A Killing in China Basin - Kirk Russell [46]
Raveneau looked through a window at the video camera sitting up on the edge of the roof parapet like a sea gull. He guessed that somehow it was cheaper to put it up there. It was and the realtor explained how.
‘There’s an unused vent pipe on the roof that they ran the wire down. When the building sells we’ll take the equipment with us. The monitor is in a broom closet down the hall here.’ As they reached the room where Jurika was killed, Raveneau stopped and looked in at the newly painted walls, beige carpet, and a ceiling light fixture with a price tag dangling off it.
‘We got it all,’ the realtor said. ‘You can’t tell anything happened here, can you?’
He couldn’t. Raveneau followed him to the broom closet and watched the video. The system was a cheap one and the camera angle on the roof wasn’t good, but the van was Heilbron’s. He watched Heilbron walk up and try several keys in the gate lock.
‘Recognize him?’ the realtor asked.
‘Yeah, he’s someone we’ve questioned.’
‘What’s he want to get in here for?’
‘We’ll ask him.’
‘Who is he?’
‘I’d like to get a copy of that tape if I can.’
They watched as Heilbron walked back to his van and opened the rear doors. Getting to his toolboxes, Raveneau thought. Heilbron returned to the gate a few minutes later and the realtor exhaled loudly and said, ‘This city is nuts. I’ve got to get out of here.’
Raveneau watched Heilbron open the gate. A few minutes later he was through the main door. A small side camera caught that.
‘Was your lock damaged?’
‘No. Can’t you arrest him anyway?’
‘We’d need better footage to prove it’s who I’m sure it is. Did he take anything?’
‘Not as far as I know. At least tell me why he wants to get in here. You must at least have an idea?’
Raveneau turned to him. He saw the disbelief on the man’s face.
‘I don’t know why. I’m wondering the same thing myself.’
THIRTY-TWO
Stoltz walked slowly through the Getty Museum with his mother gripping his elbow and her perfume enveloping them. He hated the smell of it and this controlling act of hers.
‘I like this painting,’ she said, ‘but I’m sure you don’t.’
She couldn’t be more right.
‘You’re upset, Cody. You’re worried about the police, aren’t you?’
‘The police have no one else, so in their knee-jerk way they’re focused on me. What am I supposed to do with that?’
‘You don’t have to do anything with it. Just let it be. The police aren’t stupid. They’re not the brightest men in the world, but they work through things eventually. All you have to do is wait until they figure out their mistake. They will.’
She smiled her little girl smile, senility’s breathless first dance. Then she surprised him.
‘But I am disturbed by how quickly the police came to talk to you after that police inspector was killed. Why did they come to you so fast? Did you write more letters?’
‘No.’
‘Have you had any contact with any of them?’
‘None.’
They looked at more paintings then ate lunch at the museum. At the table she reached across and took his hand.
‘I want you to come to Mexico with me. If you’re out of the country and something happens again, they won’t look your way any more. That’ll end it. I’ll have Rosalie make you a plane reservation and you can continue on with me tomorrow.’
‘Because of work I can’t do that.’
‘What do you have to do that can’t wait?’
‘Without me, the project I’m on stalls.’
‘I really believe you should change your plans.’
‘I wish I could.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t believe that, and I’m going to say it again, I want you to come to Mexico.’
‘Like I said, I wish I could.’
She stared and he looked for the waiter. Then he pulled out his phone and checked his email. He glanced up, smiled and said, ‘Next time, we’ll go together.’
THIRTY-THREE
By dawn the next morning Stoltz was two hundred miles north of Los Angeles sitting in a red plastic booth at a chain restaurant along I-5, waiting for the waitress to bring the crap he’d ordered. When she did, he took one look and shoved the plate away.
‘Sir, is there something