Short Stories

by Michael Connelly

  HB: Can you give me your birth date, Elyse?

  EC: I'm sixty-three, born January third, 1947.

  HB: And how long have you resided at the house on Mulholland?

  EC: Since 1987.

  HB: Just you and your husband? Are there any children?

  EC: We decided not to have children. Mark didn't want them.

  HB: Why don't you describe in your own words the events of last night? Start with your arrival at the house.

  EC: Yes, well, my husband and I had just returned from Lake Tahoe, where we have a second home on the lake. We've been spending a lot of time there lately. But on Monday, there is a court hearing, and so we came back for that. We had not been home in almost a month.

  HB: The hearing on Monday is in regards to the charges your husband is facing?

  EC: Yes, involving the fraud allegations and IGE.

  HB: That's the International Gold Exchange bankruptcy case, correct? Your husband Mark was the founder of that company?

  EC: Yes, and they charged him with defrauding the public.

  HB: Are you familiar with the details of the charges?

  EC: Taking in one hundred ninety million in gold futures contracts when the company had less than thirty million in secured gold. What the prosecutor called a classic Ponzi scheme.

  HB: And you are not charged with any crime in that case?

  EC: No, I had nothing to do with the business. I didn't know what he was doing. I had to read about it in the newspaper.

  HB: And do you know what the hearing on Monday is about?

  EC: It is a status conference, but my husband believed the district attorney's office was going to drop the criminal charges and proceed civilly.

  HB: Do you know what made him think that?

  EC: His attorney and other things that were printed about the case in the paper. The evidence to convict my husband is not there.

  HB: So going back to last night, you said that both of you returned from Lake Tahoe. Was that to LAX?

  EC: No, Van Nuys. We flew in on a private charter because we had our dogs.

  HB: Your dogs?

  EC: We have two Labs, and if we took a commercial flight, they would have to be placed in cargo. I couldn't do that to them. They don't do well in that situation. So we have an account with Elite Air, and we flew down on a charter jet.

  HB: So it was just you two and your two dogs on the plane?

  EC: Yes, plus the pilot and copilot.

  HB: Do you know what time it was when you landed?

  EC: We landed about nine thirty.

  HB: And you drove to your house on Mulholland?

  EC: We had a limo take us. Our cars were at home.

  HB: You arrived at the home at about ten fifteen?

  EC: Yes, and we knew something was wrong as soon as we opened the front door.

  HB: Why is that?

  EC: Because we could smell food. Like someone had been cooking. And we hadn't been there in almost a month. We had a caretaker checking on the place, but she only came by once a week and she certainly wouldn't be cooking in the house. We put the bags down by the door, and Mark told me to stay there with the dogs while he looked around.

  HB: Why didn't he take the dogs to look around?

  EC: They're both old dogs. They're our companions. They're not guard dogs. We always said that if we had an intruder, Mickey and Minnie would lick them to death. They're no threat to anyone.

  HB: What about an alarm? You didn't have an alarm on the house?

  EC: We did, but we never used it. It seemed to go off all the time for no reason. The slightest earthquake or tremor. We stopped using it long ago.

  HB: Okay, I'm sorry to deviate from the story. Go on. What happened when your husband started to look around the house?

  EC: Well, I heard a commotion and then voices. I could tell Mark was startled by something. I called out to him, but he didn't answer at first. I wasn't sure what to do, and then he called out. He said, "Elyse, you better come here." So I went into the kitchen, and there was a man there. He was holding a gun pointed at my husband.

  HB: Where in the kitchen was he?

  EC: He was sitting at the table, and he had made himself something to eat. He had defrosted one of the steaks Mark flies in from Montana.

  HB: Did you know this man?

  EC: I had never seen him before in my life. Neither had Mark. After being initially startled by the intruder, Mark recovered his usual bluster and yelled, "What is this?" and "Who the hell are you?" And the man said, "I'm one of your victims." He pointed the gun and told Mark to sit down in front of him. He told me to sit down, too, but at the end of the table. He said, "You're going to watch this, too."

