“Stone.”
“Huh?”
“The saying is, ‘kill two birds with one stone.’”
“Ooh. I always mess up these American idioms,” she said, her cheeks flushed red. “Agent Abby, all these questions… Did something happen to Piper? Is she hurt?”
No sense beating around the bush. Now she has me saying them. “We found Piper’s body near a hiking trail on Mount Tamalpais.”
The girl inhaled before slapping her hand across her mouth. “No. It can’t be. I just saw her. Are you sure you have the right person?”
I took out my cell phone and pulled up a picture of the victim’s face. “Is this the Piper that is staying at your hotel?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“I’m assuming her belongings are still in her room.”
Katerina still had her eyes locked on the picture when she nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll take you to it right now.” She groped around the desk, searching, until she finally opened a drawer beneath and pulled out a ring of keys.
She led me down the short hall and up two more flights of wooden stairs until we reached a large room with eight bunk beds.
“This is the women’s dormitory. Over there,” she pointed. “I assigned the lower bunk to Piper.”
Under the bed was a built-in locker. “Is her stuff in here?”
“Yes, but that is her lock. We don’t have a key.”
“What do you do when the occasional person loses their key?”
“I’ll be right back.”
While she was gone, I poked around. A blue towel had been draped over the framing of the bunk. Other than that, nothing else signified Piper’s presence.
A few seconds later, Katerina returned with bolt cutters. “I’m not sure how these work. I’ve never had to use them before.”
I took the cutters from her hand, and in one snip, the lock fell to the floor. “It’s that simple.”
Inside the locker was a large backpack. I rummaged through it and found no surprises: clothes, toothbrush, a few travel books. Nothing out of the ordinary—except I didn’t see a camera or a mobile phone. I did, however, find a laptop.
“Katerina, do you know if Piper had a camera or a cell phone?”
“Yes, she had an iPhone. It was doubling as her camera. You know, two birds.”
“Got it. I’ll be taking the laptop right now.” I wanted to get one of the Information Analysts started on it. “Another agent will stop by to collect the rest of her belongings. Until then, keep them in a safe place. Do you know when the owner will be in?”
“Oh, he almost never comes to the hostel. He talks to the staff by phone. He totally trusts us to run this place. Crazy, huh?”
I guess I can scratch the owner off my list of people to talk to. “Here’s my card in case you think of anything else that might help. Call me anytime.”
Katerina walked me down the stairs to the entrance. As I turned to walk away, she called out.
“Agent Abby, wait. I remember. Piper mentioned a place in Sausalito. I can’t remember the name but she said they made organic cotton candy.”
5
I was a block away from my favorite dim sum shop; I figured a quick bite before heading across town to the medical examiner’s office wouldn’t hurt. I huffed it uphill along Sacramento Street to Young’s Fresh Dim Sum on Stockton. I knew I had pigged out on this stuff the day before, but I have a serious addiction to dumplings. Plus, Young’s wasn’t like the sit-down restaurant I took the family to on Sundays where the servers push carts around from table to table. No, this place was a hole in the wall. It had character.
Young’s had a simple counter to order from. Behind it were three stacks of bamboo steamers four high. Each one was filled with a different dumpling. There were a few tables to sit at, but mostly the place was designed for takeaway. I didn’t feel much like taking this stuff back to the office, and there was a seat open at one of the tables, so I made my selection and sat my butt down in the open chair.
I didn’t pay much attention to the gentleman next to me. He appeared busy with his spread of cheap eats. Two bites in and I realized the suit next to me was the Asian detective from the other day. Of all the dim sum joints in town… I couldn’t believe my luck—stuck at a table next to a guy I never thought I would see again. I couldn’t get up and leave; there was no place to go. It was only a matter of time before he recognized me. Wrong.
The guy continued to eat without looking up or taking a breather. He plopped his dumplings, one by one, into the sweet dipping sauce before popping them into his mouth, chewing fast and loudly. When he finished his main course, I thought for sure he would look up and notice me. Nope. He steamrolled right into the rice cake.
I finished my entire meal without being discovered. What kind of detective is this guy? Clearly he wasn’t observant. Sheesh, lucky for the SFPD. Real keeper they got—
“I remember you,” he said without any sort of prompt coming from me.
I looked around, unsure if he had spoken to me. Eventually, he turned his head to me.
“How did you know? You never looked up once.”
He motioned with his head to the table in front of us. Sitting on top was a brand new, hot water heater used for tea. I could see both of our reflections in it.
“Oh.”
“I’m sure you were thinking I must be some crappy detective for my bad observation.”
Busted. “Why would I think that?”
He finished the last of his rice cake and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Look, I’m really a nice guy. We started off on the wrong foot. Truce.” He stuck out a clean hand and followed that up with a large toothy smile.
Realizing how silly the situation was, I gave in. “Truce. My name is Abby Kane.”
“Nice to meet you, Abby. I’m Kyle Kang. How’s the arm?” he asked as he held onto my hand and turned my arm from side to side as if he could somehow see through my jacket and make some sort of medical observation.
“The arm’s fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Do you eat here much?”
