He did, and as Shirley described what she saw, String Bean began sketching, lightly at first, and then filling with more details as Shirley continued on with her scry vision. When they were done, we had a very detailed picture of a red bike next to a green awning and a blue fire hydrant. On the bike, there was something stuck to the bottom of the frame. In the windows of the store were bottles of alcohol for sale. His bike was locked in one of those old-style gray bike parking areas where you could secure your bike.
“So, what’s this drawing all about?” Jeff asked me. With Shirley’s permission he was taking pictures of Shirley and the animals.
“It’s just a place I’m trying to find.”
String Bean nodded, placing the camera to his thin face. He looked like a cartoon cutout of a person, he was that thin. “Who do you think sees everything that goes on in this city? Who has eyes everywhere?”
I watched in fascination as the animals appeared to be posing for him. “Photographers?”
“Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the girl a gold star! I’ll scan this baby with one simple caption: Fifty bucks to the first shooter who can tell me where it is within the next twelve hours.”
“Are you serious?”
“Trust me on this, Echo. If anyone knows where this is, we’ll know before the twelve hours are up. There are a few things in that drawing my guys will find in a nano.”
“Such as?”
“The blue hydrant. Not many of those in the city. Don’t know what they stand for, but that one is so obviously not the right color. There was one other thing.” He pointed to a pole near the bike. There was no sign I could see. “I’m betting this is either a BART stop or a MUNI. Either way, I’ll have this place to you in no time.”
I felt a sense of hope I hadn’t felt since I started my story. “If that’s true, I so owe you.”
Jeff nodded and sighed. “Wait until you see these shots, Echo. They’ll get somebody’s attention.”
And he was right.
I was meeting Finn for dinner shortly after I finished the first installment of my series “Invisible No More.” I liked the article and thought the story a good one. It would make people who had a heart care; all others were already too far off the grid to bring back.
“Hey there,” Finn said, rising when I approached the booth. And I thought chivalry was dead. “Great story.”
I grinned. Damn she looked good. I had never seen her in street clothes and she was even hotter than when wearing her tight little uniform. She had on a black turtleneck, light blue jeans and Doc Marten boots. A hint of a spicy cologne barely caressed my nostrils.
“Thank you. Thanks to you and Jardine, I was able to crank out one hell of a first story.”
She grinned and there were those two dimples. “Glad to hear it.” She perused the menu and then we ordered. “It’s nice to have the night off, but even nicer to have someone to share it with.” Leaning forward, she smiled softly. “So, let’s not talk about our jobs. What is it you do when you’re not being Lois Lane?”
I smiled at the reference. First I was Clark Kent and now Lois Lane. Interesting.
We spent the entire dinner talking about our hobbies, our passions, our dreams.
She loved being a cop and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. When not on the beat, she played in a softball league, took two-step lessons and made mosaics and stained glass. I was enthralled just listening to her. She was animated, eloquent and very, very funny.
When she asked about my childhood, I got a little jumpy, as I usually do. How much do you tell someone about a past like mine? My foster child days were sad and pathetic, so I never spoke about those times. I couldn’t very well tell her that I’d spent time in a mental hospital. That was a conversation stopper to be sure. And of course, what could I say about my time on the Bayou?
I had absolutely no memory from before I was five years old, so there was no need to go there, either.
Fortunately for me, Finn wasn’t interested so much in my past as she was in my present, and for that I was grateful. She loved that I lived alone with a three-legged stoner cat. She owned a boxer named Lucy, and even carried pictures of her in her wallet.
After dinner, we strolled down to Fisherman’s Wharf to walk off our expensive dinner and to just keep talking. We talked a lot, but could also share those comfortable moments of silence as well. I could see how easy it was to fall in love with her, but I was curious about something first.
“If I may be so bold. How is it you are so smokin’ hot and still single?”
Turning to me, she lightly stroked my cheek. I melted then and there. “You’re very sweet, but I’m not a great partner. I’m a cop twenty-four-seven. It’s not a vocation or a hobby, or a job. It’s a lifestyle. It’s who and what I am. A lot of women fall for the uniform expecting me to shuck it off at the end of a day and act like a regular Joe. That doesn’t happen. I see things out here I wish I never had to revisit. But I do. There are times I can talk about my job, but I usually prefer not to. Most women feel closed off from me after a while.” She shrugged. “Long story short, the badge gets in the way of everything except the sex.”
I stepped closer to her, our breaths mingling together in the late San Francisco fog. “Sounds to me like you haven’t been with the right women.”
Lacing her fingers together behind my neck, she pulled me to her. “Oh is that right? What does the right woman look like?”
“Someone who is as invested in her own job as you are. Someone not expecting you to entertain her. Someone who,” I stood on tiptoe to kiss her soft lips. “Loves you for all of the different people you are. Unconditionally.”
She leaned down and kissed me deeply, pulling me to her, almost too tightly. “Oh, Lois, how I wish that woman existed. I’d snap her up in a heartbeat. But trust me. They all start out that way—believing they can handle the highs and lows and ups and downs, but once the honeymoon wears off…” She shrugged. “It’s been the same time in and time out. I decided it was best to save everyone the trouble. And just stay single.”
