by Rex Bolt
Christian re-filled them. "So you're saying they may have been in on some shady dealings together. That went south."
"That's my fear, yes."
Christian said, "I have to tell you, that sounds like a stretch. Of course, you know Steve better than I do."
"Or you don't think Steve . . ."
"Could have killed that guy, or paid someone to do it?"
"Is it possible Chris?"
He took her hand. "Well, nothing is certain except death, of course, and taxes. But my guess, you'll be hearing from Steve soon."
"I've never been this scared. That's why I walked here, in case someone were following me."
"Okay, your mind's starting to run away from you now. But here's the deal, my brother's in town and I'm about to meet him for lunch. The neighborhood place. Can you join us?"
Birgitte said, "I'm afraid I'm without an appetite. But it is comforting to have someone share my concern."
"You'll like my brother," Christian said, hoping Floyd wouldn't be bringing anyone else.
Floyd had grabbed a table at Weatherby's and Christian made the introductions. Sunday brunch was going on, and there were strollers here and there, and babies in diapers. Christian said, "It's like clockwork. When the kids are old enough to run around and cause trouble, boom, they move to Greenbrae or Orinda, and kiss the city goodbye."
"So you have your finger on the pulse, do you," Birgitte said. She was in the middle of a martini and had calmed down and was smiling for the first time.
"I'm glad you're getting to meet my kid brother," Christian said. "He's got relationship issues too."
"Yeah, I should have stayed in Arizona," Floyd said.
Christian said to Birgitte, "Floyd has these two women following him around. I was afraid they might show up today actually. I worry they're choking the life out of him."
Floyd didn't say anything.
"Well, you're certainly a handsome young man," Birgitte said. "I can understand it." She'd downed her martini and Christian called for re-fills. He had to admit, Floyd did look good, all tan and fit.
Christian said, "Birgitte's been under some stress. We'll leave it there, unless she wants to talk about it."
"My husband is AWOL since Wednesday," she said to Floyd. "My worst nightmare is he's on the run from the authorities."
"You're joking," Floyd said.
"When Birgitte presented the scenario to me, it sounded off the deep end," Christian said. "As I'm digesting it though, maybe she is onto something, unfortunately."
"Where's he supposed to be?" Floyd said.
"In the Denver area."
"They have periodic satellite issues out there, if that's part of it," Floyd said. "I've had that problem a few times."
"See?" Christian said."There's usually an explanation." He lowered his voice. "And couldn't the Croatian have simply drowned on his own, nothing to do with Steve?"
"Jesus Criminy," Floyd said.
"Well I suppose he could have," Birgitte said. She polished off her second martini and excused herself.
Floyd said, "Lot more action in San Francisco than Phoenix, if I'm hearing things right."
Christian said, "Can you do me a favor? Are you parked outside?"
"Around the corner, though some guy almost wanted to fight me because I beat him to the spot."
"It's gotten bad . . . Listen, can you drive her home? She was wobbling a little when she got up. I'll be here."
"She on the right track, about her husband?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. Guy's bad news."
"Have you been bedding her down long-term? Or is that recent activity?"
"Recent activity."
Birgitte was back and Christian said, "Floyd's going to take you home."
"Already?"
"I think it's the right thing," Christian said. "We have any more cocktails, you might regret it later. Take a hot bath, get a good night's sleep and you'll have a fresh outlook tomorrow."
"Fine then, you're dismissing me . . . But Chris, I do so appreciate your help." She kissed him on the cheek.
"The pleasure's mine," he said.
When Floyd and Birgitte were gone, Christian moved to the bar. "Hey, my number one partner," Shep said. "That a family member by chance? I was seeing a resemblance."
"Except for a younger, better looking version? Who could be in an action movie or something?"
"Kind of what I was thinking," Shep said. "They going to hook it up?"
"Probably. She needs it bad. He might benefit as well."
"That's a fine woman, for sure. You can feel the class resonating off of her." Speaking softer, "Unlike most of the other breeds that wander in here."
"I have to go to New York, unfortunately," Christian said.
"Uh-oh."
"I'm thinking if I live, I'm going to get out of this business. Right now I got two deals staring me in the face, needing someone to close them."
"You going to drive it?"
"I hate to, but I have to bring some stuff. You feel like taking a ride?"
"No . . . But any more information, on whether you're going to . . . make it?"
"I ran what you said by a medical person. She stopped short of saying whoever suggested that is an idiot."
"You work out today?"
"AT&T Park and back. Someone else did test my tongue and feet. Quite unscientific, but according to them my organs are a-o-k at the moment."
"Is that feng-shui?"
"No, I think feng-shui is the furniture-alignment harmony thing . . . I was watching House Hunters the other night and this couple finds the perfect house, except then the wife pulls out a compass and says it was built in the wrong direction."
"But some kind of Chinese medicine, no? I wouldn't discount that shit, it's been around a little longer than your medical person who says we're idiots."
Christian's phone rang. He answered it and said, "Yeah . . . don't worry about it . . . how about tomorrow night? . . . I'll cook something . . . okay see you then."
