MD05 - The Confession

by Sheldon Siegel

  “You aren’t suggesting that I go to law school, are you?”

  “I like to think it’s one way of helping our neighbors.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll try some other way. Maybe I can find something in the nonprofit sector. I love this community. I’ve always wanted to put together a business to develop affordable housing.”

  “You may have some stiff competition from Eduardo Lopez.”

  “After his testimony yesterday, I think it may be difficult to find anybody who will be willing to do business with him.” He turns somber. “I decided to devote myself to doing good works,” he says. “I think I can find a way to do that without being a priest–or a lawyer.”

  “It might open up some new options for you,” I say. “Who knows? Maybe you could settle down and get married.”

  “I don’t think that’s in the cards,” he says. “I’m more interested in spiritual issues. The whole sex thing is vastly overrated and it always seems to get me into trouble.”

  Me, too. “Does that mean you’ll stop bugging me about getting married again?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Chapter 57

  A Christmas Carol

  “Only one more shopping day until Christmas.”

  — San Francisco Chronicle. Wednesday, December 24.

  My brother’s collar is turned up as he’s sitting in the second row of the otherwise-empty bleachers next to the home bench at the Big Rec baseball field near the Academy of Science in Golden Gate Park. I pitched on this field when I was on the St. Ignatius varsity and I once threw a two-hit shutout against Galileo. It brings back good memories. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon of Christmas Eve and a blanket of heavy fog is rolling in. “Nice to have a chance to play hooky, Mick,” he says.

  I zip my ski jacket and pull my knit hat down a little tighter. “Can’t we play hooky somewhere inside?” I ask.

  “You said you wanted to meet him.”

  “Can we do it soon?”

  “As soon as this inning is over.”

  I feel the biting wind on my face and ask, “Why are these guys playing in December?”

  “It’s their last tune-up before a big semi-pro tournament in Phoenix next week.”

  “It’s forty-four degrees,” I say. “It feels like a night game at Candlestick.”

  “You can go watch them play in Arizona if you want warm weather.”

  A team called SFPD’s Finest is thrashing a bunch of firefighters from Daly City. The cops are led by a good looking ringer who is at least six-six and a chiseled two-hundred forty pounds. The overmatched firemen can’t touch his fastball, and he strikes out the side for the third inning in a row. He carefully avoids touching the foul line as he leaves the mound and heads for the dugout.

  Pete motions to the pitcher, then he nudges my arm. “Come on, Mick,” he says. We walk over to the bench, where the pitcher is donning a down jacket. Pete approaches him cautiously and says, “Hey, Pick.”

  The behemoth turns around and nods. “Hey, Pete.”

  A man of few words. Pete gestures toward me and says, “Mike.”

  Pick nods. “Hey, Mike.”

  I extend my hand, but he doesn’t take it. “Hey, Pick,” I say. “Thanks for everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” I’m about to lavish him with praise for helping us solve Concepcion’s murder when he says, “Gotta get back to work.” Without another word, he heads toward the far end of the bench and sits by himself to watch his teammates bat.

  Pete turns to me and says, “He liked you, Mick.”

  “He wouldn’t even shake hands with me.”

  “He doesn’t shake hands.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t let anybody touch his pitching hand.” My all-knowing younger brother gives me a wry grin and says, “No kidding, Mick. He really liked you.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “He spoke to you.”

  “He didn’t say two words to me.”

  “If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

  # # #

  The heater in my Corolla is trying as hard as it can as I’m driving Pete home. It works better since Preston Fuentes fixed my window. “Can I ask you something?” I say.

  “Sure.”

  “Who’s Vince?”

  “The catcher on Pick’s semi-pro team.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He was at the game. I should have introduced you to him, too.”

  “Does that mean–”

  “Yeah, Mick. He’s a cop. We used to work together at Mission Station. We help each other out every once in awhile. I figured I’d better have somebody keep an eye on you who knew what he was doing.”

  “Thanks, Pete.”

  “You’re welcome. I gotta make sure nothing happens to you, Mick. You’re my best referral source for non-paying clients.”

  “And it doesn’t bother him that he’s catching a guy who deals in stolen auto parts?”

