by Elin Barnes
“What makes you ask that?” Sorensen leaned forward. The leather chair made a farting noise.
“Detective, I’m a lawyer. You wouldn’t be here if he’d died of natural causes or a simple car accident.”
Darcy smirked. “A van was set on fire this morning in Alviso. He was in it. The van didn’t belong to him, nor had he rented it. We’re trying to figure out why he may have been in it.”
Leon Brantley looked down to his desk for a long minute.
“What was his job exactly?” Sorensen asked, wanting to move the questioning forward.
“He was leading the ad coelum team.”
Darcy offered him a blank stare.
“All our teams have names that are somewhat related to what they are doing but are a bit obscure. Sort of like an inside joke that only we understand.”
Sorensen joined Darcy on the blank stare.
“Ad coelum is short for Cuius est solum,eius est usque ad coelum et ad inferos. It’s typically a term used for property law, meaning that whoever owns the soil, he owns it up to heaven and down to hell.”
More blank stares. Brantley looked smug, as if happy that their inside joke really was so clever that it went over the detectives’ heads.
“English, please,” Sorensen said.
“Malik was a senior reviewer.”
“Mr. Brantley, in layman’s terms can you tell us what Malik was working on?” Sorensen asked, now making a point of twisting the sweating can on top of the wooden desk.
“Suresh Malik led a team of engineers and lawyers working on a major lawsuit we are about to file. The team name is an inside joke, because when a company owns a patent they think they own it from heaven to hell, but in reality you only own it, if you can prove it’s really yours.”
“This is a patent troll law firm?” Sorensen asked.
“We don’t really appreciate that term . . .”
Darcy looked at Sorensen, hoping for an explanation. There were so many things he still didn’t get about Silicon Valley.
“These guys find smart start-ups and sue them for patent infringement in hopes that they will fold or go bankrupt. Then they acquire the patents for next to nothing and sue bigger firms for millions. They are leeches and, surprisingly enough, legal.”
Darcy saw Brantley’s face twist, so he moved on. “What was the lawsuit about?”
“Patent infringement.”
“Yeah, we get that,” Sorensen said. “What can you tell us about the case?”
“Not much without a subpoena unfortunately.”
“Can you tell us who you were suing?”
Sorensen finished his drink.
“I can’t tell you that either until we file.”
“What does a senior reviewer do?” Darcy asked.
“They look at the patents at play, then validate if the case is well founded.”
“Have you received any threats?” Darcy added.
“What do you think, Detective?”
“Do you have them?”
Brantley picked up the phone and made the request to have them brought over.
“Has anybody acted on the threats as far as you know?”
“A few people got their cars keyed. Our lead counsel was egged in the street a couple months ago, but nothing more serious than that.”
The door opened, and both detectives looked back. Carlo and two other people brought in six boxes full of threats.
Chapter 33
The first thing they did when they got back to the station was to separate the threats that were directly made to Malik from those made to others. They were still going through them when the captain came out of her office.
“Please tell me this is not a total waste of time,” she begged.
Both detectives remained silent.
“Nice.” She shook her head and walked to the kitchen. When she came back, she was nibbling on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“That looks good,” Sorensen said.
“It is. My six-year-old daughter made it this morning.”
“She’ll be a famous chef one day,” Sorensen said, stretching his back.
“You really have nothing?” Virago asked.
“We need to interview one more Marine, who didn’t come with the others,” Sorensen said.
Darcy scratched his temple. “I also think that Bishop’s not saying all he knows. He got pretty defensive early on, even invoked his right to a lawyer. I’ll check his alibi tomorrow morning.” He stopped the rubbing when he noticed his colleagues were looking at him. “Oh, and his feet are dramatically different in size. Maybe CSU can check for this in the bank video.”
Sorensen and Virago looked at each other.
“How different?” Virago asked.
“Two sizes.”
“How did you figure that out?” Sorensen threw all his empty cans in the recycle bin.
“I asked him to show me the tread of his boots. I found a couple interesting prints at the VTA and the coffee shop crime scenes, so I wanted to check if his were a match to either.”
Sorensen shrugged. “Those cases are now closed.”
“If we can put him at the scene of the bank, we would have the connection between the VTA prank and the bank,” Darcy said. “That would explain how the MO was identical.”
Sorensen leaned back against his chair, pondering this.
“Did he leak the MO or lead the bank group through it?” Virago asked, and sat on the edge of the desk.
Darcy got up and pinned Bishop’s DMV photo on the whiteboard. “I don’t think this guy’s smart enough to lead anybody.”
Virago picked the phone up and called Rachel. She answered after the third ring.
“Rachel, I’m with Sorensen and Lynch. Do you have any prelim info on the video footage or photos from the bank?”
“Have you found anything specific about the two different-size feet?” Darcy added.
“No. Unfortunately none of the angles gave sufficient data to be able to calculate that, sorry.” She shuffled through some papers. “I meant to call you earlier to let you know, but I got sidetracked.”
“Shit.” Darcy had hoped to have something on Bishop.
“Thanks, Rachel.” Virago hung up. “How sure are you this guy’s involved?” she asked Darcy.