"My brother," Christian said. "He sends his apologies that he can't make it back here today to finish up the brunch."
"A man of good taste," Shep said. "Right?"
"Most definitely," Christian said.
41 - Pathological One
Monday morning Christian was outside doing a calf-stretch against the front of his building, about to go for his run, when a black Ford with extra antennas drove up and parked across the street. Christian assumed SFPD and felt everything go ice cold, but for better of worse, Detective Cousins got out.
"Your name came up again," Cousins said, not shaking hands.
Christian said, "It did?"
"How well do you know Joyce McCann?"
"I'm pretty sure I told you, Joyce is not capable of anything like that."
"Wasn't my question."
"Well, like I said, she's a good friend. We get together on and off."
"You talk about various topics when you're banging her?"
"Uh, okay, well yeah . . . the usual stuff that comes out spur-of-the moment, I guess."
"What'd you say about Donald Shelhorne? When you were wedged into her closet Saturday."
"I don't remember saying anything about that kid."
"How about her, what'd she say about him?"
"Nothing. The only time his name came up was earlier in the day."
"Where?"
"Sebastopol."
"Fuck you doing up there?"
"I like it there. They had a festival."
"Shelhorne came up how?"
"They want to name the high school baseball dugout after him. Joyce is trying to stop that from happening. She said they're making progress."
"And you said what?"
"I told her to let it go. Even though I agree it's wrong."
Cousins took off his sunglasses and started flipping through a notebook. "This goddamn case," he said.
"Yeah?" Christian said.
"Your friend McCann, she's gotta pick
not one but two pricks."
"Oh."
"I don't mean you. Necessarily. Gilbright, the one that slugged you—and this Doug piece of horseshit. We're spending a hundred hours trying to clear the two of 'em."
"Wait a second, Doug just came in the picture recently I thought."
"No, she was doing 'em both at the same time. In theory, either of them could have whacked the kid, and neither one's got a great alibi . . . What do you think of this Doug?"
"He seemed level-headed enough, considering the circumstances I met him in."
"Yeah, well you're contrasting him with the first a-hole. Did you know the guy lives with his mother?"
"Joyce said that."
"The reason I'm here, he called in yesterday and said someone Joyce referred to as Chris was talking about Shelhorne like he knew something."
"Well I wasn't. And I don't."
"In fairness, we've already established he's a lying piece of shit. Whether he's a homicidal liar, or just a momma's-boy pathological one, that's the problem."
"I see."
"What are you doing, exercising?"
"Most mornings, yeah."
"That help the plumbing and everything?"
"I haven't thought of it that way, but it probably doesn't hurt."
"Seely, let me ask you something," Cousins said. "If someone came to you cold and asked what happened to Donald Shelhorne, what would you say?"
Christian said, "Wow . . . I'd tell them my best guess . . . is someone who despised Donny, couldn’t take it anymore and might have gone off the deep end. Be hard to go too far away from that."
"That's how we've been working it to this point. Now one of my partners is floating a theory it could have been random because there was a similar attack in Lake County. You think?"
"I don't know, common sense would say it wasn't random. Other than maybe a random person who didn't like Donny."
"One other one. A kid played ball with Shelhorne down in San Diego. Mexican-American kid. Shelhorne was a pitcher, this kid was one of the catchers, until he dropped out of school. They found him six months ago in Ensenada, the victim of an execution."
"Jesus . . . So could Donny have been in the drug trade? . . . I'm not seeing it. Liquor, yeah. Cocksucker."
Cousins said, "Okay. Well I thank you for your time there, pal."
"How's your father?" Christian said.
"The fuck you have to bring that up for? Not good. I'm going over there now, since I'm down here. It doesn't help that my lieutenant's kicking my ass every day on Shelhorne."
"I apologize."
"Nah, it ain't your fault. Soon as I can take early retirement, I'm out of this racket."
+++
Christian watched Detective Cousins drive off. The last thing he felt like doing now was running, but he decided he better go through with it, in case Cousins circled back to check on him.
He ran up and down the Divisadero hills from Lombard to Broadway three times, a hard workout but a quicker than normal one. There was no sign of Cousins. From Broadway, Christian had the expansive view of the bay and Marin and points north, all fresh air and freedom and possibilities, a higher-up version of the view, he was thinking, that Alcatraz inmates had years ago when the place was operating.
He went home, had a couple shots of that vodka that he'd brought out for Birgitte, and went on the Food Network website looking for recipes. He was mad at himself that he'd invited Floyd for dinner. After all, it was set up fine yesterday, only Floyd had to throw a monkey wrench in there at the end. But what could you do now?
One food show Christian liked was the perky little woman with the Italian name who showed downward cleavage as she cooked, but her recipes were a little too perfect. There was the heavier set woman out in the Hamptons with a nice delivery and practical style, but he was thinking baby back ribs tonight and he settled on a recipe from one of the southern cooking shows where the atmosphere was more fun-loving and casual.
He picked up three racks of ribs to be on the safe side, thinking you normally got shortchanged when you ordered them in restaurants. He had a big wedding soup he liked to make, so he started that also, a thick, kitchen-sink concoction heavy with cumin, that didn't go with the ribs but would keep him busy all afternoon and distract him a tiny bit from Cousins closing in.
