She didn’t do it. Anna was actually paralyzed. She pictured a gun pointed at her. She imagined ducking to the floor of the car. She saw herself bolting out of her car on the sidewalk side and just running, running, running, bullets coming at her as she ran.
Anna heard the man yelling through his open window.
“You need help?”
She shook her head no. And reached for the key, turned her engine on. There was room to pull out and drive past him. Barely. She turned the wheel, and as she rolled out into her lane, she looked toward the driver of the Escalade.
He was smiling at her. It was the kind of smile she’d seen before in the darkest days of her hell on earth. The smile was an expression of power.
He was letting her know how confident he was of his power to hurt her.
The tires of Anna’s Kia grabbed asphalt, and the car squealed as it shot off and up the street. As Anna reached the intersection of Fell and Broderick, she checked her rear-view mirror.
The Caddy wasn’t following her. But if he looked for her, he would recognize her car. She parked blocks away from her front door and stuck to the shadows as she made her way home.
CHAPTER 47
Nancy Koebel, the housekeeper from the Big Four Motel, had taken off to parts unknown after finding Carly Myers’s dead body.
Not only had she discovered the body, but because of her presence around the motel on the days surrounding the murder, she might also have information about Carly’s killer. So Conklin and I were surprised and very glad to see Koebel when she came through the entrance to Homicide on Tuesday morning and asked for me.
We escorted her into Interview 2 and asked her if she needed anything. She declined and told us that she couldn’t stay long.
Nancy Koebel was young, between eighteen and twenty-two, and thin, with choppy brown hair and dark circles under her eyes. She explained that she had come to San Francisco from Canada almost three months ago with her boyfriend, Roger Lewis.
“It was supposed to be a vacation,” she told us. “But we weren’t getting along. I said some things. Roger said some things. Then he ditched me. I had very little cash, no car, a used-up credit card, and my visitor’s visa was about to expire. I lived with my parents and had been raving about this jerk. I’ve been staying with my uncle, who lives in Pacifica, but I was too embarrassed to borrow money from him, so I decided to get a job and work until I had enough money to go home with a little dignity.”
Conklin and I commiserated and Koebel went on, telling us that she’d seen a HELP WANTED sign outside the Big Four Motel. She had taken the job for a couple of weeks, which expanded into a couple of months.
Conklin’s famous way with women wasn’t all about his good looks. He was kind, he listened, and he used the magic words. He’d taken the lead in the Koebel interview, and I was happy to sit back and let him do it. He said, “What can you tell us about finding the body and any information you may have about Carly Myers’s death? Don’t edit, please, Nancy. We’ll listen and ask questions.”
She nodded, and I sat on the edge of the rickety metal chair as she began to tell her story.
Inside the first hour, Koebel told us, “I was working my usual shift—from noon checkout time to 10 p.m.—and room 212 was supposed to be empty. But the ‘Do Not Disturb’ card was still on the door. I knocked a few times, and then I had to go in. The room had to be cleaned.
“I went to the bathroom first. That’s how I do it. I take the towels and toss them into the cart, then I go for the bedding. But the towels weren’t on the rack or the floor, so I opened the shower curtain.”
Koebel covered her face with her hands. I’d seen what she’d seen—so I knew that the sight of the victim had given her the shock of her life.
She told us what she’d done after that, and it matched Tuohy’s version of the events. She’d gotten her bag from the office, run out to the street, and not been back to the Big Four since, not even to get her paycheck.
She said, “That’s how messed up I was about what happened.”
I showed her on my phone a photo of the man seen on Tuesday coming down the stairs at the back of the motel.
Koebel thought she might have seen him, but not on the day she found the body. She also said she had never spoken with Carly Myers. She claimed that she had done her job, kept her head down, and saved her money so she could go home.
“I just came in to tell you what I know. That when I opened the door to room 212, no one was there—only that poor woman hanging in the shower.”
CHAPTER 48
An hour and a half after first meeting Ms. Koebel, my hope that she was going to lead us to a killer, or two missing schoolteachers, had dimmed considerably.
Conklin said to our iffy witness, “But you recognize the man whose picture we showed you?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I didn’t pay that much attention.”
Conklin said, “Okay. It’s okay. Nancy, let me get you that tea I promised you.”
When he’d left the room, I said, “One more time, please, Nancy. You were working from noon until ten. Did you see Carly Myers check into her room last Tuesday night at around ten?”
“No, like I said, I didn’t see her at all on Tuesday. I’ve seen men going to her room on other days, two or three times. But I didn’t know her name until I saw her picture online.”
“Did you ever speak with her?”
“She asked for more towels once. She asked for batteries for the remote control. For the TV.”
“And what about these men you saw with her on separate occasions? What can you tell me?”
“Like I said, Sergeant, I didn’t look at their faces. They went to 212. She let them in, and a little while later they left. I didn’t look or try to remember any of the guests. It was none of my business, and Mr. Tuohy made sure he got his six dollars an hour out of me. I had stairs. I had vacuuming. I had laundry. I wanted to keep my job.”
“I understand. Did you ever hear or see any signs of violence? Broken furniture, bruises on Carly’s arms or face?”
“Never.”
“Did you ever find anything disturbing in Carly’s room after she checked out? Blood? Anything like that?”
She said “No” emphatically.
Conklin came in with a mug of tea for Nancy. I smelled Chinese herbs. Paul Chi’s private stash.
He pulled out his chair and said, “I know this is stressful, Nancy, and you’ve been very helpful. You’re our last hope to find Carly’s killer.”
She shook her head, out of desperation or regret, I couldn’t know. But the video camera was still rolling; the witness was still in her seat. And I still had questions.
CHAPTER 49
Conklin was right: Nancy Koebel was our best hope.
She’d seen Carly alive and then dead. And before Carly’s death Koebel had seen men coming and going from the victim’s motel room. One of those men might have been Carly’s killer. But might have was miles away from proof.
I didn’t want to admit it, but Nancy Koebel was believable and not panning out at all. But as my mother used to say, pressure makes diamonds. If I had to lean on Koebel, I would do it, because I wasn’t ready to give up on this witness.