I
didn't kill him,” Camacho said, looking up from the floor of his living room and rubbing his ribs where Donnally had nailed him.
It hadn't been until 8
A.M.
that they spotted a light come on in the house, and seconds after Navarro did the knock and notice, Camacho had run through his house and toward the back door. The wood and glass exploding inward and the SWAT officers marching into the kitchen had sent Camacho running back into the dining room and to the threshold of the living room, where he met Donnally's lowered shoulder.
“I just helped her afterwards. Fuck, man, what was I supposed to do? I had a dozen calls with that lunatic. I had all kinda motive because he set me up and I had no fucking alibi. And she's screaming she did it for me and for some guy named Little Bud I never heard of before. And how she'd just killed her fatherâ”
“Killed her father?” Donnally tensed. “I thought we were talking about Hamlin.”
“We are. When we get over there, Hamlin's tied to a chair, dead, a rope around his neck tied to a piece of a broom handle in the back. Like she used it for leverage, to tighten the noose, like squeezing water out of a rag.”
“Why do you think he was her father?”
“That's what she said, man. She was bearing down on him and he's saying, âDon't kill me. I'm your father. I'm your father,' and then the guy has some kind of spasm and slumps over dead.”
Donnally backed up a step and pointed from Camacho to the couch. He rolled over onto his knees, then pushed himself up and onto it. Donnally sat down on an ottoman. Navarro stayed by the door.
“I told you the bitch was nuts,” Camacho said.
“How do we know that it wasn't her interrupting you killing him?” Navarro said.
Donnally knew the answer.
“Because I wouldn't have strangled the guy. You know guys like me don't do that kind of shit. I would've just kept breaking fingers until I got what I wanted. And how was I gonna get the guy stoned on opium? That's how she got him dazed enough to get him into the chair and tied up.”
“And the rope,” Donnally said.
“Yeah. That, too. It was a mountain-climbing rope. Where the fuck would I get a mountain-climbing rope? It's not like they sell them at Home Depot.”
“Why Fort Point?” Donnally asked. “And why leave him hanging there half naked?”
“Why do you think? We were protecting the chick. No daughter would do that to her own father. No fucking way.”
Donnally realized that if Camacho was telling the truth, his theory had been wrong. Hamlin hadn't been stripped down and hung up in order to send a message or to humiliate him, but as misdirection, to keep the police from even starting down a trail that would lead to him.
“I knew she didn't have the stomach for what we needed to do. We left her in the van in the parking lot when we went up with his body. I figure she didn't even find out how we handled it until she saw it on the news.”
“Hamlin smelled like lavender,” Navarro said. “Why wash him off?”
“Wasn't us. The flake said he'd gone running with some gal after work and they came back to his place and took showers. I don't know if that was true, but he reeked like a fag.”
Donnally looked up at Navarro. The detective's eyes hardened against the slur, then he nodded, telling Donnally that he'd figured out the rest just as Donnally had.
Ryvver then went after Lange, blaming him because she'd killed her own father and for Little Bud's suicide. After their argument on the second floor during the party, she dropped Rohypnol into his drink and torched his house.
Ryvver's Mother Number One was wrong. Killing Frank Lange wasn't patricide.
But why would the mothers tell Ryvver Lange was her father?
Or why would Mother Two tell Mother One that it was Lange she'd slept with in order to conceive Ryvver?
Donnally shifted his gaze back to Camacho.
“I had no idea she was gonna kill Lange,” Camacho said. “She promised she'd be going away, up north. We're driving away from Fort Point after we hung him up and she starts rambling on about a bookstore someplace. Why somebody would be going to a bookstore after murdering her father beats the hell out of me.”
Donnally was almost sure she hadn't done that. Mother One was convincing in her worry, and Ryvver's cell records showed she had stayed in San Francisco, or at least her phone had.
“Where's the rest of the rope and the bolt cutters?” Donnally asked.
“Where do you think? At the bottom of the bay.”
Donnally rose to his feet, looked down at Camacho, and said, “Don't move,” and then walked with Navarro just outside the front door.
“If he's telling the truth,” Donnally said to Navarro, “she's got to be figuring we're getting close. Find out whether she's still using that pay-as-you-go phone. There's one person left on her hit list.”
Donnally walked down the front steps to the sidewalk. He called directory assistance and punched in the number.
A voice answered on the first ring, “Law Office of Reggie Hancock.”
He identified himself and asked for Hancock.
“I'm sorry. He's not in today. Can I take a message?”
“Do you know when he'll get it?”
“I'm sure he'll call in during the day.”
Donnally looked toward the house. Navarro was on his cell phone and staring into the living room, watching Camacho.
Donnally gave her his number and told her it was urgent, that someone might be aiming to harm Hancock.
She didn't seem to react to the news. Donnally had the feeling that she'd heard threats before. He suspected if he'd called Jackson a month earlier to report that there were threats made against Hamlin, she would have reacted the same.
Donnally thought of a way to get her to take this one more seriously.
“If you have any doubts about me or what I'm saying, do a search of my name on the Internet. Check the
San Francisco Chronicle
.”
