Capital Crimes

by Jonathan Kellerman

  “That was Thomas Wolfe.”

  “Thomas Wolfe? The writer in the white suit?”

  “That’s Tom Wolfe.”

  Barnes was irritated. “What I’m trying to say is I’ll be happy to get the hell out of here.”

  The interior of the mansion was hot and close and noisy. A horde of well-wishers drank Chardonnay, munched on tea sandwiches and made small talk. Lucille Grayson held court from a camel-back, ruby brocade chair in a simple black dress, black stockings and black orthopedic shoes. Her makeup was discreet, her eyes dry as a San Joaquin summer.

  When she saw Barnes, she cocked a beckoning finger. He quickly made his way through the crowd. “Again, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Grayson.”

  Lucille couldn’t hear him. She shouted, “Go into the parlor. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”

  Barnes had no idea where the parlor was. He’d never gotten past the front room.

  Davida had always met him outdoors. Stealing away was part of the thrill.

  The two of them, under the stars, smelling the menthol of eucalyptus, faint overtones of horseshit.

  Her hair, the quick uptake of her breath…

  He sidled through the crowd and searched for the parlor.

  This day and age, who had a parlor? Amanda, as stylish as any of Lucille’s friends, saw him and made her way over.

  “She wants to meet us in the parlor, wherever that is.”

  “House like this it would be off the side with a porch view.”

  She pointed and he followed, once again groping through the mob until he felt a hard tap on his shoulder.

  He looked back, faced Jane Meyerhoff’s steely eyes.

  She yelled, “Something I can help you with?”

  “Where’s the parlor?”

  “Why?”

  “Meeting Lucille there.”

  Jane pointed exactly where Amanda had. Grabbing Barnes’s hand, she accompanied the two detectives to a carved door, then stepped forward and flung it open.

  The room was musty, high-ceilinged, draped in heavy red velvet fringed with gold. Nail-head chairs and tufted ottomans were arranged in formal seatings. A mirror-backed walnut bar was stocked with bottles and crystal stemware.

  To Barnes’s eye, it resembled a Spaghetti Western whorehouse. He wondered if Davida had brought any boys here.

  Jane closed the door behind her and looked Amanda over. Both of them in black suits, svelte, groomed like champs. Like a photo from a charity luncheon.

  “Jane Meyerhoff.” She proffered a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Amanda Isis.”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Water.”

  Jane’s eyes drifted to Barnes.

  “I drink whatever you’re pouring.”

  “Well,” said Jane, inspecting the bottles, “Lucille has Glenlivet, Glenfiddich, Glenmorangie…aren’t you a bourbon man?”

  “At times.”

  “The second row is Wild Turkey, Knob Creek—”

  “Jane, anything’s fine. And just a finger’s worth. We’re paying our respects but we’re also working.”

  “Working with Lucille?”

  “Wherever it takes. Thanks for directing us.”

  “Not a problem.” Jane poured the drinks, allowed herself two fingers of vodka. “Lucille asked me to handle things today. You know, help marshal the great unwashed.” Tilting her head toward the door. Waves of chatter leaked through the wood. “I didn’t speak. It might’ve provoked Minette.”

  “Not the time or the place,” Amanda said.

  “Precisely.”

  Barnes said, “You and Minette don’t get along?”

  Jane took a long swallow of vodka. “No one gets along with Minette. If you’ll excuse me, I should see how Lucille’s doing.” She hurried out.

  Amanda said, “Sensitive topic, Minette.”

  Before Barnes could answer, the door opened and Lucille entered, holding a cane and clutching Jane’s arm.

  Barnes pulled out a chair and Jane eased the old woman into it.

  “Something to drink, Lucille?”

  “Johnny Walker, rocks. Red or black, at this point I’m not tasting anything.”

  As Jane poured: “Make it a double, dear.”

  “Thanks so much for agreeing to see us, Mrs. Grayson,” Amanda said.

  Lucille gripped the handle of her walking stick. Carved ivory—a woman’s bust. “Perhaps I should thank you. It’s a good excuse to get the hell out of there.”