“My gut tells me he has something to do with all of this. But I have nothing to prove it.”
“He doesn’t know that, though,” Sorensen offered.
Virago looked at Darcy.
“If he calls my bluff, we’re screwed.”
“Is there any other evidence you’re waiting for to nail this guy?”
“If they were as careful at the bank as they were at the VTA, I doubt we’ll find anything.”
“So you have nothing to lose, then.” Virago finished the last bite of her sandwich and, licking peanut butter from her finger, she walked back to her office. Before closing her door, she said, “Oh, and Lynch, when you get done bluffing, don’t forget to set up a time to meet with Internal Affairs to go over the shooting.”
Chapter 34
Darcy looked at the remaining box of threats. He put the lid on it and cajoled Sorensen into finishing in the morning by offering the much more attractive option of going to visit Bishop.
Sorensen drove, and Darcy called Saffron.
“Hey, it’s me. Long day at the office. Not sure when I’ll be done, but if you don’t mind, can you drop by my place and let Shelby out?” He kept his voice low and his body turned to the side window as he finished the voice mail. “It would be nice if you stayed over tonight.”
“You’re so cute,” Sorensen mocked him.
Darcy regretted not having texted instead.
“At least I let her know.”
“Oh, trust me, my family doesn’t want to know. The less they hear from me, the happier they are.” He laughed first, but then a shadow covered his face. “Let’s make a stop at the hospital,” he said.
The rest of the ride was quiet. D
arcy thought of several new apologies to give about putting Jon in danger but opted to keep silent instead.
In the hospital they ran into several people they knew. They shook hands with each but moved on quickly. They were there to check on Jon, not socialize.
When they got to Jon’s room, the door opened, and Jonathan, his dad, came out.
“Detectives, thank you for coming,” he said, but his voice was dry. He crossed his arms rather than offering a handshake.
“How’s he doing?” Darcy asked.
The intensity of Jonathan’s eyes when he looked at him burned his soul. Darcy knew this man wanted to hit him. And he knew he deserved his ire.
The image of Kozlov laughing and his CI, Gigi, bleeding on the floor of the empty warehouse back in Seattle flashed through Darcy’s mind. She was dead because of him. Jon may die because of him. He rubbed his left temple, trying to soothe his sense of guilt.
Jonathan looked at Sorensen as he replied, “He’s sleeping.” He briefly looked at Darcy again, then said, “Excuse me, I’m going to get some coffee for my wife.”
He walked away from them, his steps heavy on the floor, and shoved his hands in his pockets before he turned the corner. Darcy looked at Sorensen, knowing that he would get more hatred from his partner, but instead Sorensen patted his shoulder once and nodded, then opened the door. Darcy went through, shaken by the unexpected sympathy his partner had just shown him.
A few minutes later they got back into the car and headed for Bishop’s home. Darcy still felt cold from the hate that emanated from Jon’s father.
Bishop’s apartment complex was on North First Street. The VTA line ran by it, and there was no place to park. Sorensen circled the block and found a spot on a side street.
“We’re looking for 207,” Darcy said.
The concrete stairs were rough against their shoes. The building was a dirty gray and had zero personality. Somebody living in Unit 204 had tried to spice up the place by putting a colorful mat that said “Wipe Your Paws” in front of their door and hanging a garland from it, but it was brown and looked dead, making the place even more somber.
Darcy knocked on the door of 207. They could hear music through the thin walls.
“Coming,” a female voice said. “Oh. I was expecting a friend,” she said, retreating from the door as soon as she’d opened it.
“Detectives Lynch and Sorensen. We would like to speak to Rory Bishop,” Darcy said, flashing his badge.
“He’s not here.”
Darcy studied her. She wasn’t cold or despondent, but also didn’t seem too surprised that two detectives would want to talk to him. She didn’t ask why.
“Where can we find him?” Sorensen asked, probably realizing she wasn’t going to volunteer the information either.
“He’s at Trials. A few blocks down on First.” She pointed south.
“I know the bar,” Sorensen told Darcy.
They thanked her and went back to the car.
“You think she’ll call him?” Darcy asked.
“I doubt it. She didn’t look that shocked to see us there.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too,” Darcy said.
Sorensen parked on Julian, and they walked around the corner. Bishop was sitting outside with another man. Sorensen pulled his phone and checked something.
“Bishop’s with Ethan Mitchell, the Marine who didn’t care to show up earlier to talk to us.”
“Are you sure?”
Sorensen showed the photo Sergeant Major Williams had sent him earlier. “Unless he has a twin, yes, I’m sure.”
Chapter 35
Blake sat at the bar of the Z Lounge, from where he could have a view of the entrance. He was nursing a vodka martini. He watched some people come in, a few businessmen followed by a couple of women. He pondered how many of them would get lucky that night.
The door opened again, and a woman walked in sucking the air out of the place. Blake’s mouth watered as he saw every man in the room look her way. She swung her hips when she walked in a more exaggerated way than she needed to. Her soft blond curls bounced as she took each step, and her silk dress flowed behind her.