He listened to light tapping in the background, then, “Oh, I see.”
“To verify it's me on the phone, call the San Francisco Police Department and ask to be patched through to homicide detective Ramon Navarro.”
Donnally glanced toward Navarro. He was leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest. Donnally heard her disconnect.
Navarro reached for his phone a minute later, answered, and glanced toward Donnally.
Donnally nodded. Navarro passed on Donnally's number. His phone rang fifteen seconds later.
“I'll call his cell and his house so he'll know who you are,” she said, then gave him the numbers.
“And if a woman named Ryvver calls,” Donnally said, “I want to hear from you right away.”
“But she's already called. Twice in the last few days. She said she wanted him to represent her in a case in San Francisco.”
“Is he on his way up here now?”
“No. The appearance is for tomorrow afternoon, so he won't fly up until the morning. That's what he always does. I made the reservation myself.”
“Were they going to meet ahead of time?”
She paused for a moment. Donnally heard a rustle of paper.
“It's not on the calendar, but I have a vague recollection she may have come down here for a couple of hours yesterday. He left and said he had to meet someone, but didn't say who.”
“I'll try the number and you do, too,” Donnally said. “If he doesn't answer, send the police to check his house. Then call me back.”
Donnally disconnected and walked over to Navarro, who said, “I got the news a few minutes ago. There were a bunch of calls from Ryvver's pay-as-you-go cell phone and Reggie Hancockâ”
“But none since last night.”
“Yeah, but none since last night.” Navarro squinted at Donnally. “How'd you know?”
A
s they drove away, Navarro called Judge McMullin and got the bail on Camacho for moving human remains raised from the statutory fifteen thousand dollars to no bail in order to keep him locked up and then got another detective to swear out a warrant on the same charge and bail amount for Calaca, whose full name and address they found in the search of Camacho's house.
Donnally tried to reach Jackson on her cell phone. She didn't answer. He wondered whether she'd put it back in her purse and couldn't hear it or was just refusing to pick up.
His phone rang just as he was returning it to his pocket. It was Hancock's secretary.
“My assistant just told me Reggie left a message on the main office voice mail. He usually leaves them on mine, but he knew I had an early doctor's appointment. I just listened to it. He said he's in San Diego and that he'd stop by the office in the morning on his way to the airport.”
“How did he sound?”
“Strained. Really strained. And I checked the caller ID, the phone he called from had a 415 area code, San Francisco.”
“We'll start looking for him,” Donnally said. “I'll call you as soon as we find him. Let me have the number the call came from.”
Donnally wrote it down, disconnected, and relayed the conversation to Navarro, who called the intelligence unit to check the number. It was another pay-as-you-go cell phone. He called it. There was no answer, and no voice mail had been set up. The number seemed familiar, but he'd looked at so many in recent days, almost any number would have.
He glanced over at Navarro. “You have Camacho's cell phone records?”
Navarro thumb-pointed over his shoulder toward his briefcase lying on the backseat. Donnally flipped it open and pulled them out, and there it was.
“Bingo. Ryvver called Camacho a few minutes before he called Calaca on the night of Hamlin's murder.”
“Another noose just tightened.”
“That's not the only one. Ryvver will figure out pretty soon that Jackson's usefulness has just about ended. And Jackson is our only lead.”
“And if Ryvver is as crazy as people think, she may blurt out that Hamlin was really her father, and Jackson will put it all together and figure out that Ryvver did in Lange, too.”
“And then Ryvver in her crazy way will start thinking she needs to get rid of Jackson.”
When they arrived back at Hamlin's office, they found that Jackson was gone. Navarro sent area beat officers to knock on her door. They reported back ten minutes later. Jackson wasn't there either. Her roommate let them search the apartment. She hadn't seen Jackson in two days. Jackson had told her she'd be staying with a friend out in the avenues. They left instructions for Jackson to call Navarro if she showed up.
Donnally thought of Ryvver's cell phone calls. Almost all from the avenues. He walked to the window and looked down, scanning the street.
“Mother Two is down there,” Donnally said. “Parked in a yellow zone.” He turned back toward Navarro. “How about you block her in? It's time we had a talk.”
Navarro nodded and left the office first. Donnally waited a few minutes and rode the elevator down. He stopped just inside the main entrance, where he had an angled view up the one-way street. The front of Mother Two's truck faced him. Her visor was down and she had a newspaper against the steering wheel to hinder the view of anyone looking inside. He saw Navarro pull to a stop next to her, blocking the driver's side door.
Donnally watched Mother Two roll her window down and scream at Navarro, then Donnally ran up to the passenger side and yanked the door open and jumped in. Mother Two swung an elbow at him. Donnally blocked it with his left hand, then grabbed her wrist and turned it down. Next came her left arm, roundhouse style. He blocked it with his right, but missed the grab. She drew back, and Navarro reached in through her window and locked onto her arm. She struggled, twisting her body like a bucking bull. Navarro snapped a handcuff on her wrist, then hooked the other end to the steering wheel. Donnally pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Enough,” Donnally yelled at her.
Mother Two was breathing hard through her nose, her nostrils flaring.
