Sins of the Mother

by B K Johnson

  Tommy did not want to be spotted, so she turned the key in the ignition and prepared to drive away before being noticed. However, Samantha headed across the street and down Webster instead of east in Tommy’s direction. Jumping out of the car, beeping the remote to lock it, Tommy hastened to track Samantha’s progress. She kept to the other side of the street and power-walked, instead of jogging. Tommy kept her head down while continuing to swing her eyes in Samantha’s direction. Samantha was well over a block ahead of Tommy, when she veered into a driveway and continued up to the door of a bright purple Victorian with a bay window.

  Tommy slowed down her pace and casually strolled toward the Victorian. Before she got within a hundred feet of its door, Samantha was admitted into the home. From the distance, Tommy couldn’t make out much more than a dark hair color of the woman who drew Samantha into her arms and across the threshold. By the time Tommy drew even with the bay window, she could easily glimpse the two women in what looked like an erotic hug as they stroked each other’s faces and hair. Tommy kept her head down and caught a glimpse of the shade being lowered behind the window.

  “Now what,” thought Tommy. She was at least three blocks from her car, it was getting chilly at 7:00 p.m. in the city, and there wasn’t any store nearby she might step into out sight of the woman she was tailing. Tommy didn’t want to run back to her car and miss either of the women if they left the Victorian. She didn’t want to pace back and forth and bring any attention to herself. While she mulled over her choices, she walked quickly around the long city block, figuring that the women were obviously into each other enough for Tommy to have a few minutes to decide her next course of action.

  When Tommy returned and looked down the street to the Victorian, she was stunned to see Samantha waving back up the stairs to the brunette standing in her doorway. “Man, that was fast,” mused Tommy, as she tucked herself behind a potted palm flanking another home’s driveway. She waited while Samantha ran back up Webster on the other side of the street and let her gain a half block before she started power-walking the route Samantha had taken moments before. By the time Tommy was back at the Gage mansion, Samantha was all the way up its drive.

  Tommy continued on past the mansion to her car and threw herself into it, gasping for breath. “Shit,” she said to herself. “I thought I was in shape. I guess I’ve been doing too much boxing and not enough running. If I’m gonna have to run up and down San Francisco’s hills to find out what this chick has on her agenda, I’ll have to be better prepared than this.” Of course, Tommy knew that half of her breathlessness was not due to the power-walking but the adrenalin rush of trying to keep tabs on her quarry without being spotted by Samantha. And without having some homeowner call the cops because they got the heebee jeebees over her repeated journeys past their home. In San Francisco, most everyone was hyper-vigilant, and not without good cause.

  Having gotten a lungful of car-warmed air, and a brief respite from being hyper-vigilant herself, Tommy slumped down in her seat to wait and see what would happen next. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes later Tommy saw the white Caddy glide through the gateposts and head north as the gates closed. Tommy knew from Geoff that the fancy Cadillac was Samantha’s usual choice for tooling around in, so she relaxed in the sure knowledge that Samantha was behind the wheel. Tommy started up her engine and made slow but deliberate chase.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When Tommy crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, she breathed a sigh of relief. Samantha was just making the right hand turn off the highway and heading down the hill toward Sausalito. It was starting to get dark at 7:00 p.m., and the nightlife in Sausalito was just kicking off. Welcoming lights in the restaurants in the downtown area brilliantly lit the dark skies and reflected in the undulating waves in the bay. Samantha’s Caddy continued to the parking lot of the Spinnaker, a famous seafood restaurant in Sausalito. Tommy drove past the parking lot and pulled to the sidewalk, watching as Samantha opened her car door. When Tommy was assured that Samantha was heading to the entrance to the Spinnaker, she parked and strolled along the streets.

