A Killing in China Basin

by Kirk Russell

  ‘When he gets an order for a kidney he searches his database and then front guys go out and locate the donor. If the donor is poor and the police are bribed, and it’s easily proved that the donor was paid well for his kidney, then often there’s nothing the unwilling donor can do later. He may have been drugged when he signed papers or had no idea what the papers said because he doesn’t read, and of course he had no idea that any of this connects to Huarang’s charity work, or that Huarang is connected to it in any way. He wakes up with stitches in his back and a check for the equivalent of five thousand dollars, which in the areas where Huarang works is a fortune.

  ‘Usually, the donor is a young man with a match to the recipient that has been verified by the doctors who will do the transplant. The donor is always healthy and will recover; meanwhile his kidney will move along a well-traveled chain where everyone steps on the price until it gets to the hospital and goes into a rich American or Saudi, or someone who can afford it but cannot afford to wait.’

  ‘Come on, you’re not telling me it’s this well known and he’s out there today operating like this, and at the same time collecting aid money for his clinics.’

  ‘He absolutely is and I became part of his Indonesia operation for a few months during the nineties. That’s when he did my nails for me. I offered my services to get inside his operation. I had medical training and I told him I didn’t have many scruples. That’s the magic combination. I was in the operating room at the compound at least a dozen times as a surgical nurse, assisting as a young man’s healthy kidney was removed. I watched the liver removed from a very fit young man I’d been joking with an hour before, a young man who thought he was just selling one kidney so that his mother could get a needed operation. They sewed him up, helicoptered him to a remote area of the jungle and shoved him out.’

  ‘Were you in the helicopter when the kid got pushed out?’

  ‘I was. I watched him fall. Without a liver he was dead anyway.’

  ‘So it didn’t matter.’

  ‘Of course, it mattered.’

  She stared hard at him.

  ‘Huarang is just one dealer in one country. There are many people who need organ transplants. There are Americans routinely getting transplants outside the United States for the simple reason that it’s more affordable elsewhere and, guess what, sometimes organs are more abundant and cheaper. Who knew?

  ‘Huarang was probably trying to sell my organs when I escaped. When he destroyed my fingernails he did it because one of his men had found a video camera among my things and I was on tape talking about what I’d witnessed. I’d shot the operating room and the helicopter taking off from the pad in the jungle clearing on its way to make a delivery.

  ‘Huarang said, “You beautiful woman, so I give you a choice.” He pointed at one of the two goons who’d brought me in and said, “Either he’ll dig your right eye out of its socket and fill the hole with gauze or we take your fingernails.” They tied me to a chair and he tore my nails off one by one with pliers, the first one fast, I think to shock my system, and then more slowly. He said he would stop after I told him the truth about why I was there, and when I did, he didn’t stop, and at some point I passed out. When I came to they were washing my hands with alcohol and he was washing his in a sink. They say you don’t remember severe pain, but they’re wrong.’

  ‘Did you go to the police?’

  ‘No, you go to the US embassy and try through them. Huarang pays off the local police and ultimately it was a local matter. The police chief went out and questioned Huarang. I heard he stayed for dinner and I was advised later by the State Department not to pursue it further.’

  She told Raveneau other stories, and created the impression that she wanted to convey her bravery and foolish boldness and undaunted willingness to take risks for her fellow human beings.

  ‘I often dream of that boy falling from the helicopter. Sometimes I see myself jumping after him. Maybe it’s guilt that I didn’t save him. I remember looking down and he was just above the canopy of the trees, and then he vanished. I remember thinking that the animals would eat him, and as he went through that canopy of forest he just vanished from earth as though he’d never existed.’

  She rested one of her hands on the tablecloth, turned the misshapen nails of her right hand so they couldn’t be ignored.

  ‘I could have plastic surgery, but I keep them this way so I don’t forget. I had a lot of anger, depression, sleeplessness, I couldn’t focus for a long time, and then I saw where I could make a difference.’

  She had told this story many times before. That was obvious.

  ‘How did you know the identity you got from Alex wasn’t stolen?’

  ‘I knew her well enough.’

  ‘Everyone we talk to says she was a thief and a liar, including her sister.’

  ‘She was complex.’

  ‘And I think you’re pretty thorough and careful. I’m betting you looked into the history of the identity you were about to buy. You didn’t buy another woman’s identity blind.’

  ‘I checked only to make sure she didn’t have a criminal history. She did have one but she was smarter than me. She hid that history before putting her identity on the market. She’d already come some distance in trying to erase herself.’

  ‘And why was she doing that?’

  ‘She was afraid a man was going to get out of prison and then come after her.’

  ‘And this was all here in San Francisco?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sometimes things click together. Sometimes people contact you again and say they want to meet and talk more because they’re one step ahead of you and are afraid you’re going to catch up to them.

  ‘Can I guess the woman’s name?’

  ‘That would be very impressive, Inspector. I’d be quite impressed. But first I want you to understand that I’ve never used that identity in the United States. I only used it in a few countries and I don’t do that any more either.’

  ‘OK, if you don’t use it any more, where is it?’

