“A long time and yes.” What’s with all the questions? “Look, I’m sorry, but you keep steering the conversation away from the case,” I said, shifting in my seat so that I faced him. “It’s messing with my thought process.”
“Sorry. It’s…”
My eyebrow arched. “What? Spit it out now, or forever hold your peace.”
“This might sound silly, maybe even stupid.”
I hope not.
“But you remind me of someone I met a few years back.”
Oh, God. Please don’t hit on me. Please don’t hit on me. Please don’t hit on me.
“My partner thought I was reading too far into things, but once I found out you were an FBI agent and from Hong Kong, it’s been on my mind ever since.”
I hope that doesn’t include the private time you have with yourself.
“A few years back, my partner and I met an inspector from Hong Kong who also worked for the Hong Kong Police Department.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She was about your height, Asian and very knowledgeable in the field of serial killers,” he carried on. “In fact, she actually helped us solve a case while she was here—one involving her missing niece. It’s the reason she traveled to San Francisco in the first place. But here’s the interesting part—and I’m sure you’ll find this as puzzling as I did: this woman, the inspector, told us she was in charge of the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau. Imagine that. Same department you were in charge of. So my question is, how can two different women claim to be in charge of same department, at the same agency, around the same time?”
Good question.
20
“I am not that person you’re describing, if that’s what you’re alluding to.”
Kang looked at me. “I knew there was something fishy happening. Out with it. I won’t be able to focus until I know exactly what is going on here, Abby. Or should I call you Leslie Choi?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“What, did you get some work done to your face? You think a little plastic surgery, a name change, and a background story would be enough? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
“Let me explain.”
“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to hear this explanation. Gather around, kids. It’s story time,” Kang said with exaggerated excitement as he rolled his eyes.
If he doesn’t shut up, I swear…
“Come on; let’s have it. Hurry. I don’t want you to have time to fashion another tall tale. Ha! A tall tale from a short woman.”
“Are you going to let me speak, or just carry on with your babbling nonsense?”
Kang stared ahead for a moment before shooting a quick glance over at me. “Explain.”
I giggled a little but caught myself from letting it rage into laughter. “Look, I’m not that woman. I realize we kind of look the same, but we are two different people.”
“Wait, so there are two of you? You have a twin or something?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Leslie Choi worked for me and eventually assumed my duties when I resigned. We’re actually friends.”
“So there just happened to be two short, badass women in the same department?”
“Hey, maybe the Chinese people you know are all tall, but the majority of us are short, if you haven’t noticed.”
That comment broke the icy look on Kang’s face, and he started to laugh, which triggered my funny bone, until we were both laughing our butts off. People passing by must have thought we were nuts, because Kang batted the steering wheel repeatedly while I threw my head back and forth. Eventually we calmed down.
“Leslie and I worked together for about six years,” I said when I caught my breath. “I taught the woman everything she knows, and she’ll back the claim up. Anyway, when she moved over to my department, we were like two peas in a pod. She was the perfect replacement for me when I left.”
“But if I’m doing the math right, you should have still been in Hong Kong when I met her.”
“I was. After I resigned, it took us about eight months to prepare for the move.”
“Did you know she was in SF?”
“Not at the time. I was so focused on our move that we actually lost touch for a bit. I found out later about her niece, after she had returned to Hong Kong. I think we just missed each other, with her going back and me heading over here.”
“How often do you see or talk to each other?”
“Not as often as I wish. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.”
Kang shook his head as he looked forward.
“What a small world we live in.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
21
We crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and exited the 101 Highway at Alexander Avenue. We were nearing the small port town of Sausalito.
“The shop is somewhere near the ferry terminal,” I stated.
After Kang parked in an adjacent parking lot, we roamed around the shops, looking for one that sold cotton candy. It was a weekday morning, so the crowds were lighter than usual, more locals than tourists.
“There’s a sweet shop over there.” Kang pointed.
I followed his finger to a tiny pink and white shop with a sign that said “Naturally Sweet.”
“That might be it. The woman at the hostel said the cotton candy was organic.”
We entered the shop, and a sugary smell of sweets flooded my nostrils. The walls were lined with large, glass containers filled with an array of chocolates, hard candies and gummy everything. The place was a child’s wonderland—mine, too. Behind the counter, near the corner, was the cotton candy machine. A teen girl wearing a blue apron was busy serving a family. From a door near the opposite side of the counter, a plump, middle-aged woman appeared wearing the same apron. She had short, brown hair and cheeks dotted with freckles.
Kang and I approached her. “Hi, are you the owner?”
“I am. How may I help you?”
I pulled out my ID. “My name is Abby Kane. I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is Detective Kyle Kang with the San Francisco Police Department. Is there someplace we can talk privately?”
“Oh my. I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“No, you’re not. We want to ask you a few questions.”
