He was unmoved and unmoving. “It’s a pleasure.” Carter extended his hand, but Danica merely looked at it in that way many black women have that says you’re kidding me, right? Danica and some of her friends had tried to teach me the look, but I had never been able to master the moment. I had managed to pick up the five-minute French braid, but other than that I was an utter failure as a black woman.
Retracting his hand, Carter was undaunted. “Don’t believe everything Branson says about me. She’s biased.”
Danica sipped her champagne and gave me the signal. The signal was something we invented our first year at Mills when she wanted to be read. We had started it as something fun to do at a party. Guys hit on her a lot. A lot. Lots of guys. All the time. Even weird guys who were out of their league. She has these exotic green eyes and this beautiful caramel-colored complexion that draws men like moths to the proverbial flame. Although I’m pretty sure moths have a better chance against the flame than most men have against Danica. She was brutal where men were concerned. Anyway, to prevent any unnecessary lingerers from hanging on too long, she would signal me with the twitch of her left eyebrow. Then I would read her and either swoop in for the save or find my own way home. With Danica, it was six of one, a half dozen of the other.
She wanted me to read her now because she was obviously feeling one way while acting another. A quick shield lower and I could see she didn’t care for Carter at all. She was just enjoying toying with him and sizing him up. You don’t embarrass the friend of a black woman and expect to walk away unscathed. Black women have this unique ability to knock people off their pedestals like no other. Carter was now dangling from his.
“Mr. Ellsworth.” Danica started in her polished ghetto girl voice. “Echo’s best friend is half black. She belongs to every environmental group on the West Coast, and she volunteers at the shelter. She doesn’t have a biased bone in her body; tad or otherwise, but since I decided for myself that you are worthy of her disdain, it was a decision I made all by herself.”
Carter looked at me. “Are all of your friends this fiery?”
“You have fiery and loyal confused,” Danica retorted. “For a man who makes a living using and abusing words, I’d say you just abused that one. Thank you for the Dom and for allowing me to meet the jerk-off who talks shit about someone as good as Echo behind her back. Now, be off with you. You’re blocking my light.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.
Carter was unfazed. “Talking shit implies I wasn’t telling the truth about her, and I was. It was a funny story. Branson simply didn’t think so.”
“Know what I think?” Danica leaned forward. “I think you are a bully with an undeserved superiority complex. And if I were a man half your size, I would kick your balls so hard they would fly out the top of your head. Now move along before you piss off the ghetto side of this girl.”
Carter laughed. He actually laughed! “That might be interesting to see. You met me and came to this conclusion in what? Thirty seconds?”
“It takes less than two seconds to call a dog a dog.” Danica finished her champagne and handed Carter the flute. “And I’ll tell you this much, Mr. Ellsworth: Echo is going to kick your sorry ass all over the place. You might want to wear protection.”
“Oh, really? Would you like to make a friendly wager on that?”
“Friendly wagers are for friends, Mr. Ellsworth, and we are most definitely not that.”
“Then how about an unfriendly one?”
Danica cut her eyes over to me. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut. Ghetto girl needed no help from me. “What do you have in mind?”
Carter grinned. “You really think she’s going to find a better story than anything I write? Get real. Or are you living in the same alternate universe as she is?”
“I am and I do.”
“Then make your wager.”
Danica’s aura fairly glowed. “When she smokes you, and she will, I want my company on the front page of the business section on a Sunday.”
“The company you work for?”
“Come out of your cave once in a while, paperboy. The company I own. I’ve been trying to get on that cover section of yours forever.”
“What’s the company?”
“Savvy Software.”
Carter looked surprised. “You own Savvy Software?”
She didn’t even twitch. “Is it because I’m black or because I’m a woman that surprises you so much?” Danica snapped her fingers. “Oh, I know…it’s because I’m a black woman.”
“I’m not surprised…I just—”
“That’s what I want when I win, paperboy. Now, what’s your wager? What do you want if a miracle occurs?”
He chuckled. “A miracle, huh? You have that much faith in the nubile Branson?”
A slight grin formed on her lips. “Absolutely.”
“Enough to risk going on a six-hour date including dinner, dancing and delicious dessert with me?”
“Six hours? That’s not a date. That’s a marriage.”
Shrugging, Carter grinned. “You want the cover, I want six hours to change your mind about me. It’s your call.”
Danica held her hand out and shook his. “It’s a deal.”
Carter took her hand and stepped closer. Like most men who looked into her eyes, Carter was riveted. If it wasn’t so pathetic it might have been enjoyable. Little did he know he was looking into the eyes of a woman who could and would eat him for lunch.
Danica held her hand up and backed him off her. “Don’t underestimate my best friend, paperboy. The last guy who did that…” Danica shrugged as she looked away and pulled her hand from his.
“I will look forward to our date, then.”
Danica gave him a look she usually saved for the ghettos of Oakland. “You’ll be looking a long time. Thanks again for the bubbly. Now, if you don’t mind.”
As Carter turned away, she called him back. “Yo, paperboy!”
“Yes?”
“And the word is neophyte, not nubile. If you’re going to toss out sixty-four-cent words, at least know what the hell they mean.”
