by Kirk Russell
‘But I convinced myself I had the right. I was helping him and he was getting sicker and realizing he was going to have to sell the house and move somewhere he could get twenty-four-hour care. That’s what he worried about and I worried he would die before we got a chance to collaborate on a book. The drugs helped him sleep when he started to get anxious about dying. That was always at night and the caregiver and I got in the habit of slipping him Valium. We learned how to drug him without him knowing and it worked. It calmed him right down and pretty soon it was like slipping the pill your dog needs into its food.
‘The caregiver had a boyfriend and I gave her a way to leave early and feel OK about not coming back. When she was gone I went through everything looking for his secrets. Those diaries you talk about, I’ve read them all. There’s no confession anywhere in them but there were plenty of entries in there about me and I had to cut some of those out.’
Lindsley stopped and looked around for a long minute before saying, ‘Over here; we go this way and around the side of that bigger tree. I think I lost one or two of his notebooks. They’re not really diaries. He wrote about sex with Ann and that was good reading. I read what he wrote about that almost every night for around six months. I know I’m talking a lot. It’s sort of a confession, isn’t it? Only not the one you want. Man, I wonder if I can find this spot again.’
He turned and looked at trees behind him and then did a full circle, his shoes crunching a dry strip of eucalyptus bark. ‘I’ve got to tell you, I hate to give this spot up. I was saving this for a book about Lash. I figured its discovery just as my book came out would make a great promotion.’
Raveneau pointed out a slash, small but distinct, on a large eucalyptus.
‘There you go, Inspector, what an eye you’ve got. We’re pirates looking for the buried treasure. It’s all a game, isn’t it, getting people to talk and finding all the clues you need to solve the case. Are you excited right now? I would be. Can you find the next tree?’ Lindsley waited a moment then pointed at a tree and then at two more with small slashes in the bark as though in each someone had started to carve their name. ‘He said string diagonal lines and dig where they intersect.’ He turned to Raveneau. ‘I’m not kidding. Can you believe that?’
‘How deep?’
‘Deep. As deep as he is tall.’
‘Did Lash bury what’s here?’
‘He never said it was him. He showed me this and said I could do what I wanted with it.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Ask him.’
Raveneau took photos before they walked down. He made phone calls out of earshot of Lindsley and they set up a perimeter and dug in the late afternoon. It was ten at night when they found the wrapped parcel, a soft leather case with a bloodstained eighteen-inch serrated knife buried a little over five feet down and wrapped in several layers of plastic to protect it from water, though water got in. With it was a small surgical saw. There was dried blood. There would be DNA, and Raveneau didn’t think he’d have any problem getting that testing moved to the top of the list.
FORTY-SIX
The next morning Raveneau sat down alongside Lash’s bed. Lash shook his head. He wouldn’t answer any questions and the nurse watching him got aggressive about leaving him alone. Raveneau left soon after. Later in the morning he got a call from an attorney representing Lash.
‘Professor Lash would like to meet with you this afternoon at five o’clock.
‘Is he feeling well enough to talk?’
‘Take what you can get, Inspector. If you don’t want the meeting we’ll cancel it. He’s better but he’s still weak. You won’t be able to question him for long and he asked me to ask you what this is about. He believes he has told you everything he knows.’
‘Tell him I’m going to bring some things I want him to take a look at.’
‘What things?’
‘Are you going to be there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’ll see them. What kind of lawyer are you?’
‘I handle his finances and I’m surprised he called me about this. He’s also asked that you come alone. Are you aware that he’s moved to a new facility?’
‘When did he do that?’
‘A couple of days ago and I’ll give you the address, but you have to come alone. Professor Lash was very specific about your partner not being there.’
Lash’s new facility was near the ocean, close enough for management to promise clean air off the water. Two security guards were intense and careful but friendly. Lash’s lawyer, Gordon Meech, frowned at la Rosa’s presence and, knowing that Meech was unfamiliar with criminal investigations, Raveneau said, ‘I tried, but it’s the rule. There have to be two of us when a confession is possible.’
‘Who said anything about a confession? He’s not confessing to anything.’
‘I’m going to give him a chance to.’
‘I don’t think you understand how sick he is and your partner should wait out here. If something does happen we can bring her in, or not, I really don’t know. But he was very specific and I don’t think he’ll even talk to you if she’s in the room.’
‘You’re making it sound like it’s something personal. He doesn’t even know her.’
Meech shrugged. That wasn’t his problem. He was just following instructions.
‘How long have you worked for him?’
‘Five years but I was a fan of his books long before that. I wrote him about a book. That’s how we met.’
Raveneau left it there and they went in to see Lash, la Rosa hanging back in the lobby on the first floor. The building was like a small boutique hotel with none of the smells of assisted living and with the security detail of an embassy. Lash’s room had a leather sofa, armchair, and a view of a garden below and ocean in the distance. Lash didn’t look good. His world was closing in and Raveneau realized he wasn’t going to make it back to where he had been before he was poisoned.
