Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) (8 page)

And what about the cutting of the finger? I stood up and looked around, hoping something might pop out. He had taken her finger with a diamond ring but none of her other jewelry. I pulled out my phone, pulled up the report Kang had emailed over and scanned it until I found what I was looking for.
Interesting.
For some reason, I assumed it had been her wedding ring finger that had gone missing. It wasn’t.

Kang said the victim lived two houses up, so I searched the report and found the address. The street number was odd, so she lived on the left side of the street. I counted two houses and stopped in front of a beautifully renovated, two-story Victorian with a very ornate, colorful, wood-trimmed façade.

The home sat high, away from the sidewalk, with stairs that required three switchbacks on their way up to the front door, mimicking the famous crooked street nearby. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t imagine making that climb every day. As I admired the residence, something sparkly in one of the lower hedges directly in front of me caught my eye. I moved in closer for a better look.
Holy moly!
I found myself staring at a large, diamond ring. It was on a finger.

Could it be?
I moved a few branches and answered my own question. It had to be the victim’s missing finger.
But why leave it here? Why would the killer risk coming back to the victim’s home to plant the finger? It makes no sense.

If the killer had indeed placed the finger here, it felt more in line with the gold teeth in the pan. Both victims had suffered body mutilation with the body part moved to another location, away from the body. Was the body part the killer’s objective or was the kill? Was the removal of the body part a way to prolong the kill? He was trying to make a statement, but about what, I wasn’t quite sure. It was a strange way to communicate, but riddles from killers aren’t unheard of.

Still, that’s not what I thought the staging of the body parts was trying to do. And why did I continue to think Kang’s killer also did my hiker? Aside from the medical examiner’s findings and my hunch, nothing more connected the two crimes. Unless…

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

“Kang, here.”

“Kyle, you’ve got it turned around.”

“Abby is this you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Did you hear what I said? The motivation—it’s wrong. Your guy isn’t collecting.”

“What is he doing?”

“He’s thrill killing.”

Chapter 16

I wasn’t far from the Central Precinct, so I told Kang and Sokolov to meet me at the vic’s home while I waited for CSI to show and process the scene. The detectives were speedy and arrived in ten minutes. As they approached, I pointed to the bush.

Kang leaned in and immediately reeled his head back, his expression soured. “I can smell it. How did you know to look here?”

“I didn’t. I was looking at the victim’s home when the sparkle from the ring caught my eye. I’m assuming your guy placed it here.”

Kang stepped out of the way, and Sokolov moved in for a look. He wasn’t fazed one bit by the slightly decomposed limb. “Good catch,” the Russian said.

“That’s it? Good catch?”

He shrugged as he looked at me. I had inadvertently riddled the man.

“It’s the victim’s middle finger. There’s symbolism behind it.”

“He’s giving us the middle finger?” Kang asked.

“Close. Look at the house. It’s a renovated Victorian, picture perfect and probably photographed by every passerby. The way the killer placed the finger on the bush, it’s as if it were giving the home the middle finger.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Kang said, lumping himself in the same camp as his partner. “Earlier you talked about thrill killing, and now you’re talking about a middle finger.”

“Serial killers can be categorized by their motives. Hedonistic is one of the categories. Killers that fall in this category derive immense pleasure from killing.”

“So our guy loves killing.”

“Exactly, but not any type of killing. There’s no sex, so he’s not driven by lust, and he doesn’t rob his victims, so it appears that money isn’t a motivator. He’s killing for thrills. He enjoys causing fear and even pain in his victims. He likes to see their eyes before, during, and after he kills them. It’s most telling.”

“Sounds like a real bastard.”

“Very much so. It’s all about the kill itself. Once it’s over, they move on. So they can be very opportunistic or specific. It depends on their moods or their urges.”

Kang rested his hands on his hips. “Okay. Say I buy into the thrill kill angle. Why go through the extra trouble of cutting off the finger and placing it outside her home?”

