Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1)

by Ty Hutchinson

  “A tall girl,” Kang finished.

  The three of us stood on the sidewalk quietly, letting the conversation sink in as the first vehicle of the CSI crew arrived. We’d had a breakthrough on the motivation, and the City by the Bay had a serial killer.

  Chapter 17

  After Kang had a few units from SFPD set up a perimeter and I had briefed CSI, we headed back to Central Precinct. Kang had commandeered the small interrogation room and turned it into our war room. He and I began making lists of San Francisco icons as well as popular attractions in the city and pinning them up on the corkboard next to a large map of the city which had the locations of the bodies identified by colored thumbtacks. I was busy adding to the list on the board when the door opened and Sokolov entered the room. He had a look of despair on his face, and his shoulders hung lower than usual.

  He placed both hands on his hips. “Bad news, guys. The fighting between the Russian gangs in the Inner Richmond area has intensified. Boss wants me to head up a joint task force aimed at curtailing this ongoing war. I’m off the thrill kill case. Sorry, I must get started on it.” Sokolov left, closing the door behind him.

  “Well, that sucks,” I said, not caring whether it was appropriate to say.

  “Cavanagh did it on purpose,” Kang said. “He considers you an extra body and doesn’t think he needs three personnel on this case.”

  “But I don’t work for him.”

  “He doesn’t care. He wants to look good for the top brass. There’s usually some type of political motivation behind every decision he makes. This Russian thing must be a hot button.”

  “We’ll have to make do.” I continued working on the list but stopped when I heard Kang chuckle to himself.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.” His growing smile disagreed.

  “Come on; give it up.” He had tickled my curiosity enough that I stopped writing.

  “Well, since it’s the two of us and our last names are kind of similar…”

  “I don’t think they’re similar.”

  “They totally are. How about we go by ‘Kang and Kane: crime-fighting duo’?”

  “Kang and Kane? Why not Kane and Kang?”

  “Wait, how about the Asian Ks?” Kang painted an invisible marquee with his hands.

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Double K?”

  “I don’t think we need a nickname.”

  “Capital K and Lower K? Get it?” he said, moving his hand up and down.

  “I wish I didn’t.”

  He returned to his list, and I to mine.

  “Kan-Kan?”

  I nearly threw my pen at him. Inside, I giggled like a schoolgirl, but I wasn’t about to let Kang know his stupid jokes made me laugh. Men think that, because they make me laugh, I must be into them. Next thing I know, they’re hitting on me—all because I giggled. This relationship would remain completely professional. I wanted nothing more than to solve the case and return to the daily routine I had grown to like.

  It didn’t take long for us to make our lists. We had plenty of help from various tourist and travel websites, what with San Francisco being a top travel destination in the U.S. and all. After pinning up everything we wrote down, we took a step back and stared at the writing. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

  “I’m thinking we need to pare this down somehow,” Kang said.

  “You think?”

  To make sense of it all, we settled on the most popular and iconic themes, shooting for a mix of celebrity, sites, and city culture/history. I figured even the killer would need to keep his options limited and focus on only a few. In the end, our list looked like this:

  Victorian homes

  Chinatown

  Redwood trees

  Ghirardelli Square

  Gold Rush

  Cable cars

  Golden Gate Bridge

  Pier 39/Fisherman’s Wharf

  Golden Gate Park

  The Big Earthquake

  Alcatraz Island

  Coit Tower

  Lombard Street

  Gay/lesbian capital

  We included the three places the killer had already struck in hopes that our list would more closely resemble his. We stepped back and took another look at our board.

  “Seems manageable,” I said.

  “I only have one question.”

  I turned to Kang. “What’s that?”

  “Now what?”

  Chapter 18

  The next day, Kang offered to take me to the location of the first crime scene where they had found the pan full of gold teeth. He’d said he would pick me up at my place since he lived nearby. I waited outside and watched him pull up in a dark blue Crown Vic. I saw that he had taken my advice—“Lose the suit for a day”— and dressed casually in jeans and a button-down.

  “We’re practically neighbors,” he said, as I sat inside his car.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I’m in Russian Hill—Hyde and Pacific. Took me five minutes to get here.”

  I nodded again and changed the subject. That morning, my mind was in case mode, and I wasn’t about to let small talk snap me out of it. “This crime scene, it’s near Fisherman’s Wharf?”

  “Pier 39 to be exact. Right off to the side is a small public space.”

  “Yup, I know the spot you’re talking about.”

  A few minutes later, we were parked and walking toward our destination. I tried to focus on the case, but Kang continued to derail my thought process with chitchat, until I finally asked him to give it a break. He didn’t seem bothered by my remark: just smiled pleasantly as he shut up.

  “It’s right over here,” he said, leading me past a ticket booth for boat tours on the Bay.

  The public space was a paved area with multiple flowerbeds surrounded by seating. One of them was fairly big and had a centerpiece of roses.