  Jane handed her the drink and Lucille polished it off with astonishing speed. “Ah, that’s good. Take over for me, Janey. Someone has to hold down the fort.”

  Jane said, “You’re sure you don’t need me here?”

  Lucille waved a dismissive hand. “Go on out there and make sure no one steals the silver.”

  Jane sighed heavily and left.

  Lucille looked at Barnes. “I’m assuming, Willie, that you and your pretty partner wish to talk to me without her hanging around.”

  “You read my mind, Mrs. Grayson.”

  “Your mind is not that tough to decipher.”

  Barnes smiled. “You cut me to the quick, Mrs. Grayson.”

  “I’m good at that.” Lucille’s eyes misted. “Davida was good at it also, though she was patient with me. I’m sure I was a giant pain in the posterior.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t—”

  Lucille patted his hand. “You didn’t know her very well, did you, Willie?”

  Barnes kept a straight face. “She was younger than me. In Jack’s class.”

  “Jack knew everyone…and everyone’s business.”

  “True enough.”

  “How long has it been since he passed away?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Really? I can scarcely believe how quickly the time passes.”

  “It does indeed, Mrs. Grayson.”

  “You can only imagine how rushed life has become for an old lady like myself. I recall all of them as youngsters. Glynnis, Jack…and now Davida. Life has dealt me bins of shit, but I refuse to die.” She waved her glass. “Thank God for alcohol. Get me another, Willie.”

  Barnes complied. Lucille faced Amanda. “I’m not being very polite, am I? Going on about old times with which you’re not familiar.” She looked around absently, as if studying the overstuffed room for the first time. “I’ll need to get back to the barbarians shortly. What is it that you want to ask me?”

  Barnes rubbed his hands together. “This might get a little prickly…”

  Lucille sat and drank and waited, impassive.

  “Do you know if Davida was having an affair?”

  Lucille’s eyes whipped away from Barnes’s face and settled on the fireplace. She took another sip of whiskey. “I don’t like Minette, never did, and Davida was well aware of that fact. If my daughter had someone else, she wouldn’t have told me because I would have nagged her to dump Minette once and for all.”

  “Let me rephrase the question,” Amanda said. “If Davida had someone else, who might it have been?”

  The old lady shrugged.

  Amanda said, “Is it possible that it could have been a man?”

  Lucille didn’t answer right away. “No, I don’t think so. Davida got a lot of mileage out of being a lesbian.”

  “All the more reason to keep an affair with a man hidden.”

  “A man…” As if considering an exotic species. “No…” Lucille shook her head. “I knew my daughter better than one might think. She wasn’t interested in men.” Another sip of whiskey. She stared at Amanda. A smile spread slowly. “As the saying goes, it takes one to know one.”

  Barnes almost choked on his drink although Lucille’s admission shouldn’t have come as a shock. It was well-known around town that she’d treated her husband coldly, had had no use for men since the divorce. He thought that resulted from a bad marriage, but maybe he’d mixed up cause and effect.

  “One of the reasons I didn’t
like Minette,” Lucille said, “is that she wasn’t real. Just a shallow, stupid girl using my daughter as a meal ticket. Now it’s out in the open…what that little bitch was doing all those nights my daughter was working.”

  Barnes rubbed his chin. “I think Davida was doing more than working, Mrs. Grayson. Davida had gonorrhea but Minette is clean. There was someone else in your daughter’s life.”

  Lucille took a deep breath and let it out. “I see.”

  “That’s why I asked if there was a man in her life,” said Amanda. “The disease is passed easier from male to female than from female to female.”

  “Aha…” Lucille nodded. “I see your logic, but I still know my daughter. If she got the disease, it was from a woman, most probably a woman who sleeps around with men.”

  “Any candidates?” Barnes asked her.

  Lucille smiled. “You’re wondering about Jane.”

  “Jane moved back to Berkeley. She and Davida reignited their friendship.”