“I struggled with that exact same thought but it dawned on me. Victorian homes, the gold rush and redwood trees are all symbols of San Francisco.”

“That’s how you’re tying the three cases together?” Kang said a bit flippantly.

“It’s how I am now.”

Both men stood quietly, not saying a word. I was losing them. I couldn’t fault them; they were looking at the facts and it sounded like I kept switching my thoughts on the killer’s motivation. I had initially bought Kang’s theory that the killer was a collector, but it was mostly because that’s all they had, and it was a good start.

Finally, Kang cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Agent, are you sure you’re not trying too hard to tie your case to ours?”

“Positive.”

Kang shifted his weight. His expression told me he was finding it difficult to keep an open mind to the case. “Okay, then I think you need to help us out here. You’re asking us to change our motivation based on your hunch that all three victims have the same killer. Honestly, I’m not seeing this thread.”

“That’s because you want a thread where A plus B equals C. The mind of a killer doesn’t necessarily work that way. If someone collects things, they don’t normally leave it someplace else. They take it with them. Cutting off a body part and leaving it elsewhere isn’t collecting.”

“It is still mutilation, and that’s what connects our two cases and makes your hiker the third wheel. And, if I might add, you sound irritated that we’re not taking your word as gospel.”

Bite your tongue, Abby. Their fault isn’t with you; it’s their lack of knowledge
. I let out a breath and responded with as much control as I could muster. “That sort of statement usually comes from people who think they know everything. I expected better from SFPD’s finest. Remember, your department reached out to us for our expertise with serial killers.”

At that point, I began to wag my finger at them like they were children. Probably a little overboard, but he had pissed me off. “This isn’t a random shooting or a gang-banging incident, so investigating it like it is one is exactly why you’re having a hard time grasping my methodology that ties these three cases together. So I’m—”

“This has gone far enough, we don’t—”

“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me.”

Sokolov stood stone-faced, while Kang’s face showcased a range of emotions from shock to resentment. I should have been able to contain the situation and not let it get to that point. But I honestly didn’t expect this sort of pushback from Kang. He didn’t come across as the typical detective. He had smarts. They both did. Maybe that’s why it irritated me. “Look, I’m sorry. We all want to catch this guy, and I know it seems like we, or I, might be grasping, but trust me, there’s sound thinking behind what I’m suggesting.”

The two detectives looked at each other, then back at me. “Go on, Abby,” Sokolov said. “We’re listening.”

I’m not one to shy away from admitting I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong plenty, but I’ve been right more. And my gut told me I was right about this one. “Let’s get back to the SF tie-in: gold rush, redwood trees and Victorian homes. This is the connection, not your body mutilation and not three murders in a specific time frame. San Francisco is what connects these three victims.”

“So he could be making a statement about the city through things that represent San Francisco.”

“Right. The Painted Ladies are a huge tourist attraction. Victorian architecture is as much of a part of this city as the hills are. It’s what gives the city its charm.”

“So our guy doesn’t like Victorian homes, and this is his way of saying it,” Kang continued.

“I think you’re in the ballpark.”

Sokolov snapped his fingers. “Panning for gold. The teeth in the gold pan are his way of paying homage to the San Francisco gold rush.”

“Yes!” I said, pointing at him. “And the hiker. Well, the tallest living thing in the world is a redwood tree. The ones in Muir Woods are protected and can’t be chopped down, but our guy found something else to chop down.”

“A tall girl,” Kang finished.

The three of us stood on the sidewalk quietly, letting the conversation sink in as the first vehicle of the CSI crew arrived. We’d had a breakthrough on the motivation, and the City by the Bay had a serial killer.

Chapter 17

After Kang had a few units from SFPD set up a perimeter and I had briefed CSI, we headed back to Central Precinct. Kang had commandeered the small interrogation room and turned it into our war room. He and I began making lists of San Francisco icons as well as popular attractions in the city and pinning them up on the corkboard next to a large map of the city which had the locations of the bodies identified by colored thumbtacks. I was busy adding to the list on the board when the door opened and Sokolov entered the room. He had a look of despair on his face, and his shoulders hung lower than usual.