  “There.” He pointed. “The area right in front of the rose bush.”

  We both climbed up the stone seating and onto the raised plot of grass.

  “Who found the teeth?”

  “A city worker hired to maintain the landscaping discovered it around ten in the morning. He thought it was a joke at first, until he realized the teeth were real.”

  “And it was just the pan and the teeth?”

  “There was a little dirt and water to make it look like someone had just panned it.”

  “And the body?”

  “Body was found floating near Pier 33 where the Alcatraz boat launches. It was almost completely hidden under the dock. Forensics confirmed that blood splatter on the dock was consistent with splatter that would exit the type of neck wound found on the victim. He was killed at that location and tossed into the water.”

  “But not before his teeth were pulled, right?”

  “Yeah, time of death was estimated to be about one in the morning. We actually found the body first. Teeth were second.” Kang turned to me. “Yesterday, you mentioned that our guy was a thrill killer. Why bother pulling the teeth? If I’m understanding this correctly, the rush is associated with the actual kill, right?”

  “Normally, but not every killer fits neatly into that space. My guess is that our guy is confident enough with his kills, meaning he doesn’t think he’ll get caught and is comfortable enough to show off what he did. He also might have discovered that it prolongs the high he gets from killing.”

  “Well, if he wants to stroke his ego, why not utilize the body? It’s a bigger visual.”

  “Good question. But if we’re right about the symbolism—”

  “Then he needs to connect the kill to San Francisco somehow. The gold teeth connect to the gold rush.”

  “Exactly. This killer has evolved beyond the actual kill, which tells me he’s been at it for a while. He’s smart, he knows what he’s doing and he’s perfecting his method. The positive in this is that they get cocky, which leads to sloppiness. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t tried to start a rapport with th
e media. I’m sure he’s wondering why they aren’t reporting more on the discovery of the body. Do the media know about the teeth or the finger?”

  “No, we withheld that information. We needed something to turn away all the freaks who come forth saying they did it.”

  I clucked my tongue repeatedly as I rocked on my heels. Around us, families were beginning to show up. Most were concerned with taking pictures of their kids in front of anything that looked remotely interesting; I doubt any of them would have even noticed the pan and the teeth.

  “What are you thinking?” Kang shoved his hands into his front pockets.

  “One thing is bothering me. Our guy is going through the trouble of creating these presentations, yet the public is essentially unaware of his efforts. Look around us; do you think any of these people would have noticed that gold pan? And the finger? Who would have seen that?”

  “Hmm, interesting. If no one notices, what’s the point? If he wants the public’s attention, hiding a finger in a bush wasn’t the brightest thing to do.”

  “Exactly. Maybe he doesn’t care if the public sees it or not.”

  “Then why do it?” Kang asked.

  “Maybe it’s for an individual or a small group of people. He could be documenting the presentation and showing it to them.”

  “So what we’re finding are the aftermaths of a personal show?”

  “Could be…”

  We both stood there quietly for a few moments while we chewed on our thoughts. It felt good to be out of the office, surrounded by clear skies and crisp air. The fresh air can work wonders on the thought process. I drew a deep breath and let it sit for a moment before releasing it. “You know, the girl at the hostel gave me a lead I haven’t followed up on. Care to tag along?”

  “Sure. What’s the lead?”

  “Cotton candy.”

  Chapter 19

  Kang and I continued to discuss bits of the case on the drive over to Sausalito. It seemed like we were gaining ground, and I began to feel better about finding Piper’s killer. Kang proved to be an excellent sounding board and had great ideas. I was surprised at how much I was enjoying working with him. Not that I thought it would be a disaster, but it can be difficult to pair up with someone new. Everyone has a different way of working. Kang, in many ways, was a lot like me. He was a problem solver, and he wasn’t afraid to explore areas off the main path.

  But then the conversation derailed, and we were off topic, once again. Somebody give this man a bottle of Ritalin.

  “So you’re from Hong Kong?” he asked.

  “Born and raised,” I answered as I stared out the window at the hordes of tourists walking across the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “You don’t miss it?”

  “I miss some things.”

  “Mind if I ask what brought you to the States?”

  Yes. I turned to Kang. He had his eyes on the road, but I knew he was waiting for my answer. “Work and a change of lifestyle. Hong Kong was intense and became a bit too much. Have you been?”

  He glanced at me. “To Hong Kong?” He shook his head. “Nah, only Beijing. I have some family there.”

  I nodded before turning back to the window, looking past the tourists, into the bay.

  “How long were you a detective—”

  “Inspector.” I had cut him off.

  “—with the Hong Kong police force. It was Organized Crime and Triad Bureau right?”

  “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.

  Chapter 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 m
ind, I guess.”

  Kang shook his head as he looked forward.

  “What a small world we live in.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  Chapter 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.