Part 6 (1/2)
aJon? Kate. Iam going to be stuck at the office for a while. I hope not too long, but donat hold dinner. Oh, you didnat, good. Are you going out? Well, if you decide to, give me a ring and let me know whoas there instead, okay? Thanks. Oh, I hope not more than a couple of hours, maybe less. Fine. Right. Bye.a Then the computer terminal and the other telephone calls, and when Al called with Kenningas brother-in-lawas (not brother,- Al, unusually, had gotten it wrong) name and home number, she called through to the Chicago police, found that the man was on duty the next morning, and decided that little would be gained by bothering him at home on a Sat.u.r.day night. There was no trace of David Sawyer on the recordsa” hardly surprising, since David Sawyer had virtually ceased to exist a decade before.
There was not much more she could do tonight, so she gathered her coat and made her way to the elevators, deaf to the ringing telephones and shouts and the scurry of activity. She stepped aside when the doors of the elevator opened and two detectives came out, each holding one elbow of a small Oriental man in handcuffs, with dried blood on his s.h.i.+rt and a monotonous string of tired curses coming from his bruised mouth.
aAnother Sat.u.r.day night,a she said as she slipped through the closing doors.
aAnd I ainat got n.o.body,a sang the detective on the manas left arm. The doors closed on the rest of the song.
Outside, in the parking lot, Kate was seized by a feeling of restlessness. She should go directly home, five minutes away, let Jon have his evening out, but shead told him two hours, and it had been barely forty minutes. Time for a brief drive, out to the park.
Erasmusa”Sawyera”no, Erasmusa”habitually spent Sat.u.r.day with tourists and then Sunday in the park, roughly four miles away. Did he walk? Was he already in the park now, bedded down beneath some tree? Where did he keep his stash, his bedroll and clothing, the small gym bag Dean Gardner had fetched from the CDSP rooms and which had been returned (with its contents of blue jeans, flannel s.h.i.+rt, bar of soap, threadbare towel, and three books) when Erasmus had been turned loose after making what could only loosely be called his statement?
Kate got into her car and turned, not north to home but west into the city. She drove past the high-rise hotels and department stores and the pulsing neon bars and busy theaters into the more residential areas with their Chinese and Italian restaurants and movie theaters, the pet stores and furniture showrooms closed or closing, until she came to the dark oasis that was Golden Gate Park.
The park held over a thousand acres of trees, flowers, lawn, and lakes, coaxed out of bare sand in painful stages over patient decades, wrenched from the gold-rush squatters in the 1850s and now returning to their spiritual descendants a century and a half later, for despite the combined efforts of police and social services and parks department bulldozers, a large number of men and women regarded the park as home.
Kate drove slowly down Stanyan Street and along Lincoln Way, cruising for street people who were not yet in their beds. At Ninth Avenue, a trio of lumpy men carrying bedrolls leaned into one another and drifted toward the park. She turned in, got out of her car, and waited for them under a streetlight.
aGood evening, gentlemen,a she said. Astonished, and suspicious, they stumbled to a halt, eyeing her. aIam looking for Brother Erasmus. Have you see him?a aSheas a cop,a one of them said. aI seen her before.a Kate reached into her pocket and drew out a five-dollar bill that shead put there a minute before. She folded it in half lengthwise and ran it crisply through her fingers. aI just hoped to talk with him tonight. I know heas usually here in the morning, but it would save me some time, you understand.a a aS tomorrow Sunday?a asked the second man, with the slurred precision of the very drunk. The others ignored him.
aHe donat come on Saaday,a stated the third man. aYou have to wait.a aDo you know where he is tonight?a aHeas not here.a aHow do you know?a aNever is.a Kate had to be content with that. They hadnat told her anything, but she gave them the five dollars anyway and left them arguing over what to do with it, spend it now or save it until tomorrow. All three had looked to be in their sixties but were probably barely fifty. She turned to look at them over the top of her car, three drunk men haggling in slow motion over a sc.r.a.p of paper that represented an eveningas supply of cheap wine.
aWhere did you serve?a she called on impulse. They looked up at her, blinking. The third man drew himself up and made an attempt at squaring his shoulders.
aQuang Tri Province mostly. Tony was in Saigon for a while.a aWell, good luck to you, boys. Keep warm.a aThank you, maaam.a The other two men automatically echoed his thanks, and she got into her car and turned around and reentered the traffic on Lincoln Way.
