‘Do you have names, people I can talk to?’
‘Time’s gone by on those, but there’s someone here in San Francisco you should talk to. He still won’t talk to us but he might talk to you. I’m going to give you his phone number.’
‘Why won’t he talk to you?’
‘I can tell you but he’ll do a better job of it.’
‘Did the Secret Service know about him in 1989?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did they give Goya and Govich his name?’
‘No, and I’m passing it on, but I’m not taking responsibility for what happened before me. I was in college. I wasn’t working for the Secret Service. They don’t hire kids who are in school.’
It took Raveneau a moment to get it.
‘So you’ve talked to this individual recently about Krueger.’
‘I have.’
‘Was that because of the supernotes and the current investigation with the Cayman and Mexican banks?’
‘Yes. I met with him and as soon as I sat down with him I knew he was going to fuck with me. He was completely uncooperative.’
‘I’m ready for a name.’
‘Well, try this one. Marlin Thames, Marlin like the fish, and Thames like the river. Before that he was Howard Wright. He reinvented himself out here. He’s how Krueger got caught in a lie and outed. The lie involved his residence and where he was staying at night. Mr Thames also had a criminal record that included fraud. That weighed in. If Krueger had stayed on he would have been transferred to someplace very cold and faraway. Someplace where you drive fifty miles to get to the dentist. Krueger chose to resign. Here’s the phone number.’
‘Are you saying Thames and Krueger were a couple?’
‘That is what I’m saying.’
Raveneau called Thames from his car after Brooks dropped him off, and Thames was willing but wanted to meet somewhere neutral. He named a cafe on Market Street. Raveneau met him in the early afternoon, sat across from him and ate a sandwich as he listened to Thames’ story.
‘My hair was gold-colored in those days.’
‘You’ve still got some gold.’
‘I’m sixty-seven and 1989 was a long time ago. He was killed three years after we broke up and we were still friends, but both of us had moved on. I didn’t see him much.’
‘But you were together when he quit the Secret Service?’
‘Oh, yes, and I was thrilled, but for Alan it was very hard to leave them. I didn’t realize how important it was to him. He was never the same after that.’
Marlin Thames wore jeans and a black leather jacket over a T-shirt. He gave off an aura of spry good-nature. Raveneau tried to picture what he looked like in 1985. He watched Thames stir sugar into a double cappuccino and lay the small spoon down.
‘How close were you to Alan?’
‘We were very close for several years. But those times were very different and our life was even more complicated because Alan had to hide everything from the Secret Service. There was an agent he worked with that suspected Alan was gay. That agent was jealous and suspicious and trailed Alan to my house several times. Then they trapped him in a lie about where he lived and where he’d been the night before, but it was very obvious he lost his job because he was gay. He was outed by Agent Gary Stone. I hated Stone for what he did.’
‘Where were you when he was killed?’
‘I was at a friend’s house near the Russian River when a friend called me and read the newspaper article to me. “Former Secret Service Agent Slain.” That was the headline.’ He stared at Raveneau and added, ‘He was gorgeous. I still think about his smile.’ He took a sip of his cappuccino. ‘You said you have new evidence. How does that happen after so many years?’
‘We have a videotape of the shooting.’
Thames frowned. He put his cup down awkwardly.
‘What?’
‘It was sent to us last week.’
‘Is it real?’
‘A film expert thinks so.’
‘Does it show him getting shot?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, my God.’
Raveneau went through the details of the cold case with this genial and seemingly gentle man sitting across from him. He studied Thames as he talked. Thames’ build was similar to that of the shooter and he looked at Thames knowing he was going to get a photo of him to the FBI. The anger of a former lover could explain the counterfeit bills left behind.
‘After he was murdered did you contact the homicide inspectors working the case?’
‘No, I was too scared. I wondered if Agent Stone had killed him. It was all so mysterious.’
‘Do you know where he stayed in San Francisco?’
‘Hotels.’
‘The inspectors couldn’t figure out where he was staying when he was killed.’
‘Well, it was usually hotels. He had more money for whatever he was doing in Asia, but maybe he had met somebody new that I didn’t know about.’
‘Do you have any photos of Alan?’
‘I do.’
‘Can I borrow them and get them back to you?’
‘If you promise I’ll get them back.’
‘I promise. Now I’d like to run some names by you. Did he ever mention a Captain Frank?’
‘Oh, yes, the airline pilot. He lived in Hawaii. They were good friends and there were other friends he had there. I don’t remember any names though.’
‘Did you ever meet Frank?’
‘Yes, I met him and he was here often, and we went to Hawaii once. We were there a week and it was terrible.’ Thames smiled but there was some bitterness in it. ‘His other friends didn’t like me much.’
‘Can you try to remember their names and then call me?’
‘I’ll try but I wouldn’t wait for me to call.’
‘You wouldn’t?’
‘No, I really wouldn’t.’
His smile was warm again but the message was clear. Thames owned a well-maintained two-story Victorian. He found the photos quickly and Raveneau didn’t ask the next question here. He was afraid Thames might see where it was going and ask for the photo back. In the Homicide office he scanned the photo of Thames and Krueger and sent a copy of the file to Mark Coe. He followed with an email.
Then he called Thames’ cell. ‘Hey, it’s Inspector Raveneau again, and I’m calling to ask if you’re willing to watch the videotape and see if you recognize the man who killed Alan. In the videotape you can tell they knew each other.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘The way the man walks and moves, you might see something we would never otherwise know, but I appreciate how emotionally hard it might be.’
Thames didn’t answer.
‘Can I give you my cell phone number and will you think about it?’
After a pause Thames said, ‘Let me get a pen.’
Raveneau heard him put the phone down. It took a long time and when Thames fumbled with the phone and picked it up again, Raveneau thought he’d say sorry it took so long. Instead, he hung up.
TWENTY-FOUR
Yesterday, Raveneau submitted to Lieutenant Becker a ‘scratch,’ the memorandum required outlining the travel Raveneau saw necessary as part of the case investigation. Becker read and passed it on to the captain who moved it to the commander’s desk this morning. Commander Saguaro rarely rubber-stamped his approvals, so it was no surprise to Raveneau to get called into his office this afternoon.
Saguaro was on the phone and pointed at a chair. So Raveneau sat listening to Saguaro talk and soon realized the conversation was about the bomb casings. The story was leaking its way through the department.
Saguaro put the phone down and asked, ‘Inspector Raveneau, are you a golfer?’
‘Not a very good one.’
‘Are you planning to take clubs on this trip?’
‘No, sir.’
The commander let a beat pass. He stared before asking, ‘Are you certain this trip is worthwhile?’
‘Well, it was either Hawaii or Rome and I thought this time of year Rome would be too cold, or the sky that endless white. You know how it gets in the winter.’
Raveneau wasn’t even sure Commander Saguaro registered the joke. He was studying what Raveneau wrote, reading bits of it aloud, ‘memorabilia, swizzle sticks with hula girls, handwritten love notes, photos connecting to one link with victim, Captain Frank’s son interviewed.