He placed both hands on his hips. “Bad news, guys. The fighting between the Russian gangs in the Inner Richmond area has intensified. Boss wants me to head up a joint task force aimed at curtailing this ongoing war. I’m off the thrill kill case. Sorry, I must get started on it.” Sokolov left, closing the door behind him.

“Well, that sucks,” I said, not caring whether it was appropriate to say.

“Cavanagh did it on purpose,” Kang said. “He considers you an extra body and doesn’t think he needs three personnel on this case.”

“But I don’t work for him.”

“He doesn’t care. He wants to look good for the top brass. There’s usually some type of political motivation behind every decision he makes. This Russian thing must be a hot button.”

“We’ll have to make do.” I continued working on the list but stopped when I heard Kang chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” His growing smile disagreed.

“Come on; give it up.” He had tickled my curiosity enough that I stopped writing.

“Well, since it’s the two of us and our last names are kind of similar…”

“I don’t think they’re similar.”

“They totally are. How about we go by ‘Kang and Kane: crime-fighting duo’?”

“Kang and Kane? Why not Kane and Kang?”

“Wait, how about the Asian Ks?” Kang painted an invisible marquee with his hands.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Double K?”

“I don’t think we need a nickname.”

“Capital K and Lower K? Get it?” he said, moving his hand up and down.

“I wish I didn’t.”

He returned to his list, and I to mine.

“Kan-Kan?”

I nearly threw my pen at him. Inside, I giggled like a schoolgirl, but I wasn’t about to let Kang know his stupid jokes made me laugh. Men think that, because they make me laugh, I must be into them. Next thing I know, they’re hitting on me—all because I giggled. This relationship would remain completely professional. I wanted nothing more than to solve the case and return to the daily routine I had grown to like.

It didn’t take long for us to make our lists. We had plenty of help from various tourist and travel websites, what with San Francisco being a top travel destination in the U.S. and all. After pinning up everything we wrote down, we took a step back and stared at the writing. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

“I’m thinking we need to pare this down somehow,” Kang said.

“You think?”

To make sense of it all, we settled on the most popular and iconic themes, shooting for a mix of celebrity, sites, and city culture/history. I figured even the killer would need to keep his options limited and focus on only a few. In the end, our list looked like this:

Victorian homes

Chinatown

Redwood trees

Ghirardelli Square

Gold Rush

Cable cars

Golden Gate Bridge

Pier 39/Fisherman’s Wharf

Golden Gate Park

The Big Earthquake

Alcatraz Island

Coit Tower

Lombard Street

Gay/lesbian capital

We included the three places the killer had already struck in hopes that our list would more closely resemble his. We stepped back and took another look at our board.

“Seems manageable,” I said.

“I only have one question.”

I turned to Kang. “What’s that?”

“Now what?”

Chapter 18

The next day, Kang offered to take me to the location of the first crime scene where they had found the pan full of gold teeth. He’d said he would pick me up at my place since he lived nearby. I waited outside and watched him pull up in a dark blue Crown Vic. I saw that he had taken my advice—“Lose the suit for a day”— and dressed casually in jeans and a button-down.

“We’re practically neighbors,” he said, as I sat inside his car.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m in Russian Hill—Hyde and Pacific. Took me five minutes to get here.”

I nodded again and changed the subject. That morning, my mind was in case mode, and I wasn’t about to let small talk snap me out of it. “This crime scene, it’s near Fisherman’s Wharf?”

“Pier 39 to be exact. Right off to the side is a small public space.”

“Yup, I know the spot you’re talking about.”

A few minutes later, we were parked and walking toward our destination. I tried to focus on the case, but Kang continued to derail my thought process with chitchat, until I finally asked him to give it a break. He didn’t seem bothered by my remark: just smiled pleasantly as he shut up.