  “It’s just baseball, Mick. He was all-conference at Sacred Heart and played in the A’s organization for a couple of years.”

  We drive in silence down Nineteenth Avenue and we turn right onto Kirkham. Pete says, “Did you hear that F.X. Quinn resigned? He’s being investigated for using Church funds for payoffs.”

  Doesn’t surprise me.

  He gives me a sly grin and says, “What is it with lawyers and priests?”

  “Trouble seems to follow us everywhere,” I say. I take a deep breath and ask, “What are you up to tonight?”

  “Donna and I are going to put up the tree.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  “Nah.”

  “You want to come over to Rosie’s for awhile?”

  “I think we’ll stay home tonight.”

  We head west toward the bungalow that’s been Daley family headquarters since we moved out of the Mission more than forty years ago. Pete is taking better care of it than our mom did. She was battling Alzheimer’s for the last few years of her life, and she didn’t really have the capacity to deal with it. I pull up in front of the old place, which has a fresh coat of paint and a mountain of memories. Sometimes I think we should sell it, but Pete is attached to it and the mortgage was paid off thirty years ago.

  I turn off the ignition and say, “Sure I can’t persuade you to come over?”

  “Not tonight, Mick.”

  “You’ll be over for Christmas dinner tomorrow, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “And you’ll bring Donna?”

  “Yeah. She’s a little under the weather, but she’ll be there if she’s feeling okay.” He starts to open the door and then he stops. “I have some news, Mick,” he says. “I was going to tell you about it tomorrow, but I’d better let you know so you’ll be prepared.”

  Uh-oh. I hope this doesn’t mean he and Donna are on the outs. “Good news?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I wait.

  His tone is even, almost apologetic, when he says, “Donna and I are getting married.”

  Yes! “That’s terrific.” I see the ambivalent look on his face and add, “Isn’t it?”

  “Of course.”

  Something’s up. “You don’t seem to be wildly enthusiastic about it.”

  “It came up kind of suddenly and I’m still getting used to the idea.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think it’s great.”

  “If you thought it was so great, you and Rosie would have gotten remarried by now.”

  I don’t want to go there. “It didn’t work out very well the first time,” I say. I quickly shift back to the matters at hand. “Have you set a date?”

  “Yes. Are you free next Saturday night?”

  Huh? “Do you want me to help you look at a banquet room or check out a band?”

  “No, I want to invite you to our wedding.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.�
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  “Seems a bit sudden.”

  “We aren’t the most patient people in the world.”

  Uh-huh. “Where is the wedding going to be held?”

  “St. Peter’s. Immediate family only. Ramon is going to officiate.”

  Excellent.

  He adds, “It may be his last official duty as a priest for awhile.”

  Or forever.

  “There’s something else I need to tell you,” he says. His face breaks into a sheepish grin. “I’m going to be a daddy.”

  Whoa. “Really?”

  “Yep.” He cocks his head to one side and says, “You aren’t going to give me any shit about pre-marital sex, are you?”

  “Nope.” It’s a Daley family tradition. I give him a broad smile and say, “When is the baby due?”

  “July.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “We’ve got plenty of baby stuff you can have.”

  “I appreciate it, Mick.”

  “Is Donna okay?”

  “Except for puking every morning, she’s just fine.”

  I give my kid brother a light punch on the shoulder and say, “It’s gonna be great, Pete.”

  “Thanks, Mick.”

  # # #

  Rosie is looking at the blinking lights of the Christmas tree as she’s sitting on the sofa in her living room. “Why are you awake?” I ask.

  “I was just trying to organize our new office,” she says.

  “Are you serious?”

  “No. I think I’ve found some temporary space on Howard Street.”

  I’m glad we won’t be practicing law next to Tommy’s playpen for much longer. “Why are you really up?” I ask.

  “It’s four A.M.,” she replies. “Tommy will be up any minute now.”

  I wink and say, “I talked to him about it. He’s giving us the night off.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s more reliable than the trains in Switzerland.”

  “He’s giving us an early Christmas present.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  I walk across the room and sit down next to her. “Is everything ready?” I ask.

