Two O'Clock Heist: A Rebecca Mayfield Mystery (The Rebecca Mayfield Mysteries Book 2) (18 page)

Deputy Vargas was a pleasant looking fellow, tall, broad, olive complected, with thick straight black hair over a square face. He stayed with Rebecca as she looked through Karen’s paper, photos, drawers, and anything else that might turn up a clue.

“I understand the deceased was a friend of yours,” he said after a while.

“Yes. She was a good cop.”

“We were told she quit the force to take care of her baby.”

Rebecca was surprised. “I’d say it had more to do with a boyfriend in the country illegally and working with the Russian syndicate.”

“The Russians? Those are scary guys. I never dealt with them, but I’ve heard stories.”

Rebecca could have told him scary stories of her own. She let her eyes slowly travel over the space. She felt stymied. “I heard you found some jewelry in the houseboat from recent thefts in the county. What can you tell me about that?”

“We’ve had a number of burglaries the past couple months. When some of the stolen jewels were found in this houseboat, we wanted to know why. Did her boyfriend steal them, or Karen Larkin, or what?”

“Karen was no thief,” Rebecca said firmly.

“The jewels were from the most recent theft, a party in Sausalito two Sundays ago. The party began at two that afternoon. The jewels were in the bedroom before it started, and were heisted sometime after that.”

“And Karen was killed on a Thursday, a week and a half later?”

“Correct. Detective Wong’s theory was first that Baranski was the jewel thief, but now he thinks Karen Larkin was the thief, Baranski found out and that’s why he killed her.”

“That’s even crazier than his first theory.” Rebecca said. “And since when do spouses kill each other for being thieves? He’s nuts!”

Vargas held up his hands. “I agree. But it explains everything. Wong likes it.”

Rebecca thought it best not to comment. “How were the heists conducted?” Her first stint in the Bureau of Inspections had been in Property Crimes. Since she had done well there, she was promoted to the pinnacle of the bureau, Homicide. Time to revisit her old skills.

“What can I say?” Vargas said. “Rich women; lots of money; garden parties, soirees held in their homes, you name it. Plenty of booze, sometimes drugs. Some guests show up with a ‘plus one’ as they call them, someone the home owner doesn’t know, and knows nothing about. Karen Larkin could have fit in. We found a couple of very expensive dresses in her closet. In any case, she or Baranski have to be suspects, because we found stolen jewelry in their houseboat.”

“Have you matched the guest lists to see who shows up more than once?” Rebecca asked.

“Of course, but it’s a small community, and when you’re inviting a couple hundred people, you get lots of matches. There are at least two dozen people—our wealthiest citizens for the most part—who are invited to every big event. Not only do we have plenty of names to investigate, but they aren’t the type of people who appreciate our inquiries.”

He continued. “In every theft, someone threw a big party at home, and afterward, some jewels were gone.”

“Were the jewels in safes?”

“All were in older, at-home safes. Nothing especially elegant, but they should have been adequate. These people would keep their truly expensive pieces in their bank safe deposit boxes. Those items kept home were in the ten-grand range, not fifty grand. I had the impression that many felt an individual piece might not have been worth locking up, but when ten such pieces are stolen, it adds up to real money, even for multi-millionaires.” Vargas checked his watch. “I’ve got an appointment in Fairfax now, but I’ll head over to the city soon—possibly today, but if not, for sure tomorrow. I’ve got a few leads I’m working on, and I’d like to find Baranski myself, if he’s still alive. If you’re not too busy, what if we get together when I’m there, and talk over what we’ve found?”

She liked that idea and gave him her card. “Sounds good. Call me. I look forward to it.”

He smiled—a very ha
ndsome smile. “So do I.”

The houseboat seemed eerily quiet after he left. He had a good presence. A nice way about him. No wedding ring. Plus, he was a cop—not a “heaven-only-knows-what” like Richie. She should dress a little better tomorrow. It couldn’t hurt, and might distract her from her growing fascination with Richie.

Or, maybe she should just move back home. She hated hiding out. Hated living in Richie’s house. Last night, she could hardly go to sleep. Whenever she shut her eyes, she imagined beautiful women at Big Caesar’s throwing themselves at him. With them, he could have the kind of carefree relationships he wanted. She should be glad for him.

She didn’t feel glad, however. She felt jealous.

Damn!

She left the houseboat.

The phony gypsy who had been selling flowers the last time she was there was present again. She jutted her head forward as if looking through her dark glasses studying Rebecca.

“You again?” Rebecca said.

In a pseudo-spooky voice, the vendor intoned, “You must beware because everything you think you know is wrong. The road you are on is very dangerous. You will put yourself and others in danger by following it. Turn away from it before it’s too late.”

“Is that all you have to say?” she asked.

“It’s a warning. There is evil in this place. You must keep away or it will end badly for you.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “Did Richie put you up to this?”

The vendor took a white peony from her cart and handed it to Rebecca. “White is the color of death in many Eastern cultures. You will see much death unless you change.”

“News bulletin: I already do.” Rebecca refused to take the flower and watched while the vendor dropped it on the ground and stepped on it, crushing the delicate petals.

o0o

Rebecca drove straight to the Sausalito PD. She was going to try one last time to get Wong to work with her.

He was at his desk and didn’t invite her to sit.

She explained that Yuri Baranski was now missing, and that his daughter had been left alone in his apartment. He was the subject of a search.

“A missing person’s case, in other words,” Wong said with a smug smile. “So why is Homicide involved?”

She bristled.

Where’s Richie when I need him?

She tried to sound pleasant as she said, “I’d like to see your murder book.”

He gave her a look that told her he would rather have his fingernails torn out. He stood up. “Sorry. It’s with the captain at the moment.”

Sure it is.

