“What did you think Crey was going to use the sport boat for?”
“For the same things I did.”
“Poaching and taking out regular customers.”
Beaudry nodded again. “Richie knew Ludovna. I knew he’d take him out.”
“So you sold out knowing Crey was going to use your business to poach whenever he could, and that was okay because that’s what you’d done all those years you were helping us.”
“I am sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, sir, I truly am.”
43
Baird came down from headquarters, met him on Ninth, and they walked across the capitol lawns toward J Street. There were school buses, children grouped out in front of the capitol building getting ready for a tour of the capitol, and after they’d threaded their way through the kids Marquez explained.
“Beaudry told me this morning he sold way too cheap because he was afraid he was dealing with the same guys he’d borrowed from to pay his Vegas debts. He thinks they scouted his business after he said he’d sell it to pay what he owed. On his own or with the mob, Ludovna bought Beaudry’s business using Crey as a front.”
“That’s the way it strings together?”
“I think so. Ludovna went out on the boat enough times to decide he wanted the business. He knew Crey was an ex-con with no prospects so loaned him the money with a lot of conditions attached. Crey gets to own the business, but the catch is he’s also got a debt to pay off to Ludovna and has to provide a steady supply of sturgeon. What we’re selling Crey is making its way to Ludovna.”
“But we can’t prove that.”
“Not yet, and we don’t know whether Ludovna is tied in with this Las Vegas group either. When I’ve talked to the FBI about Ludovna they haven’t been too interested.”
“I remember Beaudry. Didn’t he help us out? Didn’t we give him CalTIP money?”
“Yeah, we did, and he turned in a few poachers. They were probably crowding his boat and taking all the good fish.”
Marquez and Baird moved away from the capitol lawns, Marquez laying out what the SOU was doing now, partnering with Crey. At a street corner as they waited for the light to change, they overheard two young men, one asking the other, “Did you hear the FBI blew away one of those guys they’ve been looking for? Up in Seattle.”
Marquez turned to the young men, interrupted their conversation. “When did that happen?”
“Like an hour ago. Not the Karsov dude, but the other one.”
The light changed, and Marquez and the chief crossed. They walked on for another half hour, in part for Baird’s health. Baird’s doctor had him on a high dosage of statins and an aspirin a day. He’d been told to exercise regularly, so he walked. But now they ducked into a bar Baird knew had a TV. The bartender changed the channel to news, and they watched. It only took a few minutes to get the gist.
Rain slicked off the coat of the CNN reporter in Seattle. She interviewed a bystander who’d witnessed the gun battle with Filipovna. Filipovna had attempted to shoot his way out when they knocked on the apartment door.
“They must have known where to wait for him,” Baird said as they came back out into sunlight. He slowed and turned toward Marquez. “You got your three-week extension and now we’re down to the last risks I’m going to okay. What happened to the FBI has shaken me. If we’re dealing with any of the same people that’s very disturbing, but I agree, we’re at a crossroads where we either give in or stop them. I’m trusting your judgment. If you’re wrong, God help both of us.”
Marquez nodded.
“Make sure you keep me in the loop.”
Marquez found Raburn on his houseboat, trimming out his new windows. He had a couple of sawhorses set up on the Astroturf. A gallon paint can of quick-drying primer and a brush were nearby. The Astroturf around the sawhorses was dotted with white paint drips, and Raburn dipped his hand into the river and scrubbed primer off his fingers.
“I was a lot happier before I got mixed up in any of this.”
“Next time don’t shoot your windows out.”
“Next time don’t force me to lie to a guy who wouldn’t have a problem killing me.”
“You may remember I asked you to stop working with him. I told you if he calls you and asks for sturgeon, you refer him to me.”
“It doesn’t quite work like that.”
“Then you’re not telling me what’s going on. You’re holding back. If you’ve been doing that since we got into this, then you haven’t kept your word.”
Raburn looked past him at some spot above the river.
“When did Ludovna last call you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“In the last few days?”
Raburn didn’t answer. Marquez studied him and the paint all over the Astroturf. He thought about Raburn shooting out his own windows. Beaudry was scornful of Raburn. Ludovna called him a drunk and a goof. Even Crey looked down on him, yet Raburn had managed to work with everybody, including the SOU. The guy was more clever than anyone gave him credit for.
“He called you, but you don’t want to talk to me about it. Is that because you’ve played it both ways ever since we made the offer to you?”
“I’ve done everything you asked. I’ve taken you out to people I’ve bought from, I’ve cleaned sturgeon and made caviar. I’ve driven you around-”
“Yeah, and you helped load Anna’s car in the middle of the night so she could deliver caviar. You help everybody. Tell your brother and sister-in-law I’m going to come see them tomorrow morning and have a talk with them about the canning room before they see charges filed. And I don’t know if you know this, but in California, if they both go down on felonies the judge has the right to place the kids in foster homes. That’s what you’ve got them into.”
“There’s something wrong with you.”
“You’re so sure you’re going to beat us at this, you’re willing to let them take big risks. Tell them I’m going to talk very frankly tomorrow and I’d advise them to do the same. I’m advising you not to talk to anyone else about any of this. Something is going down now that I don’t think you want to be a part of.”
He left Raburn standing near his sawhorses, then he met Crey at the Bighorn in Rio Vista and drank several beers. Afterward they walked the ten blocks back to the bait shop, and Crey unlocked the door and fired up a joint that he smoked alone as he showed Marquez his sport boat schedule and pored over a navigational map, pointing out sturgeon holes. He got a bottle of Jack Daniels from the back room and two short glasses.
“That girl that works for me is coming back here in an hour.” He winked at Marquez. “I’ve got a bunk on the boat, and she’s bringing Chinese food.”
“How long have you known her?”
“She just about came with the place.”
They drank to the new partnership, and he should have realized then how hard Crey was working to find out where he’d be later tonight.
44
The next morning Marquez met Shauf at Mel’s in Walnut Grove, where they got coffee and sat in his truck and talked before heading toward Raburn Orchards. They drove slowly up the river road.
“Think anyone will be there?” she asked.
“Sure, they’ll be there and we may get another confession out of Raburn as he throws himself on the tracks to try to save his brother.”
“You really think he cares that much about his brother?”
“I do.”
When they turned off the road and came down the steep drop to Raburn Orchards Marquez spotted Abe’s truck under the high gable of the packing shed, so they went there first. The driver’s door was open, the truck parked at an odd angle, but no lights were on in back and they couldn’t find Raburn.
“His keys are in the ignition,” Shauf said.
“Let’s drive down to the house. They must be waiting down there.”
Isaac’s big dark blue Ford F-350 and Cindy’s Volvo were there. Marquez pulled in alongside the Ford.