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Authors: Faye Kellerman
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men resting while waiting for their shift to start.”
“Do the guards have keys to get into the property?”
“Gate keys but not house keys. There’s a house keycard check system that Brady has in place.”
“How does that work?”
“Each incoming guard is required to check out the keycard from an outgoing guard. There’s a sign-in sheet and a sign-out sheet that includes time and date. The sheet for the night of the murder is missing, but that doesn’t mean too much. Brady had the schedule for who was supposed to be on. We know who was murdered and we know who is missing.”
“That’s not much of a system—a sign-up sheet.”
“You said it. Ripe for abuse, but it worked well for a number of years. Brady told me he was very diligent in counting the keycards, and they are next to impossible to duplicate. None were missing from the lockbox, but of course two keycards are gone, probably taken by the two missing guards.”
“What a way to live,” Decker said. “Rarified to be sure, but that comes with a price.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Oliver said. “Coyote Ranch is kind of the California version of Versailles. And we all know what happened to Marie Antoinette.”
THE SECOND DAY of testimony was more of the same.
More forgetful people with Smiling Sunglasses Tom doing a bang-up acting job in the translation department. While the deputy D.A. gave off the professional look—navy pin-striped suit, white blouse, sensible pumps—the defense attorney was a schlub—stooped shoulders and a comb-over of unruly gray hair. His suit was too short in the sleeves, but too big on his bony frame. The crux of his case was that the arresting officers couldn’t really see who punched whom and therefore his client should be exonerated.
The P.D. called up the young officer for the cross, and although the uniform wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, he seemed credible. The officer saw the defendant punch the plaintiff in the face. It wasas simple as that. To Rina, the trial wasn’t a total waste of the jurors’ time, but it was proving to be not an efficient use of time. No one complained when the panel was dismissed for the lunch break.
Ryan was meeting a friend for lunch, so this afternoon it was just the girls. In a hope to steer the conversation away from the Kaffey murders, Rina had made extra sandwiches on homemade challah bread and was spending most of her time giving the women the recipe.
“I thought challah had to be braided,” Joy said.
“Obviously not, since we’re eating square slices,” Kate said. “Wow, this is good. I love the olives and sun-dried tomatoes. It works really well with the salami.”
“Thank you,” Rina said. “In answer to your question, Joy, no, it doesn’t have to be braided, although the braid is traditional on Friday night. On the Jewish New Year’s through the holiday of Sukkoth, it’s round. There’s also something called a pull-apart challah that’s also round.”
“What’s that?” Kate was taking notes.
“You make individual balls of dough around the size of a lime and pack them tightly into a round pan.”
“Same recipe?”
“Same recipe. When it bakes, all the dough coalesces into one round loaf, but you can still see the individual sections. People use it because when you say the blessing over the bread, you pull apart the sections for your guests and it’s a nice presentation.”
Joy said, “Someone once told me that you burn part of the dough or something. Or did I get it wrong?”
“No, you didn’t. You do burn a small section of the dough. That’s the part called challah, actually. We do it to commemorate a different time when the Jews had the temple and burned flour sacrifices to God. But you can only do it if you’ve used a certain amount of flour. You don’t take challah on a single loaf unless it’s gigantic. Sometimes if I’m in the mood, I make a big, big batch and freeze some of the dough between the first and second
“Do the guards have keys to get into the property?”
“Gate keys but not house keys. There’s a house keycard check system that Brady has in place.”
“How does that work?”
“Each incoming guard is required to check out the keycard from an outgoing guard. There’s a sign-in sheet and a sign-out sheet that includes time and date. The sheet for the night of the murder is missing, but that doesn’t mean too much. Brady had the schedule for who was supposed to be on. We know who was murdered and we know who is missing.”
“That’s not much of a system—a sign-up sheet.”
“You said it. Ripe for abuse, but it worked well for a number of years. Brady told me he was very diligent in counting the keycards, and they are next to impossible to duplicate. None were missing from the lockbox, but of course two keycards are gone, probably taken by the two missing guards.”
“What a way to live,” Decker said. “Rarified to be sure, but that comes with a price.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Oliver said. “Coyote Ranch is kind of the California version of Versailles. And we all know what happened to Marie Antoinette.”
THE SECOND DAY of testimony was more of the same.
More forgetful people with Smiling Sunglasses Tom doing a bang-up acting job in the translation department. While the deputy D.A. gave off the professional look—navy pin-striped suit, white blouse, sensible pumps—the defense attorney was a schlub—stooped shoulders and a comb-over of unruly gray hair. His suit was too short in the sleeves, but too big on his bony frame. The crux of his case was that the arresting officers couldn’t really see who punched whom and therefore his client should be exonerated.
The P.D. called up the young officer for the cross, and although the uniform wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, he seemed credible. The officer saw the defendant punch the plaintiff in the face. It wasas simple as that. To Rina, the trial wasn’t a total waste of the jurors’ time, but it was proving to be not an efficient use of time. No one complained when the panel was dismissed for the lunch break.
Ryan was meeting a friend for lunch, so this afternoon it was just the girls. In a hope to steer the conversation away from the Kaffey murders, Rina had made extra sandwiches on homemade challah bread and was spending most of her time giving the women the recipe.
“I thought challah had to be braided,” Joy said.
“Obviously not, since we’re eating square slices,” Kate said. “Wow, this is good. I love the olives and sun-dried tomatoes. It works really well with the salami.”
“Thank you,” Rina said. “In answer to your question, Joy, no, it doesn’t have to be braided, although the braid is traditional on Friday night. On the Jewish New Year’s through the holiday of Sukkoth, it’s round. There’s also something called a pull-apart challah that’s also round.”
“What’s that?” Kate was taking notes.
“You make individual balls of dough around the size of a lime and pack them tightly into a round pan.”
“Same recipe?”
“Same recipe. When it bakes, all the dough coalesces into one round loaf, but you can still see the individual sections. People use it because when you say the blessing over the bread, you pull apart the sections for your guests and it’s a nice presentation.”
Joy said, “Someone once told me that you burn part of the dough or something. Or did I get it wrong?”
“No, you didn’t. You do burn a small section of the dough. That’s the part called challah, actually. We do it to commemorate a different time when the Jews had the temple and burned flour sacrifices to God. But you can only do it if you’ve used a certain amount of flour. You don’t take challah on a single loaf unless it’s gigantic. Sometimes if I’m in the mood, I make a big, big batch and freeze some of the dough between the first and second
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