Chairs in peach silk moire’, with elaborately carved arms and feet.
Four-foottall emerald vases holding huge stalks of white-plumed pampas
grass. Very large and dramatic modern art filled the high walls of the
cathedralceilinged room, giving a comfortable human scale to what could
have been a forbidding chamber. A wall of glass presented a panorama of
Orange County. Teddy Bertlesman sat on a green sofa, the windows behind
her, a pale nimbus of light around her head, and Reese and Julio sat on
moire’ chairs, separated from her by the enormous marble table that
seemed like an altar.
Julio said, “Ms. Bertlesman-” “No, please,” she said, slipping off her
shoes and drawing her long legs up under herself. “Either call me Teddy
or, if you insist on remaining formal, it’s Miss Bertlesman. I despise
that ridiculous Miz business, it makes me think of the South before the
Civil Wardainty ladies in crinolines, sipping mint juleps under magnolia
trees while black mammies tend to them.”
“Miss Bertlesman,” Julio continued, “we are most eager to speak to Mr.
Shadway, and we hope you might have an idea where he is. For instance,
it occurs to us that, being a real-estate developer and investor as well
as broker, he might own rental properties that are currently vacant, one
of which he might now be using-” “Excuse me, but I don’t see how this
falls in your jurisdiction. According to your ID, you’re Santa Ana
policemen. Ben has offices in Tustin, Costa Mesa, Orange, Newport
Beach, Laguna Beach, and Laguna Niguel, but none in Santa Ann.
And he lives in Orange Park Acres.”
Julio assured her that part of the Shadway-Leben case fell into the
jurisdiction of the Santa Ann Police Department, and he explained that
cross-jurisdictional cooperation was not uncommon, but Teddy Bertlesman
was politely skeptical and subtly uncooperative. Reese admired the
diplomacy, finesse, and aplomb with which she fielded probing questions
and answered without saying anything useful. Her respect for her boss
and her determination to protect him became increasingly evident, yet
she said nothing that made it possible to accuse her of lying or
harboring a wanted man.
At last, recognizing the futility of the authoritarian approach,
apparently hoping revelation of his true motives and a blatant bid for
sympathy would work where authority had failed, Julio sighed, leaned
back in his chair, and said, “Listen, Miss Bertlesman, we’ve lied to
you. We aren’t here in any official capacity. Not strictly speaking.
In fact, we’re both supposed to be on sick leave.
Our captain would be furious if he knew we were still on this case,
because federal agencies have taken charge and have told us to back off.
But for a lot of reasons, we can’t do that, not and keep our
self-respect.”
Teddy Bertlesman frowneduite preflily, Reese thought-and said, “I don’t
understand-” Julio held ap one slim hand. “Wait. Just listen for a
moment.
In a soft, sincere, and intimate voice far different from his official
tone, he told her how Ernestina Hernandez and Becky Klienstad had been
brutally murderedne thrown in a dumpster, the other nailed to a wall.
He told her about his own baby brother, Ernesto, who had been killed by
rats a long time ago in a faraway place. He explained how that tragedy
had contributed to his obsession with unjust death and how the
similarity between the names Ernesto and Ernestina was one of the
several things that had made the Hernandez girl’s murder a special and
very personal crusade for him.
“Though I’ll admit,” Julio said, “if the names weren’t similar and if
other factors weren’t the same, then I’d simply have found different
reasons to make a crusade of this. Because I almost always make a
crusade of a case. It’s a bad habit of mine.”
“A wonderful habit,” Reese said.
Julio shrugged.
Reese was surprised that Julio was so thoroughly aware of his own
motivations. Listening to his partner, contemplating the degree of
insight and self-awareness at which these statements hinted, Reese
acquired an even greater respect for the man.
“The point is,’ Julio told Teddy Bertlesman, “I believe your boss and
Rachael Leben are guilty of nothing, that they may be just pawns in a