  HB: Okay.

  EC: Detective, do you have any tissue?

  HB: Yes, I can get that. I'll be right back.

  (pause tape)

  (resume 5:06 a.m.)

  HB: Can you continue with the story now, Elyse? You said the man told both of you to sit down and that he threatened your husband with the gun.

  EC: Yes, and so we did. My husband asked him his name, and he said it was Eric Anderson. I could tell Mark didn't recognize the name. All the victims, there were more than five hundred of them. He didn't really know them because they were voices on the phone or website customers. Most of his investors he never met. He asked Eric where he was from, and he said he drove over from Phoenix. He said he had been living in our house for a week. Eating our food. He had been waiting for Mark to come home.

  HB: Did he specifically say why he had come to the house?

  EC: He said he lost everything. He had a home and a wife, and they were planning to have a family. He put everything he had into IGE. He had a friend at the office who was also an investor, and he had gotten an twenty-four percent return. So Eric put everything he had in, and he lost it all. Then he lost his house, and his wife left him. He blamed Mark, and he was outraged by how it looked like we hadn't lost anything and that we were protected because it was the business that went bankrupt. He had gone through all our things while he had been waiting. For a week. He knew what we had. The steaks, the cars in the garage, the clothes. He was wearing my husband's watch. The Breitling. He found it in a drawer in the bedroom. He wanted to know how it could be that he lost everything, and we didn't lose anything. He pointed the gun and told Mark to tell him how this could be.

  HB: Did your husband respond to this?

  EC: My husband is an arrogant man, Detective Bosch. The money made him that way. I saw it long before this. It changed him. He thought he was bulletproof. That he could say and do whatever he wanted because the money protected him. I think that is why he stole. At some point, millions were not enough for him. He wanted more. He wanted tens of millions, and he believed he could just take it and there wouldn't be any consequences. He was an honest man when I first met him. But that was a long time ago.

  (phone ring)

  HB: Sorry, let me take care of this.

  HB: Bosch?

  HB: I'm in the interview with her. I told you not to--

  HB: Okay, I understand. Thank you.

  HB: Sorry about that, Mrs. Conover. Let's continue. What did your husband say to Eric Anderson?

  EC: He tried to turn things around so that he was the one who was wrong. He told him he was a victim of his own greed. That he should have known that the IGE investment was too good to be true. He said he got what he deserved. He told Eric that if he wanted to shoot anybody he should go ahead and shoot himself. He said it was his own fault that he lost his home and his wife left him. Because he was a fool.

  HB: What did Eric do or say?

  EC: He started to cry a little bit, and he called my husband a monster. He said that he preyed on people who were just trying to make a better life for themselves. My husband laughed at him then and said that it was people like him that made the world go around. Eric called him a liar. He said they spoke once. He said that when he heard the rumors about the company folding he called an
d said he wanted to talk to somebody about his gold. He talked to my husband, and my husband went into the vault and told him his gold was safe, that we was looking right at it on the shelf and Eric had nothing to worry about. But Eric now knew that that was a lie.

  HB: And what did your husband say to that?

  EC: He laughed. He said that Eric wasn't the only one who called. He said dozens of people called, and he told them all the same thing, that he was going into the vault to check on their gold reserve. But there wasn't any gold — he had already cashed it out — and there wasn't even a vault. That was just a picture on the website. What he would do is get down and crawl under his desk, and it sort of echoed like he was in a vault. And he laughed because the people always believed him because they thought he was in a real vault. He told Eric that he was a sucker and that suckers were born every minute to feed the rich. He taunted the poor man, Detective. He told him that on Monday the charges were going to be dismissed because there was no evidence against him. He had guaranteed nothing to his customers. The small print on the futures contracts didn't even guarantee that they were secured with actual gold. He told Eric that greed had made him blind and that he deserved every bit of his misery. By then, I could see the tears on Eric's cheeks. He was defeated. He was a beaten man.

