A Killing in China Basin - By Kirk Russell Page 0,35

took an early lead. That just made her angry. She got angry and he got faster. She wanted the last game, wanted to show him up, show him what basketball training and an eighteen year advantage in age was worth, but if Raveneau was anything he was tough when it mattered and now he wanted the game. Maybe his hair was salt and pepper, but he wasn’t an old man and he wasn’t moving out or away just at the age when he was finally getting good at his job.

He fell behind. For five games in a row she ran the same move and now finally he smoked the ball out of her hands as she went up. Next play he got the ball back and she was in his face saying, ‘Nice play, but now you’re going to have to get around me and score, or take another chance with that goofy-foot jumper of yours.’

Raveneau didn’t answer, knew she was just waiting for a chance to steal the ball back, and she slapped at it now and almost knocked it loose, and then he was on the move. When she cut off the inside lane he tried a hook shot, some throwback to an era before la Rosa had been born. It hit the backboard and went in.

A couple of people had come over to watch and playing to them, Raveneau dropped a three pointer. He scored again and then had her. He was only one shot away and after she scored twice he got a rebound, worked it in and took it home for the win.

‘One more game,’ she said the second the ball dropped through, and he shook his head.

‘That was it,’ he said. ‘I’m done.’

‘No, come on, one more.’

‘I’m beat.’

‘You’ve got one more in you.’

‘I’ve always got one more in me.’

He played another just to get to know his new partner better. His knees ached, his breath came harder, and he didn’t have the drive he carried through the game before. He was ready for a beer when she beat him by one shot. Sweat had formed droplets on his forearms and soaked through his hair and clothes. He was spent but it felt good and they had a beer at the club bar before leaving.

‘That was fun,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to do that again. For an old guy you’ve got some staying power.’

‘You’re beating this age thing to death. Maybe you’re missing all the talk about fifty being the new forty.’

‘I’ll be chief of police by the time I’m fifty and the homicide detail will be half female.’

He didn’t answer that. He smiled and put his glass down.

‘Let’s go back at Heilbron tomorrow. See you in the morning.’

TWENTY-SIX

Raveneau woke to a hollow banging noise that died away within moments. When the sound woke him a second time he came to wakefulness with the memory of a corrupt police officer in Guatemala tip-tapping the barrel of his gun against the driver’s window of a rented car, waiting for Raveneau to roll down the window. He listened to the noise another thirty seconds, realized it was three in the morning and got out of bed quietly and fumbled for his clothes. Once outside he walked across the big roof toward the noise, carrying a flashlight he hadn’t turned on yet. He figured it was someone trying to break into the warehouse underneath him. He looked over the parapet and then clicked on the light.

Almost directly below was a metal access door to his landlord’s business. When his flashlight beam caught the top of a billed cap, the would-be burglar dropped the iron bar he was using to get through the metal door and zigzagged into the darkness. He ran back toward the street and that was fine with Raveneau. Let the guy run. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with him inside the building. But a few seconds later, as he swept the asphalt lot below with the light, he heard the buzz of a bullet passing and the popping of another round going off. He ducked down behind the parapet, swore, and killed the light. Down the street a car with its headlights on accelerated away, and without a make on the car Raveneau walked to his phone. But he was plenty angry the guy had taken a shot at him.

Two officers arrived ten minutes later. They wrote it up as Raveneau limped around on the street. One of the officers looked