Part VI
Chapter 48
Delgetti was, as promised, waiting for them at the gate; Carl Stanton drove with them around the airport to the general aviation ramp -- where a CAT Huey piloted by 'Mickey' Rooney waited. Everyone boarded the Huey; Callahan went to the front left seat, while Fujiko sat in a jump-seat behind Rooney. After taking off the helicopter made for the coastal range and crossed over to the beach, from there it turned north and flew directly to Sea Ranch. They landed in the street in front of Callahan's house; CHP officers and the county sheriff were waiting for them.
"What do we know?" Frank asked the gathered law enforcement officers as he got out of the Huey.
A CHP captain spoke first, and at first, Bullitt assumed this officer was in charge: "First thing," the captain said, "she's either not real smart, or she wants to be caught."
"How so," Frank said.
"Well, she's using charge cards, usually a Visa, for one thing. She's been driving north on I-5 and not making any effort to hide, for another."
"Is anyone following her?" Callahan asked.
"Yeah, a guy from your outfit, Pattison I think his name is, and he has her, though he's following in some kind of helicopter. Someone from the PD is with him."
"Who?"
"Al something, starts with a V. The suspect is in Portland right now. Been there two hours, just checked into a hotel south of the city."
Callahan turned to Rooney: "Okay, the three of us will head north now..."
The CHP captain interrupted: "The FBI is in charge of the case, gentlemen. You'll need to clear any-and-everything with them before you take any action, and I repeat -- any action at all."
Callahan looked at the captain: "Gotcha," he said, smiling, then he turned back to Rooney: "We can gas up in Redding, then head north from there. We'll contact Pattison when we cross into Oregon."
"Here's the agent in charge's number," the captain said. "You need to call him, really, I mean it..."
"Don't worry about it," Bullitt said with brooding malice in his eyes -- enough to make the captain take a few steps back. "Harry, would you go and take a look at the house? I'm not sure I want to see anything in there right now."
Callahan nodded, then walked over to someone in a dark suit. "You the CSI?"
"Yeah. Who are you?"
"Callahan, SFPD Homicide. I need to go look around the house."
"Okay, come with me."
There hadn't been much of a struggle, but it had all gone down in the living room. Cathy had eventually gone down on the hardwood floor by the sofa and bled out there; there were other tell-tale signs of a struggle, too...end tables knocked askew, books knocked from a bookcase scattered on the floor...
"Did you find a murder weapon?"
"Large kitchen knife. Some defensive wounds on the hands and forearms, five deep wounds on the torso, two were most likely fatal, unrecoverable."
"What, do you mean the aorta?"
The Investigator nodded. "I don't think she suffered too much if that's what you're getting at."
Callahan nodded. "Anything else I need to know?"
"Suspects fingerprints are all over the place, and, well, she tried to get into the house at the end of the street."
Callahan turned and looked at the investigator. "Show me."
They walked past Frank and Fujiko, still standing beside the Huey, on their way to his house, and the investigator showed him three places where Evelyn had tried to force her way in. "She used a mason's trowel to try and defeat the locks out back; apparently she gave up. Do you know whose house this is?"
"Mine."
"Oh. Wow, I had no idea they paid you guys so much..."
Callahan ignored the man, took out his key and they walked inside; everything looked in order -- or did it? "Could you sweep the place for prints?"
"You sure? Doesn't look like she gained entry..."
"Something doesn't feel right. Like..."
"Yeah? Like what?"
Callahan went to the piano and looked around; everything looked okay, nothing appeared disturbed -- but something was wrong. He pulled out the music to his mother's Second Concerto and sat at the piano...then he took a deep breath.
"Come here, would you?" he said to the investigator. When the man was beside Callahan took another deep breath. "Put your hand on my shoulder and close your eyes."
"What?"
"Just do it."
He felt the man's hand resting on his upper arm and took one more deep breath. "I'm going to play a few chords on this piano, and I want you to think of the crime scene in the other house while I do. Then I want you to imagine, in your mind, that you can somehow follow the suspect...while I'm playing the piano. Understand?"
"No, not really..."
"Okay, here we go. Clear your mind, then think of the murder scene...and no matter what you think you see, don't panic, and don't say a word..."
Callahan closed his eyes too, then played the first chord...
Evelyn, at the front door, ringing the doorbell. Cathy coming to the door, not wanting to let her in. A man is with Evelyn, army field jacket, rough-looking, maybe in his forties, Hispanic. He kicks the door open. Cathy tries to flee, the man chases her to the kitchen. Evelyn goes towards Elizabeth's bedroom. The man takes a knife from a block on the countertop. Cathy runs. He catches her in the living room. They struggle. Cathy is wounded but she has a gun from the bookcase now. She shoots the man once in the abdomen. Evelyn returns, still alone. She takes the knife from the wounded man and attacks Cathy. Cathy falls to the ground. Evelyn stabs Cathy two more times, in the upper abdomen. The man staggers outside to a van, where another man helps him get into a back seat. Evelyn takes something from the man, then she and the second man run down the street. She tries every door, then looks under the front door mat and finds a key. She opens the front door and they both come into the house. The second man puts a black box under the bed in Callahan's bedroom, then he runs a wire between the mattress and the box springs...
And then Callahan stopped playing, just before he slumped over the keyboard.
"What the fuck!" the investigator cried. "What the fuck did you just do to me?"
Callahan shook his head, tried to clear away the lingering fog...
"Goddam! What just..." the investigator shouted.
"Get a hold of yourself, man," Callahan said, standing. "Let's go check the bedroom."
Callahan grabbed a flashlight from a drawer in the kitchen and they went back to the bedroom; there was a bomb under the bed, and a sophisticated looking wiring harness from the device disappeared under the mattress.
"You mean to tell me we just watched the murder?" the man said. "Like...in real-time?"
"Yup. And this is what you call proof, isn't it?" Callahan said, pointing at the device. "Now, I suggest you go and call the bomb squad before this bomb goes off in your face."
"Jesus...I can't use any of this shit in my report, can I?"
"Not unless you want to get locked up in a rubber room. But now that you know what happened, you know what to look for, don't you?"
"How'd you do that? I mean..."
"Yeah, I know what you mean, and no, I have no idea how I do it. All I can tell you is what you just experienced stays between you and me. Got it?"
"Fuck. Yeah, man. You and me, got it."
"Bomb squad. Go."
"Yessir!"
