A Killing in China Basin

FIFTY-ONE


On the other side of the firewall was a single document, a file named ‘Erin’. In it were pieces of information about Erin Quinn’s life, a Louisiana driver’s license number, her social security and passport numbers, addresses dating back to childhood, the schools she’d attended, the location of a sister and two brothers and notes on questioning them. Using Excel, Stoltz had outlined his search. He’d emailed extensively with one of her brothers who lived in upper Michigan, misrepresenting himself to Norman Quinn as an old girlfriend of hers named Melanie Pace, and writing that they’d been buds when they were in college together at San Francisco State. As Melanie Pace he was trying to get back in touch with Erin.

All of his emails with Norman Quinn, both sent and received, as with his emails with everyone, were chronologically arranged and spread. They often had margin notes alongside them, referring to what action he’d taken, how he was chasing down the lead. Norman had provided names of other people who knew her and in some cases had written or called an introduction ahead of Stoltz contacting them.

Then he’d written a final email to Stoltz that seemed to capture it all.

My sister is gone and really I’m the only one in the family who hasn’t accepted that. She disappeared when he was in prison but from things she said, we believe somehow Stoltz had a hand in it. Erin called our sister, Lily, on 22 March, 2002, and said she was scared, that she’d had several hang up calls and had seen two guys this morning that she’d seen at the beach yesterday. She told Lily that Cody Stoltz had warned her he’d reach her from prison, that she’d betrayed him.



This is hard for me to write but my family thinks Erin is dead. If you continue to search for her, I’ll help you in any way I can, but I’m afraid I’ve already given you every bit of information on her that I have. Like you, I can’t bear the idea that somebody killed her. I pray to God that she’s going to turn up someday with amnesia. After her husband was shot she lost connection with everything for a little while, so I like to think she’s living somewhere and doesn’t remember who she is. I think about her every day. I wish you all the best and it’s comforting to know there’s someone else out there still looking for her. For that, I love you. Norman



The file on Erin Quinn totaled one hundred and twenty-eight pages and they had to copy it and take it with them because it was time to hook up with the Public Works people in Los Altos. As they got in the car, la Rosa said, ‘This is amazing. Who is this guy? He’s got a whole story and bio for this Melanie Pace he became online. Listen to this: Melanie Pace actually existed. She was a San Francisco State student killed in a freak car accident when a thunderstorm caused a flash flood that swept her car off the road in New Mexico. He’s got the newspaper article right here.’

But on page one hundred and fourteen it was a different name that caught them. Raveneau was driving as la Rosa read aloud to him.

‘I feel like we should be saying Eureka, not Jurika,’ she said. ‘He worked some pretty small threads back to Jurika. He figured out Quinn shed her identity and Jurika sold it. Ben, he just figured this out, like two weeks ago.’

‘And went to Jurika to get answers and ended up killing her.’

‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what happened.’

In Los Altos they rendezvoused with the Public Works guys who’d knock on the door of Mrs Stoltz’s house. Raveneau listened to the conversation via the wire the Public Works foreman wore. He watched through binoculars as the foreman turned and pointed at an exterminator van in the street.

‘He’s with us, ma’am, and we’ve got an emergency. With your permission we’d like to access our line through a manhole in our easement through your property.’

When she learned that a large rat infestation had been discovered yesterday in the storm drainage pipes running back into the hills, she gave immediate permission to get on to the property. She knew about the easement and manhole, but now came a trickier part.

‘Is anyone living in the other house?’ the foreman asked.

‘My son is.’

‘Is he home?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Would you mind calling him?’

‘No, I don’t mind at all, but his car is there. He must be home but that doesn’t matter. I’m giving you permission to do whatever you need to do on the property.’ She started down the gravel drive to the guest house and then turned on the foreman. ‘Oh, come on now, you know who my son is. You must know. Everyone knows what they’re doing to Cody. You don’t have to pretend with me.’

‘I’m not pretending about the rats, ma’am, and I’m just being polite about your son. I don’t want to surprise him.’

Good line. They watched her knock on Stoltz’s door with the big foreman standing to her side. If Stoltz answered, no question he’d object. Then he’d have to sneak out there and try to retrieve the daypack and they’d videotape that, maybe meet him coming back up the hole. But Stoltz didn’t answer and the foreman and crew went out to the manhole and the SID team dressed as exterminators followed with a Public Works foreman.

They placed a groundhog camera near the manhole to try to capture Stoltz’s discovery that Public Works had gone down and found the backpack. If he called and claimed it, and slim chance he’d do that, but if he did, they’d refer him to the exterminators. The exterminators would admit that yes, they had found it. They’d ask, is it your pack, sir? If he said yes, they’d get that on tape. They’d tape his explanation and let him know the daypack and laptop were safe and that they’d return them soon, but not that fast. Not until they got every last thing out of its hard drive.