by Frank Perry
undeclared fortune was in the hundreds of millions, which was difficult to hide from authorities, even as he claimed to own the most successful fishing fleet on the West Coast. His accumulated wealth reflected the ruthless means required to control drug traffic in the western United States.
Protecting this business was an obsession with Luciano. He spent millions each year keeping key politicians and appointed officials in office. These were people dedicated to continuing the War on Drugs, the “war” that made Peña and others wealthy. José and Claire Rivera were at the center of the effort to legalize drugs in California, and, possibly in the whole country, thus ending the war. They had to be controlled or eliminated. The most foolproof way to eliminate the threat was to bribe one or both of the Riveras, but it was difficult to approach them, fearing a sting on his operations. There was no one in Peña’s control that he could trust to negotiate with them, so another means was used.
Peña kept an army of cutthroat gangsters employed to protect his empire. Eliminating José, put Claire in check. Of course, Claire knew about the Peña crime syndicate. The FBI had codenamed his network as “Trawler”, and Peña was known as “Kingfish.” She was sure that Peña had murdered José but also knew he had the means to cover it up. It was one thing to butcher a competitor and his family, as Kingfish did personally in Reno, Nevada, (where local police cheered that the vermin were dead), but it was an entirely different matter to murder a respected bureaucrat. Kingfish had been careful to cover his tracks. With the discovery of the car, the FBI was again hopeful of finding some clues to Jose’s disappearance.
At home that night after talking to Hunter, the phone rang. “Hello.”
“Mrs. Rivera? Claire Rivera?”
She didn’t recognize her voice. “Yes. Who is this?”
Mrs. Rivera, this is Special Agent Kasey McDougal with the FBI here in San Francisco.”
“Oh, hi.”
“Mrs. Rivera, I’m leading the investigation into the disappearance of José Rivera. Is he your husband?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know the FBI was involved. This is the first action I’ve seen in the two years since José disappeared.”
“I know, Mrs. Rivera. It hasn’t had much attention without clues before now.”
“You mean because Jose’s car was located?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Claire felt some relief. At last, someone was at least opening a file on José. “What can I do?”
“Mrs. Rivera, I’d like to talk with you about the case when we have the car. The bureau is hiring a barge and dive team to recover the vehicle.”
The kids were doing homework in their rooms, and Claire sat on the sofa after switching the television off. “Well, of course, I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“Good. Look, if possible, please think about anything that might lead us to someone who might have harmed Mr. Rivera. I know from talking to the state investigator that he was working on a drug bill in the state that would eliminate illegal trafficking, so it’s probably our best place to start.”
The discovery of the Mercedes was well marked with a buoy left by the urchin divers after releasing their anchor line. They wanted to be able to return to the spot when the weather was better, and their nerves recovered from the shark attack.
The FBI contracted with a local kelp harvesting company for a barge with crane to recover the car and transport it back to Alameda Navy Piers for forensic examination. It took a few days for the weather to cooperate since the large square barge could only operate in calm water. A team of Navy salvage divers was flown up from San Diego with special inflatable bladders that would help lift the car. The divers would also place two slings under the front and back of the car.
Claire didn’t hear back from Agent McDougal for several days and then got a call at work in Sacramento.
“Mrs. Rivera, could you come to Oakland tomorrow, to the FBI field lab?”
“Ah, yeah, sure. What’s this about?”
“Ma’am, you should bring someone with you to help drive.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Kasey paused for a moment. “Ma’am. We need you to identify some personal items found in the car that might belong to Mr. Rivera.”
Claire tried to remain calm. “What time?”
“I’ll be there all day, Mrs. Rivera, but try to arrive before noon.”
“Alright, just give me the address.”
Claire went to bed early that night after calling John Richards to drive with her. José Rivera was a state official and his disappearance was possibly a crime related to his work. She sensed that something horrible was ahead, and John was her friend on the state police force that could handle whatever they would see in the morning.
