by Kirk Russell
Raveneau had the book in his hand when he stepped outside. He heard movement but before he could turn, ‘Freeze. If you move at all, I’ll shoot you.’
THIRTY-THREE
‘ I’m a San Francisco homicide inspector.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘My inspector’s star is in my back pocket. I left a card at the front of the main house. Did you find it?’
‘Cops don’t trespass and break into houses.’
‘I didn’t break in and I’m investigating a cold case, the murder of an Alan Krueger in San Francisco in 1989. He knew Jim Frank. I’m looking for Frank or people who knew him.’
‘Don’t say he killed somebody.’
That sounded very much like a warning and Raveneau didn’t show any reaction.
‘I don’t know what his role was.’
‘Keep holding the book. Hold it with both hands and above your head, we’re going to walk. My uncle will call the police and you can explain to them.’
‘That’s fine, but I knocked on the front door of the ranch house when I got here. I checked the barn. I checked the lanai and then I drove around looking for somebody to ask. I’ve been working from a photo. This is the house in the photo and when I looked through the windows I realized no one had lived here in a long time. The sliding door was loose so I thought I’d take a walk through and then drive back to the ranch house.’
Raveneau lowered the book. He waited a moment to see if the man was going to order him to raise his arm again. When that didn’t happen he held the book out. ‘There’s an acknowledgement in here of Captain Jim Frank by the author.’
‘Turn so your back is facing me, hold the book with your arm straight out, and then put your other hand on the pocket with your badge.’
‘You’re watching too many movies. Look, I’m unarmed. I’m working a cold case like I said.’
Raveneau didn’t do what the young man ordered, but he did turn so he could see him reach for his homicide star. As he pulled his star, the man pulled the trigger twice and Raveneau stumbled backwards. He fell into the building and scrambled to his feet. One of the bullets had passed close enough for him to hear the buzz and he was both furious and unsure what would happen next. He quickly crossed the house and went out another sliding door. Behind him, he heard the man ordering him to stop.
But Raveneau didn’t stop. He went straight off the steep slope down through the grass toward the trees. He wasn’t trying to make it to the car but thought he could make it to one of the bigger trees before the man located him. When he reached the trees he wasn’t sure. He lay flat on his belly behind one of the bigger trees. He found his cell.
And then quietly and suddenly the kid was there. He’d made the assumption Raveneau would run to his car and now he was looking around. They weren’t far apart.
‘I’m going to count to ten and if you’re not out here I’m going to start hunting for you and I’m going to assume you aren’t who you said you were.’
Raveneau saw him moving around the car looking inside.
‘One, two,’ and as he turned Raveneau moved in closer, kneeling near a tree and picking up a couple pieces of the lava rock. He heard another vehicle engine and the young man probably heard it as well.
‘Three, four, five, six.’
Raveneau threw the rock behind the man and beyond the car. He watched him react, watched him adjust and hold the barrel steady. Looked like he knew how to handle a gun. Now he wheeled and turned to face Raveneau.
‘You don’t want to shoot me. It’s not as much fun as you might think it is.’ He held out his phone and used the one name he’d been given before he flew here. ‘I just sent a text to an FBI agent named Mike Kawena. He knows I’m here. He’s calling the local police so they’ll probably show up soon. If anything happens to me he’ll come for you.’
‘You broke in.’
‘You don’t shoot people for walking into an abandoned building. You don’t have license to do that just because I’m on the property.’
Raveneau heard the other vehicle getting closer but moving very slowly. He saw the man shift, hesitate, and then lower the gun.
‘We’ve had trouble here before.’
Raveneau held up his homicide star and walked with his arm out so he could read more easily.
‘My wallet is in the glove compartment.’
Raveneau laid his homicide star on the roof of the car. As he reached in his pocket for his keys the gun rose slightly.
‘Either keep that down or put it down. If you don’t think that star is real get out your phone and call the San Francisco Police Department or the FBI field office in Honolulu.’
Raveneau took a much harder look at him and asked, ‘How close were you trying to get to me with those shots up there?’
The look he got back only made him wonder more. He watched the younger man smile.
‘Get your wallet out of the glove compartment.’
Raveneau moved around the car but slowly. The man was older than he had thought, at least thirty-two or three, a mix of Asian and Caucasian, dark-haired, dark-eyed, a light gold tint to his skin. Raveneau reached in the glove box and when he turned the man was four or five steps back and with the gun up again.
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Lay your wallet on top of the car.’
Raveneau rested his wallet on the car roof. He stepped away as ordered. He heard the other vehicle which had stopped, start crawling forward again.
‘What’s in the trunk?’
‘My briefcase.’
‘Open the trunk.’
Raveneau hit the button and the lid lifted. He put the briefcase on the ground and watched him go through the contents including the copies of the case files for the Krueger murder. He paused on the crime scene photos but didn’t seem to be reading. He put everything back carefully and zipped the leather bag shut. He returned it to the trunk.
