by Susan Dunlap
By now Howard would be parked at the Josephine Street end of Grove Path.
Dum de dum dum, a tape played as the clock hit midnight. “One of Mitch’s innovations,” Laura said with an embarrassed shrug. “It always amused the crowd. Then Mitch would go into his routine about the city insisting we throw them out. He was good, you know. No one ever complained. Other places practically have to shovel the dawdlers out, but Mitch, he always had them on his side.” Her face flushed, as if all the control that had supported her these last twenty-four hours was about to shatter. Again, I wondered if it was the realization that Mitch was dead or the fear of exposing Yankowski which was getting to her. She pressed her eyes closed. When she opened them she said, “Should I wait in the kitchen, where Earth Man will see me?”
“Why don’t you put something on the stove nearest the door.” I followed her into the kitchen and stationed myself inside the pantry, next to the back door, where I could see her as she filled a pot with water and put it on the burner.
It was twenty minutes before he rapped on the door. “I made you a sandwich,” Laura said as she pulled opened the door. “It’s goose, you’ll like it.”
“I appreciate that. You’ve been real nice to me all along,” he said in a tone he might use with a small child. There was no remnant of his public stridency, or the confusion and fear that emerged when he’d answered my questions. He sounded as normal as any of us, more sincere than many. Laura flushed. She stared down at the sandwich—her own thirty pieces of goose—as if frozen by her impending betrayal. Then, she thrust the sandwich at him. I wished I could have seen Earth Man’s reaction. But from my vantage point, only the front of his cloak was visible, moving toward the sandwich. It looked as if he were going to inhale the sandwich through his elephant trunk. “I have to ask you a favor,” she said to him.
“For you? Of course.”
She pulled an envelope from her pocket. “I didn’t get a chance to pay Frank. He’s going to need his money. I know you’re his friend.”
“You want me to take it to him.”
She swallowed. I wondered if Earth Man recognized the shame in her face. Would he catch on that she was deceiving him? As I had so many times before, I wished I knew the state of his mind better.
“Tuck it in my boot,” he said, extending one foot.
She bent down, lifted the hem of his cloak, and wiggled the envelope down inside his well-scuffed boot.
“Thanks,” she said in almost a whisper when she stood up.
Earth Man didn’t answer. Was he lifting an eyebrow in question? Was he looking toward the corner around which I stood, tacitly asking Laura if they were being watched? If she responded, it was too subtle for me to catch. Finally, she said to him, “Is something the matter?”
“No. I’m just sorry this happened to you. I’m glad to be able to help. Are you going to be here tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll be open Tuesday.”
“But I can come tomorrow, right? This is where I have my dinner. Even if no one else shows up, I’ll be here,” he assured her, as if his continued patronage were the key to Paradise’s financial survival. He pulled the sandwich closer to him. The cloak covered it almost completely.
“Yes, you can come tomorrow,” she said as she closed the door. She turned to me, but I held my finger to my mouth, and listened to Earth Man’s footsteps. I had hoped he would head toward Josephine, toward Howard, and give me time to get to my car. But he was going east, to Martin Luther King.
CHAPTER 23
I WAITED TILL EARTH Man had time to reach the street, then opened the kitchen door of Paradise and walked quietly down the steps. There was no sign of him. I raced up the path, my running shoes silent on the cement. Pausing at the edge of the building, I looked left. No movement. At the end of the walk, I peered around the hedge. There he was, heading north on King.
Keeping on the grass, as near to the buildings as possible, I ran the hundred feet south to my car and waited to open the door until Earth Man started into the intersection. Once inside, I keyed in the mike with my thumb and called the dispatcher to get a car-to-car channel. The dispatcher would notify Howard and would route anyone else to another channel. Only someone wanting one of us would be referred to our channel, and in this instance, with both Doyle and Pereira in bed, that meant no one.
“I’m here on two,” Howard said in a minute. “Where’s our boy now?”
“North on King, going away from his hotel. He just crossed the street. You take him.”