“Why didn't you just come up to my window and ask to talk to me?”
Donnally thought of her screaming at Navarro.
“And what would you have done?”
“Found a way to run your ass over.”
“What's your beef with me?”
“My beef with you is that you're trying to drag a mentally ill young woman into something she's not a part of. She didn't hang Mark Hamlin out there. She weighs all of a hundred pounds.”
“I know she didn't.”
“Then why are you hounding her?” Mother Two pulled on her arm. “Let me go.”
“You swing at me again and you're going to jail.”
Mother Two breathed in and out again, forcing the air like she wanted it to be heard. Finally, she said, “Okay. I won't hit you.”
Donnally released her wrist.
She reached over, jerked on the handcuffs, and looked out at Navarro. “What about these?”
“They stay where they are.”
“Have it your way.” She lowered her free hand to her side.
A horn honked behind them. Navarro held up his badge. An engine whined as a car accelerated around them.
“Tell me about Ryvver and Frank Lange,” Donnally said.
“What's there to say?”
Donnally noticed a calmness in her voice. He wondered whether his saying he knew Ryvver hadn't strung up Hamlin had led her to conclude her daughter wasn't a suspect in anything. He guessed she was about to head down the patricide trail Mother One had already blazed.
“What's there to say is why you lied to Ryvver all those years about who her father was.”
Mother Two's head pivoted toward him. “Say what?”
“You heard me, and she knows already.”
Her eyes widened and her face paled. She started to speak, more of a gasp, the words trapped in her throat.
“How . . . how?”
“It's not important. But she believes Mark Hamlin was her father.”
“Mark wouldn't have told her.”
“Let's say he was desperate.”
Mother Two snorted. “If he was desperate, he would've said anything. That's the kind of guy he was.”
“The medical examiner has tissue samples. We can still do a paternity test.”
She raised her fist, held it in front of her face, looking at it like it had somehow let her down, like it was a weapon she had failed to fire in combat. Her head fell forward and she dropped her hand to her thigh.
“My partner hated Hamlin, saw through him from day one, that's how I ended up with the fat pig Frank on top of me day after day. I only found out after Ryvver was born that Frank was shooting blanks. Got hurt as a kid. On his bike or playing football or something.”
She looked over at Donnally.
“He just got off on the idea of screwing a lesbian, so he lied to us. I didn't know what was wrong, but I wasn't getting pregnant and wanted the whole thing over with, so I let Mark fuck me a couple of times. And that was it. We got Ryvver.”
“And you never told your partner?”
“No. I was afraid she'd always look at Ryvver as a kind of Rosemary's Baby.”
“How did you find out Frank was impotent?”
Mother Two looked at Navarro. “Do I have to answer that?”
Navarro nodded.
“The asshole blackmailed sex out of me after she was born. Mark told him about me and him, and Frank used it to make me put out or he'd tell my partner. I told him to wear a condom so I wouldn't get pregnant again, and he laughed and told me. I should've killed the bastard right then.”
Donnally didn't follow that with “Instead of later?” for fear of giving her the idea of trying to protect her daughter by taking the fall.
Navarro cut in. “Where is she now?”
“I don't know. I was hoping you would lead me to her and I could . . .”
“Help her get away?” Navarro said.
“Maybe. Frank deserved it.”
“What about Mark?” Donnally asked.
Her head snapped toward Donnally. “You said . . .”
“No. She killed him all right. Someone else moved the body out there and hung him up.”
“You son of a bitch.”
She raised her elbow to strike him.
Donnally pointed at her. “Don't do it.” She lowered it.
“I had no choice,” Donnally said. “I needed to know the truth.”
“Now you know. And now it's over.”
“It's not. Reggie Hancock is missing. She was supposed to meet him in LA yesterday. Nobody has seen him since.”
Donnally described the rolling scheme, its connection to Little Bud and his suicide, and the call from Hancock to his secretary. He didn't see any risk in telling her. If Mother Two refused to cooperate with them in finding Ryvver and getting her to surrender, Navarro would lock her up for assault so she couldn't do anything to help her daughter.
“She never went to LA. I know. She lives on SSI and her credit card is in my name. If she'd flown or driven down there, I'd know about it. I've been checking her credit card and bank account online. She'd need a plane ticket or gas for the car. Like always, there's hardly any money in there and she hasn't taken cash out for a couple of weeks.”
“Maybe Reggie figured out he'd be next,” Donnally said, “and came up here to try to grab her on his own terms.”
“Where would she try to meet him?” Navarro asked. “Maybe someplace where Hancock wouldn't think there was any risk.”
Mother Two closed her eyes. Donnally watched her thumbs working against her fingertips. Finally, she opened them.
“The place she knew best in San Francisco was Golden Gate Park. The California Academy of Sciences and all that. She spent a summer working as a volunteer at the Steinhart Aquarium. She even had her own key. She liked to hang out there late at night. Just her and the animals.”
Donnally imagined Ryvver tying up Hancock and feeding him to the alligators.
“She still knows lots of folks who work there. They're very fond of her and let her do work around the place when she's in town.”