A crisply dressed young woman in clothes that suggested nursing, but didn’t exactly define it, coaxed Lash with a fruit drink that she described as having all the things that would make him well. He sucked awkwardly through a straw and exhaled a few words at her and she leaned over. She nodded and straightened and rolled his wheelchair over next to where Raveneau sat in the black leather armchair. Meech, the lawyer, took the couch and let the young woman know that she should leave now.
Lash’s face was quite pale. A large open canker sore was crusted and oozing on the right corner of his lips. His eyes were bloodshot and he must have bled through the nose earlier today. He looked anemic but his eyes were thoughtful, evaluating, not glistening, not drugged.
Lash couldn’t smile easily but the sardonic professor who worked to make his reputation greater than himself was still there, studying the homicide inspector insect, the city employee, a tool for social order, a policeman, for God’s sakes, a cop, and a glorified one at that. Raveneau had a pretty good idea of what Lash thought of him and his role, but he knew Lash was curious about him. He was glad Raveneau didn’t forget Ann Coryell and he liked the attention now. They both knew that. Lash liked the intellectual challenge and even within his wreck of a body and propped in a chair, he wanted it to continue.
‘I’d like to get my partner in here. She’s waiting on the first floor. She’ll be in the room only as a witness.’
Lash shook his head.
‘Then I’ve got to go let her know she can leave. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
Raveneau found la Rosa at the front desk. ‘He doesn’t want you in the room, but why don’t you wait at least half an hour. Text me if you leave.’
‘He’s got something to say?’
‘He’s acting like it.’
‘Maybe he wants you to collaborate on a book.’
When Raveneau came back into the room Meech offered up a little preamble about protecting Professor Lash’s legacy.
‘His legacy?’
‘Yes
.’
What legacy was that? Was it a successful career as a university professor and a writer whose pop history books sold in the hundreds of thousands a year? Why would they remember Lash? Stop a twenty-one year old and ask them who James Michener was. There was no legacy.
Raveneau stood and walked over to the window as Meech talked. The ocean was dark blue at horizon, the dusk calm, the winds quieting and the fires nearly a hundred percent contained. This was a peaceful room. Raveneau looked out at the water long enough to make Meech uncomfortable and then walked around behind Lash knowing that Lash couldn’t turn to watch him talk with the lawyer.
‘His legacy is nothing any of us control and I don’t think it’s something we should spend time on.’
‘Inspector, I think you understand what I’m saying.’
‘You know what, I really don’t, and I hope this isn’t the start of some sort of negotiation. Either Albert can help us or he can’t, and I appreciate that he is sick and this is an effort for him. But I’m sure he has wondered all these years, the same as I have, whether we would ever find her killer.’
‘He does want to talk.’
‘Then let us talk.’
Before returning to his chair Raveneau opened photos on his phone and brought his phone to the lawyer, saying, ‘This will give you some idea of the places we’re talking about. These were taken in a bomb shelter that was underneath a garden shed on the property. The new owners say it wasn’t disclosed when the house was sold and the home inspection service they hired couldn’t access it during escrow due to dangerous pesticides stored in the shed. Those weren’t removed until just before Albert moved out. They’re talking about suing your client.’
Raveneau gambled on Meech’s natural curiosity. He left Meech scrolling photos and Lash in his armchair facing the windows couldn’t see his lawyer bent over, lips pressed together as he stared at the skulls leaned against a dank concrete wall and hollowed out by klieg lights and the photos of the skeletons on the floor and the photos he had uploaded taken where Coryell’s remains were found.
Meanwhile, Raveneau leaned forward. He opened a brown paper evidence bag and removed a clear plastic bag with the surgical saw and a second bag with the knife. He pressed the plastic against the tools and that’s what they were. He turned them over so Lash could see them in every way.
‘Do you recognize either?’
Of course not, and Lash shook his head.
‘We’ll have DNA results on both within days. Brandon Lindsley met me in the Presidio graveyard and showed me where they were buried. He said you showed him the slashes you made on the trees to mark the location and that you wouldn’t tell him what was buried. You were coy, his word, about what was hidden there, challenging him in some way or implicating him if he didn’t act. Again, those are his words.’
‘Sho–o–wed you?’
‘Yes.’
Meech made a point now of bringing Raveneau’s phone back. He did it in a way that interrupted what Raveneau was starting and yet couldn’t hide his shock at what he’d just been looking at. He was a numbers guy thrust into an awkward role, probably did tax shelters and living wills and kept the relatives at bay.
Lash started to talk again but the words didn’t form, only gurgled sounds. That upset him and it took awhile for him to calm down, and Meech brought over a table and laptop, explaining that Professor Lash would use a mouse to type and do that with his forehead. Raveneau waited and when it was all set up they started again. But now Lash’s answers would come very slowly.
‘Lindsley took me to a place he said you showed him.’
Lash typed: ‘lying.’
‘How did he know to go there?’
‘don’t know.’
‘What’s buried?’
Lash just shook his head to that question.
‘I want to be very sure I understand you. You’re saying you never showed Brandon Lindsley this location?’
‘yes.’ He started typing again. ‘trying to save himself.’
‘So maybe he buried these and knows we’re not going to get his DNA from them and thinks we’ll get yours. Does he believe you’ve handled this knife and saw?’
