‘‘You just don’t own a crane. Okay?’’ Gaynes advised. ‘‘It’s not something you keep in your garage. You rent them or lease them.’’ She referred to her notes. ‘‘There are five outfits between here and Tacoma that rent or lease the kind of equipment capable of lifting a container.’’
Boldt had brought her up to Homicide single-handedly, breaking the gender barrier for the first time and landing her into a tough assignment. She had rallied behind the challenges, required to repeatedly prove herself, but never holding a grudge. She did some of the best police work on the fifth floor. The latest attack on her had her gay and in a relationship with an ousted detective. It was an invented story meant to smear her. The dust had yet to settle.
‘‘A woman’s gone missing. A reporter, no less.’’
She eyed him curiously. ‘‘You want to rent one of these cranes, you need bonding, all sorts of insurance, you name it.’’
‘‘She was investigating something to do with the containers,’’ he said. ‘‘The brass is having conniptions. It’s all about how the press will tear us apart if something has happened to her and we don’t find her first.’’ He added, ‘‘For them, that is. For us: we’ve got a missing persons who may have busted open this investigation.’’
‘‘You want this?’’
Boldt said, ‘‘I need the short form. We do, or do not have record of a rental the night of that storm?’’
‘‘The paperwork to prove it? No. A rental? Maybe. I’m going to need some manpower.’’
‘‘If you’re pulling for OT, you’ve got it.’’ He was not fond of his new role as administrator, guidance counselor and disciplinarian—all of which were required of a lieutenant. He often felt like little more than a file drawer between his captain, Sheila Hill, and the sergeants and squads that worked beneath him.
‘‘Third place I try, a place called Geribaldi’s Equipment, I make the guy behind the counter real nervous with mention of cash rentals that bypass the paperwork. He’s sweating bullets by the time I’m through explaining how aiding and abetting works in the eyes of the law. Takes me outside for a smoke. Says how maybe a telescoping crane went out the morning of that storm that he knows for a fact it didn’t make it into the books because when he tried to rent out the same crane, it didn’t happen to exist in the yard. His manager blamed the screwup on him—but also told him not to worry about it. Said maybe the paperwork had been misplaced.’’
‘‘So there’s no proof a crane went out,’’ Boldt pressed. ‘‘What’s the good news?’’
‘‘I’ve got the manager’s name: Zulia. I was thinking maybe we check the guy’s bank accounts for an extra deposit or two.’’ She added, ‘‘I’d like to sit on his crib, the yard, monitor his bank transactions. I could use a couple guys for surveillance. Maybe we have a little chat with him in the Box.’’
‘‘Okay, let’s do it.’’
‘‘First we gotta find him. He has taken an unexpected vacation.’’
Boldt said, ‘‘Rental shops are easy targets for theft. All that equipment sitting outside. Protection makes sense.’’
Gaynes asked, ‘‘Mama Lu?’’ She knew what Boldt was thinking when others seldom had a clue.
Boldt said, ‘‘If she wants someone found, I imagine it’s only a matter of time.’’
‘‘In that case, you might mention our missing reporter.’’
‘‘Point taken.’’
‘‘You’re looking for a world of hurt, you go opening that door,’’ LaMoia said, interrupting from the doorway. He added, ‘‘McNeal lifted some videotapes from our girl’s apartment last night. I’m thinking they gotta be relevant to my investigation. She’s not in the mood to share and claims she’ll hide behind first amendment privileges if we come after them.’’
‘‘How do we know this?’’ Gaynes asked.
Boldt didn’t answer her. Instead he said to LaMoia, ‘‘We go after the tapes anyway. Find a judge that’s running for reelection. Let him figure it out.’’
‘‘Waste of time,’’ LaMoia said.
Boldt conceded. ‘‘Okay, so we work the cranes. Mama Lu’s a businesswoman. She knows when to cut her losses. She doesn’t want us dragging in every gang member for questioning. That makes her look weak.’’
‘‘She also cuts throats, Sarge,’’ LaMoia warned. ‘‘Or at least her soldiers do.’’
‘‘Set up a meeting,’’ Boldt requested.
‘‘I don’t think this is so smart,’’ LaMoia complained.
‘‘Set it up,’’ Boldt repeated sharply.