“Not as much as I would like,” I said, wiping my hands with a napkin. “You?”
“Quite often. I work out of the Central Precinct, which isn’t far. Plus, we’re responsible for Chinatown. You work in the area?”
“No, my office is near City Hall.”
He nodded as if he knew what building I worked in. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Do you work at the Asian Art Museum? Are you a docent there?”
Just when I thought we could be friends. “No, but nearby.”
He stood up quickly and adjusted his jacket. “It’s nice to properly meet you, Abby. I hope to see you around,” he said, smiling, completely oblivious to the barb he had thrown my way earlier. I hoped it wasn’t intentional.
I politely said goodbye and headed back to my car. It was time to pay my friend, Dr. Timothy Green, a visit.
6
Detective Pete Sokolov sat at his desk with butcher paper spread out. He was busy picking pieces of flesh off an entire dried mackerel.
Kang waved his hand in front of his nose. “I should have known you were the source of that smell.”
“I’m Russian. This is my people’s food. And anyhow, you eat that fermented fish sauce. It’s worse smelling than this.”
“Maybe, but I don’t eat it every day.” Kang leaned back in his chair and watched his partner and best friend since high school tear away at the fish like a lone piranha. “Hey, remember that lady from the other day? The short Asian one?”
“The one that took our guy out? Yeah. She’s a looker, that one. Why?”
“I ran into her again at the dim sum shop.”
“Maybe she’s following you to make sure you don’t need help,” Sokolov said before letting out a low laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Kang waited for the big man sitting across from him to calm down. “I’m serious here. Something’s been bothering me since that day, and I finally figured it out after bumping into her a
gain. She reminds me of someone we know.”
“You talking about that inspector from a few years ago?”
“That’s exactly who I’m talking about. What was her name?”
Sokolov scrunched his eyebrows. “Chu, Chee—”
“Choi! That’s her name. Inspector Choi.”
“What about her?”
Kang shook his head from side to side. “She just really reminds me of her. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe it’s because she’s short, female and Asian.”
Kang rolled his eyes. “It’s more than that.”
Sokolov gripped both flaps along the gut of the fish and tore it open, revealing more of the flesh. “You’ve seen this woman twice, and you think you know her.”
“Eh, it’s a hunch. Forget about it. What’s new?”
“Cavanaugh wants to know where we’re at on those two bodies that popped up last week.”
“I think we have to tell him what we’re thinking.”
“You remember what happened the last time we went that route?” Sokolov spit a bone between his two fingers before brushing his hands together.
“Yeah, and we were right.”
“I’m not so sure he remembers it that way, regardless of what ended up happening.”
“Are the two of you trying to blow my diet? You know damn well that food is my go-to in stressful situations.” Captain Richard Cavanaugh stood there behind his desk with both hands on his hips, his belly hanging over the front of his belt buckle and his face projecting a look of disbelief.
“I’m just saying that findings are pointing this direction and we think we need to start looking at one guy here,” Kang answered evenly, not wanting to worsen the situation any further.
“I’m not seeing it. Make it clear for me.”
Words sputtered out of Kang’s mouth as he sat perched on the edge of the chair, waving his arms like a conductor who was desperate to keep his symphony from straying. “This isn’t random,” Kang continued. “The killer knows what he’s doing.” He held up a hand and began a count. “Our male vic had almost all of his gold teeth removed. His other jewelry and money was left untouched. He wasn’t beaten. There were no witnesses. He died quickly from a knife across the neck. Our second vic, she had her finger removed—”
“She was robbed. According to her husband, there was a diamond ring on her finger,” Cavanaugh blurted.
“Hold on. If that’s all the person wanted, why kill her? Why leave a body that could come back to bite them in the butt? A true robber doesn’t want that headache.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to be identified.”
“Nah, it’s too easy to steal and get away with it. An older white woman like that probably thinks all brown people look alike.”
“I’m not buying it, but please, continue,” Cavanaugh said.
Kang brought his hand back up and continued to rattle off his reasons. “She had other jewelry on her, all of it left untouched. She was also killed quickly and efficiently with a knife to the neck. I’m telling you, this person knows how to kill. The mutilation of the body is part of the ritual.”
“So you’re saying this killer is randomly targeting people and mutilating their body afterward in some weird way?”
Kang nodded his head. “Yeah, I am.”
“And what about you?” Cavanaugh looked at Sokolov. “You got anything you wanna add, or are you going to sit there and transfer your thoughts to me telepathically?”
Sokolov gritted his teeth. “I agree with everything my partner says.”
“Right. Of course.”
Cavanaugh couldn’t argue with Kang’s assessment. It was textbook profiling, and the facts actually made a case for it. He sat down behind his desk, pissed at the idea of another possible serial killer in his neck of the woods.
Kang gave his partner that I-told-you-so look. Right before they entered Cavanaugh’s office, he mentioned, “This will piss him off, but not because innocent people are in danger. He doesn’t want the attention the word ‘serial’ would bring to the case.”
He was right. Having a serial killer brought the scrutiny of the higher-ups. Plus they were harder to catch.