  “That silly boat ride. Why anyone would subject themselves to bumping and…” Lucille checked herself. Finished her second drink. “Could Davida and Jane have had a thing? Oh, yes, definitely.”

  Sitting back and enjoying the look on the detectives’ faces.

  Amanda said, “Definitely.”

  “I know it for a fact, dear. Not that either one would tell me. But I’m able to recognize love when I see it. Davida always loved Jane. It just took Jane twenty years and all those ridiculous marriages to decide she loved Davida.”

  21

  Excusing herself, Lucille left them alone in the parlor. Barnes steadied his hand with more bourbon.

  Amanda drank water and said, “Well that was earth-shattering.”

  “Jane and Davida. Just like the old days. I told Jane about the gonorrhea when we met up a couple of nights ago. She was pretty casual about it, suggested Davida had gotten it from Minette. Now I’m thinking she was out to make a point: this has nothing to do with me.”

  “Maybe a diversion, but maybe also the truth, Will. No matter what Mother says, Davida could’ve been flinging with a Y chromosome.”

  “We’ve gone over all of her e-mails for the last three months—personal and business—haven’t found anything hinting at a secret male lover.”

  “Nor have we found anything linking Jane to Davida.”

  Barnes conceded the point. “Maybe Jane’s still in denial about her own sexuality.”

  “Or Lucille has it all wrong.”

  “It’s not just Lucille, it was Alice Kurtag, too.”

  Amanda’s turn to concede. “Jane wanted the relationship but wasn’t ready to come out.”

  “Mandy, what if Jane was all thrilled about hooking up with Davida and Davida wanted to go public? Jane wasn’t ready for that. She goes to Davida’s office to beg her to hold off on any announcements, but Davida refuses.”

  “She visits with a shotgun in hand?”

  “So they drank together and had an argument. Jane left and returned to do the deed. Donnie Newell told me that Jane freaked out big-time after they did a threesome. If Davida threatened to out her, she could’ve freaked out again.”

  “Maybe Newell was taking the heat off himself and directing you elsewhere. And we know he owns shotguns.”

  Barnes gathered his thoughts. “Okay. You win. I’ll go back and round up Newell’s guns.”

  Amanda applauded silently.

  Barnes said, “That doesn’t mean that Jane is off the hook.”

  “All this time, you’ve been saying the crime had a masculine quality to it. Then we get a decent male suspect and/or his eagle-eye shootin’ wife and you switch to Jane Meyerhoff. Does Jane even know how to shoot?”

  “Never saw her actually do it but she grew up on a ranch—okay, enough of this, I’ve been blabbing so much I might as well run for city council. We’ll get the guns and we’ll talk to Jane, see if we can’t get her to admit to the affair.”

  “How do we crack her?”

  “Lucille figured it out, it’s useless denying it.”

  “Lucille’s a lesbian with a lesbian daughter. She could be accused of overactive gaydar. Jane denies it, it’s her word against Mother’s.”

  “Then we lie, tell Jane that Davida told Lucille about their affair in no uncertain terms, and Lucille told us. Then we sit back, no judging, and watch how she reacts.”

  “Ah, the suspense,” said Amanda. “I love my job.”

  Lucille’s visitors had thinned, but the mansion still buzzed with latecomers. After mingling for a few minutes, Amanda and Barnes found Jane in the kitchen, placing cucumber, cress and egg salad finger sandwiches on a silver tray. She looked up and resumed her work.

  Barnes said, “We need to talk some more.”

  “About what?” Forced lightness in her voice.

  Barnes placed a hand on her arm. Immediately, Jane’s eyes watered. Barnes whispered, “Lucille told us.”

  Tears etched a meandering trail through Jane’s foundation. “Told you what.” No question mark in her inflection.

  “About you and Davida.”

  Jane stared at the refrigerator.

  Barnes said, “She told us.”

  “What does an old woman know?”

  “Davida told her everything.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Lucille wants to make it public.”

  Jane’s face infused with color. More than a blush—the deep hue that comes from a hard slap. “But why would she want…” She shook her head. “Can’t we discuss this later?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Amanda said.

