Part 8 (1/2)

”We don't know.” Sanchez took off his rain hat and ran a weary hand through his hair before continuing. ”Several witnesses swore they saw Evers reach into his pockets and throw a number of things onto the ground before he climbed the rail. No one saw them clearly, but one man thought he saw a plastic bag with white powder in it. If it was, I'm a.s.suming it's smack. The powder, I mean, not what the witness said. We kept this area sealed off all night, so if it exists, it's still here.”

”Have you found anything?” I said.

”A lot of trash. Used tissue, candy wrappers, that kind of c.r.a.p. Who knows who threw it down? Oh, and one peac.o.c.k feather. There must have been someone from Marin County here.”

He laughed, I didn't. A devotee of the Peac.o.c.k Angel had left a calling card. Murder, I thought, for sure.

”Anyway,” Sanchez continued, ”let me tell you what we know so far.”

Because of those important connections, the powers that be had called in Sanchez immediately rather than leaving the investigation to lesser officers in Homicide. Normally, the police would have looked into a case of suicide only to dot all the i's and cross the t's on the report. Sanchez and his team had spent long hours the evening before, interviewing some eighteen witnesses who'd come forward to say they'd seen Evers on his last walk.

”Everyone,” Sanchez said, ”told us that he looked drunk or drugged. The autopsy report's not in yet, but I'm betting the blood tests show heroin in his system.”

”Could be.” I was betting against it. Ensorcellment leaves no traces that show up in laboratory tests, but I played along with Sanchez's theory because I wanted something out of him. ”I wonder if the person who sold it to him was still close by.”

”It's possible. Several witnesses saw the victim come out of the Ferry Building. He seemed to be accompanied by several other men. I say 'seemed' because there's so much foot traffic around here. We can't be sure that they were actual a.s.sociates. They might have just been exiting at the same time.”

”Yeah, for sure.”

Sanchez took a small notebook from his inner jacket pocket and flipped it open. ”One witness did see Evers stop to speak to a loiterer who'd been standing outside the building. Evers fumbled in his pocket and gave the man something. The witness thought it was money, because the man he spoke to looked like one of the homeless. The witness didn't see this person hand Evers anything in return, but I wonder.”

”So do I,” I said. ”Dealers get very good at pa.s.sing bags back and forth without anyone noticing.”

Sanchez nodded and frowned at his notes. During this conversation, Ari had been standing nearby, listening, I'm sure, but also keeping a watch on the police officers searching the ground. Sanchez flipped a page in the notebook and smiled.

”Here it is,” he said. ”I've got an alert out for this homeless man as a person of interest. Even if he's not a dealer, he'll still have information we can use, a.s.suming he's not too crazy to remember what happened.” He cleared his throat and read aloud. ”A white male about five foot eight, thin, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, slightly stoopshouldered. Long gray hair and beard, with long sideburns like an Orthodox rabbi-”

Ari spun around and walked over to stand just behind Sanchez.

”Probably brown eyes,” Sanchez went on. ”The witness wasn't close enough to tell eye color. The person of interest's face was wrinkled and tan, like he'd spent time in the desert, the witness said. He was wearing a pair of torn and faded black pants and a black suit jacket, also torn and stained in places.”

”Any hat?” Ari said.

Sanchez flinched. Ari could move quietly when he wanted to, and the lieutenant hadn't noticed him come up.

”Yeah,” Sanchez said, ”a black Giants cap that looked brand-new.”

”Huh,” Ari said.

Sanchez looked at Ari and raised an eyebrow. Ari smiled and said nothing more. Sanchez turned to me.

”Do you want to interview Evers' secretary?” Sanchez said. ”I'm going to his office.”

”Will she be there on Sat.u.r.day?” I said.

”Yeah, she offered to come in to meet me there.”

”I do want,” I said. ”Thanks.”

With Embarcadero Center so close, Ari and I headed off on foot, but Sanchez lingered to give instructions to the officers manning the barrier. Ten SWAT team members in riot gear had joined the line. We made our way through the mobs and crossed the street, which by then was totally blocked with farm trucks, Muni buses, pedestrians, and cars. Horns blared, drivers shouted. A distant streetcar clanged in rage.

As soon as we'd gotten far enough away to hear each other, I said, ”Reb Ezekiel?”

”The description fits,” Ari said. ”Except for the choice of hat, but some kind soul might have given that to him. On the other hand, we could be dealing with coincidence. It's not an uncommon description.”

”Not in Israel, maybe. What Sanchez called long sideburns aren't hot fas.h.i.+on items around here.”

”That's a very good point. Let's hope the police can round this fellow up, and then we'll know.”

In the Embarcadero Center, we rejoined Sanchez at the base of the elevator tower leading to Evers' office. During the ride up, I asked the lieutenant a few more questions and got some details about the men seen leaving the Ferry Building at the same time as Evers-all of them business types, all of them, it seemed, wearing gray or blue suits. One among them was indeed short and pudgy, and another was tall and rail-thin, but so were hundreds of thousands of men in the Bay Area.

At Evers' office, Miss Kowalski, dressed in a blue skirt suit and heels, was waiting outside the locked door, which the police had secured with tape the night before. While Sanchez showed her his police ID and made a few commiserating noises, I ran an SPP on her. Although she read as dazed, absolutely stunned at what had happened, and sorry for her former boss, most of her worry seemed to be directed toward finding a new job and an income. I couldn't blame her. Sanchez ripped the tape free of the door.

”You can open up now,” Sanchez told her.

Kowalski nodded and took her keys out of her pocket. Once we were all inside, she sat down behind her desk in the front room.

”Mr. Evers' accountant will be in at two o'clock,” she told Sanchez, ”to look at financial matters, so if you need to speak with him-”

”I do,” Sanchez said. ”Was your boss in debt?”

”I don't know.” She spoke carefully, choosing words. ”He always paid me on time, and as far as I know, the rent here wasn't in arrears. But I got the impression that he was worried about his cash flow.”

Heroin's not cheap, I thought to myself, especially the snortable Persian white.

”I'll come back to see the accountant, then.” Sanchez glanced my way with a little nod to give me the okay to speak.

”When Evers left here,” I asked, ”was he meeting someone?”

”Yes,” Kowalski said, ”over at the Ferry Building. For a drink, he told me, but I don't know which bar exactly.”

”Do you know whom he was meeting?”

”I don't, which is strange. Usually he told me who and whether or not I could interrupt him by phone if I needed to. I do know that the person was a man. Mr. Evers said something like 'I'm meeting him at four.'” She paused to hit a few keys, then swiveled the monitor around so we could all see it. ”Here's his appointment list for yesterday. I can show you the entire year so far.”

”Can you give me a printout of that?” Sanchez said. ”A couple of copies would be good.”

”Certainly, sir. He also received two calls on the landline here after he left for the day. I had the unit set to record. Do you want to hear those?”

”I sure do,” Sanchez said. ”If there's anything else you can tell me-”

”I will, and as soon as I think of it.” She paused, her mouth slack. ”He was a good boss. He always treated me like a person, you know? Some bosses don't.”

The phone calls told us nothing of interest. While Miss Kowalski was printing out Evers' appointments, the Homicide forensics team arrived. Sanchez handed me one copy of the printout, then made it clear that we could leave. Since the Forensic team was milling around, he followed us out into the quieter corridor.

”One last thing,” I said to him. ”Have you interviewed the two women that Evers named as members of his group?”

”I haven't had time.” Sanchez hesitated briefly. ”I suppose you still want to talk with them.”

”Well, if it's possible. I don't want to poach on your territory, but it looks like you have your hands full here.”