  Here, there was ample opportunity for Tommy to duck into stores and shops while she waited for Samantha. Tommy preferred the art galleries, and spent quite a while looking at wondrous oil, watercolor and acrylic paintings from local artists lining the gallery walls of three such establishments. She continued to look out the window from time to time to check on the Caddy. Finding it each time still occupying its space, Tommy relaxed into the momentum of just being another wealthy shopper, albeit without the extensive budget. She lamented the fact that she rarely came over to Marin anymore. When she and Robert were dating, they used to frequent Sausalito, Mill Valley and Tiburon. Maybe that was the real reason she didn’t come this way often. It was just easier not to dredge up painful memories.

  After two hours of drinking in the beauty of the original artwork, Tommy realized she was getting hungry and thirsty. She figured she could brave the bowels of the bar at the Spinnaker and not be spotted by Samantha. Confidently, she bounced up the steps and into the warmth of the bar. It no longer bothered her to be in a place dedicated to serving up alcohol. Still, she went directly to a small round table quite a distance from the bar itself. It wasn’t any fun looking at all the bottles lining the mirror and knowing she couldn’t even begin to think about indulging in tasting any of the tempting liquids they held.

  Also, guys always seemed to hit on single women sitting on the stools, and Tommy didn’t want to be engaged in any conversations which would have to be brought to an abrupt close. Tommy shrugged off her pea coat and ordered a ginger ale and nachos from the effeminate male waiter. If Samantha left any time soon, she’d just take what tortilla chips she could stuff in a napkin and stash in her purse.

  While she sipped her drink and hungrily crunched the chips dripping with salsa, refried beans and cheese, she thought back to a much happier time. She and Robert were here on their third date. He was so handsome, and Tommy loved the feel of his soft fingers caressing her wrist. He always kept her spellbound with his stories of politics in the most beautiful city in the world. He had been a supervisor for the City of San Francisco for a few years when he and Tommy first met.

  Although Tommy couldn’t stand politics, she was amazed at how sensitive Robert was to the needs of all of his constituents. He firmly believed that everyone had the right to pursue any path they chose, so long as they didn’t hurt anyone else in the process. And he was adamant about protecting those rights, rather than negotiating them away for some project he wanted to bring to fruition. Tommy smiled her small, wistful smile and came to with a start.

  The door to the outside opened and a brief chill stole into the bar. Tommy couldn’t see anyone entering the bar, so she peeked around the corner. Samantha was leaving with a striking blonde woman who looked to be about 18. They were laughing and holding hands, practically skipping down the steps. The young woman had short, spiky hair and was wearing black leotards, Mary Jane shoes and a bright pink jumper. No coat protected her from the cold. Her cheeks were rosy and she emanated health. She looked like youth itself personified. Samantha seemed to have dropped several years herself just being in the company of the teenager.

  Tommy waited a few minutes, settled her tab at the bar with her American Express card, and left, quickly making the trek to her parked car. She watched both women get in the Cadillac. Only when the Caddy was moving out the exit of the parking lot did Tommy start her vehicle and pull a U-turn, following at a discrete distance. She was glad she had finished her nachos. That burning pit of hunger in her stomach was assuaged for the next few hours at any rate. And she was happy to think she had been able to dwell on the romance she and Robert had shared without wallowing in the longing that usually accompanied such maudlin thoughts.

  The return trip to San Francisco was uneventful. It wasn’t until 10:00 p.m. that the party got started again at a place called Gina’s in the Western Addition district. It was an unassuming li
ttle bar, with a jukebox, pool table, shuffleboard, dartboard and small dance floor. Tommy knew it from its reputation, and from having been there before with a few of her more flamboyant lesbian friends. It was a place for women only, as well as a place where women could be intimate with each other without fear of exposure, male derision, or discomfort.

  For Gina’s was by invitation only and not generally open to the public. Tommy knew she could prevail on Gina to let her in, but the bar held 50 people comfortably, and there would be no way on earth that in such a small crowd she could remain invisible to Samantha. So Tommy parked across the street and took the simple little Dictaphone machine she still used out of the glove compartment of her trusty little Jetta. No cell phone recordings for her. Too insecure, as far as she was concerned.

