Don Winslow - California Fire And Life

"But before she passed out," Jack says, "she poured kerosene from the closet, across the floor, over the bed, and under the bed?"

He hands Casey Dinesh's report.

"The formal report will be here in a day or so," Jack says. "Dinesh faxed me the charts."

"You sandbagged me, Jack," Casey says.

"Kerosene," Jack says.

"Volume?"

"Two to five gallons."

Casey says, "Bentley's fucked. Motive?"

Jack lays it out for him.

"It's enough for me," Billy says.

"Not so fast, Cisco," Casey says. "You have incendiary origin. You have motive. But opportunity? You have nothing to put your insured on the scene."

"There's nothing that indicates anyone else had access to the scene," Jack says.

"A boyfriend?" Casey asks. "A lover? Vale says they were going to reconcile. She tells the boyfriend, 'Sorry, Charlie, it was beautiful but now it's over.' The boyfriend is — forgive me — inflamed with rage. Decides, 'I'll show you over, bitch.' Strangles her and lights her up. Perfect revenge on her and the husband."

"So this phantom lover kills her, sets up the fire, gets a key and locks the doors on his way out?" Jack asks. "Why? Besides which, there's no indication anywhere of any phantom boyfriend. And then there's Leo."

"The poodle."

"The Yorkie," Jack says. "Nicky waits until the kids are asleep, until everything is dead on the streets, then he leaves Mother Russia's and drives to the Bluffside Drive house. He lets himself in. The dog doesn't bark because it's Daddy. Of course, Daddy has a can of kerosene with him, but what does a dog know?"

"What time is it now?" Casey asks.

Jack shrugs. "Three. Three-thirty."

"Okay. Go on."

"Nicky goes into the bedroom," Jack says. "Maybe he has a gun, maybe he has a knife — but he forces her to drink. Maybe he rapes her, I don't know. But he smothers her on the bed. Then he takes the kerosene and pours a big pool in the closet, trails it across the room, and pours a bigger pool under the bed and over her body."

"Why?" Casey asks. "If she's already dead?"

"Rage," Jack says. "He pours it from her waist down."

"Go ahead."

"But he just can't barbecue the pooch. Just won't torch little Leo. So he puts Leo outside and shuts the door. We're talking about 4:30 now. He goes back inside and lights the match."

"Timing device?" Billy asks.

"I'm guessing he uses a cigarette tucked into a book of matches. That gives him five to ten minutes before the flame touches off the kerosene. It's a nine-minute drive back to Monarch Bay. The guard sees him come back in around 4:45."

"One minute after Meissner sees the fire," Casey says.

"And the same time Mother sees him checking on his kids," Jack says. "Convenient."

"Will the guard testify?" Casey asks.

"When you subpoena him," Jack says.

"Proving that he could do it," Casey says, "isn't the same as proving that he did do it."

"He lied on tape," Jack says. "Short of Pamela Vale coming back to testify-"

"— this is the strongest case we could have," Casey says. "I agree. The issue is: Is it strong enough?"

The three of them stand there and look at Jack's chart. After a few minutes Goddamn Billy says, "Jack?"

"Deny the claim."

"Tom?"

"I think you're taking a big risk."

He cites Bentley's report and the coroner's conclusion.

"If Vale sues," Casey says, "you'll have to bring two public officials to the stand and make them eat their own reports. Juries don't like that."

Jack says, "If we give Ng the rest of this evidence, he'll be happy to modify his report. As for Bentley…"

"Fuck him?" Casey says.

Jack shrugs.

"I still don't know," Casey says.

"What about you, Billy?" Jack asks. "Where are you on this?"

Billy is suddenly Fuck it on the No Smoking rule. He draws a Camel from the pack, jams it between his lips, lights it, takes a long draw, then exhales.

Saying, "It's your call, Jack."

"Yeah?"

"Yup."

"Then we deny the life claim and the fire claim," Jack says, "void the policies and sue to get the advance back."

"Write the denial letter," Goddamn Billy says. "Inform the insured of our decision."

Oh, yeah, Jack thinks.

I'll inform him.

Sandra Hansen knocks on the door of Room 813 at the Ritz-Carlton. Waits while the FBI agent inside checks her out. The door slides open, she steps in, and the door closes quickly behind her.

The agent's name is Young and she's known him for three years. They've been on the same anti-fraud-ring task force with the two others sitting in the room: Danny Banner, an investigator with the California Attorney General's office Anti-ROC (Russian organized crime) Task Force, and Sergeant Richard Jimenez, from LAPD. Banner and Jimenez are sitting on a sofa by the coffee table, setting up a tape recorder and going over notes.

"Guys," Hansen says.

"Sandy."

"Dr. Howard," Hansen says.

Howard looks up from his easy chair. He's very unhappy.

"I'm Sandra Hansen," she says. "From California Fire and Life. You've taken us for a lot of money, Howard."

"On the phone you said no police," Howard says.

"Gee, I guess I committed fraud on you, huh, Doctor?"

"I should just get up and leave."

"Go."

Howard's not going anywhere. Hansen knows Howard's not going anywhere. She sits down in a chair across from him and lays a file on the table. Opens it and says, "Dr. Howard, yesterday you treated a woman named Lourdes Hidalgo for muscle trauma. Here's the treatment report. That's your signature, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"But, Doctor," Hansen says, "the problem with this is that Lourdes Hidalgo died in a car crash the day before you treated her."

"As I said on the phone," Howard says, "I must have mixed her up with someone else. A mistake in paperwork."

"Well, when did you treat Mrs. Hidalgo?" Hansen asks. "And who did you confuse her with?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know because you screwed up," Hansen says. "You never saw Lourdes Hidalgo, you were just signing paperwork. You were signing phony bills for treatment you never performed. Isn't that right, Doctor? Or did you administer ultrasound therapy to a jar of ashes? Even you'd notice that, wouldn't you, Doctor Howard? That your patient is a loose collection of charred bones?"

"There is no need for-"

"I think there's need," Hansen says. "They identified Lourdes through her dental work. Now I'm going to press charges against you for insurance fraud against California Fire and Life. Sergeant Jimenez here is about to read you your rights and arrest you."

"A misdemeanor," Howard says.

"Where did you get your medical degree?" Banner asks. "Because you're very stupid, Doctor. This treatment report connects you to eight murders. Eight people were incinerated in that van."

"I had nothing to do-"

"You had everything to do with it," Hansen says. "Your billing factory is the whole motive for drive-downs like that one that went wrong. That connects you. That makes you a conspirator."

"My lawyers will-"

"Execute your will," Jimenez says. "Because you'll be dead. I know the names of three corrections officers in the downtown jail who are on the Russian payroll. They'll put you in a cell and you'll never make it out. You'll never make it to the arraignment."

Banner says, "We can get you capital punishment just by charging you. We don't have to win a trial."

"If I press these charges," Hansen says, "your partners will kill you. They'll be afraid that you'll talk. Maybe if it were a misdemeanor they'd hang in with you, but a seven-count homicide charge?"

Howard is not a tough guy. He starts crying. Asks, "What do you want from me?"

"Only everything," Hansen says. "You're going to start meeting with us. You're going to go over all your records and tell us which ones are phonies. You're going to give us names of who you're working with."