Modell seemed to levitate out of his chair. “Stem-cell research bull! Nothing good will ever come from butchering human babies, young lady, and I certainly don’t want to pay for such shit with my tax dollar.” He sank back down. “Yeah, I wrote to that sodomite, told her what I thought of her bull and of her being a lesbo. Told her everything she needed to hear.”

“Which was?”

“Women got no business being in politics, it turns them into perverts like Grayson. I’m certainly not mourning Grayson’s demise, but if you think I had anything to do with her murder, you are seriously misguided and as stupid as she was.”

Barnes loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Amanda gave him a tissue from her purse and both of them mopped their brows. She said, “Politicians receive negative mail all the time, sir, but your letters were especially nasty.”

“Lady, I’m a nasty, God-driven man. I don’t deny it. But last I heard you can’t arrest someone for that.”

“You can arrest someone for threatening harm.”

“I didn’t threaten harm, mister. I just told her the truth…that she was going to burn in hell for eternity, two seconds flat her flesh would look like pig cracklings and her insides would boil like soup. I told her she was so far gone even Jesus wouldn’t know what the hell to do for her. You want to arrest me for truth-telling, go ahead and give me the entertainment and the publicity and maybe I’ll start another church. Do one of those websites.”

Amanda said, “Is there anyone who can verify your whereabouts for the last couple of days?”

“Lady, I’m damn flattered that you think I have enough energy to fly up to that pinko city and pop the lesbo. Fact is, I’m eighty-four, for the last ten of those wheelchair bound and a good day for me is when I wake up and move my bowels without straining.”

“You could’ve hired someone,” Barnes said.

“I could go to the novelty shop, buy a big nose and say I was a Jew- listen, you two, just because I decided to use my First Amendment privileges and tell the perverts what I think of them doesn’t mean I have to sit hear and listen to your bull. Your bosses will be hearing from me. Get the fuck out of here before I run you over with my chair.”

Barnes started the engine and let it idle while he pulled out his cell phone. “Other than providing entertainment for the old bastard, that was a colossal waste of time.”

“Had to be done,” Amanda said.

He fooled with the phone, scowled. “Can’t get my messages. No reception in this dump.”

“Thought you liked rural living.”

“Rather have twenty rooms with a view. Let’s go back to the West Valley and see if anything’s up with Bledsoe. Unless you want to grab something first? We can eat in the car.”

“Nutrition sounds good as long as it’s not hamburgers.”

“What’s wrong with burgers?”

“Larry got a new barbecue. Turbo-powered and he’s collecting marinades.”

“Boy needs a hobby, huh?”

She shrugged. “He’ll find something.”

“I’ll find a Subway or something. It ain’t Chez Panisse but what is?”

14

Delicately, Marge Dunn unwrapped the wax paper that held together a turkey and cheese sub. “Wow, thanks for thinking of me. I’m hungry.” She steadied the sandwich then took a big bite. “Mmmmm…that’s good.”

“Amanda’s idea, she’s the considerate one,” Barnes said. He was sitting shotgun in an LAPD unmarked; Amanda was in the backseat and Marge was at the wheel.

Marge spoke over her shoulder. “Thank you, Considerate One.”

“No prob.”

The car fell silent until Barnes grumbled, “You think this joker is going to show?”

Marge wiped her mouth. “I don’t see why he’d leave if he came down to be with Mom for the holidays. And if he does leave, that tells us something.” She regarded Barnes. “I really like the silverwork on your belt buckle. What kind of stone is that? Green turquoise?”

“Exactly.”

“Nice.”

“Got it in Santa Fe. Ever been there?”

“Sure,” she said. “I go there a lot. Sometimes during opera season, if my daughter’s schedule permits.”

“Never been to the opera.”

Amanda said, “Will’s into Buck Owens.”

“Me, too. I’m eclectic. Big loss, Buck.”

“Dwight Yoakam’s carrying it on,” said Will.

“He rocks but still, it’s not the same.” Marge finished her sandwich and stowed the trash in a plastic bag. “The opera house is really special. It’s outdoors with this beautiful view of the mountains. Sometimes crickets sing along.” Big smile. “Sometimes, they’re on key. They’ve got great chamber music, too. And country at some of the casinos. Great little town, culture-wise.”

Barnes sneaked a quick look at Marge’s left hand. No ring. “Whole Southwest area is a pretty part of the country.”

“Magnificent…a real break from LA.” Marge turned around again. “Have you ever been there, Amanda?”

“Once and it was gorgeous.”

Barnes said, “I remember the food being good.”

“That, too,” Marge said. “If either of you go again, give me a call, I’ll tell you some good restaurants.”

Barnes said, “I just might do that.”

The two of them swapped brief smiles. Further interchange was cut short by a black pickup truck tooling down the road. Instinctively, all three detectives slouched down in their seats.

Marge said, “Let’s wait until they’re out of the car.”

The truck pulled into the driveway. A man got out on the driver’s side carrying several bags of what looked to be groceries. Seconds later, an older woman opened the front passenger door. She was pear-shaped, gray-haired and slow-moving. He had wild unkempt hair and several days of dark beard growth. He wore a white T-shirt, a denim jacket and jeans, white sneakers. She had on a long gray sweater, a blue turtleneck, and black polyester pants. Her sneakers were black.

With Bledsoe’s hands occupied, the situation for arrest was ideal.

“Let’s do it,” Marge said.

The three detectives jumped and swarmed the unsuspecting duo.

“Police, Mr. Bledsoe, don’t move,” Marge barked. As soon as Barnes relieved Bledsoe of his bags, the women brought his arms around his back and Marge slapped on the cuffs. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bledsoe, we have a bench warrant out for your arrest for outstanding traffic warrants- ”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Bledsoe’s voice was lazy.

“No sir, I am not.” Out of the corner of her eye, Marge saw something blurry coming at her nose. She ducked, but a hard object made contact with the left side of her forehead. Flailing fingernails. The contact stung.

Amanda caught the old lady’s arm midair. Laverne Bledsoe’s breath was ripe with liquor and garlic.

“That was really stupid.” Amanda spun Mom around. “Now you’re under arrest for assault on a police officer.”

Laverne responded by trying to stomp on Amanda’s shoe. Amanda stepped back, but the old woman caught her on the tip of her toe. She wrestled Granny down to the ground and snapped Laverne’s hands behind her back maybe a little more forcefully than necessary. The cuffs clicked.

Bledsoe remained completely passive, watching from the sidelines. Almost amused. “Are you going to arrest my mom, too?”

“Looks that way,” Amanda said, bringing the squalling woman to her feet.

“She’s sixty-eight.”

Barnes said, “She assaulted two police officers.”

“That’s bogus. This whole arrest thing is bogus.”

The old lady began cursing but Bledsoe stayed quiet. Marge patched in a call for transport.

Laverne looked at her son with panicked eyes.

Bledsoe spoke in a monotone. “Calm down, Ma, it’s not good for your heart.”

“Shitheads!” Laverne screamed. “Manhandling an old woman!”

Barnes saw blood on Marge’s temple. “Got a Band-Aid? She got you.”