“The last time I suggested Chinatown had a serial killer, I was right,” Kang said, breaking the silence.
“I remember,” Cavanaugh spat. “I also remember that you had help closing the case.”
“It would have been easier if you hadn’t forced me to work the cases separately for so long,” Kang fired back. He held Cavanaugh’s gaze.
Sokolov saw that the situation was at a standstill. He stood up and clasped his hands together. “Okay. We continue working the case on our assumption, and you get us some help.”
With that said, he turned and walked out of the office.
7
Traffic that afternoon wasn’t much of a problem. I used Polk Street to cut across town, and it rewarded me with traffic light jackpot. I smiled at the green signals until I reached Market Street. The medical examiner’s office was located on Bryant, only a couple stops farther.
I hadn’t seen Timothy Green since my last visit regarding a dead DEA agent. I received a couple of follow-up emails from him, and that was it. He was a nice man, however eccentric at times, and I did look forward to seeing him again. On my way over, I called his office to let them know I would be there shortly, hoping to avoid a long stay in their dull waiting room.
When I entered the office, Green was waiting for me with a smile. “Hello, Agent. I’m happy to see you again,” he said, a hair above a whisper. He waited until I got closer before extending his hand.
“Good to see you, too, Doctor.” His hand was soft but cold.
He looked like I remembered. Shaggy brown hair, Ben Franklin specs, earring in the left ear, and a height that I was fond of: about even with mine. His lab coat still looked two sizes too big—his hand disappeared like a turtle’s head when he lowered his arm.
“So you’re here about the hiker?”
“I am.”
We stood there a bit longer—him smiling, me wondering. “Can I see the body?” I finally asked. Quirky doesn’t even begin to describe this guy.
“Yes. Follow me, please.”
Green led me down the same corridor I remembered from my last visit. As our footsteps echoed in the sterile hallway, he was more interested in hearing about my morning than in talking about the body.
“My day’s been okay so far,” I said pleasantly. “I have no complaints.”
“Well, I hope it stays that way.” He stopped and pushed open a door, allowing me to enter first. Before I could even react to the smell, he handed me a bottle of lemon oil.
“I remembered,” he said, grinning at me like a golden retriever that had just brought the ball back.
“Thanks.” I smiled and dabbed a bit under my nose. He pointed to the first autopsy table, sparing me the walk by the other five tables, each with a corpse.
“Busy day, huh?”
He looked down the row of bodies. “Yes, it’s that time of the year.”
“What time of the year?”
“Dying time.” He smiled at me. “Medical examiner joke,” he said as he chuckled to himself.
I chuckled. “What can you tell me about the girl?”
He pulled back the green sheet, revealing a nude woman with a large gash in her chest. “I’ve only just begun my investigation, so forgive me if I can’t yet answer every one of your questions. Now, as you can see, the victim received direct, sharp force trauma to the chest area by a small axe.” He looked up at me over his glasses. “You’ve seen the picture of the weapon?”
“I have.”
He pointed at the gaping wound in Piper’s chest. “The opening is clean, and I don’t mean hygienically. Well, it is clean, because I cleaned it but that’s not what I mean. What I’m trying to say is the victim received one blow. You see, repeated blows don’t always follow the same course of trajectory; some are off to the left while others ar
e a little off to the right. That can leave a jagged edge around the wound.” He took a large forceps and ran it along the edge of the opening. “You see how straight that is?”
“Yeah. So the attacker killed her with one chop?”
“Well, yes. But the amount of damage caused by this one-time blow needed to be enough to kill the victim quickly. Now, it is possible to survive a blow to the chest with an axe. And that reason is because most people don’t understand how hard it is to drive an axe this far into the body.” He waved his index finger at me. “Don’t believe what you see in the movies.”
Green picked up a chest spreader, which basically looked like a pair of large, stainless steel, salad tongs, and stuck it into the wound, prying it open.
“Come closer. See how deep it is?”
I leaned over for a better look, my face now inches from Green’s. When I didn’t hear more observational notes coming from the doctor, I turned my attention to him and found him looking directly into my eyes.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he started, “but you have a most unique green hue to your eyes.”
Green had caught me off guard, even more so since we were clearly deep into each other’s personal space. I expected an observation about the body, not my eye color. “And the victim? What do you think about her?”
Green smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yes, the entry point. The depth of the trauma is what I find interesting. Here, the axe not only penetrated the sternum, which is no small feat, but it then severed the superior vena cava and the inferior vena cava, the two large veins that move blood into the heart. It continued right through the lower two ventricles of the heart and even cut into the primary bronchus of the right lung. With this sort of damage, the victim died within seconds.”
I leaned back, having seen enough. “So what does that mean? That our killer is a guy? A big strong one?”
“No, not necessarily,” he said, removing the tongs and allowing the gap to close. “When I said it’s possible to survive an axe wound to the chest, I said that because the sternum, or breastbone, normally would have served its purpose and prevented the blade from entering the chest very far. Unlike a pointy object, an axe, even though the blade is quite thin, has a larger surface mass. The larger the object, the more force needed to penetrate.”
[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter Page 3