For that I’d need warrants. And for warrants I’d need a cop.
Gary Kinney at the park police wasn’t in. I reached his partner, Tiffany Reuss.
“How’s your daughter feeling?” I asked.
“Pardon?”
“Detective Kinney told me she had a bug.”
“Right. Better, thanks. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to share what we’ve come up with, see if it kicks anything off for you.”
“You can try.”
She listened silently. When I raised Adam’s possible bisexuality, she said:
“You know, Gary and I discussed Adam seeing someone else. Not a man, no reason to think that. But an affair explains a lot. Even more so with a man. Leaving his phone behind, hush-hush travel.”
“Did you ask Olivia about it?”
“I went to see her by myself. We thought she’d be more open if it was just a woman asking. She wasn’t having it. Shut right down.”
“How’d you interpret that?”
“Hard to say. You assume it’s not a fun thing for her to think about. Paints the entire relationship in a whole new light.”
“Any dating apps on Adam’s phone?”
“I don’t remember hearing about it during the forensic. Same for his computer, but I can’t be sure. Why?”
“Denny Kudelka belonged to a whole bunch. I have a list I can send you. Maybe Adam was on some of the same ones.”
“How many sites we talking about?” Reuss said.
“So far, twenty-six.”
“Oh, wow,” she said. “Hm. Well. Lemme talk to Gary and get back to you.”
Subtext: You want me to write twenty-six affidavits?
Sub-subtext: LOL, cowboy.
—
At lunchtime, I went across the street for ramen, thumbing through my inbox while waiting on my order.
Hi Mr. Edison
I have a case that might interest you.
Aaron Grouse | Deputy Coroner #121
San Mateo County Coroner’s Bureau
I collected my food, jogged back to the office, and called him.
“Coroner’s Bureau.”
“Hi, Deputy Grouse. It’s Clay Edison. Thanks for your email. This an okay time?”
“Yeah, just bear in mind that I’m working and could get called away.”
“Absolutely. You want to send me the file?”
“I will, but I gotta warn you: It’s thin. I can sum it up for you.”
In the early hours of March 23, 2025, a kayaker offshore of the Ravenswood nature preserve spotted something bobbing beneath the Dumbarton Bridge.
“Not the freeway overpass,” Grouse said. “The old railroad bridge, to the south.”
The kayaker got closer.
A skinless face broke to the surface.
Most people would’ve paddled off as fast as possible. To the kayaker’s credit, he stayed put, phoning 911 from the water and using his oar to prevent the body from drifting away until emergency responders arrived.
If Adam Valois and Denny Kudelka were in bad shape, San Mateo County John Doe #57 was worse: facial features obliterated, hands and feet fully degloved. His DNA did not appear in the databases, and he didn’t correspond to any recent missing persons. The most the pathologist would say was: male, Black or mixed race, eighteen to thirty-five years old, in the water for four to eight weeks. No apparent injuries.
Pink froth filled his lungs.
Alcohol, ketamine, midazolam, and cyclobenzaprine tainted his blood.
Despite numerous media appeals and the release of a computer-aided facial reconstruction, no one had claimed him.
Deputy Aaron Grouse ruled the manner of death as undetermined.
The body was stored for twenty-four months before being cremated and interred in a public grave. Tissue and blood samples remained on ice.
“It’d help to have time and location of discovery,” I said. “As precise as you can get it.”
Grouse went quiet. I heard him clicking. In the background a phone rang. It sounded identical to the phones at the Alameda County Coroner’s Bureau. Everybody shopped at the same procurement center.
“Second bridge support from the shore,” he said. “North side. Time... The 911 call came in at six twenty-seven a.m. When the body reached that spot? Sheesh. Sorry.”
“Okay. Thanks big-time. And I’d love a copy of the facial reconstruction.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
I emailed Jake Brenner rough coordinates, asking him to assign an immersion time frame of four to eight weeks prior to discovery, then pried open my ramen. As I was scooping out the last bits a PDF arrived from Grouse.
Light on detail. The most I could say about John Doe #57 was that he was male, Black or mixed race, eighteen to thirty-five years old.
Nevertheless I sent the image to Regina. Another body.
She called. “Nice find.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I missed that. What?”
“I praised your investigative skills.”
“One more time?”
“This is not the day to test my patience, Poirot.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be talking to Olivia right now?”
“I sure am. I confirmed with her last night. I got to her place twenty minutes ago. Nobody home. I text and she says her cat’s sick, she had to take him to the vet.”
“Shit. Sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be. I love San Jose, it’s paradise on earth. You know what,” she said, “since I’m here already, we might as well take advantage. I’ll print some flyers, come up to Oakland, we’ll hit the bars and clubs.”
“Now?”
“No, we’ll wait for the next blood moon when my chakra aligns with destiny. Yes, now.”
“I can’t. I still have a ton of dating sites to comb through.”
“Come on, Poirot. Live a little. What case was ever solved at a desk?”
“About ninety percent of them.”
“No risk, no reward.”
“Nothing’s open at this hour. And I have to pick up my kids.”
“Tonight, then. I’ll come for dinner and we’ll go out after. Go ahead. Invite me.”
I sighed. “Regina, would you like to join us for dinner.”
“I’m not sure. What’s on the menu?”
“Pasta with feta sauce.”
“Ehhh. Try again.”
“That’s what I shopped for, Regina. Those are the ingredients I have.”
“I’ve got dietary restrictions,” she said. “You know that.”
“...I think I have some steaks in the freezer.”
“Aw. Clay. That’s so kind of you,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to impose, though.”
“Then don’t.”
“But since you insist.”
Having her with me actually helped a great deaclass="underline" Amy didn’t get home till six, and Regina took the kids outside, affording me the rare privilege of cooking in peace. The sound of a ball dribbling filtered in from the backyard.
Regina: “I was a basketball player like your daddy.”
Charlotte: “That’s not true.”
“Yes it is. But I’m not tall like him so I used to run between the other players’ legs.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“You make the rules?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then.”
“Thow! Thow!”
“Holy smokes. Nice one, Myles.”
“I’m good at throwing, too,” Charlotte said.
“I’m sure you are.”
“Daddy says I have a cannon.”
“Let’s see it.”
“...oops.”
“You weren’t kidding. Should we go next door and ask your neighbors?”
“Daddy says we don’t bother them.”