Tahoe Dark (An Owen McKenna Mystery Thriller Book 14) (38 page)

“Not much,” one said. “Only one house had anyone inside. An older woman. She says she’s home all day long and doesn’t miss much. But she never saw anyone come down the road that leads to this garage.”

I left the scene shortly after that. I sat in the car and called Sergeant Bains. He wasn’t answering. I was impatient, so instead of leaving a message, I called the South Lake Tahoe Jail, identified myself and spoke to the jail commander.

“I’m hoping you can do a favor for me. Could you please look at your log and tell me what time Evan Rosen was signed into your jail?”

“This isn’t a good time,” he said. “We’re pretty jammed up. Maybe call back later, okay?”

“I’m sorry to bother you. This is very critical. Can you please check now. It won’t take you long. I’ll make it up to you.”

He seemed to huff with displeasure, but he didn’t speak.

I waited.

“Three o’clock yesterday afternoon, Evan Rosen was released from Placer County custody and signed into our custody.”

“Thanks very much.”

FIFTY-TWO

As I drove away, I went counter clockwise around the lake, heading south to South Lake Tahoe. I wanted to talk to Assistant DA Steve Ditmars, the man who’d charged Evan Rosen with murder. After our last bit of tension, I was confident he would not agree to see me. I thought it best just to surprise him, which, of course, would only work if he was in.

Ditmars’s secretary was visible in the reception area outside his office, but his office door was shut. If I went in and spoke to the secretary, she might use her secret decoder ring to let him know who it was, and then he’d escape out the back.

So I went down the hall, found a small waiting area with two chairs and a table covered with magazines. I immersed myself in a Sports Illustrated. When I heard people talking down the hall, I made a surreptitious sideways glance and saw Assistant DA Steve Ditmars ushering a woman out of the office. As he turned and walked back into the office, I was behind him.

“Mr. Ditmars, so glad to find you in,” I said.

He turned and made a face as if he’d just bit into a rotten banana.

“I don’t have a spare moment.” He turned, walked around his secretary’s desk, which had been shifted to better block access to his door. As he pushed on his door to shut it, I put my hand on the door edge, opened it back up, and stepped inside behind him.

Ditmars was immediately exasperated. His jaw was set, and I could see that he was about to call security, when he had second thoughts. If I could look inside his brain, I knew I would see him forming little mental pictures of the people I was connected to, at least tangentially. He would immediately run calculations about whether those potential connections could make his life difficult. I hoped that he would decide I was a pest that he had to accommodate.

Ditmars made a show of looking at the clock on the wall. “Five minutes,” he said. “Five minutes max.” He sounded very firm.

“I don’t need five minutes. I just left the crime scene of a third murder victim near Homewood, killed in the same manner as the first two, stabbed by an olive oil-lubricated ski pole spear. The victim is the third man we spoke about, Gavin Pellman, one of the boys Evan Rosen said may have assaulted her in Reno nine years ago. Pellman had a substantial roll of cash in his pocket. I don’t yet know for certain, but the odds are great that he is a third member of the Reno Armored truck robbery gang. His possible murderer is an Australian man named Flynn, whose garage apartment is where the murder took place. Flynn owns a woomera, an aboriginal spear-throwing device. On it is some olive oil that no doubt matches the olive oil on the spear. It is clear that the same person who committed the murders for which you’ve charged Evan committed this murder.”

Ditmars made a slow, disdainful shake of his head. “And why do you think this has any bearing on my case against Evan Rosen?”

“Because this victim is in full rigor mortis. The ME was not at the scene, but Placer County Sergeant Jack Santiago is quite expert in rigor mortis science, and he estimates the victim died after two p.m. yesterday. Evan Rosen was transferred from the custody of Placer County to the custody of El Dorado County at three p.m. yesterday. Placer County had held Ms. Rosen since the prior afternoon. That means Evan Rosen has been in custody for approximately forty-eight hours. Even if Sergeant Santiago is wildly inaccurate in his time-of-death estimate, this most recent murder took place during the time Rosen has been in custody. Therefore, the only reasonable conclusion is that you have charged the wrong person.” I tossed my card onto his desk. “When you decide Evan Rosen is innocent, let me know, and I can give her a ride home.”

“We’ll let a jury decide if she’s innocent.”

I was thinking about how I might play into his possible worries about whether I could make trouble for him.

As I was about to walk out his door, I turned and said, “You ever play golf?” I said. “You and I should hit the links sometime. You’d probably like it because I’m a really lousy golfer. I make every member of any foursome I’m with feel better about their own game. As a result,  guys like to play with me. I bet I’ve done eighteen holes with all of the bigshots at my favorite course, which is Sierra View in the foothills near Placerville. Of course, I’d do better if I chose an easier course. But I keep playing at Sierra View because I like the greens. But those doglegs are impossible. Anyway, let me know.”

I turned and walked out.

I didn’t know if my gambit would work. But the only man any Assistant DA is ever afraid of is the big man himself, the District Attorney. And it was widely known that the El Dorado County DA’s favorite course was Sierra View.

I left and went back out to the Jeep. I didn’t drive away but reached around into the back seat and pet Spot. “I’ll bet you a steak-and-fries dinner that I’m going to get some action out of the El Dorado County bureaucracy within the next hour.” Spot stuck his cold nose against my neck. I assumed that meant the bet was on. I dialed up NPR and listened to a Ted Talk that had just started. A half hour later, my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mr. McKenna? This is the Jail Commander at the El Dorado County Jail in South Lake Tahoe. I have an inmate named Evan Rosen who is being released. I was told to call you to give her a ride.”