  She began by describing the brunette on Webster Street and recorded every last detail she could recall about the woman and the house, including the address of the home with the bay window. Then she dictated all of the teenager’s stats. “About 5’8” tall, 140 lbs., short, spiky blonde hair with bangs, plump cheeks, rosebud lips, huge eyes, pert breasts, slim hips, long lean legs, about 18-19 years old, and a happy and healthy young woman.” Tommy put her name down as Daniella, because when the couple made their way into Gina’s several of the women inside had called out, “Here they are, Samantha and Daniella. Now we can officially get this party started.”

  As she clicked her recorder off, a bolt of brilliant deduction sheared her brain. “Hmm,” she thought. “If I recall correctly, Geoff said Samantha was always with Gina, Michaela or Daniella. I bet she wasn’t lying. I’ll put money on the brunette on Webster Street being named Michaela.” Just as she was chewing her lip over this insight, her car phone rang. Tommy preferred relying on the phone in her car, loft, or office for communication. Each one of those phones had an answering machine. If she wasn’t in any one of these places, then she was working, working out, or having fun. In any of those scenarios she did not want to be bothered with the incessant ringing of a phone she had no intention of answering. She debated answering the car phone, because only a select few had its number. But since she was on a roll in the investigation, she decided it could wait and she would retrieve the message later. Instead, she rested her head on the steering wheel and dozed slightly. She had no doubt she would awaken when she needed to, as she had a second sense about movement anywhere in her vicinity.

  At one in the morning, a much more subdued Samantha and Daniella limped out of the bar. They were both very drunk. Gina was escorting the couple to the Caddy, telling Samantha she really shouldn’t be driving in this state, and asking her to please have at least one more cup of coffee before driving Daniella home. Samantha laughed, and slurred out,” Love, I’m not driving. Daniella is.” And Daniella took the wheel of the vehicle and sedately drove Samantha home.

  As Tommy followed them at a discreet distance, she watched to see that Daniella didn’t cross a white line once, but did have a tendency to travel pretty slowly for San Francisco traffic. Typical driving for an inebriated teen trying to avoid being pulled over by one of San Francisco’s finest. She took the Caddy right up the drive after its gates opened, parked at the garage, and came around to Samantha’s side of the car. Helping Samantha to her feet and up the stairs, Daniella said soothingly, “I’ll just call home and tell them you’ll bring me by in the morning. And you and I will have a real good time tonight, sweetheart, once you sober up a bit.”

  Tommy waited another hour in her car before all of the lights went out in the Gage mansion. Then she picked up the car phone and retrieved the message. It was Dave Lee from Hawaii saying “Tommy, pick up. I just heard that Judge Julie Olsen was killed a few days ago, and her memorial is tomorrow. I want to be there so I have reservations for the red eye to SF. I was hoping you could drive us up to Jackson. It’s 11:30 here now, and you know my cell number, so please give me a call ASAP.”

  Tommy looked at the clock on the dash and confirmed PST at 2:30 a.m., which would be consistent with Hawaii Time at 11:30 p.m.. She picked up the phone and dialed Dave’s cell. She commiserated with Dave about the Judge’s death and arranged to pick him up at the San Francisco airport at 7:30 a.m., accounting for the time difference, a 4-hour flight, and Dave’s retrieval of his luggage. She knew she would have no sleep tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After Tommy had fueled herself with the Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks, she gassed up the Jetta and raced to the airport. She had no trouble spotting Dave Lee amongst the numerous Asian faces waiting for busses, taxis, or shuttles at the SF airport. Dave was 6’5” tall, and well built. He had been an amazing friend to Tommy during her sojourn at the University of Hawaii law school. He was her mainstay through the numerous classes, tests and boyfriends.

  They studied together, ate together, and relaxed together, luxuriating in the comfort that can only come when a man and a woman are truly just good platonic friends. Sex had never raised its confusing head in their relationship. There were times when Tommy wondered if Dave just didn’t find her attractive, but he had told her often enough how beautiful she was. There just wasn’t any sexual tension or chemistry between them. But what there was, was absolute trust.