“Hello, Blake, I’m Belle.” She extended her hand. Her wide smile showed perfectly shaped pink lips. A little gap separated her front teeth, just enough to make her different and perhaps even sexier.
His chest puffed. All eyes were on him.
She ordered a glass of 2005 J. Schram. She took the flute, smelled the bubbly and wrinkled her nose when the bubbles prickled it.
“To an unforgettable evening.” Blake raised his glass for a toast. “Tell me about this event.”
She took another sip of her sparkling wine, as if she needed time to think. “It won’t be too big. Probably ten or twelve people at most. Some of them might be couples, but there will be a few who bring guests, like you.”
He nodded. Her voice was soft. She looked at him while she spoke. He could feel himself beginning to get aroused. It is going to be an unforgettable night indeed, he thought.
“You’ve really never been to one of these parties?” she asked before she went on.
“No. Besides, I like to hear you talk.” Her smile was contagious.
Blake realized she made him feel like the most desirable man on the planet. He was dumbfounded. He’d been with beautiful women before, and he had expected somebody gorgeous, since he was paying for it, but there was something special about this girl. At that moment he decided he would switch his regular for Belle. He shifted in his seat and waited for her to continue.
She placed a hand softly on his thigh—not too close to his crotch to be obvious, but not too far away to make the gesture simply friendly.
“Once we get in, we’ll socialize a little first. Then the men and the women will separate and go into different rooms. We will get dolled up, and you will get comfortable. Then we’ll all meet again, and the fun will begin.”
She said the last part leaning toward him, almost whispering in his ear. He felt his entire body flush.
Blake checked his watch and said, “Let’s go then. No reason to wait any longer.”
He paid and took her hand to help her off the stool.
The drive from the Z Lounge to the mansion in Los Altos did not take very long. Belle kept the conversation light, and he felt even more drawn to her.
When they got to their destination, he pressed the intercom and said, “Emerald.”
The gates swung open without disturbing the quiet night.
Chapter 36
Darcy stood beside Sorensen, who towered over the tiny table where Bishop and Mitchell were sitting. A group of young men were drinking beers next to them.
“We would like to speak with you for a few minutes,” Sorensen said to Bishop, even though it had been Darcy who’d interviewed him back at the station.
Bishop locked eyes with Mitchell, who said, “Take a seat, Detective,” and pointed to one of the empty chairs next to him.
Darcy and Sorensen exchanged a glance that said, Now we know who calls the shots.
“You’re Ethan Mitchell, right?” Sorensen asked. Without waiting for confirmation, he added, “We need to talk to you too. Why didn’t you come to the station with the other Marines?”
“I was busy.”
“That, or you have something to hide.”
Darcy cringed. Always alienating people, he thought.
Ethan didn’t respond. He finished his nonalcoholic beer and stared back at Sorensen.
“Let’s take a walk,” Darcy said to Bishop, hoping to get something out of him before Sorensen pissed both off completely.
At first Bishop didn’t move. He was being more defiant than arrogant. Like a little kid who doesn’t want to eat the broccoli, even if that means he doesn’t get to play after dinner.
Sorensen sat on the opposite chair to where Mitchell had pointed.
“Come on.” Darcy moved a step backward, giving Bishop space to leave the table. “We’ll just go
around the block. By the time we’re back, my partner and I will leave.”
Bishop chugged the rest of his bottled water and stood. Darcy saw Mitchell lick his lower lip, and then he watched as Bishop did the same. He figured they’d just exchanged some kind of message.
They headed south and took a right on Divine Street, walking by a few Harleys parked on the corner. One hog was red, with the logo painted in shiny gold. The others were black. Darcy didn’t speak until they were halfway down the block. He wanted to make Bishop wonder for a bit. Finally, he said, “We’re getting the photos and the video from the bank kidnapping analyzed as we speak.”
Bishop didn’t skip a beat.
“You know I’m going to find you there. So help me now so I can help you.”
Bishop scoffed and turned. “I’m going back now. You’re wasting my time.”
“Bishop, wait,” Darcy said as the Marine walked away from him. “You’re right. I can’t put you on the scene of the bank. But let me tell you what I know.”
He walked to where Bishop had stopped, then they headed toward Market Street and turned south. When he didn’t complain, Darcy knew he was at least curious about what he had to say.
“You were at the VTA prank. The MO is exactly the same as the bank kidnapping. There weren’t enough details released to the press for the bank kidnappers to have been able to match the job exactly. So somebody from the VTA prank took Suresh Malik.” Darcy watched Bishop, but the Marine didn’t even flinch at the mention of the victim’s name.
“There were a lot of guys involved in the pranks. Why don’t you go after them and stop bothering me?”
Bishop was not as gullible as Darcy had hoped. “How did you get roughed up?”
“I fell down the stairs.”
“I thought you got it playing football.” Darcy paused. “I think Mitchell hit you.”
For the first time, Bishop twitched. It was subtle, but Darcy saw it.
“And I think you got into a fight because of what happened to Malik.”
Bishop started walking faster.
Darcy was onto something. He couldn’t afford to lose him now.