  ‘I don’t keep it in the US. After 9/11 they started checking more and I don’t want to be caught with my regular passport and that one as well. That would get ugly. I keep it in a safe deposit box in Mexico City. It’s sitting there right now. If I need it somewhere else they send it to me by courier.’

  ‘Where did you use it before putting it away in the safe deposit box?’

  ‘African countries, Latin America, and places in Asia where I knew they wouldn’t be cross-checking my face with other photos.’

  ‘And how about the woman whose identity you bought, do you know where she lives now?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know what name she lives under?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Do you know if she’s still alive?’

  ‘Alex might have known. Maybe you’ll find it in her computer.’

  ‘What else are we going to find?’

  ‘Hopefully what you need to solve the murder.’

  The waiter returned now with the check. She waited until he left before saying, ‘Now it’s time for your guess.’

  Raveneau put down his water glass. He made sure he had eye contact and he saw the tiny flinch at the corner of her eyes as he said, ‘Her name is Erin Quinn. She returned to her maiden name after the murder of her husband. The man she’s afraid of is Cody Stoltz and you’re seeing his name in the news so much it’s making you nervous.’

  Now she looked like she’d been slapped, but she covered it well, smiling, her eyes lighting up, grabbing the check, laughing as she said, ‘Wow, I insist on buying. How did you do that?’

  ‘I’ve got a feeling you have more to tell me. Now would be a good time. Why don’t you come to our office?’

  ‘Not today, Inspector, and I think I’ve told you everything now.’ She smiled at him. ‘I am impressed.’

  From the car Raveneau called la Rosa.

  ‘How was lunch with Ms Goodworks?’r />
  ‘She wanted to tell me about the name and identity she sometimes uses in other countries where it’s not safe to use her own name. She must have felt like she had to get a jump on us.’

  ‘Let me guess, Florence Nightingale.’

  ‘No, the former Mrs Reinert, Stoltz’s lover, Erin Quinn. See you in a few minutes.’

  FORTY

  The private investigator was an ex-Riverside cop named Blake Fame that Stoltz’s mother had hired ahead of the trip to Los Angeles. She told him cost was always an issue, but keeping track of Cody came first. So obviously, mom was worried. No one at the table said anything to Fame about not coming to them before now, although Fame took a moment to try to cover his ass.

  ‘She had her lawyer fax me a stack of papers to sign before she hired me and she’ll sue me into the grave if she finds out I’ve come to you. I got sued once before. I don’t want to go through that again. I’m violating client confidentiality by talking to you, and I’m going to ask one favor.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Raveneau asked.

  ‘That you get my GPS unit back for me. He stuck it on the bottom of a CHP car.’

  Everyone laughed. No one at table would ever try to recover his GPS for him, except maybe Raveneau, but only so he could get him alone and tell him what he thought about him not coming forward sooner.

  ‘He made a couple of stops for gas and food and then stopped at a state park. I’ve got a map; I’ll show you where he stopped.’

  He unfolded the map and tapped on the park’s location.

  ‘I thought maybe he had something hidden there.’

  ‘In the park?’

  ‘Sure, he walked up a trail. Tell me why he’d be doing that on a drive north from LA? He’d disappeared so I got under his vehicle and attached a GPS unit. He must have seen me. He stopped at a shopping mall, detached it, and put it on a CHP cruiser. I didn’t figure that out until I started tailing the highway patrol officer. He was out on Highway Five jumping up to speeds of one hundred and then down to zero when he pulled somebody over. It took me twenty miles to figure out what was going on. By then I’d lost Stoltz.’

  No one laughed this time, but Raveneau asked, ‘Why didn’t you ask for the GPS when you were right there?’

  ‘He would have been suspicious and I would have lost more time. I got the car number.’

  ‘Show us the park,’ Raveneau said, ‘and where you last saw him.’

  Raveneau looked at the park location on the map and then asked him the name of the shopping center. La Rosa googled Valley Meadows Center and then its distance from the park, 29.7 miles, about one hour from Walnut Creek.

  ‘Look, I may sound like an idiot for what happened with the GPS, but he didn’t get past me when he left LAX and I heard on the news LAPD lost him. I’m just here to tell you that I know he came north in a Nissan he rented at Hertz. I’ve got the plates.’

  He gave them those and la Rosa left the interview box. Captain Ramirez stood as well but didn’t leave the room.

  ‘Let’s go back to Mrs Stoltz. What else did she tell you about her son?’

  ‘That he owns a dozen or more vehicles, though I can’t find them and she doesn’t know where he stores them. That he has money, he’s not dependent on her. He has an inheritance from his father and got some sort of signing bonus where he’s working right now. She said he’s afraid of you. He thinks you’re lazy and incompetent and will frame him.’

  ‘So, corrupt as well.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘He’s into property and now that there are so many foreclosures and short sales he often travels to look at property.’

  Or that’s what he tells her, Raveneau thought. Fame didn’t know much more. He left them six ways to get hold of him and asked who he should call about his GPS. Raveneau handed him a card.

  ‘Call me.’

  In the late afternoon the Oakland detectives stopped by.

