A Killing in China Basin

ELEVEN


From a second floor window of the guest house Stoltz watched the car sweep beneath the big oaks on the long curved drive in front of his mother’s house. The knock on his door came less than ten minutes later, but by then he’d turned the music on and was out back starting the gas grill. Beer iced in a galvanized tub on the garden terrace. A second knock now and it brought back a lot of bad stuff and made him angry. He didn’t want to deal with this. Before answering the door he pulled sausages from the refrigerator and laid them carefully on the counter.

When he opened the door a San Francisco homicide inspector named Benjamin Raveneau introduced himself and in that cop way, said, ‘I’d like to talk with you.’

F*ck you, Stoltz thought, and said, ‘Sure.’

Raveneau handed him a card and without looking at the card, Stoltz took in the man. Neither tall nor short, but at least six feet and unconcerned about his size, no gym muscles, no weight lifting bullshit, nothing faked, but obviously comfortable and quick. His stance wasn’t confrontational, but there he was, a square-shouldered presence, shoulders that probably had been in his family thousands of years, eyes neither afraid nor flat, but light-hearted and deadly. This guy was the real deal.

‘Thought you were a salesman,’ Stoltz said. ‘You look like a salesman who works in my office and I’m not kidding, you look exactly like him. Do you have a brother in sales?’

‘I’m here to talk with you about two San Francisco homicide inspectors, Ted Whitacre and Charles Bates. Do you remember them?’

‘Remember them? You’re joking, right?’

‘When is the last time you saw either one of them?’

‘When I saw your car I knew you were police and I was wondering why you were here. I couldn’t think of a reason.’

‘I’m asking because Inspector Whitacre was shot and killed last night and we’re going to talk to anyone who has ever threatened him. You’re on that list.’

Stoltz was surprised and said, ‘Let me get this straight. He was killed last night and you’re here to question me today?’

‘Is it OK if I come in?’

‘No, because I’ve got friends coming over to watch the Stanford game and these are people I’ve invited. It’s kind of a party and they’re going to be here soon.’

Stoltz didn’t move to let Raveneau in. He felt flustered.

‘Look, I was very angry when I went to prison, but that’s a long time ago. I got over it. You’ve got to understand I lost a lot of my future to the incompetence of Bates and Whitacre. That was very hard to swallow at the time.’

‘OK, you’ve got friends coming over so let’s make this easy. Where were you last night?’

‘I was in Carmel and I’ve got receipts. Do you want me to prove it?’

‘You do that and I’ll leave.’

‘Wait here and I’ll make copies of the hotel and restaurant bills.’

Stoltz was angry and scared as he went upstairs. He used the printer to make copies of his receipts and handed those to Raveneau.

‘When did you drive to Carmel?’

‘Yesterday afternoon. I took a ride with some cycling friends and then drove down. I think it was around four in the afternoon.’

‘Can we verify that with your riding friends?’

‘No, because that’s my personal life and you guys don’t get to f*ck that up twice. What’s the old saying, first time shame on you, second time shame on me. You don’t get to mess with my life twice. I don’t want my friends looking at me sideways because some half-ass homicide inspector can’t even figure out how one of their own was killed.’

‘What time did you get to Carmel?’

‘Don’t remember. Check with the hotel on that. I went there first.’

‘Did you stop anywhere on the way down?’

‘Not that comes to mind right now.’

Raveneau scrutinized the receipt showing Stoltz’s hotel checkout time this morning. 7:00.

‘On the way back, did you stop anywhere?’

‘I bought gas but there’s no receipt for it. I paid cash.’

‘Where did you buy gas?’

‘At a Shell station or maybe it was a Chevron. I don’t remember.’

‘Where?’

‘Monterey or Sand City, someplace along the way.’

‘In the Lexus out front?’

‘Yes, and it was a Chevron. We’re almost done here, Inspector.’

‘Did your hotel room have a view looking out over the ocean?’

‘Come, again?’

‘I’ve stayed there before. I’m asking if you had an ocean view.’

‘You know what, I didn’t pay any attention and I probably drank too much at dinner.’

Inspector Raveneau made a show of pulling a piece of paper out of his coat now. He handed it over and asked, ‘Do you recognize these license plate numbers?’

Stoltz stared at the numbers before saying, ‘Those are mine.’

Stoltz felt his face flush. The inspector was an inch or two taller than him but looked at him almost eye to eye. This guy was much different than Bates or Whitacre.

Gravel crunched as a car drove up.

‘My guests are arriving,’ Stoltz said, and waved to his friends getting out of their cars now. ‘Wait here, Inspector, I’ve got something for you.’

He found his wallet and then the card, and brought it out to Raveneau. ‘If you have any more questions call this number.’ The card read Crofton, Jacobs, & Peters LLC. ‘Ask for Lindsay Crofton. She’s my lawyer. But by all means call me personally if Bates also dies unexpectedly. I’d like to hear that first hand.’ He added, ‘Can’t say I’m sorry about Whitacre. The opposite, actually. See you later, Raveneau.’