“If Parker was crazy, why would Jane rely upon him? Hell, why would she marry him in the first place?”

“Maybe his pathology was under control- medicated officially or otherwise. Maybe being married to Jane helped him maintain. When she petitioned for divorce- and the paperwork says she initiated- he broke down. As to how she’d rely on him, she knew him well enough- understood which buttons to push.”

“Sounds like a movie,” said Barnes. “You’re stretching. Why?”

“It just doesn’t sit right with me. The guy’s too crazy to do it all by his lonesome.”

“What’s Jane’s motive?”

“Davida was going to dump her and it pissed her off. Or Davida was about to out her and she couldn’t handle it. You saw how squeamish she was when we talked to her at Lucille’s. What better way to get rid of Davida than to sic poor psychotic Parker on her, telling Parker that it was all Davida’s fault that they broke up in the first place? Davida dies, Parker’s locked up. Talk about killing two birds.”

“Inventive,” said Barnes. “You thinking of quitting and writing screenplays?”

“Granted, I can’t prove any of it, and maybe it’ll turn out to be fantasy. You want me to check it out alone, or with you?”

“That’s my choice?”

“You bet, pard.”

Barnes pinged a spoon against his demitasse. “If Parker’s that disturbed, maybe he’s got some prior hospitalizations that will tell us more about how his head works. Why don’t you check that out?”

“And you’ll talk to Jane.”

“I was thinking I’d look into Jane and Parker’s financials, see if she was supporting him and for how long. You want us to do everything together, fine, no more cowboy.”

Amanda laughed. “No, I was just asking. Let’s divide it up. You can even wear that string tie.”

23

It took the detectives several days to get a reluctant go-ahead from Captain Torres. With the evidence presented and corroborated, the boss had no choice but he told them to be “tactful.” Whatever that meant.

Giving the order to both of them but looking straight at Barnes. Amanda had covered him, claiming the hotdog to Seldey’s cabin was a joint decision, but Torres was no fool.

He kept his mouth shut and said, “Yes, sir.” Saluted behind Torres’s back as the captain hurried off to a meeting.

The Woman’s Association was doing a brisk lunch trade, tables of genteel ladies exercising their jaw muscles on gossip and the tri-tip special. Barnes felt stiff in a jacket and tie, but Amanda glided through the dining room in a navy suit with matching pumps.

The table they were looking for was in the corner. Six septuagenarian females chattering and wielding silverware with finishing-school precision. Five of them focusing their attention on a black-haired dowager in a black knit suit and pearl earrings. A thin old woman, bordering on emaciation, with shoe-polish hair drawn back in a bun. Her blue eyes flashed with excitement as she spoke.

Eunice Meyerhoff enjoyed holding court.

When Barnes and Amanda reached her table, she looked up. Blinked. Smiled.

“Good afternoon, Detectives, what are you doing here?”

Barnes said, “Hi, ladies, how’s everything?”

The women clucked pleasantries in unison. Eunice said, “We’re just about done with our meal. Would you like to join us for dessert?”

Amanda said, “Actually, Mrs. Meyerhoff, we need to speak to you in private. Just for a second.”

Eunice’s companions stared at her. She bristled. Beamed. “Why, of course.”

Barnes took her by the elbow. As they crossed the dining room, Eunice waved to other diners. When they got past the tables, her jaw tightened around her smile. “What is this about, Detective Barnes?”

“We need your help,” said Amanda.

“And how long will it take? Today is Boston cream pie, which I adore. The kitchen generally runs out if one hesitates too long.”

“Maybe the ladies should order dessert without you,” Barnes told her.

Eunice stiffened in his grasp. Skinny but tough, like an old wild turkey, annealed by challenge.

Out in the lobby, Eunice said, “Where shall we chat?”

Amanda said, “Let’s use your room. Nice and private.”

“I don’t- well, if you insist.” A frail smile. “I suppose…” She patted Barnes’s arm. “So muscular, William. You were always a good worker.”

The elevator ride was silent. Eunice fished out her key and opened the door to a surprisingly shabby little room papered in a lilac print. The carpet was worn, the drapery was gray and dusty and the place emitted a nursing-home smell. Leaded-glass windows let in some natural light but the day was overcast. Nearly all the space was taken up by a queen bed, a simple wood chair, a chipped nightstand that held a clock radio and an old Bakelite dial phone, and a folding suitcase rack.

Ancient Vuitton valise on the rack.

Eunice sat down on the chair. Slumping, as if making the most of her advanced age. But there was something sharp and distrusting in those eyes.

Barnes said, “I have a few questions for you, Mrs. Meyerhoff. It has to do with some of your bank transactions.”

Those sharp eyes narrowed. “Well, I don’t think my finances are any of your business.”

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but we had to obtain certain facts.”

“What facts?” Her tone had hardened.

“Generally, your spending is quite light,” Amanda said. “That’s why we were surprised by two recent withdrawals that were substantial.”

“Two cashier’s checks,” Barnes added. “Ten thousand dollars each, over the last forty-five days.”

“So?” said Eunice. “Last time I checked the federal government was still allowing me to spend my own money.”

“We know who cashed them,” said Amanda.

The old woman grew silent. One red-nailed hand scratched the other.

“Parker Seldey,” Barnes said. “That’s quite a lot of money to give an ex-son-in-law.”

“We don’t like him much,” Amanda said. “He tried to shoot us. We’re curious why you like him.”

“You were trespassing!” Eunice blurted.

“No, ma’am,” Barnes said, “Jane gave us permission to enter the premises and Jane owns the premises.”

“Parker didn’t know that.”

A pause.

Barnes said, “That’s our point. You seem quite fond of Parker.”

Eunice’s mouth screwed up. “Whatever issues Jane has with him, he’s always been a gentleman with me. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Barnes said, “though I’m sure it’s hurtful to your daughter.”

Eunice grunted. “As if she cares what’s hurtful and what’s not.”

“She’s been hurtful to you?” Amanda asked.

“I can’t remember a time she hasn’t been hurtful! Always taking up with bums or drug addicts- using drugs herself, the stories I could tell you. Do you think that’s a daughter who cares about her mother’s feelings?”

“I’d say no,” Amanda said.

“Darn right, no!”

“Still,” said Barnes, “your being so close to Parker isn’t exactly sitting right with Lucille Grayson.”

“Am I supposed to care about that witch?” Eunice’s eyes spat fury. “Always bragging, bragging, bragging about her perverted daughter. I think I’ve had quite enough of Lucille Grayson, yes I have. I don’t give a hoot about her or her lesbian daughter and I don’t give two hoots what she thinks about me.”

“Is that why you’re paying for Parker Seldey’s defense?” Barnes said, risking a guess.

When Eunice didn’t answer, he thought: Yes! Sherlock lives!

Amanda read his mind, ran with it. “Your hiring Parker’s lawyer really puzzles Lucille Grayson.”

The old woman folded her arms across her chest. “I told you I don’t care about that biddy.”

“Your personal relationship with Lucille is none of our business,” Amanda said.