“Minette wasn’t even a serious distraction,” Bosworth continued. “I like women but I prefer men. Why in the world would I suspect I was infected with anything?”
Amanda said, “Not to get too clinical, but symptoms of the disease appear much earlier in men than in women.”
That stopped Bosworth’s running a rut in the rug. “The symptoms. Burning, pus, hard to pee—no, I’ve never had it but in this day and age one educates oneself.” He brightened. “The obvious conclusion from no symptoms is no clap. I know it can be latent, but pu-leeze.”
Suddenly standing straight.
Amanda said, “Mr. Bosworth, you need to talk to a doctor. Men do get more obvious symptoms and they get them earlier than women do but there are no hard-and-fast rules.”
Barnes said, “Also it’s easier for a man to give the disease to women than for men to get the disease from women.”
Kyle stared at him. “Are you saying that Yves gave me a dose?” Anger tightened his face. He started pacing again. “I’ll kill that bastard! I should have known all those late nights were more than work!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Barnes said. “Before you consider homicide, maybe you want to get yourself tested. It could be that Yves has been working late at night and you’re not infected at all.”
Kyle stopped moving and stared into space. “Yes, that probably should be the first step…maybe I’m not even infected…first things first, eh? Maybe I’m clean. That would certainly be nice. Heh heh—if you two will excuse me now, I have to make a rather embarrassing appointment.”
Amanda stood up from the couch. “Will you let us know the results as soon as you find out?”
“What’s it your business?”
“It might have some relevance to Davida Grayson’s murder.”
“Ruling me out!” Kyle proclaimed. “And here I was enjoying being a suspect—so delicious, when you know you’re innocent.”
“You will let us know, sir?”
“Yes, of course, but please don’t call me, let me call you. If I get a reprieve on this, I don’t want Yves to know I was tested. I think he’d tolerate my indiscretion, but the man has an absolute phobia of germs.”
17
The two interviews turned out to be the highlights of the detectives’ day. The remainder of their time was spent chasing down leads that dead-ended. At five in the afternoon, Barnes put in calls to Minette Padgett and Kyle Bosworth, reminding them to phone as soon as they got their test results. They didn’t expect to hear from Minette but held out hope that Bosworth would cooperate.
Bosworth figured a negative would rule him out—if only life were so simple. No disease meant only that Kyle was out of the infection loop. Though if there was a good reason to seriously suspect him, neither Barnes nor Amanda could come up with it.
Flagging blood sugar made it hard to work and before returning to their cubicles, they made a pit stop at Melanie’s, snagging Barnes’s favorite corner table. Will stoked his engine on black caffeine and Amanda ordered a decaf, no-sugar-added vanilla latte with nonfat milk.
Barnes said, “Are you sure there’s even coffee in that concoction?”
“I don’t know how you drink it black. Rots your stomach lining.”
“It’s already rotted from dealing with all these deceptive jokers. Lord, give me a dishonest drug dealer any day of the year. At least I know what I’m dealing with.”
“Notice how Minette didn’t make eye contact when she was talking about her ‘creepy’ condo manager.” Amanda made quotes with her fingers. “While we were in LA a couple of the uniforms canvassed the complex. The residents had nothing but nice things to say about Davida.” She sipped foamy milk. “Minette was a different story.”
“How so?”
“She wasn’t friendly, for one thing. Her downstairs neighbor had a run-in with her about making too much noise late at night. Davida smoothed it over by assuring they would take off their shoes after ten.”
“Minette being difficult is a given, Mandy. Now we’ve got to get from there to murder.”
“Sure be nice if we had the shotgun.”
Barnes said. “We don’t even know if Minette has ever fired a gun. We should see if she has any permits on file.”
“I can do that.” Amanda regarded her partner. “You’re still skeptical about her.”
“She was with Kyle until early morning and both of them were more than a little looped. Davida was murdered with a dead-on, single shot. Even with a shotgun that requires coordination.”
“Hard to get it wrong when you’re a foot away from the person who’s sleeping.”
“I still say the murder looks male—more violent than it needed to be. It was done up close and personal by someone who knew how to use a gun. This was not the work of a hysterical drunken woman.”
“Another sexist no-no.” Amanda grinned. “Does male mean you’re back to Don Newell?”
“He called Davida and she called him back. We’re taking Donnie’s word what the conversation was about. I think I can justify speaking to him again.”
“Let’s say it’s Newell. Why would he kill Davida?”
“First thought is he was having an affair with her and she threatened to tell his wife.”
“The wife who hates Davida, quote unquote,” said Amanda.
“Meaning there’s another suspect. But if Davida knew about the resentment, why would she threaten to tell Newell’s wife? Also, from everything I’ve ever heard about her, she had a vested interest in being gay.”
“So maybe Donnie threatened to expose her.”
“Why would he do that? He’s got a wife and kids, he’s got a good position with Sacramento PD. Even if they screwed once in a while, he wasn’t in love with her and had to know there was no future in the relationship. Also, you yourself said he seemed shocked by the murder. Give me a reason why he’d drive down to Berkeley and blow her head off with a shotgun.”