‘I’m going to check inside your car. I want you to move away while I do it.’
‘You’ve already seen enough.’
‘Move over to the trees.’
‘I’m done moving around for you. If you want to search the car, go ahead.’
He searched and then abruptly seemed satisfied. He pulled the clip from the gun, removed the chambered bullet, and grasped something under his shirt that turned out to be a microphone.
‘We’re good. He is who he says he is.’
Raveneau heard a response but couldn’t make out the words. The man looked at him and said, ‘My uncle wants us to come down to the house.’
‘And now that you know who I am, who are you?’
‘Matt Frank. I live here.’
Frank wore a blue T-shirt that read Humphrey Whale Sanctuary. He lifted his shirt in back and tucked the Glock into his jeans. He stared and said, ‘Sorry, we’ve had a problem with people growing dope on the property.’
‘All right, let’s start again. I’m San Francisco homicide inspector Ben Raveneau. I’m here for the reason I told you I am. You found my card at the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that wasn’t enough?’
‘Not for my uncle.’
‘Was that him in the jeep down the road?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t he drive all the way up?’
‘He was waiting for the OK from me.’
‘And you’re miked up? What is this, some sort of paramilitary game?’
‘It’s not a game. We deal with people growing dope on the property and stealing.’
‘Your uncle wanted you to handle it?’
That was right. That was a good guess. Raveneau saw his reaction.
‘Where did you get your accent?’
‘Kentucky.’
‘Your mother was Vietnamese?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I recognize your father in your face.’
‘Did you know my father?’
‘No, but he’s why I’m here.’
‘You have a half brother in San Francisco. He has a different mother and he has her name, but he’s got a lot of your look. His name is Ryan Candel. What’s your uncle’s name?’
‘Tom Casey.’
Raveneau pointed up the slope to the house. ‘And your dad, Jim Frank, lived up there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Follow me.’
They climbed back up the steep dirt track to the house then out past the north end and off the graded flat on to the grassy slope. There Raveneau saw three good-sized black-brown lava rocks stacked on each other, stacked so they would stay that way. He got it. He understood. He took in the dark roughness of the lava, the contrasting lush green of the steep slope, the soft wind off the water.
‘Is he buried here?’
‘Just his ashes.’
Raveneau stared out at the water for a long moment. Then he said, ‘I understand you holding me at gunpoint, but I don’t understand you putting those shots so close to me. It makes me wonder about you. I want you to know that.’
‘I already know it.’
THIRTY-FOUR
Raveneau bumped back down the broken road in the rental with Matt Frank riding with him. Frank wanted to walk back the way he came but that wasn’t OK with Raveneau.
‘How did you know to go up to the house?’
‘Talk to my uncle about that. He doesn’t like people up at the house.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘After Dad died other people came and wanted to go through his things. It was a problem and my Uncle Casey dealt with it and even if it doesn’t matter any more he doesn’t like people up there.’
‘You didn’t come up the road, did you?’
Frank smiled but didn’t turn his head or say anything.
‘What’s funny about that?’
‘It says you were watching. You knew you were breaking in. There’s a trail from the main house. My dad and Uncle Casey used to call it the Drinking Trail because they would meet every night, either my uncle going up or my dad coming down. When we found your card in the door he said go up the trail with a gun. Like I said we didn’t know if we could trust the card.’
‘You thought someone just printed up a card.’
Now Frank turned but he didn’t say anything and then they were at the main house. Thomas Casey greeted him on the porch and Matt Frank disappeared as if his job was done. Casey shook his hand with an odd enthusiasm. At the same time he looked perplexed.
‘It’s been twenty-two years since AK was killed.’
‘Is that what you called him?’
‘Yes. His initials, Vietnam, and the gun. Jim Frank, Alan Krueger, and I met when we were in our early twenties and flying for the Navy. We were in Nam together. Do you have a new lead, Inspector?’
‘We do.’
‘I’d like to hear about it. Was it this new lead that caused you to trespass on my property and break into Jim’s house?’
‘The door was open and I walked in and took a look around.’
‘That’s a good story, open door, natural curiosity, and after all you traveled all this way and you left a card to show you were trying to find the property owner.’
‘And here you are.’
‘But I found you. You didn’t find me and the boy might have shot you.’
‘He doesn’t look like a boy. He must be in his thirties.’
‘He is.’
‘One of those shots passed pretty close to my head.’
‘I bet it did but if you’re working on AK’s murder you’re welcome here for now. I’ve got a problem with what you did and I’ll tell you straight up I may report the trespassing and breaking and entering. But I’ll also try to help you with your investigation.’ Casey smiled and added, ‘I just want to be clear. You look like you’re not that far from retirement anyway. Let’s go back to the lanai and talk.’
