Capital Crimes by Jonathan Kellerman Read Free Book Online Page B

eyewitnesses, including several who recorded the whole incident on their phone videos. You want more information, talk to Detective Don Newell, Sac PD.”
    “That’s good, Will, I can run with that. Thanks so much.”
    Touching his hand.
    He said, “Speaking of running, I’d better get back.”
    “The White Tower boys…,” Laura said. “They’re into survivalism.”
    “And a shotgun’s a hunting weapon. Unfortunately, the Nutterly brothers were behind bars last night, so it wasn’t them.” Barnes stood up. “I took a chance meeting you like this, Laura.”
    “I appreciate it.”
    “Dinner sometime?”
    Her smile was wistful. “I wish you had asked me two weeks ago.”
    Seeing someone. Barnes working his smile hard. “Good for you.”
    Her cheeks were flushed. She touched her hair. “It probably won’t work out, but what the hell, Willie. Live dangerously.”

    Since Lucille Grayson was staying in Berkeley for the night, Don Newell and Amanda Isis took the train to Sacramento together, leaving Barnes behind with the nasty job of sorting through thousands of Davida’s computer files, decoded easily by Max Flint.
    Seated in a comfortable chair, rocked by Amtrak’s wheels, the Sacramento detective was fighting the urge to sleep. He glanced at his seatmate. A few calls had filled in her history. A Google gazillionaire. And definitely someone with clout. By the time they stepped onto the train, she had appointments with three different state reps.
    Now she was napping, pretty face all peaceful and unlined.
    Newell forced his eyes open. Lucille Grayson had chosen to remain in Berkeley until the body was released, and entrusted him with a key to her house and directions where to look for Harry Modell’s hate letters. Newell had called up his partner, Banks Henderson, and told him to meet him there at the old lady’s place with an SPD video cam and a civilian witness. He didn’t want to be accused of planting anything.
    He sneaked a sidelong glance at Amanda. Good-looking woman—great-looking really, with that soft skin—kind of a fifties-movie-star glamour.
    Maybe she knew she was being watched because she woke up and got back to work on her Starbucks. Without looking at Newell, she began writing furiously in her pad.
    “Inspiration?” Newell wasn’t so much curious as he was trying to stay awake. Making conversation with a pretty woman was a bonus.
    Amanda looked up. “Just writing down any possible questions I can think of for the pols.”
    “C’mon,” he said. “What’s the likelihood that it’s a politician?”
    “Low, I grant you. But so many of these people attract hangers-on and whackos. It’d be stupid not to ask them, right?” She gave Newell a hard look.
    He said nothing.
    “Is there a problem,” she said, “my operating in your territory?”
    “Not mine at all. Capital police territory, we just cover the real people.” Newell’s smile didn’t get Amanda’s lips curving. “No, no problem. Even if it was my turf. I was just thinking out loud. Truth is, I have seen plenty of those yokels and no matter how they undermine each other on one bill, next day they’ve got their arms around each other on another one. Take Davida. She’s worked on several projects with Eileen Ferunzio and at that time, they were the best of friends.”
    “You kept in contact with Davida.”
    “We’d run into each other now and then. Like I said, work brings me to the cap. I used to see Eileen and Davida eating lunch together all the time.” Newell shrugged. “Not so much lately.”
    “Any occasional lunches between you and Davida?”
    Newell’s smile was easy, but cold. “Oh, I see where this is going. Let me get it on the table: we were just friends…not even close friends. My wife didn’t like her.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Jill’s just that way. She met the woman and took an instant dislike to her. Every time Davida called I knew it was her, by the look on Jill’s face.”
    “Why’d