haven’t found a print that didn’t belong there. You have to have motive, and you have to have opportunity.”
Ciofreddi stood and handed me his card. “Stay in touch,” he said.
“No problem,” I said, standing, grateful that he hadn’t scolded or ridiculed me.
“And call me if you stumble on something you think I should know.”
“I promise. Really.”
He nodded and escorted me out.
“Brenneke tells me you used to be a pretty famous wine guy,” Ciofreddi said as we entered the main room. Two uniformed cops and another detective were talking and threw me supercilious looks as we passed. In one of their cubicles I saw signed photographs of Jerry Orbach, Dennis Franz, and William Petersen. We’re all play-acting , I thought to myself.
“Yeah, very famous. Once upon a time,” I said to the lieutenant and waved good-bye to Joan.
As I opened the door to leave, I heard Ciofreddi say, “He’s harmless. He has no idea what he’s doing. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Unable to quibble with that assessment, I decided to wander down to the water for a peek before driving home. The slime-green current of the Napa River moved sluggishly, an objective correlative to the way I felt. Just as I was about to turn away, an osprey fluttered momentarily, then dove precipitously and plucked a glinting, silver-spangled fish from the murky surface of the river.
11
I decided to call Janie from the parking lot. Her secretary told me she was hoping she’d hear from me.
“How are you?” she said, slightly breathless.
“I’m all right.”
“Where are you?”
“The Napa sheriff’s department.”
“My God, Babe,” she said. “Danny said they questioned you in St. Helena, too. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. It just looked a little suspicious when I started searching for Richard.”
“Well, stop, will you? It’s over.”
Her concern for my safety touched me.
“How’s Danny?” I asked.
“He’s pretty scared. I wish you hadn’t involved him in this. I set him up in one of the labs. He’s got his own little lab coat and a microscope. You should see him. I just want to take his mind off all of this if I can.”
“That’s good. Thank you.” We were walking the thin line of caring about each other, and neither of us knew what to say. “Have you made plans for the funeral?” I asked.
“I need to wait for them to finish the autopsy. I’m not sure. Lieutenant Ciofreddi said he’d call and let me know when they’re ready
to release the body.” Janie paused. “There’s something you probably should know, something they’re not telling the public.” I waited patiently. “One of Richard’s hands was cut off,” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘cut off’?”
“Cut off. Amputated.”
So that’s what Brenneke had nearly told me and then decided not to divulge.
“Where is it?” I said.
“They haven’t found it yet. They’re looking.”
I pictured the hand adrift in the foudre. Would it have floated or sunk to the bottom? It was probably resting on the lees.
“Tell Danny I love him,” I finally said, the only thing I could think to say.
“Okay.” She paused. “Babe, take care of yourself, will you?”
“I’ll try,” I said. “You too.”
I was going to have to confront Biddy—I had no choice—but I doubted that he’d unburden himself with a full confession. Clearly, he’d removed the issues of the Maven that might have implicated him so I wouldn’t see them. He probably didn’t want me spending an evening with Jordan Meyer either, dredging up old stories. That explained the look on his face when I told him I might call Meyer. I chided myself that I’d never asked him about his own résumé. He felt betrayed that I hadn’t told him about my relationship to Wilson. Okay , I said to myself: We’re even.
It was a little before noon, but during crush, there’s no such thing as a lunch break. As I ran down 29 to Rutherford, I pieced together
Ciofreddi stood and handed me his card. “Stay in touch,” he said.
“No problem,” I said, standing, grateful that he hadn’t scolded or ridiculed me.
“And call me if you stumble on something you think I should know.”
“I promise. Really.”
He nodded and escorted me out.
“Brenneke tells me you used to be a pretty famous wine guy,” Ciofreddi said as we entered the main room. Two uniformed cops and another detective were talking and threw me supercilious looks as we passed. In one of their cubicles I saw signed photographs of Jerry Orbach, Dennis Franz, and William Petersen. We’re all play-acting , I thought to myself.
“Yeah, very famous. Once upon a time,” I said to the lieutenant and waved good-bye to Joan.
As I opened the door to leave, I heard Ciofreddi say, “He’s harmless. He has no idea what he’s doing. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Unable to quibble with that assessment, I decided to wander down to the water for a peek before driving home. The slime-green current of the Napa River moved sluggishly, an objective correlative to the way I felt. Just as I was about to turn away, an osprey fluttered momentarily, then dove precipitously and plucked a glinting, silver-spangled fish from the murky surface of the river.
11
I decided to call Janie from the parking lot. Her secretary told me she was hoping she’d hear from me.
“How are you?” she said, slightly breathless.
“I’m all right.”
“Where are you?”
“The Napa sheriff’s department.”
“My God, Babe,” she said. “Danny said they questioned you in St. Helena, too. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. It just looked a little suspicious when I started searching for Richard.”
“Well, stop, will you? It’s over.”
Her concern for my safety touched me.
“How’s Danny?” I asked.
“He’s pretty scared. I wish you hadn’t involved him in this. I set him up in one of the labs. He’s got his own little lab coat and a microscope. You should see him. I just want to take his mind off all of this if I can.”
“That’s good. Thank you.” We were walking the thin line of caring about each other, and neither of us knew what to say. “Have you made plans for the funeral?” I asked.
“I need to wait for them to finish the autopsy. I’m not sure. Lieutenant Ciofreddi said he’d call and let me know when they’re ready
to release the body.” Janie paused. “There’s something you probably should know, something they’re not telling the public.” I waited patiently. “One of Richard’s hands was cut off,” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘cut off’?”
“Cut off. Amputated.”
So that’s what Brenneke had nearly told me and then decided not to divulge.
“Where is it?” I said.
“They haven’t found it yet. They’re looking.”
I pictured the hand adrift in the foudre. Would it have floated or sunk to the bottom? It was probably resting on the lees.
“Tell Danny I love him,” I finally said, the only thing I could think to say.
“Okay.” She paused. “Babe, take care of yourself, will you?”
“I’ll try,” I said. “You too.”
I was going to have to confront Biddy—I had no choice—but I doubted that he’d unburden himself with a full confession. Clearly, he’d removed the issues of the Maven that might have implicated him so I wouldn’t see them. He probably didn’t want me spending an evening with Jordan Meyer either, dredging up old stories. That explained the look on his face when I told him I might call Meyer. I chided myself that I’d never asked him about his own résumé. He felt betrayed that I hadn’t told him about my relationship to Wilson. Okay , I said to myself: We’re even.
It was a little before noon, but during crush, there’s no such thing as a lunch break. As I ran down 29 to Rutherford, I pieced together
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