Chapter Seven
“You happen to look out your window yesterday?”
Beau’s size 14 shoes rested comfortably on Cape’s desk.
The office faced the bay, but any view of Alcatraz was blocked by the looming edifice of Aquarium of the Bay, which sat directly across the street at the entrance to Pier 39. A long walk down that pier led to a daily congregation of sea lions that had made the area a major tourist attraction, a bit of natural history you couldn’t see back home. Unfortunately, every square inch of the pier itself was crowded with stores and booths designed to empty tourists’ wallets long before they ever made it to the sea lions. With the addition of the Gap, the Hard Rock Cafe, and the Disney Store, the pier looked more like a strip mall than anything remotely related to nature or history.
But if you looked past the pier to the right, you could see the water and signs of mayhem from the day before. The police and federal agencies had cleared out, but the ship remained lodged at the base of Alcatraz. The tourist boat rammed by the ship was stuck bow-first in the sand on the far side of the island, the hull split open like an egg. All the crew and tourists had been topside, hurled into the water before the boat struck land.
The bizarre wreck had attracted a small fleet of sailboats and dinghies overloaded with passengers, most without life preservers but all wearing cameras around their necks. The Coast Guard and Harbor Patrol had a long week ahead of them until the two ships could be towed to the docks in Oakland.
“I was home yesterday,” said Cape. “But I saw it on the news. Channel 7 said there was ‘evidence of foul play’ and Channel 5 said it was ‘slaughter on the high seas.’ Channel 2 put the whole thing in perspective with a segment called ‘Ships of Death.’”
Beau shook his head sadly. “I wish their choppers had crashed.”
“I take it you’re involved.”
Beau shook his head. “Not for long.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“It’s political,” replied Beau, “and it’s gonna get worse. You know District Supervisor Harold Yan?”
“Heard of him,” replied Cape. “But never met him. He’s the one running for mayor?”
“That’s the one,” said Beau. “Represented Chinatown for almost a decade, now wants to be the first Asian- American mayor of San Francisco.”
“So?”
“So the current mayor was kinda hoping to get re-elected.”
“I get it,” said Cape. “And the mayor had a string of bad press lately. That accounting screw-up in the comptroller’s office last month, and-”
Beau finished the thought. “And now allegations of police corruption. You see the story in Monday’s paper?”
Cape nodded. “Any truth to the rumors?”
Beau hesitated before answering. “It started with a report that a few beat cops in Chinatown were taking bribes to look the other way on gang activity. Basic extortion scam, protection rackets. Now, do I think there’s cops that would grease their palms to let something go?” Beau shrugged. “Maybe, especially in a tight-knit neighborhood like Chinatown. Same thing happened a couple years back with a few Latino cops in the Mission, but it blew over. A few bad apples.”
Cape nodded but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t a cop and didn’t pretend to be one.
Beau took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “It’s never more than a few cops, and it usually straightens itself out-the other cops see that it does, you understand what I’m saying? But for some of these young guys, it’s not so black and white when they first hit the streets. All depends on where they grew up.”
“So why all the press?”
“’Cause this time the press brought enough heat to trigger an Internal Affairs investigation,” Beau replied. “And they’re taking a hard look up the ladder, all the way to the assistant chief of police.”
Cape recalled the article he’d seen in the
Beau nodded. “Matter of fact, he is.”
“So like you said, it’s political.”
“Very.” Beau blew out his cheeks and sighed. “I got a boatload of Chinese people smuggled into the country and a crew that’s mostly dead. I got District Supervisor Yan running for office, already putting heat on the mayor before any of this went down. Yan was on the morning news, calling this a ‘humanitarian crisis affecting Chinese everywhere.’ Asking what the mayor’s gonna do about it.”
“Oh boy,” said Cape.
“So the mayor calls the chief,” continued Beau, “who’s already on the mayor’s shit list because of the scandal in Chinatown. Chief calls the division commander, who calls me and Vinnie and says ‘Men, we need a win on this one.’”
“A win?”
“A win.” Beau rolled his eyes. “But then the feds call the chief and tell him to back off.”
“You’ve dealt with the feds before.”
“Not like this,” replied Beau. “This is really their turf. Murder took place on the boat, not in the city. I’m just a homicide cop….I walk the streets, and every now and then trip over a dead body.”
“But the mayor wants to be the guy who solves this case, huh?”
“Ain’t gonna happen, though he needs the press,” said Beau. “And he needs the votes. You know thirty percent of the voters in this city are Asian?”
“No kidding.”
“How about that,” said Beau. “But the mayor don’t give a rat’s ass about the case or the people on the boat.” Beau frowned. “I used to like that asshole mayor, too, him being a brother and all.”
“See what you get for being racially biased in your voting?” asked Cape.
“There is no justice for the black man,” muttered Beau. “Even
“You want a hug?”
“Fuck you.”
Cape laughed. “What do you want from me?”
Beau described the crime scene on the ship, including details that the newspapers didn’t have yet. He described the corpses in detail and the apparent causes of death, watching Cape’s expression carefully as he talked.
When Beau had finished, Cape pushed back in his chair and whistled soundlessly.
“So that’s why I’m here,” said Beau.
Cape raised one eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
Beau said, “I think you should talk to your partner.”
“My partner?” Cape said, frowning. “You mean Sally?”
Beau nodded. “Figured she might have ideas about this kind of thing.”
“She’s not my partner, Beau,” said Cape. “She’s a martial arts instructor. You know that….she runs a school in Chinatown. We’re just…” Cape trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to describe their relationship.
“She helps you out on cases,” said Beau. A statement, not a question. He shifted into cop-speak as he laid out the facts.
Cape shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“She watches your back.”
“Yeah,” Cape replied tentatively.
“You trust her.”
“Absolutely,” said Cape. No hesitation.
“Then she’s your partner,” said Beau.
“Fine,” said Cape, holding up his hands. “So why don’t you go see her yourself?”
“I might,” said Beau. “But thought I should start with you, since we go back a ways. Besides, after six tonight, this ain’t my case.”
