“The DA’s office sent us,” said Will. “They may need you to testify that you gave us permission to be on the property.”

“I already put that in writing for the DA.”

Amanda said, “If the defense makes a big deal out of our right to search, in-person testimony will be required.”

Jane turned away and stared at gray water and milk-colored sky. “Plus, they’re hoping I’ll testify against Mother.”

“Have they asked you to do that?”

“No, but that was the clear subtext. I even received a little lecture about there being no filial privilege under the law.”

Amanda said, “So when are you planning to leave and where exactly are you going?”

Jane said, “That’s the linchpin of the defense? You people trespassed?”

Barnes said, “Probably not but we’ve got to be ready for anything.”

“Probably not?”

“There’s talk Parker will be pleading diminished capacity. And that your mother’s lawyer will be delaying to the max.”

Jane faced them again. “Matteras? He’s probably hoping she’ll die first, so he can avoid having to earn his retainer. Fat chance.”

“She’s healthy?”

“Only the good die prematurely.” Jane’s hands clenched. “Like Davida. God, I miss her.”

She sniffled and poured gin and drank way too much and suppressed a belch. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there if I’m needed. In the meantime, I have to try something new.”

“What’s that?” said Barnes.

“Being alone.”

“You’re sure that’ll be good- ”

“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything. Look at me, Will. Pathetic.” She touched her chest, let her hand trail down to her abdomen. Her legs were prickled and white. Long, sleek legs, legendary in high school, maybe still her best feature. But for the first time, Barnes noticed encroaching signs of age: spider veins, hints of varicosity, patches of pucker and slack.

He said, “You look great, Jane.”

“I look like shit, but thanks for lying. Even though you were never really good at it…think about it, Will: have you ever seen me alone for any significant stretch of time?”

Barnes considered that. Jane laughed. Not a pleasant sound. “Exactly. It’s an addiction as much as any other.”

“What is?”

“Needing people. To hell with Streisand. Fools like me are anything but lucky. I don’t know how I ended up this way but I’m sure as hell going to try to find out.”

“In Europe,” said Amanda.

“ Florence, to be specific,” said Jane. “I’ve been there with each of my glorious spouses. Mother took me when I was twelve, fourteen and sixteen. I figured it would be a good place to start. If I don’t fall apart, I can work my way up to some meaner places.” She laughed. “Maybe I’ll tour Beirut.”

Amanda said, “Testing yourself.”

“It’s about time,” said Jane. “I’ll probably flunk. Lord knows I’ve failed every other life lesson.”

Barnes said, “Jane- ”

Jane wagged a finger. “Hush, bad liar. Right now, nothing is sure to churn my stomach more than reassurance.”

Amanda said, “Good, because this is a business call, not psychotherapy.” Using a voice so cold Barnes had to fight not to stare.

Jane’s face went white.

Amanda stepped closer, took the glass from her hand and set it down hard on the table. “If you’re serious about growing up, losing the self-pity is a good place to start. Bottom line: you need to cooperate fully. If you don’t, you’ll be subpoenaed as a material witness and we’ll confiscate your passport. We need all your flight information as well as your addresses overseas, so start dictating.”

She whipped out her pad.

Jane said, “All I know so far is my flight number and my hotel in Florence.”

“Then we’ll start with that. You need to know that if the DA’s not satisfied with what we bring back, you won’t be getting on any planes.”

Jane tried to lock eyes with her but Amanda’s stone face made her turn away. “My, but you’re a tough one.”

“More like a busy one,” said Amanda. “Let’s stop screwing around and get some facts down on paper.”

Twenty minutes later, walking back to their car, Barnes said, “Aren’t we the stern, unrelenting authority figure.”

Amanda got behind the wheel.

As she fooled with her hair and started the engine, he said, “I’m sure there was a reason.”

Amanda pulled away from the curb, driving faster than usual. She covered half a block and stopped, keeping her eyes on the street.

“No big riddle,” she said. “I felt sorry for her. So I gave her what she needed.”

MusicCity Breakdown

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS FOR MUSIC CITY BREAKDOWN

Special thanks to Chief Ronal Serpas, Commander Andy Garrett, and Sergeant Pat Postiglione of the Metro Nashville Police Department, and to the inimitable George Gruhn.

1

A beautifully carved mandolin in a velvet-lined case was stashed in the bedroom closet of Baker Southerby’s house.

The instrument, a 1924 Gibson F-5 with just a little pick wear below the treble f-hole, was worth more than Baker’s house, a little frame bungalow on Indiana Avenue in the west Nashville neighborhood known as The Nations. The area was solid blue-collar with some rough edges, lots of residents living paycheck to paycheck. The house was the only one Baker Southerby had ever known, but that didn’t make it more than it was. The Gibson, rare because it had been a commercial failure, was now a serious six-figure collector’s item, a fact Baker’s partner liked to obsess on.

“One just sold at Christie’s for a hundred and seventy, Lost Boy.”

“You follow auctions?”

“I was curious.”

When Lamar Van Gundy got like that- usually when the two of them were grabbing a quick meal- Baker kept chewing his burger and pretended that he’d gone deaf. Mostly that worked, but if Lamar was in a mood and persisted, Baker’s next retort was as automatic as voice mail: “And your point is?”

“I’m just saying it’s a gold mine.”

“Pass the ketchup, Stretch. Stop hoarding it in the first place.”

Lamar’s huge hands stretched across the table. “Here. Drown your grub in the stuff, El Bee. One seventy, what does it take to impress you?”

“I’m impressed.”

“When’s the last time you played the damn thing?”

“Something that pricey no sense risking damage.”

“What, you got epilepsy, gonna drop it?”

“You never know, Stretch.”

Lamar said, “You know and I know and everyone knows that they sound better when you play ’em. You open up the soundboard a bit, who knows, you could push it to one eighty.”

“And your point is?”

Lamar tugged a moustache end. “Someone didn’t take his Midol. Why do you hate the damn thing when it’s like the most important thing you own?”

Baker shrugged and smiled and tried not to think about a little boy’s voice cracking, honky-tonk smoke, loose laughter. Curled on the backseat as the old van bumped over country roads. The greasy way headlights could wash over rural asphalt.

Lamar saw Baker’s smile as consistent with his partner’s quiet manner and sometimes that would be End of Topic. Three years they’d been working together, but the big man had no clue Baker’s show of teeth was forced. For the most part, Lamar could read people real well, but he had his blind spots.

Times when Lamar wouldn’t let go, his next comment was so predictable it could be from a script. “You own a treasure and your alarm system sucks.”

“I’m well-armed, Stretch.”

“Like someone couldn’t break in when you’re on the job.” Deep sigh. “One seventy, oh Lord, that’s serious money.”

“Who knows I own it other than you, Stretch?”

“Don’t give me ideas. Hell, George Gruhn could probably unload it for you in like five seconds.”