Capital Crimes

“Why dental school?”

“’Cause it sounded educated. Jack was impressed, and said that sounded cool. Then he said, ‘But if you really love to sing, don’t give up your dream.’ ”

“You were getting him on your side,” said Baker.

“I wanted him to hear me sing ’cause I’m worth listening to,” Gret said. “But I knew I had to be casual. That’s the way you got to do it with them.”

“Them being…”

“Men. They’re like fish. You cast the line, wiggle the bait a little, move it around real casual. I figured he’d show up. And he did.”

“What time?”

“Toward the end of my last set. A quarter to.”

“Quarter to midnight.”

“Yeah.”

She’d told them around eleven fifteen, eleven thirty the first time. Lying for the sake of it.

“What happened then?”

“I greeted him like a long-lost friend and sat him right in front. I even gave him free tea and yellow-raisin scones. Then I sang. Did a KT Oslin and a Rosa

Just like he did to Mama, Lamar thought. “So you went to the door and saw…”

“The rich bitch with the red Mercedes. My car’s red, too, it’s my favorite color. I could never get it to shine like that…” Tossing her hair. “They talked like they knew each other, didn’t look so friendly. Then she drove away and he started walking.”

Reaching for her coffee, she sipped. “Um, this is good and creamy! Thank you, sirs!”

Baker said, “Then what?”

“Pardon?”

“What happened next?”

“Nothing.”

“Gret,” said Lamar, “we found that knife in your purse. It matches perfectly to the wound on Jack’s neck. We also got your fingerprints on his clothes and his neck.”

Blatant lies. They were days from processing all the evidence.

Silence.

Baker said, “I reckon you carry that knife because johns can get rough, right?”

“Right.”

“We can understand that,” Lamar added. “A girl needs to take care of herself.”

“Right.”

“So why don’t you tell us exactly what happened between you and Jack Jeffries?”

“Hmm,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Can I have another creamy latte? They’re so expensive. I can’t afford to buy more than one a week.”

They got her the coffee and a croissant. She finished both and asked to go to the bathroom.

“Sure,” said Lamar, “but first I’ve got to bring a senior CSI technologist in to scrape under your fingernails.”

“Why?” said Gret.

“To match it to Jack’s skin.”

“I washed my hands,” she said.

“When?”

“Right after I…” Looking at the ceiling and toying with her hair and letting one hand wander to her right breast.

Lamar said, “You need to finish the story, Gret. We need to hear the whole thing.”

“I need to use the little girls’ room.”

Fondebernardi came in, pretended to be a crime scene tech and did the scrape. Greta Barline was accompanied by a female officer to the restroom and returned looking refreshed.

“That was good,” she said, focusing on Lamar.

Baker said, “Please finish the story.”

“It’s not much of a story.”

“Do us a favor and tell it anyway.”

She shrugged. “I saw him walking and I went after him…to ask him why he left without saying good-bye. Asshole gave me a fu

“Because he wouldn’t talk.”

“Because he was being rude. Being rich doesn’t give you any right to be rude. Uh-uh, no sirree, Mr. Jeffries. The world don’t work like that.”

Her second delusion. The first was thinking she could sing.

Baker said, “It sure isn’t fair.”

She looked at Lamar. He said, “Downright rude.”

“I mean who is he thinking he is? A big fat ugly gross disgusting person who used to be famous but now no one gives a shit about him? Who’s he to go all silent and pissed and leave without saying good-bye? Still, I minded my ma

Lamar said, “He was being rude but you held on to your dignity.”

“Exactly! Dignity’s what it’s all about. Everyone deserves a little dignity, right?”

“Darn right,” Baker said. “So then what happened?”

“He just kept ignoring me and I just kept walking alongside him. We keep walking and walking and walking and then he stops again and makes a sharp turn…like that’s go

The detectives shook their heads.

She touched her hair, licked a finger and ran it over her eyelids. “He sounded crazy, I was scared. I tell you, Detectives, that old boy was on drugs or something.”

“Did you try to leave?”

“Too scared.” Gret made her eyes go wide. “It’s all dark and he’s going crazy on me. He starts calling me horrible names- a lyin’ no-talent little bitch, if you must know.”

She sniffed, grimaced, and rubbed her eyes, trying to dredge up some tears. The floor had been dried since Tristan Poulson’s sob-fest. It stayed that way.

“It was horrible,” she said. “No one ever, ever, ever talked to me like that. That’s what I said to him- trying to stop him from being so rude. Then I looked him straight up in the eye and said ‘Shut your mouth for a second and hear the truth. I’m your daughter and you know what, I don’t even care about that, it means nothing to me! And you know what else? I’m lucky you weren’t never in my life, you don’t deserve to ever be in my life, you sorry-ass, has-been motherfucker!’ ”

The room fell silent.

“You told him off good,” Lamar said.

“Wait, wait, it gets better. Then he gets this wild look, this really wild crazy look gets in his eyes, and he says, ‘You’re lying, it’s just another lie, you been a lying little bitch since the moment I laid eyes on you.’ And I say, ‘I’m the daughter of Ernestine Barline. You knew her as Kiki. Remember that night you fucked her all night? The result is me.’ ”

She stopped. Panting, sucking in breath.

Finally, the tears came…a constricted trickle that ended with a gasp.

Lamar said, “What did Jack say to that?”

“His voice got real quiet and he gave me this look. Not the wild-eyed one, but a different one. Scarier. Cold, real, real cold. Like I was nothing…but…dirt. He smiled, but not a nice smile, an ugly smile. Then he said, ‘I don’t remember her and I don’t give a shit about you. And even if I did fuck her, no way you were the result. Know how I know?’ ”

She gasped, covered her eyes. Lamar thought of patting her shoulder, but hesitated. Baker reached over and did it for the both of them.

“I didn’t answer him,” she said. “But he told me, anyway.” She shivered.

Neither detective spoke.

Gret’s hand dropped from her face. For a second, she looked young, untouched, vulnerable. Then the brown eyes sparked with fury.