Crystal Clear by Jane Heller

Author:Jane Heller
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781682303542
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2016-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

The Sedona Police Department was housed in a dinky, beige-colored structure that looked more like a mobile home than a government building. Still, its dinkyness didn’t keep the satellite trucks, camera crews, and reporters from jamming its parking lot.

The first person Terry and I stumbled on as we made our way through the crowd and up the steps of the building was Michael Mandell. He had just given an interview to a local television station and was breathless from all the attention he was getting.

“Have you heard the latest?” he asked, pulling us into a little huddle. When we said we hadn’t, he seemed overjoyed that he would be the one to impart the breaking news. “First of all, Harrison Reid is inside.” He nodded at the building. “And he’s not alone.”

“Who’s he with?” Terry asked.

“His literary agent, I’ll bet,” I said.

“Nope. His lawyer,” said Michael. “His criminal defense lawyer. Jerry Jantz, as a matter of fact.” Jantz was a New York-based attorney who represented mobsters, professional athletes, and other high-profile clients. His services weren’t cheap. I wondered where Harrison was getting the money to pay him.

“If Harrison Reid needs a lawyer, maybe Will isn’t the police’s prime suspect after all,” Terry theorized.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” I said. “Just because he’s got a lawyer with him doesn’t mean he needs a lawyer. Nobody goes to the bathroom anymore without his criminal defense lawyer present. It’s a post-O.J. thing. Your wife is murdered, you call your lawyer. Bam bam. It has nothing to do with your guilt or innocence.”

“Speaking of guilt, listen to this,” said Michael. “My editor in New York got a call from somebody named Dee Caparelli.”

“Sounds like pasta,” I mused.

“Want to see her?” Michael asked.

“Sure,” we said.

He reached inside his briefcase and flashed us a photograph of Ms. Caparelli. She was a curvaceous redhead with two or three inches of black roots.

“Does she have some connection to Amanda Reid?” Terry asked, just before being jostled by a cameraman.

“You know how it is when a celebrity is murdered,” said Michael. “Everybody who’s even remotely connected to the person crawls out from under a rock.”

“So this woman is connected to Amanda,” I confirmed.

“No. This woman is connected to Tina, Amanda’s assistant,” Michael said, “and to Billy, the personal trainer.”

“I still don’t see why she would call your editor at—” I stopped. I had a hunch. I suddenly knew exactly who Dee Caparelli was. “Billy’s girlfriend, right?” I said. “The one who used to live in Tina’s building.”

Michael looked disappointed. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” I said. “At Amanda’s dinner party the other night, I asked Billy how he’d gotten the job as her personal trainer. He told me it was thanks to Tina, that he’d met her through his girlfriend.”

“Dee Caparelli,” Michael said, nodding his head.

“I also asked Billy if he and this woman were still dating,” I went on, “since I assumed that he and Amanda were doing more than lifting weights together. But he never gave me a straight answer.

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