I nodded and pulled out of her grasp. “Good to know.”
She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Doesn’t mean it has to stay this way.”
I smiled and kissed her again. “That’s more like it.”
We pressed together, kissing, running our hands in each other’s hair, touching each other’s faces, until she finally came up for air.
“Okay, I know we weren’t going to talk about our jobs, but—”
Finn laughed. “Can’t stand it any more, can you?” She glanced at her watch. “I was wondering how long you’d hold out. You did better than I imagined. Okay, Lois, go ahead.”
I threaded my arm through hers as we walked. “I still have my list of missing homeless people from both Oakland and the Tenderloin, but I don’t know what to do with it to make it work for me. I know I should be looking for similarities…”
She laughed. “And who told you that? Jardine?”
“No. Carter.”
“Ellsworth? You two on good terms now?”
“Something like that. Call it an uneasy truce.”
“Well…I hate to say that cretin is right, but he is. Tell me more about your list.”
“It’s just street names and in each case, what little I know about each of them.”
Finn nodded. “Can I see it?”
She looked at it carefully. “Pretty good. Have you found any connections other than they’re all homeless men, they drink and some, not all, are vets?”
I shook my head. “No one has found their bodies. There’s been no blood found.”
Walking over to a bench, we sat down and she held the list up for us both to see. “Let’s see what the two of us can do with this list.”
I sat next to her and studied it, my chin on her shoulder, scooting closer to her and she threaded her fingers through mine. I really liked having Marist Finn in my corner. I wondered how much longer it would be before I found her in my bed.
I waited until after ten in the morning before calling Danica.
“Hey, Clark. How’s Metropolis’s greatest reporter?”
“Good. Any plans for tonight?”
“Why? Are we supersleuthing again? You know how I love sneaking around in the dark and spying on people.”
“The sad thing is I know you really dig sneaking around in the dark, but what about sneaking around in the dark Tenderloin?”
“Oh, heart be still. Not another lovely junket into the sleazy underbelly of the city. Damn, are you getting any of this down? I say some pretty quotable lines, you know?”
“Aren’t you in a mood? What happened?”
“We sold the boys’ newest computer game to Epic Studios for a buttload of money and a movie option. Can you say cha-ching.”
“They option computer games for movies now?”
“Oh, Clark, you are a technological throwback. You really need to get out more. Of course they option games. Haven’t you ever heard of Lara Croft?”
“Lara who?”
“Never mind. Geez, you are out of the pop culture loop. Do you ever go to the movies?”
“Yes, but not to watch movies twelve-year-old boys watch.”
“Then you’re missing out, Clark. Those twelve-to twenty-five-year-old boys make Momma money. I’ll not have you denigrating my customer base.”
“Fine. Congratulations on another success…Momma.”
She chuckled. “They’re already talking about a spin-off from the original game and everything. We are going to make a bundle. But you want to know the best part? They’re willing to package our educational CD with it.”
“Excellent.”
“Yeah, it’s a good start for a great product and a new market. Carl has got a great series for new readers that he’s working on. Blows Hooked on Phonics to pieces. It’s exciting. Anyway, back to you. Do you need some muscle for the trip into the dark expanse of—”
“Please…no more quotable lines. Yes, I need backup. We need to find out more about these missing guys. Find the tie that binds. There’s something I am missing.”
“Sounds like this could take all night. I’ll wear my high-tops and bring plenty of mace. Should I bring energy food in case we need it?”
I laughed. It was always about food with her. “Sure. Bring sweets too. Only you could make a picnic out of a job. Meet me at my place around ten.”
“You’ll know it’s me. I’ll be wearing all black and smelling of Coco Chanel.”
“Nerd.” I hung up, smiling. As I was feeding Tripod, the phone rang.
“Hey Echo, it’s Darryl Jardine. You got a minute?”
“For you, I have ten.”
“Thanks. Look, I was just thinking about what you said about nobody listening to you and I wondered if you’ve tried going to the mayor about this.”
“The mayor.”
“Well, he’s looking at reelection and like it or not he has a homeless population that needs tending to. Who knows? You might just give him a cause to hang his hat on.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“Of course. He is a regular guy and he truly cares about this city of ours. The brass really likes him. The guy is full of integrity, he backs up the cops, and he gets high marks on his stance on crime.”
I hadn’t thought about the mayor, except to cover his ass where Carter was concerned, but maybe he would find my information interesting enough to get the police department off its ass.
Packing up my gear and my notes, I threw a can of tuna at the cat, who acted like I hadn’t fed him in a month. I was almost in Ladybug when I saw a white dog running toward me. I knelt down and patted Cotton.
“Lost another one last night. I thought you’d want to know,” Shirley said, hobbling toward me.
“Who?”
“Name was Stinky Pete. Real sweetheart. Other than his stench, he is a wonderful young man. Well-liked.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “No witnesses. Stinky does the same routine night after night. When he didn’t show up to drink and play cards with his buddies, they went looking for him. Nothing.” Shirley shook her head. “Vanished like a ghost. Poof.”
