  “I know all about that,” Barnes said. “So you had no idea she was gay.”

  “I don’t think she had any idea she was gay.”

  Barnes was silent.

  “All right, maybe she did know,” Newell told him. “She was the one that suggested doing a threesome with Jane Meyerhoff. I was a normal, red-blooded American teenage stud and that meant I was horny all the time. When she suggested a threesome, man, I thought I died and went to heaven. I guess looking back at it, she used me to get to Janey.”

  “How’d it happen?”

  “It was one of those pivotal moments, Willie. We were double dating and went back to Jane’s house because her parents were never home…always off to some fancy destination. There were four of us—Jane’s date, some loser, Derek Hewitt.”

  “I remember Hewitt,” said Barnes. “Tall, skinny, dumb.”

  “And rich—rich was a big thing to Janey’s parents. Anyway, we were downing shooters and smoking weed and getting high. Hewitt got sick to his stomach and fell asleep on Janey’s bed. The rest of us were feeling no pain. When Davida threw out the suggestion, Janey and I thought she was joking.”

  Newell turned grave. His voice lowered. “But she wasn’t. It happened slowly…you know, just kissing and copping feels. Then…bam…” Newell was sweating. “Afterward was the scary part. Jane freaked out. It took the both of us and a lot more weed to calm her down, convince her that it was no big deal, only normal experimentation. A couple of months later, Davida came out. She and Jane remained friends, but I became an outsider real quick.”

  “So Davida and Jane hooked up that long ago?”

  “I rightly don’t know if they did or didn’t. Eventually, I started dating Jill, ’cause she was hot, too, wanted it all the time. Though looking back it seems like she was…you know, maybe acting? Like she really didn’t like it as much as she pretended?”

  “How’d Davida react to your hanging with Jill?”

  “Don’t know that she reacted at all. Davida and I were pretty much avoiding each other. Mostly I was avoiding her. I was embarrassed—stuff guys said.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Like I couldn’t compete with a carpet muncher, crap like that.” Newell frowned. “Jane and I went our separate ways and she went back to Hewitt, until we graduated high school. Then Jane and Davida went off to the UC and Hewitt went to Stanford and I went to community college. We’re talking ancient history, pal.”

  Barnes nodded.

  “Willie, the last time I had really anything personal to do with Davida is when I brought her to the senior prom and that’s the truth.”

  “You took Davida to the prom?”

  “What a dumb-ass thing to do. Jill has never let me forget it.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “Because Davida begged me and I guess I thought I owed her something for the great sex. I’d only been dating Jill for a few months and the girl was a sophomore. I figured she’d have two more chances in her junior and senior year. Also since Davida was a lesbian, I thought Jill wouldn’t care.” He laughed. “Boy, was I one stupid shit.”

  “And you haven’t done anything sexually with her since she came out?”

  “I believe I already answered that.”

  “Don’t get testy, Donnie, I have my reasons for asking. Davida had gonorrhea and it didn’t come from her girlfriend, Minette.”

  There was a long silence.

  Newell looked up at the black sky. “Did it come from a guy?”

  “I have no idea, Don, but we do know that the bug is passed more easily from boy to girl than from girl to girl.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “So she was carrying on with a man.”

  “Maybe.”

  “If she would have asked me for a tumble, I don’t know what I would have done. She was still a fine-looking woman.” His blue eyes focused in on Barnes’s face. “Lucky for me, she didn’t put me in that bind.”

  “Where were you the night Davida was murdered? Every minute of the night.”

  “Home in bed.”

  “Mind if I test any of these shotguns for ballistic comparison?”

  Newell thought long and hard. “What, that rifling stuff? Hell, I couldn’t care less but if I agree Jill’s gonna wonder why. I don’t want to give my wife any reason to suspect me of anything, Willie. Even though I didn’t do nothing. You know how it is, sometimes that just don’t matter to the missus.”

  More silence.

  “Why don’t you see how far your investigation takes you without my guns? If you’re still curious, then I’ll comply. But I sure as hell won’t be happy about it. Who in their right mind would be happy being viewed as a murder suspect?”