She lifted up a hinged portion of the counter and came out to our side. “We can talk outside if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine.”
We exited the shop and walked to the side of the building, away from the foot traffic on the sidewalk.
“What would you like to know?” the shopkeeper asked with a forced smile.
“Your name would be a good start,” I said.
The woman let out a nervous laugh as she fidgeted with her hands. “My name is Judy Huff.”
“Relax, Judy. You’re not in trouble.”
She nodded and smiled, a little more genuinely this time. She seemed like a really nice lady, the type that mothered everyone around her, though I did get the feeling she had a fragile personality. God knows I’ve made more than one woman cry because of my tone, so I kept my questioning friendly.
I pulled out my cell phone and showed her a picture of Piper. “Did this girl come into your shop this past weekend? It would have been on Saturday.”
She leaned forward for a closer look and started nodding. “Yes, I remember her. Tall girl, and very pretty, too. She bought some cotton candy.”
“Do you know if she was alone?”
“Oh, she was with another woman,” she answered, her chin bouncing up and down.
A woman? I wasn’t expecting to hear that. “How old would you guess?”
“Let’s see.” Judy rubbed her chin and stole a look upwards. “She would have to have been in her late thirties, maybe even forty. Lively, though.”
“How so?” Kang asked after clearing his throat.
“Well, she had a bunch of energy, seemed really excited
, much more extroverted than the younger one.”
I tilted my head. “Was the younger woman upset?”
“No, just a bit reserved, not as outspoken I would say. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s this about?”
“This young lady’s name is Piper Taylor, and she was found dead on Mount Tamalpais.”
“Oh, my God.” Judy cupped her hand across her mouth as she slowly shook her head back and forth. Her eyes turned glassy, but she held it together. She used the back of her hand to dab her eyes dry. “Don’t mind me. It upsets me to hear this. She was so young. Who would do such a thing? She seemed like such a sweet girl.”
“Can you describe the older woman for us?”
“Lemme think, um… Well, she had brown, wavy hair that came down to right below her shoulders. She had light brown eyes and some color in her skin. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, only lipstick and a little mascara.”
“Was she Caucasian?”
“Yes.”
“How tall was she? Can you describe her body style?”
“I would say she was about five feet, seven inches. She looked to be in shape… Maybe there was a small pooch.”
“Do you remember what she was wearing?”
Judy crinkled her eyebrows as she looked away for a moment. “I believe she had on khaki shorts. She had on a pink and white jacket with a tank top underneath.” Judy leaned in and whispered, “She was spilling out of it if you know what I mean.” She brought her hands up to her chest for emphasis.
“Anything else?”
“A light blue backpack—a small one.”
“That’s a pretty good description.”
“Well, I spoke to her for a tiny bit. She wanted to know if it were possible to wave a cab down around here. They had plans to go to Muir Woods.”
“Did you talk to them about anything else or hear them talk about anything?”
She shook her head. “It was just the cab. We were pretty busy that day.”
“Do you know where they caught the cab?”
“Outside my shop, and it was a Yellow Cab.”
“Are you sure of that?” Kang asked as he jotted it down on a small notepad.
“Absolutely. I gave them the number for the company.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about this woman?”
Judy leaned in once more as her eyes shifted between Kang and me. In a hushed tone, she asked, “Is this woman a suspect?”
“She’s a person of interest,” I whispered back.
“You know, I have this way of knowing if things are okay or not. Just do. I got that feeling about her. Also, it was strange that they were together.”
“Why is that?”
“Well it seemed an odd pairing. She felt a little too old to be palling around with the younger girl, and I didn’t get the feeling they were family.”
“Anything else?”
“My store has a surveillance system.”
22
They say luck is nothing more than hard work crossing paths with opportunity. I guess we found the intersection that day. Fifteen minutes later, we had a digital screen grab of the mystery woman.
We thanked Judy and left our cards with her in case she remembered more. Kang emailed the picture to Sokolov and asked him to put an APB out on this woman while I had my office circulate the picture with the media, hoping for airtime. It was imperative we got the word out. Most of the people in that park or in Sausalito on that day were probably tourists and could be leaving the city at any moment.
Kang scuffed his shoes against the pavement as we walked back to his car. He looked to be as confused as I was about the recent revelation of our killer. “A woman, huh?” He finally said. “I thought for sure we were chasing a guy. You think that changes anything?”
“No. We stick with what we know, and we know Piper left the hostel alone, but when she arrived at the candy shop, she already had a friend. So they either met on the ferry ride over to Sausalito or at the ferry building.”
Golden Gate Ferry is a city-run company that manages the commuter ferries traveling back and forth across the Bay. The San Francisco/Sausalito route, with eleven crossings daily, was their most popular route. Neither of us could recall if the ports or the ferries had surveillance systems installed, but we intended to find out.