Once Carter was gone, Danica leaned back and poured herself more champagne in my glass. “I want that front page, Clark.”
“I know you do.”
“Can you do it?”
I swallowed hard, thinking of the pages and pages of computer printouts back at my place. “In a week? I don’t know. I think so.”
“Excellent. I want you to kick his ass all over the court leaving body parts behind.”
I grinned and tinked her flute with my water glass. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”
After dinner, I pored over every printout the boys had given to me. I was astounded by the depth of the information they had managed to come by in such a short amount of time. I had it all. Now, it was up to me to put it all together and see if I could find a story that would captivate the minds of every San Franciscan.
With paper strewn everywhere, I rose and stretched. Maybe I was going at this the wrong way. Maybe what I needed was an inside angle; someone who could give me a hint or point me in the right direction.
Picking up the phone, I called Sergeant Finn.
“Hello there, Ms. Branson. What can I do for you?”
“Echo. Please call me Echo.”
“Okay, Echo, before you get started with the million and one questions you reporters are so fond of, I don’t want to be rude, but it’s my dinnertime.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I looked at the clock. It was almost eleven thirty. Cops’ hours must suck if they have to eat dinner at midnight. “Would you mind if I met you for dinner? I promise I won’t bother you after that…it’s just…I need a break. I bet Carter Ellsworth I could get a better story than he can. I sort of bet my car and my job on it.”
The line was quiet for a moment.
“Carter Ellsworth, eh? Do you have any idea how much we hate that guy’s guts?”
I grinned. “Who doesn’t?
”
She chuckled. “Look, I’ll be eating at the Del Mar Cafe in about fifteen minutes. I can’t promise I have any scoop for you, but I’d hate to see you go down without a fight. That guy’s a grade A jerk.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Excellent. See you there.”
Snatching the rest of the catnip out of the paws of my stoner cat, I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs.
Did I mention that Sergeant Marist Finn is really cute?
Eleven minutes later, I walked into the Del Mar and waved to Sergeant Finn who was sitting alone in a booth. She rose as I neared the table, a huge grin on her face as if we were old friends. I had seen her on several of my Police Beat runs and always thought she was remarkably cute in a studly sort of way. She was a rectangle of a woman with broad shoulders, a flat stomach and long legs. Her tight-fitting dark blue uniform shirt looked painted on, and her wavy brown hair begged to be stroked. She was smoking hot. I glanced down in search of a ring, but she wore none.
“Sergeant Finn.”
“If I call you Echo, would you call me Finn? I hate Sergeant from civilians almost as much as I hate my first name. Marist is my mom’s name, my grandmother’s name, my great-grandmother’s name, and—”
“Your daughter’s?” I sat down when she motioned at the booth.
“Oh hell no. I made a promise to myself in high school that I would be the last in a long line of Marists. There are so many great names to choose from, like yours.”
I fished around a little bit more. “And what does your wife think about this?” Okay, so I read her before I sat down. Not that I needed to. Every fiber of her being screamed lesbian. All she was missing was a truck, a dog and a big watch.
“My—” she stopped and smiled softly. “I don’t have one of those. Would you like something to eat? I know it’s late and all…” Her smile was disarming and warmed up the room.
“How’s the pie here?”
“I like that in a woman. Nowadays when you go out to dinner with someone, they order a crouton with a glass of water. They have excellent pie here. I recommend apple.”
I ordered apple pie à la mode before looking over at Finn. She was still grinning. “What?”
“I’m not used to a woman eating like a normal person. Bless you.”
I smiled back at her. Normal was such a relative term in my life. “Maybe you didn’t catch my name; there’s nothing normal about me. I’m a very healthy eater.”
She ordered a bacon cheeseburger with a side salad and Coke. She was incredibly handsome in her uniform. Those Kevlar vests ride high when a cop sits down, giving her that puffed up look. Her skin was a dark olive color and she had sandy brown hair waving to her shoulders. I was glad she didn’t wear a buzz cut like a lot of other cops. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown that took in the whole room. I had no doubt Sergeant Finn knew exactly who was in the cafe and how long they had been there.
Two deep dimples adorned her cheeks whenever she smiled, which was a lot for someone in such a depressing profession. It took a special person to be a walking target these days, and I had the feeling she was very special.
When she finished ordering, she turned those soft eyes on me. “Normally, I’m the one assessing a room, but you’re good. I like that.”
I poured sugar in my coffee. “You’re not listening. I’m not normal.”
She laughed at this. “Something tells me you’re probably not kidding.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “I’m going to be honest with you here, Echo. There’s no love lost between Carter Ellsworth and me. He’s gotten into my way or in the department’s way more times than I can count. If there is any way I can help you, I will.”
There was so much I liked about her, not just her willingness to help, but the warmth of her words. She was one of the most authentic people I’d ever met.
“I really appreciate your time.”
She nodded a hello to someone behind me who had just walked in. “If anything comes up, you’ll be the first to know. I would really love to help you get the drop on that wiener.”