  “I think so. It’s Tommy’s first Christmas and I want to be sure it’s a memorable one.”

  “He won’t remember anything by this time tomorrow.”

  She smiles.

  “You ought to go to bed,” I tell her. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “It’s nice to have a little quiet time. Besides, I’m still getting used to the idea of your brother getting married again.”

  “I think it’s going to work out this time.”

  “So do I.” She yawns and stretches out on the sofa with her head resting in my lap. “You don’t think we should revisit our current situation, do you?”

  “Not at four o’clock in the morning.”

  “How about after we get a good night’s sleep?”

  “I’m willing to consider it.”

  “I’m serious, Mike.”

  “So am I.”

  If past history is any indication, this discussion won’t last long.

  “At the very least,” she says, “I think we should take a little break until the end of the year. We can get back to work in January.”

  “You can take a break,” I tell her. “I have a full plate.”

  “Ramon’s case is over,” she says. “You aren’t planning to represent John Shanahan, are you?”

  “Believe it or not, he hasn’t asked me.”

  Another smile.

  “Besides,” I add, “my other clients are keeping me very busy.”

  “What other clients?”

  “Luis Alvarado came in today. He got his temporary visa and wanted to express his gratitude. And Anna Moreno called. I found her a new job and a new apartment.”

  “Where is she working?”

  “She’s a hostess at Lopez’s restaurant.” I arch an eyebrow and add, “Don’t worry–he’s adopted a hands-off policy.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “I told Lopez that if he didn’t hire a few of my friends, I was going to bring the mother of all sexual harassment suits on behalf of Mercedes Trujillo. He promoted her to evening manager and Anna is working for her.”

  “You’re good, Mike.”

  “I know.”

  She gives me a knowing look and says, “You realize we were able to solve Ramon’s case because we traded legal services and stolen auto parts for information.”

  “Good lawyers find practical solutions to real-world problems.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “This isn’t figure skating, Rosie. They don’t give style points. At the end of the day, we got a good result for Ramon and we found the real killer. That’s all that matters.”

  She gives me a serious look and says, “We didn’t get a good result for Jane Doe.”

  “We can’t fix everything, Rosie.”

  “We can try. Is Roosevelt going to be able to find the killer?”

  “I hope so. He’s tenacious.”

  “Do you think it’s the same guy who torched our office?”

  “Probably.”

  We sit in silence and look at the blinking lights. Finally, Rosie says, “Tommy was trying to walk yesterday.”

  “How’d he do?”

  “He’s starting to get the hang of it.” She swallows hard and says, “I want to spend more time with him.”

  I think about all of the landmark events in Grace’s life that we’ve missed because of commitments to our clients. “So do I.”

  “Then we’re going to have to make a few adjustments.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Job-sharing is very trendy nowadays. I can work Monday and Wednesday and you can work Tuesday and Thursday. We can trade off Fridays and cover for each other.”

  “Can we afford it?”

  “Probably not, but we can operate like the State of California––deficit spending.”

  “Will we be able to afford my apartment?”

  “It will be tight.”

  “You aren’t thinking I should move over here, are you?”

  “Let’s start with job-sharing and then we can work our way to more complicated issues.”

  Not a bad idea. I touch her cheek and say, “Let’s give it a try for a few months and see how it goes.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “We’ll make it work.”

  “We may not be able to take any vacations for a few years.”

  “I get bored in Hawaii.”

  “We won’t be able to take on any big cases if we’re both working part-time.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay away from big cases for awhile.”

  “Are you prepared to turn down a murder trial if it lands on our doorstep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. I’d like to watch Tommy grow up and I’d like to spend more time with Grace before she becomes a teenager and doesn’t want to be seen with me.”

  “Did I tell you she got invited to a New Year’s party next week?”

  “You did.”

  “Did I mention the party is at a boy’s house?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Did I mention the boy really likes her?”

  And so it begins. “Do you think we should hire Nick the Dick to check him out?”

  “It isn’t a bad idea.”

  The crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes crinkle as her smile broadens. “Are you really willing to slow down a bit?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  She reaches up and gently touches my cheek, then she pulls her face up to mine and kisses me.