In the lanai he pointed at a table.
‘Let’s sit here. After having a couple of shots sent your way you must feel like a drink. What about a beer or do you want something harder? Do you like poke? The fish is always fresh here and the poke is a local staple. It’s ahi and we’ve got crackers to put it on. Let me go back and tell Lani, our cook and housekeeper.’
Lani turned out to be a middle-aged Hawaiian woman with a warm smile and an easy way with her employer. Raveneau guessed she lived here and had for a long time. He got the feeling Casey had money but doubted it came from the grass fed cattle business.
As Raveneau tipped the beer he took a longer look at him, angular face, gray-eyed, sharp gaze, blond-brown hair going silver.
‘Jim died in 2004 of complications from an old war wound. I can’t picture someone else living up there, so I’ve left the house empty. He was one of a kind from a different time where character and personality were more valued. Americans might be more educated now or more sophisticated or what passes for sophistication, but they don’t have the same moxie. Jim knew how to live without being afraid of living. Do you know what I’m saying?’
‘I do.’
‘If he had an idea he liked he’d act on it.’
Raveneau scooped some of the poke mix on to a cracker. He took another pull of the beer and moved the conversation back to Krueger.
‘When did you last see him?’
‘October 1989. His boyfriend was with him. Do you know about the boyfriend in San Francisco?’
‘I know of a boyfriend and I’ve talked to him, but he told me he and Alan broke up in 1986.’
‘If his name is Marlin Thames he’s lying to you. Marlin and Alan were here for ten days that October. They were going to stay longer but they argued so much I asked them to leave early, and I told the boyfriend never to come back. I didn’t like him or the way he treated AK. I don’t give a damn about sexual preference. Neither did Jim, but Thames was a rude sonofabitch. I was sorry AK lost his career over being gay. That was a shame and that visit was the last time I saw Alan.’
‘What was Alan Krueger doing for work when you last saw him?’
‘Good question but not one I can answer for you. I can tell you Jim and I spent a lot of years guessing. AK’s comings and goings were getting a little mysterious by then. I know he worked for more than one of our government agencies buying counterfeit US money in Asia. We actually tried to find out and the Secret Service told us they only use their own agents, but we knew that wasn’t true. We knew from Alan he was doing work for them in Asia as a contractor. He told us that much. He may have done contract work for the CIA as well. That’s the kind of thing he would have told Jim, not me. Everyone confessed to Jim.’
‘Where did Alan stay when he was in San Francisco?’
‘With Thames.’
‘Do you have any idea why Thames would lie to me?’
‘Maybe he’s your killer.’ Casey thought a moment on that and shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t him. It was something to do with the counterfeiters. Or that’s what I think.’
‘How did Jim Frank come to live here?’
‘Oh, you don’t want to talk about Thames any more. Well, Jim moved with bold strokes and that didn’t always work. We built the house for him here because he was bankrupt. He wasn’t good at holding on to money or at staying married. Both of those were weak spots. He was the way he was and I think his wives knew it when they married him. He didn’t raise either of his boys. Heck, I did enough to raise Matt that he calls me uncle.’
‘Did you teach him how to shoot?’
Casey chuckled.
‘He got that on his own. He scared you, didn’t he? I’m funding his business right now. I have no idea what happened to the other son. I don’t even remember his name.’
‘Ryan Candel. He’s how I found my way here. From photos his mom had.’
‘Had?’
‘Allyson died.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.
Allyson always made a room a happier place. How did she die?’
‘Someone ran a red light.’
‘What’s the boy like?’
‘He’s trying to figure out who he is and he’s got some issues, one of which is he carries a lot of anger toward his father.’
‘Not surprising. Now Matt’s mother was Vietnamese. She was married to a colonel for the South Vietnamese and running a bar and a brothel. The Cong killed her husband and she took up with Jim. He personally airlifted her out of Nam, got her pregnant, married her, divorced her, and left her in a relocation camp in Kentucky all in the same year. His attention span wasn’t always the longest. Charismatic man, though.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘The last I heard she was saving Mexicans. She went Baptist in Kentucky and after the boy was old enough signed up with a missionary group that preaches to poor Mexicans in rural areas. Even with the way people are getting shot and beheaded in Mexico I’d bet she’s still there. It would take more than a bullet to kill her anyway. Hell, if they beheaded her they’d still have to bury her head a half mile from her body or she’d figure out a way to get it back together. She was tough and had a very sharp tongue. Still does, I’m sure.
‘When she decided she was going missionary she contacted Jim and I said send the boy here. She had him on a plane the next day. I’m not making any of this up. Matt still has a little Kentucky twang but he can surf. He’s an islander.’
‘Are Jim Frank’s ashes really up under those rocks?’
‘Just ashes and I made sure they burned it all down to nothing, the teeth and every last bone fragment, so that no one could pull any DNA later.’