“I don’t have a good reason, Amanda. And I’m not saying he did it. I’m just saying it looks like a man did it.” Barnes’s cell rang and he glanced at the number. “It’s Bosworth.” He depressed the green button.
“Barnes.”
“Kyle Bosworth, Detective.” There was lightness in the man’s voice.
“Thanks for calling back,” said Barnes.
“So far so good,” said Bosworth, as if talking to himself “A couple of the blood tests will take a little time, but my doctor’s nearly certain I’m clean.” His voice turned hard. “No thanks to that bitch!”
“Good to hear, Mr. Bosworth. For all we know, Minette may be clean, too.”
“Then how did Davida—oh, sure. Our late state rep wasn’t a saint. Sure, why not, we’re all human. Ta ta, Detective, I’m going to go out and have a wonderfully cholesterol-laden dinner—”
“Did Minette ever talk to you about problems between Davida and her?”
No response on the other end. “Hello?”
“Yes, Detective, I’m still here. Anything Minette says needs to be taken with an entire quarry of salt.”
“What did she tell you, Mr. Bosworth?”
“I should preface what I’m about to tell you. Our fling—Minette and me—what we said and what we did was often the product of overindulgence.”
“You drank together.”
“Minette was a huge drinker and not a pleasant drunk. When she got pickled, she’d go into a litany of complaints about everyone and everything. She told me—while drunk—that she was sure that Davida was fooling around on her.”
“Did she suspect anyone specific?”
“I’m sure she suspected a lot of people. With enough bourbon in her, she could be downright paranoid.”
“Did she mention any names?”
“Nothing I recall.”
“Can you remember if Minette specified Davida’s paramour as being male or female?”
Again, Bosworth went silent, causing Barnes to ask if he was still on the line. “Yes, yes…Davida with a man? Well, that
would be interesting. I’ve never heard anything about her swinging both ways but I’m not terribly surprised. We all have a bit of both yin and yang in us whether we admit it or not.”
The best place to reinterview Minette was the station. They flipped a coin. Amanda lost the toss and made the call.
To get Minette in, Amanda decided to appeal to the woman’s vanity. Minette picked the phone up on the third ring, whispered a boozy hello.
“Ms. Padgett, I’m so sorry to bother you again, but this is Detective Isis. If I could just a have a moment of your time, I’d be very grateful.”
“Wha-at?”
“My partner and I…we were discussing things and we both decided that we really needed your help. Would it be possible for you to come to our office to chat with us for a bit?”
“What about?”
“We’re making some headway, but you knew Davida better than anyone else and we could use your insight.”
“I did know Davida better’n anyone, so you tell me why tha’ bitch won’t let me do anythin’ at the memorial.”
There was no way the woman was fit to interview tonight, but maybe Amanda could set something up for tomorrow. “How about this, Minette: come in and help us out and I’ll call Lucille Grayson and make a personal appeal for you to be part of the service. How does that sound?”
“You’ll never change the hag’s mind. She’s a real bitch.”
“Let me try, Minette.” Amanda took in a silent breath and let it out. “When can you come in?”
“Not tonight. Too late.”
It was quarter to six. Lord only knew how long she’d been hitting the bottle. “You’re right. How about tomorrow, say ten AM?”
“Mebbe eleven.”
“Eleven would be perfect. I’ll call you at ten thirty to see if you’re on schedule?”
“Sure. Bye.”
“Oh, by the way, did you get tested yet?”
A long pause. “Good news. The doctor thinks I’m clean.”
“That’s very good news.”
“I suppose. Bye.”
Amanda placed the phone back in the cradle.
Being clean meant Minette realized that her worst fear had been true. Davida had been cheating on her. The big question was with whom? Minette must be wondering the same thing. That could explain her drinking this early.
She looked around the squad room for Barnes—tucked into a corner, facing the wall, talking on the phone. She went over and tapped him on the shoulder. Barnes whispered a “gotta go” into the receiver and disconnected his cell.
“Who were you talking to?” Amanda asked casually.
“No one.”
“On the phone, talking to no one. They’ve put people away for far less, Will.”
“It wasn’t business-related.”
Amanda’s smile widened to a grin. “You were talking to that cop in LA—”
“Amanda—”
“What was her name?” Amanda snapped her fingers. “Marge. Tall drink of water, but nice-looking, I’ll grant you that.”
“She adopted an orphan in her teens. The kid goes to Caltech. We were just talking about kids.”
“You’ve never had any.”
“I was doing the listening.”
“Willie and Margie sitting in a tree—are you going down south or is she coming up north?”
“She’s got a couple of days off. Can we move on to business?”
“Sure, because I took care of some. Minette’s coming down to the stationhouse tomorrow at eleven.”
“You got her to come in?” Barnes nodded with approval.
Amanda punched his shoulder lightly. “Call it the old charm. I’m going home now to work my magic on my husband. Unless you want my advice on something.”
“Like what?”
“Like where to take Margie. They’re predicting high sixties with sunshine. You should rent a convertible and take her to wine country. Spring for some bucks and stay at the Sonoma Mission Inn.”