  HB: What happened next?

  EC: That was when Eric fired the gun.

  HB: Mrs. Conover, I need to know as much detail about the shooting as you can remember. The paramedics--

  EC: Elyse.

  HB: Right, Elyse. The paramedics who treated and transported your husband to the hospital said your husband appeared to have been hit by at least three bullets in the upper chest area. Do you recall exactly how many times Eric Anderson discharged the weapon and whether he was sitting when he did this?

  EC: He only fired the gun once.

  HB: Are you sure?

  EC: Yes, I'm sure. He looked at my husband and said, "My blood is on your hands." He then held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

  HB: You mean after he shot your husband?

  (no response)

  HB: Elyse? You mean after he shot your husband?

  EC: No, he didn't shoot my husband. He shot himself. And my husband laughed. He was relieved and… proud. Yes, I think he was proud that he talked this poor man into killing himself. Then he looked over at me, and he said, "Don't worry, blood washes off. With enough money, anything washes off."

  HB: So what happened next?

  EC: It was strange. When Eric shot himself, the gun popped out of his hand and skittered across the table. Right to me. So I picked it up. It was heavy. I pointed it at my husband. Then I shot him. Three times I shot him.

  HB: Mrs. Conover, I think I'm going to stop you here and inform you of your constitutional rights.

  EC: I don't think you have to.

  HB: You have the right to remain silent and to refuse to answer any further questions. Do you understand?

  EC: Yes, of course.

  HB: Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand that?

  EC: Yes. But is this really necessary?

  HB: You have the right to consult an attorney and to have an attorney present during any questioning now or in the future. Do you understand?

  EC: Yes.

  HB: Okay, knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to continue this interview and answer my questions without an attorney present?

  EC: Might as well.

  HB: I need a yes or no answer to my question, Mrs. Conover.

  EC: Yes, I will continue to answer. Please call me Elyse.

  HB: Elyse, I also need to tell you that the phone call I took a few minutes ago was from my partner at the hospital. I'm afraid your husband has succumbed to his wounds. They couldn't save him. He is dead and I am now placing you under arrest on suspicion of his murder.

  EC: I understand.

  HB: Do you want to call an attorney now?

  EC: I don't think so. I want to explain what happened. So the victims will know.

  HB: I understand. Why did you do it, Elyse? Why did you shoot your husband?

  EC: Because Eric was right. He was a monster and I saw it right then. I killed the monster and I'll wash off his blood. You watch. I have the money now. I'll wash the blood off.

  HB: Okay, Mrs. Conover. We're going to go over to central booking now. We can continue this afterward. They'll have a doctor there who will want to talk to you to determine your mental facility.

  EC: I'm fine, Detective. I feel good about myself for the first time in a long time.

  HB: Okay, Mrs. Conover.

  EC: Call me Elyse.

  HB: Let's go, Elyse.

  (5:29 a.m.)

  (end tape)

  HOMICIDE SPECIAL

  He started the drive north in darkness, to take the heat out of the journey. He wanted to get past the desert before sun up because he knew the car's air-conditioner produced little in the way of a cooling air current.

  He got to Richmond and was in the front lobby of the state DOJ lab by 9 A.M. He asked the security guard if he could speak with Sarah Lowell from the DNA unit.

  "Tell her it's Detective Bosch from the LAPD's Homicide Special Squad."

  Bosch was pointed to a plastic chair in a row of plastic chairs. It was ten minutes before Sarah Lowell came out from the lab. Bosch was the only one waiting.

  "Detective Bosch?"

  Bosch stood up. They had never met, though they had solved several murders together. Harry smiled and put out his hand. Barely past thirty, she was far younger than he had expected. But what was more surprising was that she was black. Seeing her name on DNA cold hit forms over the years, Bosch had expected the name Sarah Lowell to be attached to a white person. Now he wasn't sure why.