Because Yellow Cab was located south of downtown San Francisco in Potrero Hills, we opted to pay a visit to the ferry company first. Their headquarters was located in Larkspur, about a fifteen-minute drive north from our location.
We identified ourselves to the woman at the reception desk and waited a few minutes before a white man in jeans and a polo shirt walked toward us. He seemed cheery for someone who was just told the FBI wanted to question him. He stuck out his hand with a sense of confidence and authority. “Hi, I’m Dan Harper. I understand you need information.”
“That’s correct. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Harper led us down a short corridor and into his office. If he was bothered by our presence, he didn’t let on. “Please, have a seat,” he said, pointing to two chairs in front of his desk. “What can I do for you?”
I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of our victim. “That’s Piper Taylor. She was found dead on Mount Tamalpais over the weekend.”
“That’s terrible,” he said, scrunching his face.
I showed him the second picture of the mystery woman. “We believe this woman was with Piper shortly before her death. We’re trying to ascertain if the two of them arrived in Sausalito together via your ferry.”
Harper’s head swayed from side to side as he let out a breath. “Wow, if you’re wondering if a ticket seller might remember them, that’s going to be a tough one, because there are so many locations you can buy a ticket, not to mention the Internet.”
“We figured as much. We were more interested in knowing if any of your ferries have cameras or if the ports have them.”
Harper shook his head. “The ferries don’t, but the ports do. Unfortunately, we don’t control those cameras. You would have to talk to the Port Authority for access.”
We thanked Harper and exited the building. We were wasting our time following up small leads that may or may not turn up any useful information. I put a call in to Reilly and told him we needed help chasing down info.
“I have just the agent for you, Abby. Agent Austin Tucker joined us recently from Quantico and is eager to get his hands dirty.”
Tucker turned out to be the nervous agent who’d stopped me at the elevators the other day. I took five minutes to brief him over the phone about the Port Authority lead and thanked him for helping out. When I finished my call, I joined Kang inside the car.
“Yellow Cab?” he suggested.
I nodded. “Let’s hope we have better luck there.”
23
On our way over to Potrero Hill, we stopped off in the Mission for a quick lunch. We were craving decent Mexican food and had El Farolito in our sights. The place was a known haven for finger lickin’ and belly fillin’ food and always had a line out the door. Luckily, we missed the lunch crowd and only seven people were in front of us. I ordered a carne asada quesadilla and an horchata to wash it down. Kang settled on a carnitas super burrito and an aguas frescas. We were both starving and managed to mow through half our meals before coming up for air.
Still chewing a big bite, Kang made the first effort to speak. Fail.
He took a few more bites and another swallow before trying again. “You think if we find the driver and they remember Piper, anything will come of it?” he asked, wiping salsa from the sides of his mouth.
I shrugged to buy myself more time to chew. “I’m not sure,” I said after swallowing. “I’m hoping that while they talked, he listened. Some of these cabbies pick up on every word their customers say.”
“I’ve been thinking about our list.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Chinatown is so synonymous with San Francisco. I
feel like the killer might try to do something with it—maybe a tie-in with a dancing dragon or fireworks, or even Chinese food. Dim sum, perhaps.”
“What’s the body part associated with it?”
“You know, we may not need one. Your vic remained fully intact. He used her entire body as his performance piece.”
“The Golden Gate Bridge is another large icon of San Francisco. Maybe she might throw someone over,” I added.
“Are we officially switching from he to she?”
“I think so.”
“There’s no way for us to prevent her from throwing someone off the bridge. We would need round-the-clock surveillance.”
I sipped my horchata and nodded my agreement. “Maybe we’re still coming at it wrong, thinking too grand. Remember, everything she did was understated, almost hidden.”
We were walking in circles when it came to figuring out where our killer might strike next. I was running out of ideas, and we were running out of time.
As I picked at my food, I started wondering what our next move would be if the picture of the mystery woman drew no tips from the public. The future looked dim. I tried to concentrate, but I could sense Kang’s eyes boring into my skull. “What?” I finally asked.
He shrugged. “You have a healthy appetite.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, finishing the last of my meal and wiping my hands.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I’ve known a lot of women who were picky eaters or were full after a grape.”
“Well, that’s not me.” I stood and grabbed my purse. “Come on; there’s a cab driver we need to speak to.”
A longer-than-expected drive later—Kang had gotten us lost, and I had put us back on track with the map on my phone—we arrived outside the Yellow Cab Company. We pulled into a parking lot and faced a sea of yellow. “Apparently, this is where all the cabs are when you need them,” I joked as we climbed out of the car.
Kang chuckled.
We headed toward the large, white building, devoid of windows except one near the door. Attached to the building was a garage area where mechanics were busy working on cars. A short, stocky man in baggy jeans and a blue sweater walked our way.
[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter Page 8
