It started as he expected, with Alma recalling the “artistry of Warren’s cooking…the charm and wit of his disarming humor, his kindness and generosity, and what will be most missed, his tireless service on behalf of our community.”
She then added, “The Sausalito police have been longtime recipients of Mr. Bradley’s unstinting generosity, in the preparation and presentation of a monthly gourmet luncheon for our brave men and women in blue. I trust that they will honor his kindness by being vigilant and unstinting in their efforts to bring this vicious killer to justice.”
“Wow!” Rob looked up at Holly, who winked knowingly at him. “You’re right; she laid it on pretty thick.”
“Oh, you haven’t come to the best part. Keep reading.”
He quickly scanned through a few more lines about Warren’s Easter ham dinner at the senior center and his gourmet cookie packages, which were distributed during the holidays each year to a long list of neighbors and friends.
But then, Rob came to his name and started to read the letter aloud.
“I guess you mean this part: ‘As a small community, we have only The Sausalito Standard to speak on behalf of justice—a single voice that must remain vigilant in pursuit of the truth. I have not always been of like mind with the editorial policy of our local newspaper—for example, when it urges modernization, while others, like I, have called for restraint. But, as its publisher, Rob Timmons, demonstrated during his moving tribute to his distinguished longtime columnist, this is a time when all Sausalitans must stand together and insist that every resource needed be applied in pursuit of this crazed killer, even if it leads to shocking revelations involving people in high places. Now is the time when every rock must be lifted to see what evil lurks beneath.’
“I imagine the ‘people in high places’ means her least favorite member of the arts commission,” Rob murmured. “You’re right, Holly! The old girl went all out with this one.” He looked down and read Alma’s closing lines, “I trust that Mr. Timmons will be a tireless voice in following the trail wherever it leads. Now is the time for answers!”
“Sounds like you and Alma are becoming an item.”
Rob shrugged and causally said, “The old girl looks particularly fetching out on the bay at sunset.”
“You mean when anchored to a block of cement?”
“Oh, Holly, you’re such a romantic.” Rob rolled his eyes. “Okay, let’s cut the nonsense. We’ve got a week’s worth of papers to get out. And, by the way, on page fifteen, I’ve decided to run Warren’s final ‘Heard About Town’ column.”
“What?” Holly squawked. “You’re going to stir up a lot of trouble if you run that! It will be like a voice from the grave. And any chance you and Karin had of being invited to the Randolphs for cocktails will go right out the window for good.”
“Frankly, I see it as a final tribute to Warren.” Rob was determined not to tell Holly the truth—that Eddie asked for him to use Warren's final column as a distraction to focus more heat on Randolph, hopefully putting the real killer at ease.
“Shame on you, Rob. I get it—great for business and all that. But it sure will make Randolph’s life miserable.”
Rob winced. He knew she was right.
At the same time, if Eddie was right, and the tactic helped to flush out the killer, in the long run he’d be doing Randolph a great favor.
“If I were you, I’d watch my back. If Randolph did kill Warren, my guess is that you’re numero uno to be victim numero dos.”
On Wednesday, The Sausalito Standard carried an unusual banner headline:
Who Murdered Warren Bradley?
Rob knew he was milking the murder for all he could, but if he was ever going to have an issue that would be read by everyone in town, this was likely to be the one. Barring, of course, the interest over a suspect being apprehended.
Knowing he needed to follow through on the goal he set for himself of having information that no other news outlet carried, he contacted both Warren’s neighbor and Ray Sirica for comments.
Ray couldn’t keep the anxiety out of his voice. His wish from the moment he learned of Warren’s murder was that he had not gone up to see Bradley at his home hours before his slaying.
While Ray tortured himself, Debbie reminded him, “You didn’t have a crystal ball. No one would have guessed what was about to happen. It was just a case of bad timing. Leave it at that.”
Of course, Ray already knew this. “Believe me,” he told her, “I wish I could turn back the clock on that decision.”
Naturally, there was a part of both Debbie and Ray that wished they had never eaten at the same café in Healdsburg on the day Grant and Barbara walked in and sat down beside them. It was simply one more example of bad timing.
Despite his frustration, Ray was forthcoming when Rob called for a comment about his meeting with Bradley on that fateful night. “I thought the situation was escalating between Grant and Warren,” he explained. “Those columns put a lovely couple in a terrible light all because they had a colossal misunderstanding. I don’t mind you quoting me saying that I think Warren was unfair and unkind to both of them. I went up there to explain to Bradley that their entire fight, serious as it had been, in reality was nothing more than a comedy of errors. But Warren wasn’t interested in writing a story about how one misunderstanding can lead to another and lead to awful consequences. In fact, he told me that he had a guest arriving shortly. And then he added, in these exact words, ‘Please leave now.’”
Rob knew Ray had to be uncomfortable discussing Grant’s situation with the publisher of a community newspaper that played a role in making