  "Very nice to finally meet you in person, Sarah," he said.

  "Yes, nice to meet you," she said. "Are you on vacation? Why are you — "

  "I'm working on a case."

  "Then what are you doing here? Did you drive up last night?"

  "No, actually I drove through the night. I brought a swab. I was hoping you could get the profile and run it through the computer."

  Lowell was momentarily confused.

  "You brought a swab? Detective Bosch, you know the protocol is to — "

  "First of all, call me Harry. We've worked too many cases together to be so formal. And yes, I know about the protocol, but this is… this case… tell you what, can you sit down over here for a minute?"

  He pointed to the row of plastic chairs and Lowell reluctantly nodded. They sat and Bosch moved his chair so that he could face her and hold her attention. He wasn't going to let her look off and away. He leaned forward and spoke in a low, urgent tone.

  "Yesterday morning we get the call out. A sixteen-year-old found dead in her bed in Westwood. Her name was Brittany Gaston. She was beaten and strangled. Nice neighborhood, nice house, nice family. The air-conditioner went on the blink the day before so she had slept with the window open a crack. It's been hot as hell in L.A. this summer. The bedroom was in the back of the house. The killer removed the screen, leaned it against the outside of the house and then raised the window up and climbed in."

  "Was there sexual assault?"

  "No, it looks like she woke up and fought him. He straddled her and choked her out, killing her while trying to subdue her. Crushed trachea, a lot of bruising on the face and neck. We think that once he realized he'd killed her, he fled. Her sister slept through it in her room right across the hall."

  "Then what do you have, blood?"

  "No, saliva. He bit her."

  From his pocket he took the two white medical evidence envelopes. One contained the swab from the bite wound, the other containing the swab from the victim's mouth. Lowell would use the exemplar from the mouth to isolate the killer's DNA from the wound. The envelopes were sealed with yellow and white tape from the coroner's office.

  He ha
nded the envelopes to Lowell but she didn't take them.

  "Detective, you know this isn't how we do this. You have to follow the protocol."

  "If I follow protocol it could take six months. Sarah, this isn't a killer who's going to wait six months. He — "

  "Every detective who sends us DNA has an important case. They're all murders and rapes. They're all terrible crimes but we can only do what we can do. If I take yours and put it at the front of the line, who's to say the perpetrator of the case that gets bumped back won't strike again?"

  "This girl's sister was sleeping right across the hall. Ten feet away. When I left the family last night, she still couldn't even speak to me. She was in shock because she knows it could've been her. She had her window open, too. These girls were very close and now one's dead."

  He paused and then moved in for the kill.

  "I made the family a promise, Sarah. I told them I would find this guy before he could do it again. I promised them."

  "You're supposed to work the case, Detective. Not let the case work you."

  "Well, sometimes it doesn't come out that way."

  Bosch proffered the envelopes again and this time Lowell reluctantly took them.

  "You have to understand something," she said. "I can't go back into the lab and shove everything aside. I will have to ask per — "

  "Sometimes you just need to do what you know is right, Sarah. This girl died looking at her killer, probably wondering if he was going to do the same to her sister and the rest of her family."

  Lowell held up her hand in a back-off gesture.

  "Detective, you don't need to keep hitting me with this."

  He held up his hands in surrender and leaned back and away from her. He felt the phone in his pocket start to buzz but he ignored it. He had driven seven hours to convince this woman to move his case to the front of the line. He wouldn't deviate from the effort to take a call.

  "It's just that home intrusions like this are rare and all the evidence, all the indications, are that we are dealing with what we would call an apex predator. Like a shark moving through the water. This guy's going to keep on hunting and killing until we can stop him. I'm betting that the DNA you're holding there is going to link this one to other cases. You don't go through a window into a sixteen-year-old girl's room as a threshold offense. He's done this before. Get me the match, Sarah, and I'll get him."