Read Online A Death In Beverly Hills by David Grace - Free Book Online
Authors: David Grace
Tags: detective, thriller, Crime, Mystery, Police, hollywood, Murder, Grace, lawyer, trial, Beverly Hills, kidnapped, Cops, movie stars, saved, courtroom, lost, a death in beverly hills, action hero, district attorney, found, david grace
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frowned against the ache in his knee and hobbled after Furley to the door.
There was no bell. Furley pounded on the jam with the side of his fist but the wind muffled the blows against the background of the plastic rattle of the oak tree's leaves.
"Mr. Berdue, LA Police Detectives!" Furley shouted, then pounded again. An icy gust cut through Katz's shirt. A tangle of gray clouds rapidly scudded east against an approaching wall of blue-black thunder heads blown in off the sea. Studded with tufts of mosquito grass, the rutted earth in front of the cottage flaked off at the touch of the wind. If they weren't out of here before the rain hit, Katz knew that the mud would be an inch deep up the sides of their shoes. Katz glanced at his black wingtips. Fifty bucks at Shoe World and it had taken him three weeks to break them in. Shit!
Scowling, Katz twisted the knob and pushed inside. "Police!" he shouted and angled forward to where he could see into the kitchen at the back of the house. A young Caucasian man sat at a dented, white-painted table, a can of beer in front of him.
"Mr. Berdue?" Katz called, watching the man's hands.
"Who wants to know?" Bobby asked then took a long swallow.
"LAPD. Didn't you hear us knocking?"
"Was that you? Thought it was the wind. What do you want?"
Furley and Katz carefully paced toward the kitchen, both keeping a careful watch left and right.
"You alone here?" Furley asked, his hand hovering nervously near his gun.
"You see anybody?"
"Are you alone here, sir?" he demanded, the 'sir' sounding like a curse.
"Sure." Berdue laughed and took another swig. "You want one?" He held up a gaily painted can, 'Milwaukee's Pride, Premium Lager.' Furley had seen the brand on sale at Costco at a case price that worked out to thirty-eight cents apiece.
"Thanks, but we're on the job."
Berdue took a final swallow, crushed it against the scared table, then grabbed fresh one from the fridge. Foam spurted onto the worn linoleum when he popped the tab.
"This about that Travis woman?" he asked then dipped his head to slurp the foam.
"Mind if we sit down?"
"Help yourself."
Furley and Katz grabbed chrome bent-pipe chairs and arranged them facing Bobby Berdue.
"Your sister told us she'd been seeing Tom Travis before his wife went missing. Did you ever meet Travis?"
"Why would he want to meet me? It's my sister he's poking." A sour grin twisted Berdue's lips.
"So, you never met him?"
"You playin' a game with me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Let's cut the crap. My sister's one of the 'good people.' When we were kids, it was always 'Don't do this, Bobby.' 'Don't do that, Bobby.'" Berdue's voice assumed a falsetto tone. "So, if you asked her if I ever met Tom Travis, she's told you that I did, once, when she was showing off her movie star boyfriend. You cops!"
Katz gave him a quizzical stare.
"You and your fucking games, always trying to get on top of people, catch them in something."
"Look, Bobby, is it okay if I call you 'Bobby'?"
Berdue shrugged.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot here," Katz continued. "Maybe me coming inside like I did was a mistake. We saw your truck and then when nobody answered the door, I got suspicious. Sorry. Occupational hazard. This is your house and I shouldn't have come in like that without an invitation. But we're here because your sister has been very helpful to us, and we're following up on what she told us. We're not looking at you for anything but we need some help on this lady's disappearance. Okay?"
Berdue stared at Katz for heartbeat, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, sorry. Like you said, I was a little pissed off, you coming in here like that." Berdue glanced at Furley then seemed to relax. "Let's forget it. Hey, you want that beer now, for real?"
"No--"
"Sure," Katz agreed. "It's a hell of a long way out here from LA." Katz nodded at Furley. "He's driving. I'm not." Berdue popped a fresh can and Katz took a swallow. "That hits the spot. Thanks." Simon put
There was no bell. Furley pounded on the jam with the side of his fist but the wind muffled the blows against the background of the plastic rattle of the oak tree's leaves.
"Mr. Berdue, LA Police Detectives!" Furley shouted, then pounded again. An icy gust cut through Katz's shirt. A tangle of gray clouds rapidly scudded east against an approaching wall of blue-black thunder heads blown in off the sea. Studded with tufts of mosquito grass, the rutted earth in front of the cottage flaked off at the touch of the wind. If they weren't out of here before the rain hit, Katz knew that the mud would be an inch deep up the sides of their shoes. Katz glanced at his black wingtips. Fifty bucks at Shoe World and it had taken him three weeks to break them in. Shit!
Scowling, Katz twisted the knob and pushed inside. "Police!" he shouted and angled forward to where he could see into the kitchen at the back of the house. A young Caucasian man sat at a dented, white-painted table, a can of beer in front of him.
"Mr. Berdue?" Katz called, watching the man's hands.
"Who wants to know?" Bobby asked then took a long swallow.
"LAPD. Didn't you hear us knocking?"
"Was that you? Thought it was the wind. What do you want?"
Furley and Katz carefully paced toward the kitchen, both keeping a careful watch left and right.
"You alone here?" Furley asked, his hand hovering nervously near his gun.
"You see anybody?"
"Are you alone here, sir?" he demanded, the 'sir' sounding like a curse.
"Sure." Berdue laughed and took another swig. "You want one?" He held up a gaily painted can, 'Milwaukee's Pride, Premium Lager.' Furley had seen the brand on sale at Costco at a case price that worked out to thirty-eight cents apiece.
"Thanks, but we're on the job."
Berdue took a final swallow, crushed it against the scared table, then grabbed fresh one from the fridge. Foam spurted onto the worn linoleum when he popped the tab.
"This about that Travis woman?" he asked then dipped his head to slurp the foam.
"Mind if we sit down?"
"Help yourself."
Furley and Katz grabbed chrome bent-pipe chairs and arranged them facing Bobby Berdue.
"Your sister told us she'd been seeing Tom Travis before his wife went missing. Did you ever meet Travis?"
"Why would he want to meet me? It's my sister he's poking." A sour grin twisted Berdue's lips.
"So, you never met him?"
"You playin' a game with me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Let's cut the crap. My sister's one of the 'good people.' When we were kids, it was always 'Don't do this, Bobby.' 'Don't do that, Bobby.'" Berdue's voice assumed a falsetto tone. "So, if you asked her if I ever met Tom Travis, she's told you that I did, once, when she was showing off her movie star boyfriend. You cops!"
Katz gave him a quizzical stare.
"You and your fucking games, always trying to get on top of people, catch them in something."
"Look, Bobby, is it okay if I call you 'Bobby'?"
Berdue shrugged.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot here," Katz continued. "Maybe me coming inside like I did was a mistake. We saw your truck and then when nobody answered the door, I got suspicious. Sorry. Occupational hazard. This is your house and I shouldn't have come in like that without an invitation. But we're here because your sister has been very helpful to us, and we're following up on what she told us. We're not looking at you for anything but we need some help on this lady's disappearance. Okay?"
Berdue stared at Katz for heartbeat, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, sorry. Like you said, I was a little pissed off, you coming in here like that." Berdue glanced at Furley then seemed to relax. "Let's forget it. Hey, you want that beer now, for real?"
"No--"
"Sure," Katz agreed. "It's a hell of a long way out here from LA." Katz nodded at Furley. "He's driving. I'm not." Berdue popped a fresh can and Katz took a swallow. "That hits the spot. Thanks." Simon put
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