“Any guesses where he’s headed?”
“Could be the Bhairava, Prem’s place, or to Adrienne Jenk’s flat. Could be some secret hideout known only to him and Yankowski.”
“Wherever, he’s not headed there fast. He ought to have a turtle beak in place of some of those snouts. Or maybe a few more trunks.”
“Leave a message for his couturier.”
“I’ve just passed him. He’s crossing the street, still moseying north.”
“Okay, I’m starting up.” I hung a U. The fog was thinner than it had been last night, barely a filmy veil. I could make out Earth Man’s conical form a block ahead. “You’re certainly right about turtle steps,” I said to Howard. “I hope he’s not having second thoughts about delivering the money.”
“Or considering bankrolling a ten-day vacation in Acapulco.”
“With the money I authorized, it would be a weekend in San Jose.” I sighed. I passed him at twenty miles per hour. Any slower would be an invitation, if not a demand, for him to notice me.
“Five bucks says he’s just scouting around for a spot to sit and eat his sandwich. How long has he been coming here for meals?”
“Two months.”
“He must be an expert on moonlit al fresco dining in this neighborhood.”
“You take him, Howard. He’s three houses from the corner.”
“What about the fiver?”
“Listen, if I have to tell Doyle that I spent two hours trailing Earth Man just to watch him gobble goose, I’m going to lose a lot more than five bucks. Doyle already has reservations about me handling this case.”
“Reservations?” Howard demanded. “Hey, how come? He didn’t have reservations when you delivered your last killer. He thought you were pretty hot stuff then.”
An AC Transit bus passed. Its bright interior lights shone against the dark night. Inside, one man sat in the back, staring ahead like the last patient in a dentist’s waiting room.
“Jill?” Howard demanded.
“He keeps asking me if I feel up to handling the case.”
“Well, you have been on sick leave.”
“He asked me four times, Howard.”
“Maybe he’s just concerned. Earth Man’s midblock. I’m past him.”
“Okay.” I drove in silence, toes pulled back to keep the speed down. When I spotted Earth Man he was nearing Hopkins Street. “If Doyle’s concerned, it’s not for me, it’s about me. Each time he asked, I told him I could handle the case; he doesn’t really believe me. Howard, the thing is I don’t think he can bring himself to believe me.”
Howard hesitated. “Well, you were in a bad crash. You could have been killed.”
“Howard, damn it, don’t defend him. Look, suppose it were you. Suppose you’d been out on sick leave; suppose you’d come back with a medical release. Suppose he’d asked you if you could handle a case, and you’d assured him, and then he’d asked again, and again, and again.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh.” A van passed heading south. A cat darted half way across the lane, froze, then spun around and leapt for the curb. “Jill, Doyle probably thinks of you as a daughter.”
“He should think of me as a cop!”
I could hear Howard’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh. Well, you know, Jill, it probably doesn’t even occur to him he’s treating you differently. It’s the generational thing.”
“The generati
onal thing that could bounce me out of Homicide. Howard, he wants me off the case, and he thinks he’s doing it for my own good. I’d be better off dealing with Grayson, who’s just after my job.”
“Jill—”
“Howard, you’re not even mad.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound it.”
“What do you want, a growl?”
“Skip it,” I snapped.
“Hey, I’m trying to look at this thing logically. You want me to go charging down to the station, to Doyle, to protect you?”
“I said skip it.” Earth Man paused at the corner of Hopkins. He turned east, toward the hills, toward the hills, toward Adrienne Jenk’s flat, but he didn’t start walking. Then he turned south, for a moment looking directly at me. “Earth Man’s at the corner,” I muttered, “facing back south. I’ve passed him.”
“Fine,” he snapped.
The north branch of the Berkeley Library sits on a triangle of land at the northwest corner of Hopkins and King. I pulled around it and stopped.
“He’s heading west,” Howard said. “He’s crossing Josephine, picking up his pace, going toward the running track. Maybe he’s warming up to run a few laps.” I could hear the unsureness in his voice, but I was too angry to deal with it.