  She waved at Dave and pulled over to the loading zone. He only had a small over the shoulder Gucci bag, which he threw into the back before he folded his lengthy frame into the Jetta’s passenger seat. They kissed each other’s cheeks hello, and he immediately began to fill Tommy in on Judge Julie’s death while Tommy negotiated her way out of the airport maze and onto Highway 101. Both of them had known Julie back in Hawaii at the law school.

  The Judge had been a practicing trial lawyer from Sacramento who took a sabbatical from her law firm to teach a few courses at the U of H. Her former partner in Sacramento, Bernard James, had established quite a criminal practice in Honolulu, and when he learned that Julie was going to be in Hawaii for a year’s sabbatical, he prevailed upon her to handle several of his cases while he sailed to Tahiti. Julie was not yet a judge, although on the fast track to become one since she and her family were close personal friends of the Governor’s. She didn’t mind at all having to help out in Bernard’s office, as he was paying her a small fortune to do so. And Hawaii criminal law wasn’t that different from California’s. The Hawaii Revised Statues comprised several volumes less than the extensive California Codes, and Julie was more than adequately familiar with both.

  Dave explained that the Judge’s body had been released a few days ago from the coroner’s office, with a finding of insulin poisoning. Whether the Judge had knowingly administered too much, forgotten how much she’d already injected, or been deliberately poisoned had not as yet been determined. Security camera footage had shown the Judge going to the door of her office and then falling, but not shown if any insulin was injected at that time, or before it. The funeral was being held this afternoon at 3:00 p.m. at the Jackson Rancheria Casino Hotel ballroom, since Julie’s family was expecting a huge crowd for the service. The drive from San Francisco to Jackson would take them just over 3 hours at this early morning hour, so they planned to stop on the way for lunch and catch up on each other’s careers. Tommy especially loved the drive from Highway 80 to Highway 4 and then up 160 to 12 and onto Highway 88. She enjoyed driving along the Delta and knew of an excellent restaurant in Rio Vista where she wanted to treat Dave to a hastened lunch.

  Tommy was really surprised to hear that the Judge had died, much less that it could be a suicide, homicide, or accident. Julie Olson had been a down-to-earth matronly type, whom neither Dave nor Tommy could believe would have angered anyone enough to premeditate her murder. And she was pragmatic enough to be aware how much insulin she’d already had, as well as grounded enough not to raise any suspicions of suicidal tendencies. Even though they had both lost touch with her once she returned to her family home in Amador County, they knew she had been appointed a Judge and was well respected, both for her reasoned and unemotional decisions on the bench and her
community service.

  Dave and Tommy had aced the criminal procedure course the Judge had taught in law school, and they had often invited Julie to join them in their Honolulu activities. Tommy had even been involved in one of Julie’s cases in Hawaii, since in her last year of law school she volunteered to be a guardian ad litem for minors whenever the court needed one. While she reminisced with Dave, a brief but vivid image of Kekoa Cabotaje flashed through Tommy’s mind. What a handsome young man he had been at 16. Although severely troubled.

  The drive to Rio Vista took no time at all and before either of them realized it, they were sitting down to eat at the Harbor Restaurant. Tommy ordered a crab Louis, and Dave chose the salmon. He told Tommy he got his fill of shellfish in Hawaii, but that it had been some time since he had tasted fresh salmon with dill sauce. The food was wonderful, and they sipped their iced teas and watched the motorboats wend their way through choppy waves up and down the Delta.

  It was Dave’s idea to sit outside in the patio area and feel the breeze while they lunched. It was so very relaxing and refreshing that a sharp tinge of guilt jabbed Tommy in the chest, reminding her that they were on their way to the funeral of a dear friend. She thought she should be in mourning and castigated herself for finding any enjoyment in the bright sunny day. Abruptly, Tommy asked, “waiter, could you please bring our check.” To Dave she said, “We should really finish up and get on our way.