“Your friend was on the wrong side of the law. Until you recognize that, you’re going to be wasting your time. Mine, too.”

“Oh, yes,” Rebecca said. “I heard you now think Karen was a thief. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Is that so?” He remained standing as he talked to her even though she had a good three inches on him. “She had knowledge of guns, and the moxie, since she’d been a city cop, to dress up and waltz into homes with big parties going on. And I can well imagine what she did to get rich men to take her to such parties. She knew no one would question her if she looked right. Then, she could find a way to steal the jewelry.”

God, but Rebecca was really coming to hate the jerk. “You seem to be making a lot of assumptions, Detective.”

He lifted his chin. “The welfare assistance and food stamps she got from the government couldn’t have paid for her rent, let alone food or the quality of a few of her dresses. She had to do something for money.”

“Ever hear of a consignment store? And you know she and Baranski both worked from time to time.”

“No, I don’t know that.” He put his hands on his skinny hips. “Neither worked ‘on the books’ at any rate, which means she was even more of a criminal than I thought.”

Rebecca was ready to slug him, and decided she had better change the topic. “Why didn’t you talk to the owner of the houseboat?”

“Officer Grimes looked into it. Apparently, she lives in San Francisco and has nothing to do with the couple other than to collect the rents.”

“Do you know who
her husband is?”

“I don’t know why I should care
.”

“I’ve met
him. He’s part of the Russian mob.”

Larry Wong burst into laughter. “You are really too much, Inspector. Now you’re bringing organized crime onto a little houseboat in Sausalito? Give me a break! It was a
domestic dispute!
Everyone knows it. This is a small community. People here know each other, and many people I know and trust knew Baranski and Larkin. They all say the exact same thing. It’s not a mystery, Inspector. How many ways do I have to tell you that?”

“Police work by gossip,” she said. “What a concept.”

“I may not be a ‘trained’ homicide investigator, but I’ve worked in this city many years, Inspector Mayfield. I know the people here. They are
my
people, not your big city scum.”

“Baranski worked at the Golden Gate Garage,” she continued, “which is somehow connected to
his landlord,
Shurik Charkov, who is a crime boss in the West Coast syndicate.”

Wong was furious. “You located where he worked, and you didn’t tell me? You interfere with my investigation, find out an important piece of information and keep it to yourself? I
’ll report you for this, Inspector.”

She folded her arms. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Since I’ve never been allowed to see your murder book, I don’t know what information you did or didn’t have. I mistakenly assumed you would have found it out as easily as I did. Oh, wait … the last time I tried to talk to you about Baranski,
to say I learned where he worked, you refused to listen. Said it was all 'confidential.' How did that work out for you?”

He sat down at his desk and opened a folder, pretending to be engrossed in it.

She was so angry she scarcely sounded civil as she asked, “Who’s in charge of investigating the jewelry robberies?”

He leaned back, arms folded, and with a smirk said, “That would also be me.”

He pointed at a desk pushed up against a wall in the corner and overflowing with folders and paperwork. “Heaven forbid I keep anything more from you. There you’ll find all the reports and statements and forensic evidence we’ve collected so far. Feel free to go through it and give us your expertise, Inspector Mayfield. I’m sure we’ll find your insights most valuable.”

She so very, very much wanted to shoot him.

CHAPTER
20

Rebecca was going through Wong’s reports on the jewelry heists while sitting in the receptionist’s area—away from her favorite detective—when she received a call from San Francisco’s CSI that the down, fabric, lint, and dander particulates from Briona Horne’s pillow exactly matched with those found in Harlan Stegall’s air passages. With no fond farewell to Wong, she left Sausalito and headed back to Homicide.

She and Sutter got the okay from Eastwood to make an arrest.

Rebecca and Sutter met Briona Horne and her attorney in the interview room. Once Briona learned about the pillow, she changed her story to say she and Harlan had gone to his house to wake Lyndsey and tell her he was leaving her, but Harlan tripped and fell on the stairs. Briona ran back to her house to get a pillow to put under his head, but he was too heavy for her to roll onto his back, and that was why he breathed in the down. Then, he died. She was trying to help and had nothing to do with his death.

Rebecca and Sutter looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Whether Harlan’s fall on the stairs was accidental or not,
most likely no one but Briona would ever know for sure. Lyndsey, with her medications, had slept through it all. A macabre, vengeful ménage-a-trois gone deadly.

Neither side could prove that theirs was the “true” version of what happened
, and the D.A. decided to suggest a plea deal. Briona and her attorney had twenty-four hours to decide if they would take it.

All Rebecca had left on the case was to write up her reports.

Before doing that, she called Child Protective Services to check up on Nina Larkin. The girl had been transferred to a home set up to care for very young children. The CPS heard nothing as yet from the child’s father.

Rebecca went down to Missing Persons. Since enough time had passed that Baranski could be considered officially missing, she gave all the information to Inspector Pamela James. Until Baranski’s body turned up, he wasn’t Homicide's case.

Back at her desk, she faced a stack of notes that needed to be put into the report when Deputy Mike Vargas called. He was in the city and hoped to discuss Yuri Baranski with her.

Since it was after seven, and neither had eaten dinner, they met at a restaurant near the Golden Gate Garage. She wanted Vargas to see the location she was talking about, and perhaps, the type of people they were dealing with.

Rebecca learned Larry Wong was as unwilling to help Vargas as he was her. Vargas concluded that Wong saw the murder as a chance to be on the front page of the local newspaper and to assure he became the next Chief of Police. He somehow became convinced early on that Baranski was the killer, that he or Karen was also the jewel thief, and Wong would do nothing except follow that course. Once Baranski disappeared from Sausalito, Wong didn’t know how to proceed beyond sending out APBs and waiting for street cops to find him.