That actually wasn’t a bad idea, but damn if Barnes would give her any satisfaction. “You can go now, Mandy. I’ll be in around nine tomorrow.”
“Me too, God and traffic willing. I’ll call Minette at around ten thirty tomorrow to remind her about the appointment. She’s already a bit inebriated, so I’ll probably have to remind her of our conversation. No doubt she’ll be hung over and in a foul mood.”
Barnes said, “I’ll pick up some juice, donuts, whatever. Every little bit helps.”
“If only it were that simple,” Amanda said. “Get aspirin, too.”
18
At ten thirty in the morning, Minette was still in bed, having forgotten about the appointment. Amanda decided the most efficient thing to do was just pick her up and bring her in. It took a full hour for the woman to dress and another half hour of plying her with designer coffee until she seemed coherent enough to interview. Even with the star treatment, Minette was surly. Her makeup couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes, making them look more muddy than exotic. Her hair was in need of a good brushing as well as a root job. She was dressed in crumpled khakis, a white tee and sneakers. The woman was lanky and thin and from the back she could have passed for an adolescent boy.
Amanda escorted her into the interview room and helped her to a chair. “Can I get you anything to eat?”
“It makes me nervous when you’re too nice,” Minette groused.
“That’s just the way we are. Here to help.” And we need your help.
“A munch?”
Minette considered her response as if world peace depended on it. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind a muffin. Anything reduced-fat.”
“Not a problem. Be right back.”
While Amanda got someone to pick up the muffins, Barnes watched Minette through a one-way mirror. She seemed more tired than nervous and to underscore the point, she lay her head down in the cradle of her arms and closed her eyes. Five minutes later, she was snoring.
Amanda came into the observation room. Barnes said, “If the woman has anxiety, she’s hiding it well.”
“Maybe she has nothing to feel guilty about.”
“We all feel guilty about something, it’s a matter of degree.” A policewoman entered and handed Amanda the goody bag. She passed it to Barnes, who pulled out a bran muffin and chomped half of it in one bite. By way of explanation, he said, “No time to eat this morning.”
“What were you doing while I was babysitting Ms. Padgett?”
“The official memorial service for Davida is tomorrow afternoon at two in Sacramento. I want to set up an interview with Lucille Grayson afterward.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“I’m telling you now,” Barnes said. “I got us tickets for the noon train.” He finished his muffin and stood. “Ready?”
“Sure, let’s see what Sleeping Beauty has to say for herself.”
Gently, Amanda rocked Minette’s shoulder. Minette woke up with a start and it took her a few moments to remember where she was. A thin line of drool had slipped out of the corner of her mouth. She sucked it up and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Wow.” Minette sipped her coffee. “I’m more tired than I thought. Do we really have to do this now?”
“The sooner we finish, the better our chances of catching a murderer,” Barnes told her.
“Have a muffin.” Amanda offered her the bag. “You can keep all of them if you want.”
Minette extracted the blueberry. “One’s fine. Thanks.”
“Here’s some napkins…need a refill on the coffee?”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.”
As soon as Amanda left, Barnes said, “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. Can we get on with this?” She looked at her watch. “I really got things I need to do.”
Barnes smiled and Amanda came back in with the coffee.
“Here we go. Anything else?”
“Ms. Padgett is a busy woman,” Barnes said without
a trace of irony. “We should get started. Before we get into Davida, I have a couple of questions for you concerning the break-in at your condo.”
Minette peered over the rim of the coffee cup. “Yeah?”
“You reported that you didn’t think anything was missing. Is that still correct?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I’m not sure.”
“But your valuables…cash, jewelry, expensive items…were all accounted for?”
“I think I’m missing cash.”
“You think?” Amanda asked.
“Yeah, Davida always kept cash on hand. Couple of hundred. Maybe more. I only found fifty so maybe the burglars took the rest.”
“And your jewelry?”
Minette shrugged. “I guess it’s all there. I didn’t check every piece. What does this have to do with Davida’s murder?”
“Maybe nothing.” Barnes moved in closer. “We have a little bit of a dilemma, Minette, and we need your help. At first, we thought that the break-in was done by Davida’s murderer, that he or she was looking for something specific. Makes sense, right?”
Minette nodded.
Barnes went on. “But then we realized Davida’s office wasn’t ransacked. So we’re figuring why would your condo be ransacked and not the office?”
Amanda said, “So now we’re thinking that the two incidents might be unrelated.”
“What do you think?” Barnes asked.
“How the hell would I know?” Minette was irritated. “That’s your job.”
“Fair enough,” Barnes answered. “So my first question is, who would want to ransack your condominium and not take anything valuable?”
“Am I supposed to answer that?” Minette frowned. “If I could answer that, we wouldn’t be talking.”
“Well, here’s the thing: we didn’t find any pry marks or forced entrance. We’re figuring whoever messed up your place had a key.”
Minette took a few moments to collect her thoughts. She looked from detective to detective, then down at her watch. “I told you we had a creepy manager. Did you check him out?”
“We did,” Amanda said. “He was working on the plumbing at one of your neighbors’ homes that night.”
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