Free A Death In Beverly Hills by David Grace

and frowned. The detectives had just reached the door when they halted at a shout from behind.
    "Hey, can you guys call the San Diego D.A. for me? They've got some hummer beef they're after me on. Maybe you could tell them I've been cooperating with you guys?"
    "One hand washes the other," Katz said.
    "Huh?"
    "If the LA D.A. asks you, are you going to testify about Travis looking for a hit man?"
    "What? Oh, yeah, sure. No problem."
    "You've got my card. Leave the San Diego deputy D.A.'s name on my voice mail. I'll give him a jingle."
    Behind them, Katz heard the tab snap on another can of beer. Furley beeped the remote and they jogged to the Crown Vic through the growing rain. Katz's knee throbbed harder with every step.

Chapter Twelve

    Steve was just putting his dinner plate into the dishwasher when the phone rang. He peered at the receiver as if it were a coiled snake. Had Cynthia told anyone he was working for Tom Travis? The phone trilled a second time. Jesus, if the media found out about him being involved, all the crap about Lynn would come up again. His own voice filled the room: "Hi, this is Steve. Leave a message."
    "Steve, it's Greg. Pick up."
    For a second Steve froze, then, reluctantly, grabbed the phone.
    "You got any plans for nine tomorrow morning?" Markham asked.
    "I'm still going through the files."
    "Meet me at the main jail. Tom wants to talk to you."
    Steve frowned. "I don't know enough to know what questions to ask him."
    "I didn't say you needed to talk to him. I said he wants to talk to you."
    "Look, I've got a million things to do here . . . ." Steve stared at the stacks of boxes he not yet opened.
    "We're in the service business. This is part of the service."
    "Okay," Steve reluctantly agreed.

    * * *

    As a VIP defendant, Tom Travis had his own cell, isolated from the rest of the prison population. Freshly showered and shaved, his thinning hair neatly combed, Travis was escorted into the jail's tiny conference room. A square stainless table was bolted to the floor. Four metal stools like steel petals extending from an oversize metallic flower sprang from the central post. Steve took the seat opposite Travis.
    "Steve," Tom gave Janson a weak smile and extended his hand to limit of the chain securing it to his waist. "Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances." A grimace marked his glance around the barren room. "A little different from La Paloma, I guess."
    "Yeah, " Steve agreed, "a little bit."
    "Listen, guy, I didn't get the chance to say it before, but I'm really sorry about--"
    "Sure, I know. I'm trying to put that behind me."
    "She was special lady."
    "Yes, she was." Travis seemed genuinely sad, both for Lynn and for his own situation. Tom had lost weight since their dinner together. Now, clothed in a baggy orange jumpsuit, he seemed only a shadow of the man he once had been. In spite of his personal dislike for the actor, Steve felt the beginning of a small sympathetic ache.
    "Hell of a thing for us to have in common," Tom said. Markham's face paled. "Both of us, I mean, having our wives murdered by lunatics."
    Steve thought about leaping over the table and burying his fist in Travis's face, but found he couldn't move, as if rage and pain battled each other for dominance and only succeeded in locking his muscles in place. Travis seemed to sense he had said something wrong and pulled back but he didn't seem to know quite what or why. People have been smiling and kissing his ass so long , Steve decided, the guy no longer has a clue how he pisses people off.
    "Hell of a thing," Markham said and glanced at his watch. That was one gesture Travis understood.
    "Well, anyway, thanks for coming. I was really pleased when Greg told me you were going to help me. God knows I can use all the help I can get. Nothing against the last detective, McGarrey, but the guy never believed me. I could tell his heart wasn't in it. But I know you won't let me down, Steve. We go way back, this guy and me," Tom said