“You weren’t at the marina on those dates.”
“No.”
From the folder Pettit removed photos of Dennis Kudelka and Linus Hao. “Recognize those individuals?”
“No.”
Pettit flashed a toothy smile.
Again he opened the folder. Olivia eyed it like it was some bag of nightmares.
“Here,” he said, “we have a profile from a dating site called Pläegroünd. Dumb name.”
He ran his finger along the page, as though he was reading a book to a child. “It’s word for word the same profile my colleague showed you before, CaliRoyal247, same username, same pictures, except this one was created in 2023.”
Olivia stuffed her hands between her knees.
“This next profile,” Pettit said, “belongs to the individual in that picture, Dennis Kudelka. And this profile is this individual, Linus Hao. And here... you can see, both of them matched with CaliRoyal247.”
“Okay,” she said.
“You said that you and Adam had never gotten with anyone before Roby.”
“We didn’t.”
“Adam’s matching with these other guys.”
“Okay. So?”
“You really don’t see the problem here?” Pettit asked.
“No.”
“These guys disappeared. On the same dates you just read, when we know Adam was at the marina. Then they turned up dead. Both of them.”
“Okay.”
“Is that all you have to say? ‘Okay’?”
“I mean, it’s — it’s sad. But I don’t know why you’re asking me about it.”
Pettit said, “Have you ever spilled anything on your kitchen counter?”
“Have I — what?”
“Like a cup of coffee. You knock it over, it’s running over the edge, dripping. That ever happened to you?”
She sighed. “Yeah, sure.”
“So you know it’s a pain to clean up. Coffee’s running down the face of the drawers, and some of it gets into the cracks, gets inside the drawer. Maybe you wipe it off outside, but inside, there’s still coffee. You might not see that if you don’t open the drawer, or if you’re not looking carefully, if you’re in a rush. For example” — he shook out a photo of Motion Sickness’s main cabin — “this nightstand. You see the drawer there?”
She did not reply.
“Now let’s look at the inside,” he said. “See that brown stuff at the bottom, along the edge? That’s dried blood. That’s what blood looks like, when it’s been sitting there for a while. But you can still get DNA from it. We tested that blood. It belongs to this individual. Linus Hao.”
She said nothing.
“How do you think it got there?” Pettit asked.
She shook her head.
“Want to take a guess?”
She shook her head.
“Well, let’s step back and read the pattern,” he said. “There’s two identical profiles, both with you on ’em.”
“I already told the other cop, Adam did that.”
“You told him that he made the second profile.”
“He must’ve made both of them.”
“Without informing you.”
“Yeah.”
“This first profile’s four years old,” Pettit said. “Adam made it, put your pictures up there, and didn’t say anything to you for all that time?”
“I don’t know. Yeah.”
“He’s matched to two guys who end up dead.”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“Plus another guy who says you jumped him.”
“Well, that’s — I don’t... It’s not true.”
“You weren’t there?”
“I w... I didn’t jump him.”
“And then these other guys, who also drowned in this exact area, on the same nights Adam was at the marina — that’s a coincidence?”
She said, “I don’t know what he did without me.”
“What are you saying?” Pettit asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Adam was there, but you weren’t?” Pettit said. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t control him.”
In the squad room, Mendes clucked his tongue. “She’s throwing him under the bus.”
“Like Detective Kinney told you,” Pettit said, “there’s a camera on the boat.”
She said, “I want a lawyer.”
Chapter 36
They arrested her for the assault on Roby.
Kinney drove her to Santa Rita Jail for booking.
Maben, the prosecutor, was concerned about the lack of physical evidence tying Olivia to the murders. By Olivia’s own admission she’d been on the boat at least once. In a sense that complicated things, opening up the possibility of contamination. And Pettit’s line about the camera was a gambit, both true and false.
There was indeed a camera, motion-activated, saving thirty-second increments, retaining the footage as long as there was sufficient storage, writing over the oldest files to make room. When they’d impounded the hard drive from the bowels of Motion Sickness, the clip of Adam, Olivia, and Dame had been on the brink of deletion.
No such footage existed to show the couple with Denny Kudelka, John Doe #57, or Linus Hao.
Even the lesser charge looked unlikely to stick. Damian Roby had never filed a police report or gone to the hospital to be treated for his injuries. The case boiled down to the word of a hulking Black man with a criminal record against that of a chick half his size who worked in a dental office.
Forty-eight hours after walking into jail, Olivia Parisi walked out on her own recognizance. As it was her first arrest, the judge did not regard her as a threat to the community or flight risk.
A friend picked her up and drove her back to San Jose.
Over the ensuing days she went to work, went to the grocery store, went home.
On a Friday, she left the dental practice at one thirty and got into her car. Three vehicles behind her was an SFPD unmarked. The plainclothes officer at the wheel had been briefed on locations of interest — the Oakland bars, Haven Harbor, Bair Island. Best-case scenario, she’d run and they could re-arrest her.
She drove to the mall in Milpitas.
The officer followed her inside.
She bought socks at the Gap. Got a Jamba Juice.
At three ten p.m., Olivia Parisi arrived early for a three-fifteen appointment at Second Skin Laser Tattoo Removal.
Pettit returned to Haven Harbor and walked the dock, documenting every vessel with its own security camera. Maybe they’d get lucky again. He asked the clubhouse manager for a complete membership roster so he could obtain footage. The clubhouse manager called corporate, who consulted in-house counsel, who pointed out that such a request fell outside the scope of the original search warrant. The manager was therefore not required to comply.
While Pettit drafted a new affidavit, Winterholz began looking up individual hull numbers and contacting the owners, one at a time. Most vessels were registered to corporations, which made it hard to wring out an answer.
Alan Mendes was interviewing Haven Harbor employees who’d worked the nights in question. He also made several visits to ask around at the fishing pier. A couple of my flyers were still up.
Kinney was recanvassing downtown Oakland. Reuss was looking into Redwood Yacht Club.
Tessa Maben was battling the Pläegroünd compliance department over CaliRoyal247’s archived messages.
Regina texted that she was taking on a new case.
Sorry, Poirot. Gal’s gotta pay the bills.
I texted Trevor Vogel.
I really need to talk to you about Adam and the boat.
He didn’t answer. The following day I added:
Olivia’s saying some crazy things about him.