“Darn right!” Eunice said.

“However,” said Barnes, “Davida Grayson’s murder is our business. Parker confessed to killing her, so we know who actually pulled the trigger. We also know someone paid him to do it.”

“Those cashier’s checks of yours, Mrs. Meyerhoff. We know exactly what they were for because Parker told us. And it looks pretty incriminating. The first one was issued awhile before Davida was murdered, but the second was issued and cashed the day after her death.”

“Payment for a job well done?” said Barnes.

Eunice chewed her lip. Scarlet lipstick smudged the meager flesh.

Amanda said, “What did you tell him, Mrs. Meyerhoff? That Davida was responsible for Jane leaving him?”

“She was responsible!” Eunice snapped. “If it hadn’t been for that pervert, Janey wouldn’t be doing sick things.”

“What kind of sick things?” Barnes asked.

“I’m a lady!” Eunice retorted. “I don’t talk about things like that!”

“So you do blame Davida for Jane’s behavior.”

“You bet your backside I blame Davida. She’s always been responsible for Janey straying- back to grade school.”

“It wasn’t Davida who’s been married three times,” Barnes pointed out.

“Of course not. Why would she marry? She was a pervert! And Lucille defending her all the time. Enjoying it- if you ask me she’s that way, too.” Eunice punched a palm with her fist. Not much sound. Small bones.

She said, “After that biddy told me what Janey and her daughter were doing, I had to do something! No decent mother would do any less.”

“So you talked to Parker about it,” Amanda said.

“He was just as frustrated with Janey as I was.”

“I see,” Barnes said. “You know, Mrs. Meyerhoff, I think at this point, we need to inform you of your rights.”

“My rights?” She stared at him. “Is it your intention to arrest me?”

“Oh, yes.” Barnes stated the Miranda rights and asked her if she understood them.

“Of course I understand them! I’m old but I’m not senile.”

“You don’t have to talk to us,” Barnes said, “but if you want to tell us your side of the story, now’s the time.”

“We might be able to help you if we knew your side,” Amanda said. “But like Detective Barnes said, you don’t have to talk to us.”

“I know that!” Eunice squeaked. “I have nothing to hide. I’m proud of what I did. I defended my daughter. I prevented her from further debasing herself with that pervert!”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Amanda said.

Barnes said, “The more we know, the more we can help you.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Eunice said. “I told Parker what needed to be done and he agreed. I told him I’d give him money to pay off Janey for his cabin, but I don’t think he even cared about that. He was as furious at Davida as I was. I knew that Davida was a horrid alcoholic- God only knows how much she and Janey used to pack away in high school. I also knew that Janey had a key to her office. I took it one day and I made a copy. I told Parker to wait until the time was right.”

“Meaning?”

“When that pervert got herself so damn drunk, she’d fall asleep.”

“How would you know that?” Amanda asked.

“Because I had Parker install a hidden video camera.”

Barnes felt himself go hot. CSI had torn through the office. A lunatic plants a bug and no one finds it. “Where’d he install it?”

“Exactly where I instructed him to, in the light fixture above her desk,” Eunice said. “You know you can get tiny, tiny cameras no bigger than a nail head? I learned that from a movie and found the equipment online. She giggled. “Of my friends, I’m the only one online. One must change with the times.”

Amanda said, “So you knew when Davida was asleep because of the secret video camera. Where was the monitor?”

“I used to carry it with me, teeny little thing, sometimes the reception was fuzzy but as long as I was here in the city it worked fine. I don’t have it anymore. I have no use for it now that the pervert is gone.”

“So what happened when you found Davida asleep?”

“I think that’s obvious,” Eunice said.

“Tell us anyway. Better in your words than someone else’s.”

A sigh. “I happened to be in town, as Davida supped with Lucille. I knew Davida drank alone, at night, figured dinner with that biddy mother of hers would drive her to drink that night. I contacted Parker through his shortwave radio. It took about two hours for him to get down here and by that time, Davida had passed out.”

“Who had the key?”

“I did. I sneaked out of the club…those old guards…not worth a plugged nickel. I met him outside and we drove to the office.” Eunice smiled. “I kept guard while he did what he needed to do.”

A liver-spotted hand flew to one ear. “I heard the blast, it sounded pretty darn loud to me but no one seemed to notice. Parker emerged. He wore a long coat that concealed the gun and looked just like one of those homeless bums you people coddle. He escorted me back to the club. The guard was sleeping.” She chuckled. “Not that it mattered. Who’d want to break in and harm a few old ladies?”

Eunice stood and offered fragile wrists. “If you get pleasure arresting an old lady, indulge yourselves. I have heart problems and recurrent breast cancer. I am proud that I helped rid the world of that witch. That is my legacy to my daughter. Go ahead, Detective, cuff me.”

Barnes complied. More symbolic than precautionary. The bracelets were too big for her.

As they left the room, he took her elbow again.

“Ah, a gentleman! I’ve always appreciated a courtly man.” She smiled at Barnes, but he didn’t smile back. She let go with a big sigh. “Well, if you’re going to be that way about it, I suppose I should call my lawyer!” She turned to Amanda. “My cell phone’s in my purse. His name is Leo Matteras and he’s in the directory. Could you dial it for me, honey? Even if my hands weren’t tied up, I’d have some problems. Old alluring eyes just aren’t what they used to be.”

24

Barnes and Amanda found Jane sitting in a teak chair on the rear deck of her rented house on Oxford Street.

The place was a smallish English cottage, beautifully designed and festooned with iceberg roses. High spot on the street; the Berkeley hills were verdant, the view across the bay picture-perfect.

Jane hadn’t bothered to notify the DA she’d moved. Nor had she told them she was planning to travel to Europe. That nugget had come to Barnes by way of an old Sacramento classmate, a woman named Lydia Mantucci, who’d never liked Jane and had forwarded the gossip with glee.

No one answered his knock on the stout, hand-carved door but a walkway on the far side of the house led to a flight of wooden steps that they climbed.

It was late afternoon and cold wind blew across the water. Jane had dressed for a warm-weather fantasy: black, short-sleeved polo shirt, khaki shorts, oversized sunglasses. Her skin was prickled by goose bumps and she hugged herself.

Intentional suffering? Amanda wondered. Jane had lost weight and with no makeup and her hair drawn into a high ponytail, she looked plain and worn.

She wasn’t surprised to see them.

“You detected me,” she said. “Drink?” Indicating a half-empty bottle of Sapphire gin and an ice bucket.

“No, thanks,” said Will. “Nice view.”

“When I pay attention it is. I got the place cheap because the previous tenant was denied tenure and left in a snit without giving notice or paying two months’ rent.”

“Angry professor.”

Jane smiled. “Angry assistant professor of ethics.”

Amanda said, “When are you leaving for Italy?”

Jane removed her sunglasses. The sclera of her eyes were pink, smudgy pouches had formed under the lower lids, and her eyebrows drooped. “You’re worried I’ll leave in a snit?”