The artwork rustled on LaMoia’s way out.
‘‘Surveillance of the rental place is approved,’’ Boldt told Gaynes. ‘‘Work it out with Special Ops.’’
CHAPTER 18
ama Lu occupied the same wingback throne as she had on his first visit. Only the dress had changed: teal with black embroidery. She wore it wrapped around herself like a towel. Her long black braid fell over her shoulder heavy like a horsetail.
LaMoia had asked to come along, but Boldt had refused, not wanting to give the impression of teaming up on her.
He kept his opening comment to the point. ‘‘Your influence both as a businesswoman and great friend to this city stretches far and wide. No, don’t shake your head—we both know this to be true. Let us suppose that someone in this business of importing illegals decided not to risk unloading their cargo on shore but instead decided to make the transfer while still out at sea. To accomplish this effectively this person would need a tugboat, a barge and a crane. We, the police, have identified a company that looks good for this. Our problem is that the individual we believe responsible for renting that crane has failed to show up at work.’’
‘‘I own a few humble groceries, Mr. Both—’’
‘‘And four Laundromats, a movie theater, a limousine company, a hotel—’’
‘‘A few investments is all! Who trusts the banks anymore?’’
‘‘Geribaldi Equipment. The rental company. The manager is named Zulia. If he were encouraged to cooperate with police—’’
‘‘As a good citizen,’’ she said, testing.
‘‘Yes—out of his generosity of spirit—it would certainly save us opening up his or the company’s financial records. Cash flow. Payments.’’
Her brow tightened. She sat forward, however imperceptibly. She took hold of her braid with both pudgy hands as if it were a butler’s pull.
Boldt said, ‘‘There would be no reason for our forensic accountants to examine any of their records.’’
‘‘Only a fool stabs a dragon thinking he will kill it. To kill a dragon one must cut off its head.’’
He paused. ‘‘If forced to . . .’’
She grinned, her eyes disappearing behind the folds of flesh. ‘‘How sharp is your sword, Mr. Both?’’
‘‘Zulia drops a name. He goes home.’’ He paused. ‘‘Everybody’s happy.’’
‘‘Not whoever’s name is mentioned.’’
Boldt grinned. The room felt suddenly hot to him. ‘‘The three women who died in that container were sick. They died of malnutrition and dehydration because the captain refused them food and water. Storms slowed down the crossing and the captain just let them die in there.’’
She said, ‘‘You reap what you sow,’’ and Boldt added yet another name to his list of possible murder suspects. The captain of the Visage was not short of enemies.
She said, ‘‘Once on these shores, these girls are good for economy. Maids in hotels, waitress in bars.’’
‘‘Sweatshops, prostitution,’’ he added.
He sought out the person behind those dark eyes, eager to determine her level of involvement, but saw nothing revealed. She sat there as impassive as the best judges.
For a moment he felt convinced this woman had not been involved with the deaths. When she smiled, he lost hold of it, like chasing a wet bar of soap.
‘‘They say ignorance is bliss, Mr. Both. Maybe true.’’
‘‘If he’d given them food and water they would have lived. There was no reason for them to die.’’
‘‘That man no longer with us. We must forgive him his sins.’’
‘‘Him, perhaps. But not the others.’’ He paused, having locked eyes with her. ‘‘Do you condone such treatment of your fellow Chi
nese?’’
‘‘A topic that bears much discussion.’’
He hesitated a moment and told her, ‘‘A Chinese-American has gone missing. A television reporter. She was investigating the container. If they harm her, they are fools. The power of the media is far greater than a single police department, believe me.’’
The woman’s face scrunched up tight. If this wasn’t news to her, she was a good actress. ‘‘You know this as true? Missing woman?’’
He said, ‘‘If a person were to help us locate this missing woman, the city would smile upon her.’’ He added, ‘‘The media, too.’’
She grinned and nodded and returned his determined gaze. ‘‘I understand.’’ A silence fell between them. ‘‘Go carefully, Mr. Both. Accidents happen to the nicest people.’’ She added, ‘‘And trust no one. Not even me.’’ She smiled again, more widely. She had forgotten her teeth. He saw them then in a clear glass to her right, grinning all on their own.