“See, there you go, asking for more information before a minute has passed,” I said.
“Why are you being so stubborn? We both want the same thing. The truth.”
“Oh, I am stubborn, but my daddy used to say that the way to deal with a stubborn person is like you’d deal with a mule. You don’t try to whip him into the corral. You leave the gate open a crack and he’ll go in all by himself.”
Kravitz smiled. “That’s why I’m here, I guess. To crack the gate and hope you’ll come in.”
“Problem is, I can’t have you or your investigators thwarting my every move like what happened today. I want to talk to this woman alone.”
“You won’t allow one of my detectives to go with you?” he asked.
“You can’t ask me to tag-team with someone I don’t know. I’m pretty good at getting information out of people, but I’d feel awfully uncomfortable with another investigator there. Rhoda Murray might not like it much, either.”
“Can you record the interview, then?” he asked.
“Not without the woman’s permission,” I said.
Kravitz took a deep breath, clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward in the chair. “But you’ll share what you learn?”
I didn’t answer right away. But the truth was, we were on the same page. Finally I said, “We can’t be tripping over each other on this, Paul. You let me do this my way and you’ll get what you need.”
“I like to be in control, you know,” he said with a smile. “This is killing me.”
“I prefer hanging on to the key to the gate myself.”
“Looks like I’m not taking it away from you, either.”
“You got that right.” I smiled.
Kravitz stood and offered his hand. We shook and he said, “I’m glad we came to an agreement, and I hope you’ll soon realize that I do what’s right. We’ll continue to work with the police, follow any leads we turn up on our own, but Rhoda Murray is all yours.”
“Good.” I wanted to believe this guy, but he probably knew how to say all the right things.
“I have an early flight tomorrow-yes, you’ll be happy to know I am leaving town,” Paul said. “Could you stay in touch with me should anything break on this story?” He pulled a small leather holder from his jacket pocket, scribbled a number on the card he removed and handed it to me. “That’s my personal cell number on the back. Very few people have it.”
Wow. What a privilege, I thought as I took the card. “Rhoda Murray may be a dead end,” I said.
Kravitz said, “I’m aware of that. Time for me to get out of here now.”
But before he could take a step toward the front door, voices came from the kitchen. Kate. I assumed the male voice belonged to Clinton Roark-unless the girl had gone as crazy as a goat at mating time and hooked up with someone else.
Kate came into the living room, Roark behind her. “Abby, whose car is-Oh, hi.” She smiled at Kravitz. “I’m Kate Rose, and this is my friend Clint Roark.”
As the men shook hands, Roark spoke before Paul could. “Aren’t you Paul Kravitz from that program… what’s it called?”
“Crime Time.” Kravitz’s TV smile appeared.
Roark pointed at Kravitz. “Yes, that’s it. Nice to meet you. Love your show.”
“Thank you.” He turned to Kate. “It’s Dr. Rose, correct?”
Kate nodded, and I could tell her radar had gone up.
“Paul was just leaving.” I tried to clue Kate with my tone, reassure her about Kravitz, since I’d complained about all the Venture people to her more than once.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m taking a plane at six in the morning. I bid you all a pleasant evening.”
I led him out, then picked up the empty wineglasses on my way back to the kitchen, where I found Kate and Clint. She was showing him her refrigerated omega-3-6- 9 oil and the container holding the flax flakes she sprinkles on her cereal. How romantic.
“What was he doing here?” Kate asked. Webster sat at her feet holding his leash, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Making deals. That’s the Hollywood way. Anyway, I’m glad to report he gave me a piece of information I needed. Now, you guys go on exploring the amazing world of fatty acids while I take the dog out.”
Webster and I took a walk up the block and back. The night would be cold-we’d gone from eighty degrees to fifty in the last four days-and Webster seemed wound up by the sudden change. Me? I would have enjoyed the humidity-free night better if I weren’t bothered by Clinton Roark.
Kate had that glow women get when they’ve found a new guy, and for some reason I didn’t like it. I was used to seeing her with Terry, and even Roark’s dimpled, warm smile couldn’t compensate for the loss I felt-a loss I seemed to be experiencing more than Kate. I would miss Terry’s presence-he’d been a good friend-but she seemed to have erased him like a mistake she’d written on a paper. That seemed wrong.
I made sure to come in through the front door to avoid the two of them, and released Webster, who bounded toward the kitchen and the smell of what I thought was broccoli cooking. I went upstairs, did the whole triple-step face-cleansing thing and climbed into bed with the cat. Diva was surprised by this-it was early-but she settled in next to me. Then I called Jeff.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you?”
“Missing you.”
“I could be home in a week.” He sounded more tired than when he worked a case for forty-eight hours straight.
“That’s the best news I’ve had all day.” I summarized what had happened since we last spoke.
When I’d finished, Jeff said, “You think you can trust Kravitz, hon?”
“For now, I have to. Besides, what’s the alternative? Fight Kravitz and then trip over his investigators every step I take?”
“I’m betting they’ll still follow you to that motorcycle shop tomorrow. Do you remember what I told you about ditching a tail?”
“Take the side streets, double back at times, stop and let the tail pass. Did I miss anything?”
“Never stop at yellow lights. Your tail might be four cars behind, and that’s your chance to lose them. Of course, some guys know how to tail without being noticed. Hope you don’t get one of those kind.”
“You can do that, right? Tail without a suspect knowing?”
“Usually.”
“What’s your secret?” I asked.
“Anticipation of their next move, sometimes a gut feeling. Having a clue where the target is going is the best help of all.”
“Kravitz will tell them where I’m going, won’t he?”
“Probably. Maybe you can fool them. Follow some other lead or stay home.”
“Is that what you’d do? Stay home? I don’t think so, Jeff.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Now, can we talk about something else? This time I want to know what you’re not wearing.”
15
The next morning I called Murray Motorcycles and asked for Rhoda. The man who answered told me she wasn’t in, but he expected her soon. I asked for directions and hung up. The shop wasn’t far from where I’d been yesterday, and I hurried out the back door, anxious to interview Rhoda.
Unfortunately, fifteen minutes later I found myself in a giant traffic jam on Highway 59. Damn. When I have a plan, a traffic mess like this is sure to happen. I tried a Josh Groban CD to calm down, and when that didn’t work I picked up my cell. I hoped to reach DeShay rather than his voice mail, and prayed he’d forgiven me for pestering him yesterday.
“Peters,” he answered.
“It’s me. Did you hear anything on the DNA yet?”
“I’ll call you in five minutes,” he said. “White will be out of here by then.”
“Gotcha.” I closed the phone and in those seemingly endless five minutes the Camry and I moved about a hundred feet.
Finally the phone rang.
DeShay said, “Sorry, but Don’s having a bad day, and you know how he feels about your working this case. Thought I’d better not antagonize him by giving you information while he was around.”