“When will she be ready to go?” I asked.

“She’s ready now.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in soon.” I clicked off the phone and turned to Spot. “You lost the bet, but how ’bout we do the steak and fries anyway?”

He wagged.

FIFTY-THREE

Evan seemed in a daze. She looked shocked, moved mechanically, didn’t speak. I knew that being released from a murder charge, while a huge positive change, was nevertheless traumatic. The human psyche gears itself up for anticipated stresses. When the stress is suddenly removed, it takes time to recover.

She seemed to need help as I brought her out to the Jeep. I opened the passenger door and then shut it after she was inside. Once I got in and started the engine, I realized she was having trouble with her seatbelt, so I helped her with the latch.

As we drove, I explained the basics of what had happened, how I’d found another victim who died by spear, and that I’d demonstrated to the Assistant DA that the time of death indicated that she could not have been the murderer. Thus her sudden release.

We were halfway around the lake before she spoke.

“Is Mia okay?”

“She doesn’t know you are released yet.”

Evan didn’t respond.

When we got to the motel apartment, Evan was even more sluggish in her movements. While Mia jumped around with excitement, I took Mattie aside and explained the situation. She told me she would stay near them both for the next day.

I drove home and called Street. She was too busy for dinner but was very glad to hear the news about Evan’s release. After a short talk, I asked if she’d heard anything about her father’s parole. She hadn’t, which I thought was a good sign. We agreed to talk the next day, then said goodbye.

I also called Diamond, thanked him for the woomera research, and told him about Evan’s release.

“I’m surprised the Assistant DA would release her that easy,” Diamond said.

“I wouldn’t say it was easy.”

“You didn’t imply a threat to his job or anything?”

“Me? Threaten an important government official? I’m shocked you would wonder that. You know my ethics are gold-plated.”

“What I thought,” Diamond said. It sounded like he might have been chuckling as he hung up.

The next morning I drove down to Sparks to see what I could pry out of Bosworth about his accent, and his similarity in looks to the picture of Flynn from nine years ago, and maybe his knowledge of Montrop’s gardener Kang.

“Hi, Rita,” I said as I walked into Reno Armored. I was halfway to her desk when I realized that the temperature was no longer frigid, and Rita was no longer dressed for the Arctic. She wore pants and shirt with no overcoat or scarf. Her fingers weren’t blue, her fingernails weren’t purple, and she wasn’t shivering. “Maybe you remember me,” I said.

She made an exaggerated nod. “I’m sorry if you came here to see Mr. Bosworth.”

“He’s out, and by the looks of you, the excessive air conditioning mandate is out as well.”

“I’m… I can set the thermostat higher now. At least, I can for the time being.”

“Is Bosworth on vacation?”

“He no longer works here.”

“Did he quit, or was he fired?”

She said, “That’s, you know, private information.” She seemed to think about it for a bit. “But since you were sort of involved, I guess I can say it. It’s interesting that you think he might have been let go. Yes, he was fired.”

“It seemed,” I said, “that the well-being of the business and the other employees was not at the top of his priority list.”

She frowned an unspoken question.

I explained, “From the freezing temperature in here, to Bosworth’s lack of desire to do what Mr. Timmens wanted in hiring me, he wasn’t very considerate.”

“Um, no, maybe not. And I should probably tell you that your well-being wasn’t at the top of his list, either.”

“What did he say?”

Rita squirmed in her chair. “I don’t believe I am allowed to reveal things that get said here. You know, private, company things. But I would be careful.”

I gave her a polite smile. “As you know, Mr. Timmens asked me to investigate the robbery. He was upset that Bosworth withheld pertinent information from me. He might also be upset if you withheld information.”

She made a little nod. Reassessing. “It’s just that when Mr. Timmens came and fired Mr. Bosworth, Mr. Bosworth started yelling. He said he knew it was the detective who got him fired. And he said that the detective would pay. Only those weren’t all his exact words.”

“Bosworth made threats about me,” I said.

“Yes. Now maybe it was just words. Like, you know, when a person is really angry.”

“Did he say any details about what he might do to make me pay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he say, ‘I’m going to go to McKenna’s house and shoot him?’ Or ‘poison his dog?’ Like that?”

Rita was shaking her head vigorously. “No. It was more general. Like you, um, messed with him, so he was going to mess with you. But he didn’t use the word ‘mess.’”

“Has Mr. Timmens hired a replacement yet?”

“No. It’s just me for the time being. I’m to answer the phones, help keep the schedule.”

I said, “I have a question for you. The other day I saw you at the window of a silver car talking to a man named Kang. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Oh, no. He was a potential customer. He wanted to know about our services. I never knew his name. Did you say Kang?”

“Yes. You don’t know him personally?”

“No. Of course not.” Rita seemed affronted by the idea.

“Don’t potential customers speak to Mr. Timmens to learn about your services?”

“Yes. The man said he did that. He said that Mr. Timmens suggested he come here to see our facility. I was coming back from lunch just as the man pulled up at the back parking lot. He rolled down his window and said he had talked to Mr. Timmens and he was doing some initial research on armored truck services for the company he worked for.”

I held up my finger. “Let’s just check on that.” I got out my phone.

Rita looked worried.

“Don’t worry. You’ve done nothing improper.” I dialed. While it rang, I said to Rita, “Did the man speak good English?”

“Sure. Normal. Just like us.”

I got Timmens on the phone, told him who was calling, and said, “I’m at your Sparks facility talking to Rita, and a question came up. Have you had any contact with a man named Kang? It’s possible that he used a different name. If he visited you in person, he’s Asian American and small in stature, although very strong. ”