A Killing in China Basin

TWENTY-FIVE


‘Let’s play a little basketball,’ la Rosa said as they got back from Jurika’s apartment near dusk. ‘I keep thinking about Heilbron and need to clean the smell of him out of my pores.’

‘You and me, one on one?’

‘Sure, why not, unless I’m too intimidating.’

‘You’re not.’

‘You sure?’

‘Where would we play?’

‘I belong to a club. They’ve got pretty good indoor courts and there’s usually one open. It’s in South San Francisco but you could go down Third and avoid the traffic.’ She touched his arm. ‘But honestly, not if it scares you, and it’s only fair to tell you I played point guard at San Jose State for two years. Most of that was on the bench, but I’m sure I can still embarrass an old man. Come out and play with me.’

‘I haven’t played in years.’

‘I believe you but you’re all that’s available and we can keep talking about the case on the court.’

At his last physical Raveneau’s doctor told him, ‘Buy a blood pressure monitor. Go to Longs or Walgreens, plenty of places sell them, and start taking your blood pressure in the first hour after waking in the morning because that’s when it’s highest. Keep a log. You’re borderline and I want to see if we can bring it down with exercise before we get into a prescription.’

Raveneau bought the blood pressure monitor and used it twice before rolling the rubber hose tightly around the cuff and putting it in a drawer. The readings he had gotten weren’t great but they weren’t terrible and he already had enough other things to worry about. He did buy a new pair of running shoes and started aiming for three to four runs a week. He averaged one or two.

He met la Rosa outside the club and she insisted on paying his guest fee. It was a nice club, clean, a lot of modern weight and aerobic equipment, a spin room, rows of racquetball courts, a whole world of people living a way he didn’t have much connection with but probably ought to. He followed her on to the court and shot a dozen baskets before she said, ‘OK, let’s do this.’

La Rosa went around him and scored as soon as she got the ball. She took the first game of one on one without working hard at all and he learned that she had a pretty good jump shot, but that she favored the left side of the key, which was also her go-to side for lay-ups. She had a third shot, a fall-away hook that she bounced off the iron twice, and made only one of three of in the first game.

No one was going to be shooting any free throw fouls and she bumped hard as she worked in, pushing him back with her ass and shoulder, telling him something more about her and her style. She wasn’t shy with her elbows either and rode a hand on him, pushing back whenever he dribbled across the key and in. He spun, came up, and bounced one off the glass and the rim as she pushed him and he landed hard.

‘Is that how they played in your league?’ he asked, and got a grim smile as she dribbled at the top of the key and broke around him again.

‘There need to be more women on the homicide detail,’ she said as her shot dropped, and then added, ‘Three isn’t enough. The change is too slow. It needs to happen faster.’

‘That would mean a bigger department and they’re not hiring right now. They’re talking but not hiring.’

‘Maybe some people need to retire.’

‘Yeah, who do you have in mind?’

‘It’s about old boy networks and prejudices. It’s time to change.’

‘I don’t know about any network.’

‘It’s men looking out for men. Time for change.’

Raveneau was one of these guys who once he got warmed up, stayed that way. He’d always been like that and was down about ten pounds since the blood pressure scare with the doctor. He wasn’t carrying much fat but he wasn’t fit the way he should be either. A crease of sweat formed center of his chest, then his back, and she didn’t shy away from his sweat-soaked back either. Her hand was right there, pushing hard against him, tips of her fingers digging in and nothing sexual in it; la Rosa fighting him as he worked his way in and got two points.

She checked the ball. He shot from the top of the key and swished it. She checked the ball back to him and he scored twice, before she picked up a rebound and he got to meet the real Elizabeth la Rosa.

She didn’t back into him this time. She dropped a shoulder and drove past on his left, and when he fouled her as she went up and said, ‘Sorry,’ because he’d caught her pretty good and hadn’t meant to, she said, ‘My ball,’ took it to the top of the key and started in, faked the same move, spun, went around him, her knees grazing his belly as she put it in.

When they started out they said, five games, and when she won four in a row and lost the last one, she wouldn’t quit until they’d played another. His T-shirt was sweat-soaked and her cheeks and forehead were shiny, and sweat ran down from the damp hair at her temples. She wasn’t big or tall, five nine, maybe one forty-five, but she was agile and quick and graceful, until fatigue caught her in the last game.

Raveneau dropped four shots in a row and took an early lead. That just made her angry. She got angry and he got faster. She wanted the last game, wanted to show him up, show him what basketball training and an eighteen year advantage in age was worth, but if Raveneau was anything he was tough when it mattered and now he wanted the game. Maybe his hair was salt and pepper, but he wasn’t an old man and he wasn’t moving out or away just at the age when he was finally getting good at his job.

He fell behind. For five games in a row she ran the same move and now finally he smoked the ball out of her hands as she went up. Next play he got the ball back and she was in his face saying, ‘Nice play, but now you’re going to have to get around me and score, or take another chance with that goofy-foot jumper of yours.’

Raveneau didn’t answer, knew she was just waiting for a chance to steal the ball back, and she slapped at it now and almost knocked it loose, and then he was on the move. When she cut off the inside lane he tried a hook shot, some throwback to an era before la Rosa had been born. It hit the backboard and went in.

A couple of people had come over to watch and playing to them, Raveneau dropped a three pointer. He scored again and then had her. He was only one shot away and after she scored twice he got a rebound, worked it in and took it home for the win.

‘One more game,’ she said the second the ball dropped through, and he shook his head.

‘That was it,’ he said. ‘I’m done.’

‘No, come on, one more.’

‘I’m beat.’

‘You’ve got one more in you.’

‘I’ve always got one more in me.’

He played another just to get to know his new partner better. His knees ached, his breath came harder, and he didn’t have the drive he carried through the game before. He was ready for a beer when she beat him by one shot. Sweat had formed droplets on his forearms and soaked through his hair and clothes. He was spent but it felt good and they had a beer at the club bar before leaving.

‘That was fun,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to do that again. For an old guy you’ve got some staying power.’

‘You’re beating this age thing to death. Maybe you’re missing all the talk about fifty being the new forty.’

‘I’ll be chief of police by the time I’m fifty and the homicide detail will be half female.’

He didn’t answer that. He smiled and put his glass down.

‘Let’s go back at Heilbron tomorrow. See you in the morning.’