nonsense with this woman. No grief at the loss of her author, either.
I phoned the SFPD and asked who was handling the Warrick murder.
Inspector Devlin Fast. Did I wish to be transferred to him? Yes.
I knew Fast: he was tough-talking but fair and willing to cooperate with the private sector. A son of the Hunters Point ghetto, he’d graduated the police academy first in his class and risen to the elite Homicide squad in record time. It turned out he wasn’t available, but I left a message on his voice mail.
Next I called for Mick to come to my office, and gave him a list of people to run deep background checks on: Jake Green, the witnesses and jurors at Caro’s trial, Jill Starkey, even Ned Springer. The prosecutor, and Caro’s therapist Richard Gosling. In short, anyone who had even had a remote connection with her during the time since Amelia Bettencourt was murdered.
“Tall order, Shar,” he said. “Derek’s caught up on a big fraud project for Thelia, and I—”
“I understand. Do whatever you can. Give it to me in bits and pieces.”
After I’d gone over and signed a few more bits of correspondence I took the little elevator down to the first floor. Kendra Williams, Ted’s assistant and our temporary receptionist until we could find a good new hire, wasn’t at her desk. I skirted it and went into his office.
When he heard me come in, Ted stood. He wore another new silk suit, his tie loose at the neck and rumpled. Like the suit it was blue, but covered with small pinkish splotches that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be mermaids.
He saw me frowning at the tie and said, “A Christmas gift from Neal. He’s got weird taste. It’s the first time I’ve had the nerve to wear it.”
Usually his life partner’s taste was impeccable. I peered again at the mermaids. They were carefully rendered, right down to the smallest scale and largest tit.
“A joke?” I asked.
“I hope. There was a gleam of sadistic satisfaction in his eyes when he saw I had it on this morning.”
“Mmmm.” I sat down on the edge of the desk.
“What’s happening?” he asked. “You didn’t come down here to check on my attire.”
“We need a new contract in the Warrick case. Wyatt House, the publisher.”
“Will do.” He scribbled down the details I gave him.
I remained where I was when he was finished.
Ted said, “I promise I won’t wear any more faggy ties to the office.”
“I don’t care if you go around in drag. I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“What would you think of us merging with RI?”
He sat down heavily. “When did this come up?”
“Well, Hy mentioned it in the fall, but he let the subject drop until last night.”
“Hmmm.”
“You’ve got to admit there are certain advantages.”
“I suppose so.”
“You see any disadvantages?”
“Well… Look, Shar, we’ve all worked hard to build this agency, especially you. Do you really want to see it absorbed into a huge corporate entity?”
“No, but really…”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of rejecting Hy’s offer? Harming your marriage? He doesn’t have that kind of ego.”
“I know.”
“But you have reservations, right?”
“Yes. Maybe it’s that as I get older I don’t want to make changes or take risks.”
He hooted. “You?”
“Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Or maybe it’s just…January.” Rain had started to spatter the windowpanes again.
“Maybe. Don’t rush into anything, that’s all I have to say.”
“I won’t.”
He changed the subject. “What’s next on the Warrick case?”
“I’m heading out to corral some people who won’t want to talk with me.”
10:37 a.m.
Caro Warrick’s parents again didn’t answer their phone, but there was a new message on the machine in a woman’s voice.
You’ve reached Betsy and Ben. We’re off for two glorious weeks in Cabo, but we’ll check frequently for your calls. Adios.
Not a very smart message because it was an open
I phoned the SFPD and asked who was handling the Warrick murder.
Inspector Devlin Fast. Did I wish to be transferred to him? Yes.
I knew Fast: he was tough-talking but fair and willing to cooperate with the private sector. A son of the Hunters Point ghetto, he’d graduated the police academy first in his class and risen to the elite Homicide squad in record time. It turned out he wasn’t available, but I left a message on his voice mail.
Next I called for Mick to come to my office, and gave him a list of people to run deep background checks on: Jake Green, the witnesses and jurors at Caro’s trial, Jill Starkey, even Ned Springer. The prosecutor, and Caro’s therapist Richard Gosling. In short, anyone who had even had a remote connection with her during the time since Amelia Bettencourt was murdered.
“Tall order, Shar,” he said. “Derek’s caught up on a big fraud project for Thelia, and I—”
“I understand. Do whatever you can. Give it to me in bits and pieces.”
After I’d gone over and signed a few more bits of correspondence I took the little elevator down to the first floor. Kendra Williams, Ted’s assistant and our temporary receptionist until we could find a good new hire, wasn’t at her desk. I skirted it and went into his office.
When he heard me come in, Ted stood. He wore another new silk suit, his tie loose at the neck and rumpled. Like the suit it was blue, but covered with small pinkish splotches that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be mermaids.
He saw me frowning at the tie and said, “A Christmas gift from Neal. He’s got weird taste. It’s the first time I’ve had the nerve to wear it.”
Usually his life partner’s taste was impeccable. I peered again at the mermaids. They were carefully rendered, right down to the smallest scale and largest tit.
“A joke?” I asked.
“I hope. There was a gleam of sadistic satisfaction in his eyes when he saw I had it on this morning.”
“Mmmm.” I sat down on the edge of the desk.
“What’s happening?” he asked. “You didn’t come down here to check on my attire.”
“We need a new contract in the Warrick case. Wyatt House, the publisher.”
“Will do.” He scribbled down the details I gave him.
I remained where I was when he was finished.
Ted said, “I promise I won’t wear any more faggy ties to the office.”
“I don’t care if you go around in drag. I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“What would you think of us merging with RI?”
He sat down heavily. “When did this come up?”
“Well, Hy mentioned it in the fall, but he let the subject drop until last night.”
“Hmmm.”
“You’ve got to admit there are certain advantages.”
“I suppose so.”
“You see any disadvantages?”
“Well… Look, Shar, we’ve all worked hard to build this agency, especially you. Do you really want to see it absorbed into a huge corporate entity?”
“No, but really…”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of rejecting Hy’s offer? Harming your marriage? He doesn’t have that kind of ego.”
“I know.”
“But you have reservations, right?”
“Yes. Maybe it’s that as I get older I don’t want to make changes or take risks.”
He hooted. “You?”
“Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Or maybe it’s just…January.” Rain had started to spatter the windowpanes again.
“Maybe. Don’t rush into anything, that’s all I have to say.”
“I won’t.”
He changed the subject. “What’s next on the Warrick case?”
“I’m heading out to corral some people who won’t want to talk with me.”
10:37 a.m.
Caro Warrick’s parents again didn’t answer their phone, but there was a new message on the machine in a woman’s voice.
You’ve reached Betsy and Ben. We’re off for two glorious weeks in Cabo, but we’ll check frequently for your calls. Adios.
Not a very smart message because it was an open
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