The Radio Red Killer. Richard A. Lupoff
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briefing on Blue Beetle and Acid Alice, then tried to put the matter out of her mind. It was time for work now.
She called Tesla first. She learned nothing useful from the assistant DA, but she hadn’t really expected to. It was important to keep that line of communication open.
Next, she called the county coroner’s office in Oakland. She got a coroner’s tech named Gemma Silver. What a stupid name, she sounded like something out of a bad hippie flashback. She introduced herself and asked Silver if there was an autopsy report yet on Bjorner.
Silver laughed, not the sound of silver tinkling bells.
“I asked you a simple question,” Marvia barked.
“Sorry, Sergeant. We’re just a little behind. As usual. Hold the phone, I’ll check the schedule.”
Marvia let her eyes rove the room while she waited. She must have been emanating angry rays. Nobody wanted to make eye contact.
“Two o’clock this afternoon, Sergeant. Dr. Bisonte’s going to handle it himself. You want to attend?”
Marvia shook her head. “Not if I can help it. I know what three hundred pounds of blubber looks like. I just want to know the results ASAP.” But she knew that she would attend the autopsy. It was department policy.
“I’ll tell you right now,” Silver offered. “He’s dead. Or if he isn’t, he will be when Dr. Bisonte finishes with him.”
“I want to know cause of death.”
“Right.”
“Think I can get that today?”
“If somebody shot him it would be easier.”
“That’s the point, Ms. Silver.”
“Well, I’ve peeped at the cadaver. Golly, what a whale! I’d guess a massive heart attack. Second choice, stroke.”
“No autopsy yet and you’re giving me cause of death, Silver?”
“I’m just giving you an educated guess, Sergeant.”
“Yeah, sure. Listen to me, just in case Dr. Bisonte isn’t feeling too committed to his work today, would you remind him that I’d like a report on the contents of the decedent’s stomach.”
“That’s SOP, Sergeant.”
“Fine. Just don’t overlook it, will you? And don’t throw anything away, for God’s sake.”
“Got it. Look, I’ve got another call, is there anything else?”
Marvia said no and hung up. She called the forensics lab. Laura Kern took the call. That was good. She knew Kern, had worked with her before and had confidence in her. She asked if there was a report on the contents of the ashtray in Studio B, or the food containers in the wastebasket.
Nothing yet. That was to be expected. Marvia was just getting impatient, jittery, more because of her home situation than the Bjorner case, but when one spilled over and impacted the other she knew it would lead to bad police work on her part.
She put her hands on her thighs, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.
She stood up and went to see Lieutenant Dorothy Yamura.
Yamura tilted her head toward a client chair and Marvia Plum settled into it without particularly relaxing. Yamura was wearing a tan tweed jacket over a pink button-down shirt. A pair of reading glasses shaped liked twin teacups sat on her nose. They were attached to a polished chain that ran behind Yamura’s neck. She looked like a stern librarian. Before Marvia said a word, Yamura asked how well she was settling back into routine.
Marvia slid lower in the chair. She hesitated, then replied, “Just great, Lieutenant.”
Yamura lowered her head and peered at Marvia over the top of her glasses. “You’re a lousy liar, you know that?”
“No, really.”
Yamura waited.
“Well,” Marvia conceded, “glass half full, glass half empty. You know.”
Yamura flipped the pages on her desk calendar. “You want to talk about it, off duty, after hours, off the reservation?”
Again, Marvia considered. “Off the record, too?”
“Woman to woman and friend to friend. I’ll buy you dinner. How about—let me check my calendar—how about Saturday night? I’ll pick you up at your house.”
Marvia nodded.
Yamura scribbled on her calendar and dropped her glasses so they hung on her chest by their chain. When she removed the glasses she shifted gears. “Guess who called me this morning, demanding action on this death over at KRED.”
Marvia didn’t have to guess. “City councilmember Hanson.”
Yamura made a pistol out of her hand, pointed it at Marvia and dropped the hammer. She made a popping sound with her tongue. “First try. Bull’s eye. Now, for double or nothing, What did she have to say?”
Marvia dipped her head and said, “What’s wrong with the BPD, can’t we protect a vital community asset like KRED, Bob Bjorner was a pillar of the community and of civic thought, and if this was one of those right-wing rant-stations in San Francisco they would have the case wrapped up by now.”
With a thin smile, Yamura said, “If you had a crystal ball you could set up shop and make a fortune. You know that Hanson is getting restless at City Hall. She has her eye on Sacramento. Or maybe, I don’t know, Washington. She’s looking for a good club to pound the tub with.” She leaned her elbows on her desk and folded one hand over the other. “What do you have?”
When Yamura leaned forward in her chair, Marvia leaned back in hers. “I’m waiting for the lab reports. I talked to Silver at Bisonte’s office and to Laura Kern at the forensics lab out in San Leandro and all I know for sure is Bjorner’s dead. Heck, I knew that yesterday. I want to know what killed him.”
“What about that warning fax? Any progress on tracking down the sender?”
“Nothing.” You never said “No luck” to Dorothy Yamura. She didn’t like coincidences, and she didn’t believe in luck at all. Intelligence, application, and plain good police work led to success; deficiency in any of those characteristics led to the failure of an investigation. That was her philosophy and if you worked for her, no matter how well you got along together, that was the standard you were expected to meet.
Yamura looked at Marvia, obviously waiting for information.
“I have to study the reports from the people we had at the station. Check the canvass. And I want to interview the next of kin.”
Yamura nodded. “Who’s that?”
“Bjorner had a brother, Herb. I already talked with him at the station last night. He seems cooperative. Upset but fairly coherent. The receptionist at the station says he brought Bob to the studio every afternoon and took him home after his show. Did you know that Bob Bjorner was almost totally blind?”
Yamura sat up straight. “No.” It was a long, drawn-out no. “What do you think that means? Is it relevant?”
Marvia shook her head. “No idea. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with his death. But he used a Braille script. I want it turned into typescript. I want to know what he was going to say in his last broadcast. Going to call UC and get somebody there to read it back for me. And I want to get an air-check from KRED and see if there’s anything there.”
Yamura said, “Sounds good, Marvia. I want to move fast on this, and it looks like you’re a step ahead of the game.”
Marvia stood up. “I’ll be happier when I see the reports from the coroner and chem lab.”
“Who’s handling it?”
“Gemma Silver says Bisonte’s