I laughed out loud. Danica used to call dumb boys wieners. “Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. You know, cops aren’t very fond of the reporters. We never get a fair shake from you folks no matter how much of our blood is spilled on the streets. We can never do it right enough, never get there fast enough, never be fair enough. Guys like Ellsworth get off on rubbing our noses in some story he cracked before we did; as if he could do so without an inside in the department.” Finn shook her head sadly. “I hate that guy.”
“Well, just as long as you don’t put me in the same category. My career hasn’t gotten off the ground yet, but when it does, I’ll be sure to give you that fair shake.”
Her eyes scanned the room once more, as if she was looking for someone, but I knew she was just being a cop. “I would just like to see the department get some praise every now and then, but with guys like that dirtbag Ellsworth, we’re just fodder for the papers.”
I smiled. Her use of the word fodder made my stomach tingle. She was one of the good guys. Integrity and loyalty were as vital to her as eating and drinking. She was the kind of person you could trust; the kind you called when you needed your car jumped or a shoulder to lean on. I needed more Marist Finns in my life. “Maybe I can help paint a different picture.”
She grinned and those dimples jumped out at me. “Excellent. I’ll comb through the files and see if I can find anything you can use. Here’s my cell number. I don’t have to tell you it’s frowned upon for us to be talking to reporters. You guys aren’t our favorite people, so discretion is in order.”
I reached for the card. “I understand. Here’s mine,” I said, writing my personal cell number on the back before sliding it discreetly across the table. “Because you know…” I lowered my voice. “It’s frowned upon for us to be seen eating doughnuts with hot women in blue.”
Finn threw her head back and laughed. “So, tell me about Echo. Besides being a reporter, what do you do for fun?”
“Fun? What’s that?”
We finished the rest of dinner on more personal notes. She was twenty-nine and had been a cop for almost eight years. She was the oldest of eight kids in a typically Irish Catholic family. She loved her job, lived alone off Market Street and confessed to being somewhat of a movie buff. She was close to her parents, loved the city and wasn’t addicted to anything.
So why was she still single?
There was a good give-and-take to our conversation, a nice ebb and flow. So many women just blathered on about themselves, but she asked questions and listened attentively. It was really quite enjoyable. When her pager went off, we both sighed.
“Well, I’m up.” Locking eyes with me, she smiled softly. “I’ve had a really good time.”
“I’m glad. So have I.” I rose. “Have you heard anything about a missing homeless guy?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I wish I was. I know it sounds nuts, but—”
“Nuts is an understatement. Do you have any idea how many homeless people there are in the city?”
“I know. It’s just…a good friend of mine said a friend of his from the streets is missing. I told him I would see what I could find out.”
“You have… homeless friends?” She cocked her head. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, Echo Branson.”
I flashed her my best grin. “I told you, I am not normal. I have all sorts of friends… including women in uniform.”
She looked me up and down, settling on my eyes. “I can see that. Well, Echo Branson, I’m glad you include one SFPD sergeant among them.”
“I believe I do, Officer Finn. I believe I do.”
“Goddamn it,” I growled, leaning against the car.
“Bad morning?”
Whirling around, I almost punched Bob. “You’re far from home. Are you lost, little boy?”
Bob forced
a grin and shook his head. “Someone else has gone missing, Jane. Gone without a trace. Donnie’s wife said he went to get something for them to eat and never returned. She’s sick with worry, Jane. She said this is not like him at all. I have to agree. Donnie is crazy about her. He would never want her to worry.”
“And no one else has seen him?”
Bob shook his head slowly, and then I heard his stomach rumble.
“Come on. Let’s see if Luigi’s got a little something to quiet that belly of yours.”
Luigi was in the back as he always was until about nine. His brother, Franko, waited on customers and handled the counter in the morning. He was a good baker, but not in the same league as Luigi.
I ordered a coffee and bagel with cream cheese, and Bob ordered a coffee with a bear claw. I tried to get him to order more, but he wouldn’t.
“What’s really going on down there?”
“If you want to know what’s going on in the city of San Francisco, ask a homeless guy. But Jane, none of us have seen a Goddamn thing. We see everything that happens in this city whether it wants to be seen or not. So…to not see two of our own go missing…well…it rattles our cages.”
“I’m not sure I can help. I’ve already checked the hospitals. I’ve even talked to SFPD, but—”
“Try the morgue.”
I blinked several times before replying. “I’ll check it out, but Bob, without real first and last names, I’m just spitting in the wind. You have to get me more than just first names.”
Reaching his dirty fingers into his jacket pocket, Bob carefully extracted a folded bar napkin. “I did a lot of asking around and found out Rusty’s last name was…is Van Pelt.” He handed the napkin to me with only a slight tremble.
“And Donnie’s last name is Jack? His last name is Jack?”
Bob shrugged. “We all called him Donnie, but I suppose his name could be Jack Donnie. I just don’t know.”
Taking the napkin, I put it in my notebook. I have always carried a notebook around ever since I was a kid. I could draw in it, write poems or even make games. When you’re in a foster home, it’s always good to look like you’re really busy or really smart. “I’ll look into it today. In the meantime, why don’t you spend the next few nights at the shelter? You look awful.”
More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) Page 15