When Gerald didn’t respond, Raveneau said, ‘Let’s get together for a drink soon. My girlfriend is opening a bar at the edge of the Mission. Or it’s mostly a bar. It’ll have some food. We can meet there after she has it up and running.’
‘OK, so drinks on you, she owns it? I’ll look forward to it. What’s the name going to be?’
‘Toasts.’
‘Cute.’
‘I’ve got another call coming in. I’ll talk to you later.’
Raveneau checked the number on his cell screen before answering, ‘This is Inspector Raveneau.’
‘Oh, hello, I’m Barbara Haney’s brother. The police here called me. What’s your interest in my sister?’
‘We have new evidence in a cold case and I’d like to re-interview her.’
‘You would.’
That was a statement not a question and Raveneau left it alone. He waited.
‘I’m going to be frank, Inspector. Barbara was quite put off by your department. She and Larry spent a lot of hours in San Francisco talking to police rather than honeymooning. They didn’t have any problem with any of that, eh, but one of the inspectors came to Calgary and threatened them. But that’s America, getting treated like criminals for trying to help.’
It went on another several minutes this way, the brother as gatekeeper, the brother venting about American arrogance abroad, Raveneau listening to how the world was turning away from the United States, and then repeating quietly that he had new evidence and was trying to solve the murder of a man who was gunned down. Finally, the brother gave him a phone for Barbara Haney’s daughter. The daughter, Cheryl, answered on the second ring.
‘Everyone in the family knows what happened when your inspector came to Calgary and that worries me because my mother has mental health issues. She suffers from depression but refuses to take anything for it. She’s fragile and I feel like I should be there when you question her, but I can’t travel right now. So I don’t think now is the right time.’
For the next twenty minutes Raveneau worked to convince her that this was the right time.
‘I’d also like to talk to your dad. Do you have a way I can get in touch with him?’
‘I don’t have much contact with my father.’
‘Do you know where he lives now?’
‘He’s in China.’
OK, that’s easy, Raveneau thought. I’ll just look for him in China. But in the end she gave him an email for her dad, and then gave him her mom’s phone number after he promised not to ask Barbara Haney to come to San Francisco.
‘I don’t want you to upset my mother.’
‘I’m sorry for whatever happened when our inspector interviewed her last, but your mother and father may be the only ones who can say whether our new lead is worth anything or not.’
‘First, I don’t really believe you.’
‘You can believe me, Cheryl.’
‘And secondly, it’s not my mother’s responsibility to evaluate something like that. I don’t want you to put pressure on her.’
‘The pressure is on me, not on your mom. I’ll make sure it stays that way.’
That got silence, then, ‘She lives in Truckee. Her husband is an American.’ She said that last in a way that suggested that was a life mistake her mother had made. ‘He’s an executive for a ski corporation based in Colorado so they live half the year in Colorado. Do you know where Truckee is?’
‘I do.’
He called Barbara Haney as soon as he got off the phone with the daughter. She must have known the call was coming because almost immediately she asked, ‘Can you bring Inspector Govich with you?’
‘I’m sure he’d like to come with me, but he’s retired.’
She laughed and Raveneau chuckled and guessed he was going to like her. He said, ‘I could drive to Truckee Monday morning.’
‘It’s that urgent?’
‘It’s the case I’m working.’
She was quiet before saying, ‘I knew this wasn’t over.’
NINE
Seven floors up at the FBI Field Office on Golden Gate Street Special Agent Mark Coe picked up the phone and called Ben Raveneau’s cell phone. He assumed Raveneau’s work day heading the Cold Case Unit was more orderly than when he was on-call and in the rotation. San Francisco was staring at a three hundred eighty million dollar deficit this year and he knew the police department was keeping close tabs on overtime. Raveneau was probably about done for the day. But then you couldn’t know with him. Raveneau would work with or without pay.
When Raveneau answered Coe said, ‘Raveneau, I’m back in your life and I’ve got information to share. It’s important enough to show you as soon as possible. Is there any chance of getting you to stop here early tomorrow morning?’
‘Not tomorrow.’
‘What about now?’
Raveneau took a right at the next light and called Celeste. This would disappoint her. She was ready to hire a cook with the title of chef, a New Orleans transplant named Bo Rutan, and had asked a week ago if he’d make the time to meet Rutan. That was supposed to be now. Rutan was there for a final interview.
Raveneau liked Mark Coe. He liked it that Coe never seemed serious about appearing serious, which was a pretty good trick when you worked for the Feds. Coe sounded serious now though. He looked it too. He stood patiently as Raveneau dug coins from his pockets to quiet the FBI metal detector. Coe was physically fit in a wiry way, four or five inches shorter than Raveneau, but probably one of those guys who could run up a mountain without panting. He carried the same sort of confidence at work without seeming full of himself.
‘Did Brooks tell you the counterfeit bills you’re chasing with your cold case may have a connection to a threat against the President?’
‘He didn’t tell me that part, but our victim was killed in 1989.’
‘Did he tell you Krueger was carrying the same series of counterfeit bills as were used to buy explosives last July?’
Raveneau nodded.
‘We’re coming at this from a different direction and I’m going to give you more than Nate did. I can do that because we got there a different way. We were working a fraud case. I’ve got wiretap transcripts from that investigation I’d like to play for you. I can put them on audio or if you’d rather hear and read I can give you both.’
‘Give me both.’
Raveneau followed Coe into a conference room. There was a long oval table with an American flag in a stand, a big-screen TV to the side of it with a computer set-up. The screen came to life and Coe said, ‘These transcripts are from a wire worn by one of our agents out of Salt Lake.’
Raveneau pulled a chair over in front of the TV.
‘This conversation is between a former Utah banker named Jamison Garner and our agent who’s making a contribution using the alias Robert Jenner. Garner used to work for Zion Bank but now works for a very private and political group. Within that group we think may be people who belong to yet another more exclusive group. There’s twenty minutes of talking before they really get to it, and I could fast forward but I think it’s worth hearing all of it. Coffee?’
‘Sure, double espresso, refined sugar, not brown.’
‘You bet, and would you like some fresh pastry?’
‘I would. Bring the cart out and I’ll pick something.’
Coe left as the audio started and Raveneau leaned back and listened to Jamison Garner, deep voiced, easy going, sounding like a big guy who life had treated well. They were talking politics and Garner, like many on either side in these times, was confident he was right. He quietly trash-talked Obama and Congress before launching into the gold bugs’ rap about the Federal Reserve destroying the US dollar. It was talk you could hear a lot of places nowadays. You could turn on the TV and hear experts like Garner on any number of channels. Garner and the man he was talking with were brushing around the edges of ‘something needing doing’ when Coe walked back in.
‘I didn’t look for any milk. Hope you like your coffee black. Sorry it’s in a paper cup.’