“Umm.”
“He’s still walking. I’m past him now. You better start. That hurricane fence isn’t very high. It’d almost be worth the chance of losing him to see his beaks chirping on top of the fence.”
“Maybe to you. I don’t have the luxury of losing another suspect.” I turned right onto Hopkins, my hands clutching the wheel, my teeth clenched. A block ahead, Howard’s car moved slowly. Earth Man ambled along staring at the track as if he were watching the Olympic Trials. He passed the end of the track, walked behind one of the shade trees at the curb. Then he disappeared. “He’s gone!”
“Gone? What do you mean gone? Where could he go? He has to be in the park.”
“I’m twenty yards shy of where he disappeared.”
“I’m heading back toward you. You see anything?”
“No movement. Nothing. He has to be in the park; there’s nowhere else for him to be.”
“Maybe he’s just taking a leak.”
“Right.” I wanted to step on the gas, but I forced myself to keep the pace steady, not to chance alerting him by gunning the engine. I stared to the left. Despite the occasional streetlight, the park was dark. Too many trees. Scores of places to hide, in the playground, in the bushes, by the pool, up in the school yard. I scanned the track, the bushes, the macadam walkway into the park. Then I spotted him. I sighed, feeling simultaneously relieved, furious, and foolish. “There he is, on the path to the playground. He’s sitting on a bench.” I slowed the car and stared, the relief gone. Now I felt only angry and ridiculous. “Goddamn it, Howard, he’s getting out his sandwich.”
Howard laughed. “Five bucks, lady.”
“He’s sitting right under the ‘Park Closes at Ten’ sign, eating his fucking goose sandwich.”
Howard roared. I was surprised Earth Man couldn’t hear him. “So what are you going to do, Jill, arrest him? Or should we just bring him a bottle of Chardonnay?”
“Not funny,” I muttered. “Maybe tomorrow it’ll be funny. After I figure out a way to explain it to Doyle. But now I’m too furious to laugh.” Across the street, a van screeched to a halt. Taking advantage of the diversion, I pulled to the curb, doused the lights, and adjusted the rear-view mirror. “I’m across the street. I’ve got him in view.”
“I’m at the corner. I could cut in on foot at the far end of the playground, if you promise not to attack me at the slide. Murakawa was good and sore this morning.”
And no one suspected he was too lame to work, I thought. But there was no point in prolonging my complaint. Howard’s silence had said it all. Even he, my closest friend, could understand Doyle’s reaction. I should have felt justified, knowing my assessment was right, but that only made matters worse. I hadn’t even told Howard about my panic driving downhill. I was too ashamed. Now I was glad I had kept silent. And if Doyle ever found out about it, that would be the last straw. He wouldn’t just take me off the case. He’d nod knowingly, mutter a few fatherly words about not risking my safety, and add that city insurance wasn’t about to underwrite a panicky driver. Then he’d ask me if I could type. “Stay in the car, Howard. I’m close enough if Earth Man runs. He’s barely into his sandwich. He’ll be a while.”
“Listen, Jill, what have you got with this case? Give me a rundown.”
How many times had that question offered needed diversion in the last four years? It wouldn’t cover this difference; it would just let us put off dealing with it. This wasn’t the time for a philosophical discussion, much less an argument, I knew that. But I couldn’t let it go, either.
“Yankowski,” Howard speculated. “Why did he run? Because he killed Biekma? Why would he kill Biekma? Biekma had already mentioned him on TV, right? The damage was done. And Yankowski had gotten his revenge foisting Earth Man on him.”
I tapped my finger angrily on the steering wheel.
“Jealousy?”
I didn’t say anything.
“You know not all feelings are obvious, Jill. Yankowski could have been willing to chance incriminating himself like this because he loved Laura. Maybe he just didn’t show it.” Howard paused, and when he continued there was a catch in his voice. “Not everyone gets a chance, Jill.”
“Maybe,” I said, feeling my face flush. “I can’t decide.” I wanted to reach out to him, but I didn’t know whether it was to hug him or throttle him.