  ‘It’s confirmed that the pickup that burned was the vehicle that struck her,’ Stalos said. ‘And we’ve interviewed the girlfriend again and she told us Bates said his marriage was over. He promised they’d be together in about a year. He’d ask for a divorce soon and she just had to ride it out.’

  They glanced at each other and predictably it was Hendricks who stepped in to ask the harder question.

  ‘We interviewed you and then he came to see you. Did you call him when you left us?’

  ‘No. He was there when I got home, but if you know he came to see me you must have had a tail on him, so you already knew that.’

  ‘Why did he visit you?’

  ‘Because he knew you two had been to our office. He put it together.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘Nothing that compromises what you’re doing.’

  They went back and forth like this and the whole thing left a bad taste. At some point la Rosa tapped him on the shoulder and he stepped out to talk to her.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’m beat. Deborah Lafaye trips me out. Walnut Creek is about ready to charge a kid with the Becker shooting that the media insists Stoltz did, and these Oakland detectives are trying to lean on us. I’ve got to clear my head; I’m going to go take a run.’

  When la Rosa got home she changed into running clothes and walked downstairs and out into the cool twilight. She debated going to her gym but that meant driving and traffic, and the air was so nice tonight it didn’t seem worth being inside. Better to run out toward Golden Gate Park than pound away on a gym treadmill.

  She started jogging. She was tired, distracted, and her mind on the Bates conversation and this new connection with Erin Quinn and Deborah Lafaye. She toyed with the idea of Lafaye wanting Jurika dead because of what she knew about her past.

  She picked up her pace a little as she came through the intersection at Lincoln and then was into Golden Gate Park, running on a path dark now in the dusk. She left the path and ran down a street barricaded to vehicle traffic. When she didn’t work out she tended to pick up weight on her upper thighs and rear, and now she thought she could feel fat breaking up as the muscles stretched. She wanted to get into her best shape. Not only did she like the way it felt, but her thinking was also clearest when she was fit. She had more stamina, needed less sleep, and didn’t crave sweets the same way.

  As she left the park she cut west of the panhandle and on to Haight Street, figured she’d bear right and do some hills before walking home. She crossed Haight-Ashbury thinking of Raveneau and his stories about the city during the Sixties, and talking about how the department had changed in the years he’d been there; the little bar with the American flag behind it that used to open at five in the afternoon each day, and that the chiefs would sometimes stop by. She couldn’t picture Grainer doing that or any of the brass she’d met, but Raveneau also said it was better now. She thought of Grainer’s last advice.

  ‘There’s a danger in working too long in any one aspect of the department. We’ve all seen the sergeant who’s been sitting too long at a desk. Alliances get made, favors done, and a status quo settles in. In Inspector Raveneau’s case, and this is not for outside this room, he’s used to doing things his way. But, unfortunately, the city has changed. That’s why his solve rate is down. That’s why you two are together, his broad experience and knowledge and your innovation and a more scientific approach.’

  She slowed now to a steady jog and wondered what Grainer really knew about solving homicides. What could you know if you’d never worked a murder case? La Rosa’s face was flushed, her spine wet with sweat when she dropped to a walk. She figured to walk at least a mile to cool down. She liked this part of her workout. She could think better walking than running.

  After several blocks she turned up a steep hill to loosen a cramp in her right calf. She lengthened her stride to try to stretch the muscle out and as she reached down to massage it saw a dark blue Volvo wagon slowing on the street behind her, probably looking for an
address. At the top of the hill she figured to jog the last blocks home. She was ready for a shower. She didn’t feel good about the way she’d ducked out earlier and needed to call Raveneau.

  At the corner the Volvo was still there coming up the hill slowly and the cramp in her calf was actually worse. Bad enough to where she limped and didn’t run as she turned right and started across the hill and toward home. Then the same Volvo came around the corner behind her, now with its high beams on but still moving slower than her, which wasn’t easy, which she didn’t like. What registered now was that she’d seen the same car earlier, an older model she associated with being a teenager, riding to soccer games and getting told how to play by somebody’s dad who’d never played himself.

  She stopped and knelt, pretending to retie her shoelace, and saw the car had stopped, the driver’s face unreadable behind the glare of the headlights. But she couldn’t stay down. The cramp hurt too much and she stood and started limping forward, deciding to cross the street if the car moved again and didn’t pass her.

  What it did was pull out and speed up quickly, and when she turned the car braked hard alongside her, the passenger window was down, a man’s arm rising and then a flash of light, a blow to her head. Her legs crumpled.

  A witness later described the sharp, hard pop of the gun discharging and the woman, the runner, falling in a way that convinced them she was dead. The car sped away. The witness called 911 and ran to her.

  FORTY-ONE

  Raveneau got a call from communications command and drove straight to the hospital. He badged the officer guarding the door and walked in carrying his laptop.

  ‘Elizabeth?’ He took her hand and she opened her eyes.

  ‘You,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Man, my head and neck hurt.’ She touched her forehead then the pillow. ‘I hit the sidewalk.’ Her voice was slowed, groggy. She could hear herself. ‘I’m fine. I’m lucky, right?’

  ‘Very lucky.’

  ‘I know, I screwed up.’

  ‘You didn’t screw up.’

  ‘I’ve got some stitches.’