Claire and “Inspector” Richards left the capital building in Sacramento, driving a state car at seven o’clock the next morning. John drove. Claire had stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for large coffees and scones for the trip to the coast.
“John, thanks for doing this with me.”
“Hey, Claire, it’s no problem for me. We all want to know what happen to José. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.”
Morning traffic was always congested along I-80 West. John said, “How are the kids, Claire?”
She smiled but looked out the side window, lost in thought and apprehension. “Oh, you know what it’s like, John. Both are in grade school and trying to be more grown up than they are.”
“Yeah. My boys are in high school. They’re good guys, but it takes a lot to stay involved in their lives, particularly since they don’t want you around most of the time, except when they need money.” He chuckled silently. His sons lived with his ex-wife.
She shifted subjects. “What do you think they found, John?”
He knew more than he wanted to tell her. “We won’t know ‘till we get there, Claire. Don’t get worked up before then. It’ll be at least two hours before we get there at this pace.”
The old de-commissioned Alameda Navy Yard is located along a long inlet from the bay city of Oakland, across the bay from San Francisco International Airport. It’s only used for Naval Reserve purposes today and is closed to unofficial visitors, making it a secure place to examine large evidence.
The FBI field lab was a mobile van, parked inside one of the large warehouses. After checking through security, Claire and John followed directions to the warehouse.
She was visibly nervous. “Wow. These warehouses are immense.”
“Yep. Some are big enough to hold complete destroyers inside, but I don’t think it’s been used for anything active since World War Two.”
They parked outside the massive closed doors of a building identified only as 520. The small door at the center was open. She felt her knees shaking as John offered her his arm walking to the door.
“John, this is foolish. I’m not eighty and shouldn’t need to hold on to someone for balance.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Claire. You have every right to be nervous about this, and no one is expecting anything different.”
Inside, the lab van was facing away from the door, and there were several folding tables and chairs set up alongside. Beyond the van, there were blue tarps suspended by poles, forming a screen.
She said nervously, “I wonder if Jose’s car is behind there?”
“Let’s keep walking. It smells like something washed in from the sea, so I guess the car is back there.”
She gripped his arm a bit harder, as a woman approached, “Mrs. Rivera?”
“Yes.”
The woman extended her hand, “Hi, I’m Kasey McDougal.”
She showed identification and introduced herself formally to John and gestured for all to sit at one of the tables. Kasey sat across from both of them.
“Mrs. Rivera, we have your husband’s car, and a team of forensic examiners is going through it now.”
Claire asked, “Did you f
ind anything yet?”
“Yes we have. The ocean did a pretty good job of destroying most of it, but...well there’s something else.” She was reluctant to talk.
John said gently, “Ah, Kasey, I’m leading the investigation for the state. Is there something you want to tell us?”
Kasey looked at him and spoke firmly, “Yes, John, but I’d like to talk to you privately first.”
Claire sucked on her upper lip without looking at either of them. John nodded his head, “Claire, would you excuse us. I suggest you go sit in the car for a moment.”
It wasn’t really a request, and he walked her back to the door. Outside, she lifted her head and walked alone toward the car. Fear and disgust tore through her.
John returned to where Kasey was standing. “Okay, what’s the situation?”
“Come with me.”
She led him to the blue curtain and pulled a flap aside for John to enter. Inside, there were two vehicles. One was the white Mercedes, covered with green algae which smelled awful. The other was a plain white delivery van without windows marked “Oakland County Coroner.”
He nodded as they walked closer, “You found him?”
“We think so. It’s hard to tell. We need a positive ID, but there’s nothing she should see.”
He simply said, “Got it.”
At that point a man in a white coat approached, stripping off blue latex gloves.
John had seen some awful things after twenty years as an investigator. He was six-three and in good physical shape for a mid-forties man, but he still felt uneasy about the Coroner’s body language.
Kasey introduced the two men,