“What about Rue Driscoll?”
“Rue Driscoll?” I said slowly, drawing my attention back from Howard to the case. “Listen, I’d almost rather not find Yankowski than discover he was hiding in the house right behind Paradise. But there’s no connection between him and Driscoll. Rue Driscoll’s got a good motive for killing Mitch. With him alive she’d have been kept up six nights a week. Her work, the research that could make her a name in her field, might never get finished.”
“Did you find any monkshood in her garden?”
“No. There was nothing but weeds there. But even if she did have the poison, I don’t see how she’d have gotten it in Mitch’s horseradish jar.”
“How long a time would she have had for that?”
“Since the previous night. Mitch put horseradish in his soup after the last sitting Wednesday night. After that the jar sat in the pantry.”
“Just waiting for the killer to add the poison, right?”
“Presumably so.”
“And once that was done, Jill, then the killer sat back and waited for Mitch to use it, right? Didn’t matter when.”
I hesitated. “That makes sense, Howard. But, somehow, I just can’t buy it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t believe that the timing didn’t matter. Earth Man was instructed to come back later; that had never happened before. And when he came back, Mitch died. It’s just too much of a coincidence.”
“So?”
“I don’t know yet, Howard.” Earth Man stared down at the remains of his goose sandwich, held awkwardly in a fold of his cloak. Without rising from the bench, he appeared to shimmy. His beaks and snouts bounced. The dark mounds of his cloak swayed forward. What was he doing? When the motion stopped I could see more of the sandwich. He had repositioned it. And having done so, he leaned forward and thrust it into his mouth.
“Okay, what about Prem-Struber?” Howard asked. “He’s my favorite suspect anyway. He was in Paris with Mitch, right? There when Mitch bought his horseradish jar.”
“Rare and unique horseradish jar, Howard.”
“Maybe so. Maybe that’s just what the merchant told him. Or maybe rare, but not quite unique. Maybe instead of just one in existence there were two.”
“Or three. Adrienne was there too. And for motive, it’s a real toss-up be
tween those two.” The mound of Earth Man’s cloak pressed against his face, then fell to his lap. “Earth Man’s finished his sandwich.”
“Jill, don’t forget what Jackson always says.”
“What?”
“ ‘Yet and still, Smith, you’ve got the wife.’ ”
I smiled. Jackson was indeed famous for his devotion to mariticide.
Earth Man stood up and shook. His cloak looked like a cupola from which a flock of pigeons was about to take flight. “He’s up.” I said. “Wait. He’s not going into the playground, he’s coming back to the street, starting down toward you. He’s moving fast. Looks like he’s made his decision. I can cover him for a while.”
“Right.”
“He’s going in, through the next gate, the one between the pool and the playground.” Leaving the lights and engine off, I released the brake. “There, I’m rolling. Okay, I can see him. He’s using the phone.”
“How? What’s he using to dial?” Howard asked, amazed.
“Hand coming out through the neck hole. The hole’s not that big; it must be just about choking him. He’s hung up the receiver.”
“Either he warned Yankowski in a minimum of words, or he told him where to meet him.”
In contrast to his purposeful stride of the last couple of minutes, Earth Man ambled slowly to the curb. I pushed the seat back and scrunched down below the windows. “He’s right across the street.”
“Maybe he wants a ride.”
“Keep me posted.” The wind rustled the leaves. What sounded like a Styrofoam cup clattered up Hopkins. From the residential side of the street came a dog’s howling. I shifted, taking the weight off the injured spot in my back. Who was hiding Yankowski? It wasn’t Laura, not in Paradise. And there was no record of her having any other property. If she could be believed, Yankowski had no outside friends. He didn’t have friends at his hotel. He wasn’t even living there. The only things in his closet were winter clothes, and not even all of them. His wool cap, at least, he kept with him. He had had that in his pocket when I first saw him. Of course, for a bald man in Berkeley, a wool cap can be an all-season garment.
