“Were you and Davida close?”

“Over the past year, we’d become very close, working on her bill. Now…without her as an advocate…I really don’t know what chance we have for passage.”

Barnes said, “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Yesterday afternoon.” The doctor’s voice cracked. “It seems so far away now.”

“What was the occasion?”

“She stopped by to pick up some reports for some lobbyists. She was going to hit the capital full force this week and needed all the scientific information I could muster. I had some of the material ready, but not all of it. She was going to come by this afternoon to pick it up…” Again, her voice broke, but this time her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s a terrible thing,” Barnes said. “Did you socialize with Davida outside of work?”

Alice Kurtag wiped her eyes with a tissue. “With Davida, everything was work- from her parties to her meetings. Occasionally, when we were working long hours, we’d treat ourselves to dinner and a movie. Neither of us have children to rush home to.” The scientist smiled sadly. “We weren’t lovers if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

Barnes gave her a neutral shrug. “Did she ever confide in you?”

“Now and then, I guess. She’d tell me how worried she was about the bill. She only had support in the House if every one of her fellow Democrats chose to back her up. Some had changed their minds, others gave her a hard time from the beginning.”

“How so?”

“They objected to the cost of funding the proposition, said give the initiative-funded institute a chance.” Kurtag frowned. “Science doesn’t come cheap. What worthwhile endeavor is cheap?”

“Did she ever talk to you about personal fears?” When Kurtag seemed puzzled, Barnes clarified his question. “Was she specifically afraid of someone or something?”

“She never said anything to me…other than to complain how betrayed she felt.”

“Betrayed?”

“By her colleagues.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t recall. I organize data, conduct experiments, write reports, Detective. I don’t do the actual lobbying.” She paused. “There was a woman representative…Elaine something.”

“Eileen Ferunzio.”

“She’s the one. Davida was furious with her. Apparently, Davida had recently thrown her support behind one of Eileen’s bills, so when she didn’t get reciprocity, she felt totally betrayed. But there was never any hint that Eileen was dangerous. That’s absurd.”

Barnes wondered. “We’ve heard Davida had received some threatening letters.”

“Threatening letters?” Alice thought about that. “Oh, from that crackpot down in Orange County? She seemed more amused by it than scared.”

“Do you remember the crackpot’s name?”

“Harry something.”

“Harry Modell?”

“Yes.” The doctor appeared annoyed. “If you know all of this, why are you wasting my time?”

“I know some things but not everything. So she didn’t take Modell’s threats seriously?”

“Not to my eye. She mentioned something to the effect that she knew things about him, and that all his threats were nothing but bluster.”

“What kind of things?”

“She didn’t specify.”

“Blackmail things?”

“Oh please, why would she waste time blackmailing a loser like him?”

Barnes pressed on. “After Davida mentioned these ‘things,’ did the threatening letters stop?”

“I really don’t know. It wasn’t the focus of our meetings.”

“How often did she mention Harry Modell?”

Expansive. “Maybe twice, three times.”

“When was the last time she mentioned him?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Detective.”

“A week ago? A month ago?”

“Maybe a month, but I couldn’t swear to it. Really you’re making too big a deal out of him. Is that all? I’m distracted enough as it is. I really need to get back to work.”

“Please, Dr. Kurtag, just bear with me. Did Davida ever talk to you about Minette Padgett?”

Alice appeared uncomfortable. She didn’t answer right away. “You think Minette murdered her?”

The frankness of Kurtag’s question took Barnes aback. “What do you think?”

“I think that unless you think Minette had something to do with her death, I don’t want to talk about her.”

Barnes ignored her and pressed on. “Minette was having an affair…with a man. Did Davida know?”

Kurtag’s eyes hardened. “Davida didn’t place a premium on her domestic life. She had bigger issues to deal with.”

“What does that mean? She knew but didn’t care?”

No answer.

Barnes said, “Was she was going to dump Minette? Was she having an affair herself?”

Alice Kurtag’s eyes drifted to the ceiling. “It would be helpful if you asked your questions one at a time.”

“Okay,” said Barnes. “Did Davida know about Minette’s affair?”

“She hinted about it- Minette thinks she’s subtle, but she’s not. But she didn’t seem to care, Detective. She was getting a bit tired of Minette’s whining.”

“Was she going to dump Minette?”

“That never came up.”

“Do you know if Davida was involved with someone else?”

“No, I don’t. Frankly, I don’t see when she would have had the time.”

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Dr. Kurtag, but where were you last night?”

Alice was silent. Then she said, “Where I am practically every night. Here, at the lab, working.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone. Who else works at two in the morning?”

Davida had been at her desk at two in the morning. Barnes kept his thoughts to himself. “When did you leave the lab?”

“I didn’t. I slept here last night.”

“Where?”

“At my desk.”

And Barnes thought he had a lonely life. “Do you often sleep at your desk?”

“Not often.” Alice shot him a cold stare. “Occasionally.”

“If I offended you,” Barnes said, “that wasn’t my intention. I have to ask sensitive questions, Doctor. Right now, I’m trying to piece together a time line. So you were here all night?”

Kurtag showed him her profile. Tight lips, squinty eyes. “All night,” she said softly.

“Alone.”

“I already told you that.”

“You’re sure no one saw you here?”

Kurtag’s smile came nowhere near mirth. “I suppose that means I have no alibi.”

“Would you mind if I gave you a gunshot residue test- just a swab of your hands?”

“I would mind because I resent the implication. But go ahead, do it anyway. Then you can leave.”

10

The Ronald Tsukamoto Public Safety Building housed both the fire and police departments of the city of Berkeley. The two-story entrance was shaped like a sewing spool with the bottom foot lopped off. It was Deco in style, each of the two semi-circular levels punched with large rectangular windows that sat atop each other with geometric precision. The paint job, however, was pure Victorian- ecru trimmed in robin’s eggshell blue and bright white.

Once inside, anyone having business with BPD waited in a rotunda with multi-colored abstract mobiles hanging from the ceiling. A spiral staircase with spaghetti-thin railings wound its way to the second story. The station was pleasant and clean, with checkerboard flooring and soft natural light filtering in from the generous windows.

The actual working interior was plain-wrap cop shop: windowless beige walls, fluorescent lighting, small cubicles with charmless but functional workstations. The equipment was often mismatched, and in the case of some of the computers, sorely outdated. The conference room furniture consisted of white plastic tables and black plastic chairs. Maps of the district, a calendar, a video screen and a chalkboard made up the wall decor. An American flag stood in one corner, the Golden Bear stood sentry in another.

It had been a hellish morning for Berkeley PD, but it was the captain on the hot seat. At six years away from retirement, Ramon Torres now had to explain to the mayor, the governor, and his highly vocal constituency how a beloved state representative had been nearly decapitated in her office and no one knew a damn thing about it.