Could he have actually blurted out something about Donny in the heat of the moment in that closet? Fuck.
Floyd showed up on time at six and said the place was cozy, the way he remembered it.
"What you mean," Christian said, "is you wouldn't want to live here."
"I like having a house," Floyd said. "On the other hand, you step out the door and everything's happening. I got zip."
"Birgitte get squared away?" Christian said.
Floyd said, "Indeed. An extremely refined woman. She said you were responsible for liberating her."
"I was picturing her cheerfully writing letters home to Denmark, while my tennis partner was doing other things . . . You gonna visit her again, or is that it?"
"Visit her again."
"I know what you mean. Allison's a sweet girl, but I can see how she'd lay a lot on you."
"They're coming, by the way."
"That was my fear. I bought extra."
Floyd said, "So what else is cooking? So to speak."
"I'm supposed to go the New York, this week. Other than that, it's been pretty uneventful . . . Hey, you can stay here if you want."
"Yeah? . . . Jeez, I might take you up on that actually."
The doorbell rang and Allison and Monica stormed in, asking what smelled good and announcing they were hungry. Christian said, "You have to show some restraint, I've got it timed."
Monica brought a bottle of wine, and she poured everyone a glass and said, "Ever since Floyd's, I was hoping we could have a reunion. This is great."
Allison raised her glass and said, "Mon I agree. I thought we were just getting started there. Then the vacation got cut short. Unresolved, is how it felt."
Christian said, "Well Floyd was just saying the same thing."
"What part was that?" Floyd said.
The doorbell rang again. It took Christian a moment to react. "Henry too?" he said, his voice thin, praying it might be.
"Nope," Monica said. "He doesn't even know where you live."
Christian said in that case excuse him and went downstairs fearing the worst. It was Kim.
She said, "Why didn't you tell me?" Her makeup was smeared and her eyes were red.
Christian didn't say anything, pretty sure he knew.
She threw her arms around him, burrowing her face into his neck. "You're a complete asshole, you know that?"
"What?"
"Chris, I want to be there for you . . . except you backed off, and I had to find out through the fucking rear door."
He said, "Let's go in your car, and not scare the neighbors."
"It's way over on Scott," she said. "You can't park around here at all."
"That's fine, by the time we're there you'll see you over-reacted."
When they got to the car Christian said, "You know what, forget that. Another block and a half, we can get a drink."
"I guess that's not the worst suggestion," Kim said.
They sat at the bar at Weatherby's, and Christian introduced Kim to Shep. "Pleased to meet you," Shep said. "This guy's my favorite customer."
Kim said, "Does he have any competition?"
"Not that much," Shep said.
When Shep brought their second round Christian said, "Kim thinks something bad's going to happen to me."
Shep stared at Christian, and Christian nodded.
"That medical person I was telling you about?" Christian said. "She said something to her. Very unethical, not to mention none of her business."
"Not to mention maybe wrong," Shep said.
Kim said, "So you've known the whole time Shep? Or what?"
"Here's the thing," Christian said. "I'm driving cross-count
ry. Shep can't make it, but why don't you come?"
"Chris, why do you change the subject?"
"How about because it needs to be changed."
Shep said, "Here, try these mini pork buns, why don't you? They're on the house."
Outside on Chestnut Street Christian said, "My brother's visiting from the southwest. Would you want to say hi?"
"That would be fine."
"Just one caveat . . . We got your friend Bethany, we got Shep, and now we've got you as essentially the only humans aware of this . . . rumor. That's it. Okay?"
"Not even your own brother?"
"No, but you'll see, Floyd's a nice kid."
When they walked in, Allison and Monica and Floyd were playing Scrabble at the kitchen table. There were plates and soup bowls and a couple of wine bottles in the living room, and hard rock music was blasting.
"Jesus, someone's going to complain," Christian said.
"Or they might not," Monica said. "Hey, I recognize you from Allison's gig. You're cute."
"She is," Allison said. "This is Floyd. Keep your hands off him."
"That's a bad joke," Monica said. "And rude. She didn't mean it that way."
Floyd stood up and said hello to Kim. Christian said, "I hate to bring up high school, but do you remember Leslie Stemphill, who was over at our house a lot for a while there? Kim's her sister."
"No," Floyd said.
Kim said, "Well it certainly is a blessing that you can spend some quality time together. Where are you staying while you're in the Bay Area?"
"Actually," Floyd said, "Chrissy is going out of town. I thought I might hole up here for a while."
Allison said, "Yeah? Thanks a lot."
Christian said, "It would be that devastating?"
"Well if that's how both you jerks see it," Allison said, "you can start on that extended stay right now. Monica, let's go." Monica looked at Floyd and shrugged, and thirty seconds later they were gone.
"There any of those ribs left at all?" Christian said. "I'm ravenous."
"Not sure," Floyd said. "Try the oven. They ate like cannibals."
Kim said, "That was some scene there."
"Jeez, a little cold soup, nothing else, just bones," Christian said. "Nah, that was no big deal."