“Anyone know his real name?”
“You got me, sweetie. About all I can tell you is that he’s an old, smelly, white guy with a beard down to here. Wears this smelly peacoat, hence his name. I came as soon as I could.”
“Thank you.” I pulled out my list and added Stinky Pete to it. “Can I drop you off somewhere?”
“I would rather you find who’s doing this. People are getting nervous, starting to carry knives and pipes and stuff. The Tenderloin isn’t a safe place, at the best of times. Don’t turn your back on anyone, not even me. Where there’s fear, there’s danger, and the community is very afraid.”
I shared her cautions with Danica that evening.
“I got all the protection we’re going to need right here,” Danica said, pointing to the gun she had placed in the small of her back. True to her word, she had arrived at my house wearing a Donna Karan black turtleneck, a black leather jacket from Polo, Hilfiger black jeans and her black high-tops with silver studs from Nordstrom. The only thing missing was a black ski mask, and I had no doubt she could produce one if necessary.
She looked at my attire and asked, “Are you wearing that?”
I looked at my clothes. I was wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes and a denim blazer. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“We’re going to a pretty gross place in the middle of the night and you’re dressed like Mary Poppins. Come on, Clark. Get in character!”
Once I was dressed in the appropriate black attire we opted for the Tenderloin first, and after nearly an hour we had managed to find only one person who had anything of value.
“Look, Clark, nobody down here can help you if you don’t have people’s real names. Without real names, we got nothing. Have you tried the police department?”
I looked at her as if she were stupid. “Duh, I’m practically dating one of them.”
“I didn’t ask you about your boring and pathetic love life. I was wondering if you had anyone look at the mug shots.”
“The mug…” I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly. “Oh my God, you really are a genius!”
“It just makes sense that most of your homeless people have been arrested for either drunk and disorderly or under the influence of something. All you need is someone who can recognize their faces and then we can put real names to them.”
Ten minutes later we found Shirley giving a Tarot reading near the park. She was more than happy to go down to the station and claim she had been mugged by another homeless person, and she wanted to look at the books. It was a brilliant idea, really, and I was a little bummed out I hadn’t thought of it.
I watched as Shirley flipped through page after page of mug shots, nodding and pointing whenever she saw a picture that registered to her powers. About an hour into it, we had eight names. Eight real names. Shirley surprised me by being far more lucid and far more powerful with her visions than I initially gauged.
We dropped Shirley off at the park. She turned to me and put her hand on my arm. “I can tell you this much, sweetie. They’re all still alive. For how much longer, I don’t know. Not one of them is dead. Not one. You need to find them, Echo. You need to find them and quickly. Time is of the essence.”
Danica and I drove away in silence, both of us nursing our own thoughts and fears.
It was Danica who broke the silence first. “If they’re still alive then where the hell are they? Who has them? And why? Why would anyone want over a dozen homeless guys?”
I started toward the office with the same questions beating at my brain. “I haven’t a clue, but at least now that we have the names of some of the missing…”
“My guys are all over it.” Danica pulled out the list and started text messaging on what looked like a compact computer. “They’ll be a
ll over it by the morning. They eat research for you with a spoon the size of a shovel. I think it breaks the monotony of being so creative all the time.” She texted all nine names before asking me, “So what do we know?”
“Well, color or ethnicity isn’t an issue. Four whites, three blacks, a Hispanic, and a possible Asian pretty much rules that out.”
“How about ages?”
“Danny Boy is in his late teens, and Stinky Pete is in his late fifties, so age doesn’t seem to be a consistent factor.”
“Okay, what about military service?”
“Two Vietnam vets, one Gulf War vet, other than that, nothing else. Their jail time wasn’t enough to merit a look. Most of them were let go after less than twenty-four hours.”
“All are men. I find that interesting. That probably rules out sexual assault as a motive.”
“True.” I sighed. We still couldn’t find a connection. “It seems the more we know the less we know.”
“Hang in there, Clark. We’ll get some answers.”
My next stop was the office, where Danica and I pored over microfilm and had three computers going at once. None of their names produced anything online. That didn’t mean they weren’t out there in cyberspace, it just meant that I wasn’t going to find information on them that easily. Since we knew we could leave cyberspace to the boys, we concentrated on microfilm.
Three hours and two pairs of blurry eyes later, we were still empty-handed. About the only thing I got was a headache. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and felt like I wasn’t any closer to finding Bob than when I woke up this morning.
Time was of the essence, and it was running out.
I woke up four hours later to the ringing of my phone. I had to reach over my drugged cat to get to it. I looked at the clock. It was 6:37.
“It’s String Bean. I was checking my e-mail this morning and we got a hit on the drawing with the bike.”
I was a wide awake now and sitting up in bed.
“A buddy of mine is pretty sure it’s a liquor store on Hyde called Fast Freddy’s. He recognized the damn fire hydrant.”
I was out of the bed. “Way to go!”
More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) Page 21