  20

  Lucille Grayson lived in a three-story Victorian, shingle-sided and stately. The curving front porch was set up with wicker furniture, including an old-fashioned swinging love seat. The house had been painted a soft cream and trimmed in a green that blended with the surrounding acreage. Specimen oak, eucalyptus, sycamore and pine dotted the velvet lawn. Flower gardens shouted color, orchards of citrus and peach and plum pumped out fruit well beyond the growing season.

  Inland California was flat, hot and dry, but this neighborhood had been bulldozed into hillocks and irrigated nearly a century ago. With Gold Rush optimism and enough trucked-in water, anything could happen.

  Barnes and Amanda were almost a half hour early and they secreted themselves under an oak whose boughs hung so low they nearly touched the ground. Sipping the Peet’s coffee they’d picked up along the way, they watched visitors arrive and leave.

  During the entire drive, Barnes had slept. Now he yawned and blinked himself awake.

  Amanda had stayed up just as late, then made the drive back to San Francisco. She’d ended up talking to Larry, then cuddling, then more, and hadn’t slept much at all. What a doll her husband was, but she knew eventually fatigue would beat her to the ground. Right now, though she felt amped. “Good morning. So what do you think?”

  Barnes said, “About what?”

  “About Barry Bonds taking steroids. About your old homeboy Donnie Newell. Still suspicious of him?”

  “Haven’t ruled him out, but he said we could test his guns and he didn’t give off any obvious tells. Honestly, I don’t know, Mandy.”

  “Well, I’m liking Jill Newell. She’s always resented Davida, she doesn’t trust her husband and she knows how to shoot. If Don and Davida rekindled their passion and Jill found out, she’d be major pissed.”

  “I don’t think they were doing the nasty.”

  She took in her partner’s eyes. “Why not?”

  “When he told me they weren’t, he seemed straight.”

  “And you believe him, just like that.”

  “He was upfront about everything, Mandy, not a trace of edge. When I told him about the gonorrhea his reaction was resentful, almost outraged, but not nervous. It was more like: if Davida was going to fuck a guy, it should have been him.”

  “Ah, vanity, vanity, the male species is thy name.”

  “I don’t think that’s the quote, pard. Anyway, he started reminiscing and it sounds like he and Davida had quite a thing going before she came
out.”

  He filled Amanda in.

  She said, “All the more reason for wanting to start up again.”

  “I guess…yeah, he was bragging, but it had more of a…wistful quality. Like life was better back then. We’re talking over twenty years ago. I’m not saying Don’s been an angel but if he cheated, I don’t see it with Davida. Because I think he would’ve told me.”

  “Stud talk, guy to guy.”

  “It’s what we do.”

  “On the other hand, maybe that was a ploy, big fella,” Amanda said. “He confesses to what you already know so he doesn’t have to tell you anything new.”

  “You could be right.”

  Amanda smiled. “So we’ve basically reversed positions. I’m liking Jill and possibly Don, and you’re not.”

  “That’s what we do, right? The old open-minded waltz.”

  Moments later, when he’d finished his coffee: “I’d feel a whole lot better if we had some kind of forensics.”

  “Let’s see what happens when we test the Newells’ guns. Any reason we didn’t take them last night?”

  “I told Donnie I’d hold off. He didn’t want to give Jill the idea that he might be even a remote suspect.”

  “When’s the right time, Will, after he’s dumped the guns?”

  “I took down the serial numbers. He’s not gonna dump anything.”

  “One minute you’ve got a hard-on for him, the next minute you let him off the hook? I don’t understand you.”

  Barnes turned to her. “Right now, even if the Newells are involved, we got shit on the case. If we rule their guns out, we’ll have less than shit.”

  “So we engage in major denial to forestall disappointment? You are not making sense. We need to go back today and get the guns.”

  “Suit yourself, but my gut says it isn’t either of them.”

  “So who does your gut say it is?”

  “So far my gut’s only good at eliminating suspects, not catching them.”

  Amanda regarded her partner—paler than usual and his hands had a slight tremor. “Maybe you should ease off on the all-black, Will.”

  “It’s not the coffee, Mandy, it’s being back here. I used to clear brush over there.” Pointing. “Couldn’t have been more than fourteen, no one ever offered me a drink…yeah, I’m a bundle of raw nerve endings. Tom Clancy was right: you can’t go home. Furthermore, you shouldn’t even if you could.”