  Barnes said, “The only way we’re going to get your side of it is if you tell us.”

  Jane wiped her hands on a napkin and picked up the tray. Amanda took it from her and placed it out of reach. The gesture—being deprived of her task—made Jane sag.

  “My side of it.” Sick smile.

  Barnes said, “How long have you been involved with Davida?”

  “Please, Will.” Jane’s eyes were pleading. “Can’t you just let things be? My mother is here. She doesn’t know and I really don’t see the point of her finding out now that Davida’s gone.”

  “I’m not talking to your mother, Janey, I’m talking to you. How long have you been involved with Davida?”

  Jane’s eyes skittered between Amanda and Barnes, then trailed back to the fridge. Amanda followed her gaze. Nothing to see on the old Sub-Zero. No cutesy, kitschy magnets, no personal touches. The kitchen was as sterile as an operating room.

  Jane said, “Since I filed for my divorce.” Her shoulders lowered another inch. “Parker went crazy, started doping more heavily, became an absolute psychotic shit! I called Davida for support because…I don’t know why…she’d always been there when I was down…before all those men, and she did it again, became my main source of support. Because Mother had zero tolerance for my complaints against Parker, sometimes I think she preferred Parker to me—never arguing with her, dressing right. Then he goes and turns into such a shit! But it’s my fault, spoiled Janey whining about another man gone bad. Parker played it. Horrible to me but courtly to her. Mother is not only a gossip, she is also the most superficial person I know. Makes Minette look like Gandhi—if Davida hadn’t been there for me, I would have had a total breakdown!”

  She stopped talking abruptly, gasped for breath. Cried and didn’t bother to wipe her face.

  Amanda got a napkin and did it.

  Jane didn’t seem to notice the kindness.

  Amanda said, “Were you two planning a future together?”

  “We weren’t planning anything! Nothing was planned, it just happened! Even after we continued to see each other I told Davida I wasn’t sure. Davida certainly didn’t push me. She was a busy woman. She had things other than sex on her mind.”

  “You know about the gonorrhea. I assume you’ve been tested.”

  Jane looked down at her feet. “I am currently on medication. Apparently, I was asympto
matic.”

  “Do you know who gave it to you?”

  She laughed bitterly. “That could be a bit of a list…including my ex. Among his many other transgressions, the man got around. Of course, Mother doesn’t know anything about that. She thinks the divorce was another one of my quote unquote impulsive follies!”

  Barnes said, “Janey, did Parker know that you and Davida were intimate?”

  “I don’t see how he could’ve. I haven’t spoken to the asshole in over seven months.”

  Amanda said, “How do you think he’d react if he found out that you not only left him, but you took up with a woman?”

  “How would he find out?”

  “Lucille knew,” Barnes said. “Alice Kurtag also suspected there was something between you two. Even Minette wondered about the two of you being more than friends.”

  “Word gets around, Jane,” Amanda said. “So please answer the question. How would Parker react if he thought that you left him for Davida?”

  Jane licked her lips. “When he’s threatened, Parker can be an extremely violent man. Over the past seven months, I’ve heard his drug use has gotten out of hand.”

  “What does he take?”

  “Weed, coke, pills.” Bitter smile. “An eclectic man.”

  “Does he know how to shoot a shotgun?” Barnes asked.

  Jane blanched. “Parker loved to hunt. Loved guns—I never let him keep any of them in the house. He was too unpredictable.”

  “Where’d he keep them?”

  “In storage. I couldn’t tell you where.”

  Amanda said, “Where can we find Parker?”

  Jane licked her lips again. “We owned a cabin near the river, about an hour from here. As part of the divorce settlement, I agreed to let him buy me out at a bargain price. Even with that, he hasn’t paid me. Lord only knows where he’ll get the money. Among Parker’s other wonderful traits is a congenital inability to keep a job.”

  “The deed’s still in your name?”

  “It is until he comes up with the cash.”

  “So the cabin is yours but he lives there?”