Lash shook his head. He denied any knowledge of the knife or saw, or of ever being in the Presidio graveyard with Lindsley or anyone else. He typed: ‘hate graves.’ He slurred words Raveneau couldn’t make out. Raveneau doubted the wire he was wearing even with the microphone set as high as it was would pick up the broken whispers.
Meech got into the conversation as Lash tired. He explained that Lash agreed to this meeting to warn of an impending attack on the city of San Francisco. The fires were the signal it was coming.
‘An impending attack?’
‘Yes.’
‘That Albert has information about?’
It took Raveneau a moment to register that Lash wanted to cast himself as a hero warning the citizenry ahead of the attack and that he was referring to conversations at his house years ago that included Siles and were hypothetical events conjured over drinks but too similar to what was happening now not to have come from then. When he saw Siles on TV it all came back to him and the great man wanted to make a deal now where he would get credit.
‘Watching TV you’ve recognized Siles as Lindsley’s friend.’
Lash nodded.
‘Was he another student you were mentoring?’
Another nod.
‘Lindsley says he didn’t know Siles except in passing and that he was a visiting student studying under you, and that you knew him well but he didn’t. Is that true?’
‘He did reee–searrch for meee.’
‘Did Lindsley ever work with him?’
Lash shook his head.
‘But he knew him. It was more than just in passing?’
‘Yesss. Frienndsss.’
Raveneau worked the Lindsley/Siles connection for awhile and didn’t learn much more. He knew the meeting hadn’t gone as Lash expected either. He was disappointed and disturbed. He wanted to talk about the attempt on his life and communicated that he didn’t know John Royer and Royer posed as a former student to get to him and as they were alone Royer must have tampered with his medicine. He and Royer hadn’t talked about anything. Royer’s pretense of being a former student had led to an awkward moment.
Lash typed: ‘remember all my students.’
Raveneau got it now. Lash believed Royer was sent to kill him because Lash would recognize their faces and the ideas bandied about years ago. He remembered drunken debates about how to provoke social change on a large scale. Fires were talked about as economical and viable. Fires were just the start.
‘You’re still alive, so you’re still in danger.’
He typed: ‘yes.’
‘OK, now we’re somewhere.’ And Raveneau leaned back, thinking about Lindsley showing him where to dig, Lindsley trying to extricate himself and Lash talking now again. Raveneau leaned over. Lash tried several times to say the word philosophical. He couldn’t do it and Raveneau said it for him, and when he struggled with the next word, Raveneau filled that one in too.
‘Philosophical discussions.’
He typed. ‘Yes.’
‘You, Lindsley, and Siles.’
‘yes.’
‘Ike Latkos wasn’t there?’
‘no.’
Maybe it was a fantasy they all shared and maybe they really got into the details, the mechanics of how to make it work. Lash communicated now that targeting the San Francisco water supply was possible, and Meech explained that Professor Lash wanted police protection. He wanted acknowledgement. Then as Lash faltered and the conversation ended he offered another proposal. Raveneau turned that one back to Lash as a question.
‘You have proof that Brandon Lindsley murdered Ann Coryell and if you’re granted complete immunity you’ll testify against him?’
Lash gave the slightest nod and then closed his eyes.
‘I’ll get back to you soon.’ He turned to the lawyer,
Meech. ‘Let’s you and I go talk.’
FORTY-SEVEN
Outside Lash’s room Raveneau turned and said, ‘We can sit in my car or we can stand in the street, but I don’t want to talk in the building. There’s too much video and sound equipment in here.’
They sat in Raveneau’s car, and Meech, who was tall, slowly stretched his legs out and tried to get comfortable with a situation he had no experience with and was unprepared for. He was doing his best but when he tried to take the offensive Raveneau cut him off.
‘Get him to reveal what he knows and do it now. I know you were thrown into this, but it couldn’t be more serious. He’s alluding to knowing things the FBI needs to know and if the knife or surgical saw comes back with his DNA or even her blood type we may charge him with Ann Coryell’s murder. He can’t ignore this. He can’t talk his way around it or out of it.’
‘He could die from the stress.’
He’s dying anyway, Raveneau thought and leaned back against the door so he could see Meech better. He waited a beat before speaking again. ‘The FBI is on their way here. They’ll ask the same questions but with more urgency. They’ll want to know what he can tell them about the evolution of this plot and you’ll probably ask for the same conditions. Why does he need immunity? If he didn’t kill Ann Coryell or take part in a plot to kill indiscriminately what’s the risk?’
Meech struggled with his role. He was confused and didn’t understand why his client wasn’t more forthcoming. But he also doggedly tried to make his client’s case. ‘If my client is going to ask for something he has to do it now before he gets encumbered in the process. He’s too weak to defend himself and his remaining time shouldn’t go to it. I don’t have any question about cooperating with the FBI and I’m sure Albert wants to help. He’s not asking for any favors or to escape justice. He’s asking to be afforded the dignity to die in peace. You know this far better than I do, but I don’t believe investigators will release him from the possibility of criminal charges until they’re confident they’ve gotten everything they can from him.’