In the next twenty minutes, she gave away another fifteen dollars and got more or less the same answer from a woman with darting eyes who pulled continuously at her raw lips with the fingers of her left hand,- from a sardonic, sober elderly gentleman who would not approach close enough to take the contribution from her hand but who picked it up from the park bench with a small bow once she had retreated,- and from the monosyllabic Doc, whom she recognized from the initial interviews.
Satisfied, she left the park, intending to go home but then finding herself detouring, taking a route slightly north of the direct one, and finally finding herself in front of the brick bulk of Ghirardelli Square, still lighted up and busy with Sat.u.r.day night shoppers. Oh well, she was nearly home,- she would only be a little late.
There were four shops that Erasmus might have slipped into that afternoon, plus two blank and locked doors and a stairway up to the main level of shops. Two of the shopkeepers had at the time seemed merely hara.s.sed and innocent on a busy afternoon, one of them had been with a woman who was contemplating an expensive purchase and had not seemed the sort to shelter an escaped fool, but the fourtha” Kate thought that she would have another word with the fourth shopkeeper, smiling behind his display of magic tricks and stuffed animals.
She parked beneath the NO PARKING sign in front of the shop and strolled in, her hands in her pockets. The man recognized her instantly,- this time his amus.e.m.e.nt seemed a bit forced, and he was fl.u.s.tered as he made change for the woman who was buying a stuffed pig complete with six snap-on piglets. Kate stood perusing the display of magic tricks until the customer left and he was finally forced to come over to her.
aCan I help you with something?a he asked.
aIam interested in disappearing tricks,a she said. She picked up a trick plastic ice cube that had a fly embedded in it, studying it carefully. aI had something large disappear, right in front of me. Iad like to know how it was done. I know that magicians donat like to tell their secrets, butaa”she put down the joke ice cube, and leaned forwarda”aI would really like to know.a As shead thought, he folded immediately. aIa”Iam really sorry about that,- I didnat knowa”I mean, I could tell you were a cop, but I thought you were just ha.s.sling him. They do it, to the street artists and stuff, and heas such a harmless old guy, I just thought it was a joke when he came shooting in here and held his finger in front of his mouth and then ducked behind the curtain.a So head been standing there less than ten feet away. h.e.l.l. She went and looked at the small, crowded storage s.p.a.ce. He sure wasnat there now.
aHow did he know this was here?a aHe comes here every week. Oh yeah, I sell him things sometimes, magic stuffa”you know, scarves and folding bouquets, that sort of thing. He changes clothes here and leaves his stuff in the back while heas working. I donat mind. I mean, heas not that great a customer, never spends much money, but heas such a sweet old guy, I never minded. What did you want him for?a aDid he go out through the back?a aYes, that door connects with a service entrance. I let him out after youad gone.a aDid he leave anything here?a aHe usually does,- he changes out of his costume and leaves it here, but this time he was in a hurry. He just wiped the makeup off his face, took his coat out of the bag and changed his shoes, and took the bag with him.a aWell, all I can say is, donat complain about crime in the streets if a cop asks for your help and you just laugh in her face.a aWhat did he do?a the man wailed, but Kate walked out of the shop and drove off.
When she got home to Russian Hill, Lee had gone to bed, Jon was sulking over a movie, and her dinner was crisp where it should have been soft, and limp where it had started crisp. However, she consoled herself with the idea that at least she knew how Brother Erasmus avoided carrying his gear all over the city with him.
SEVENTEEN.
There was never a man who looked into those brown burning eyes without being certain that Francis Bernardone was really interested in him.
For the first time since he had come to San Francisco, Brother Erasmus did not appear on Sunday morning to preach to his flock of societyas offscourings, to lead them in prayer and song and listen to their problems and bring them a degree of cheer and faith in themselves. The men and women waited for some time for him in the meeting place near the Nineteenth Avenue park entrance, but he did not show up, and they drifted off, singly and in pairs, giving wide berth to two newcomers, healthy-looking young men wearing suitably bedraggled clothes but smelling of soap and shaving cream.
At two in the afternoon, Kate called Al Hawkin. aI think heas gone, Al,a she told him. aRaul just called,- he and Rodriguez hung around until noon and there was no sign of him. All the park people expected him to show,- n.o.body knows where he might be. Do you want to put out an APB on him?a aAnd if they bring him in, what do we do with him? We couldnat even charge him with littering at this point. Unless you want to put him on a fifty-one-fifty.a aNo,a she said without hesitation. Putting Sawyer on a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold would keep him in hand, but it would also open the door wide for an insanity plea, if they did decide to charge him. Beyond that, though, was a personal revulsion: Kate did not wish to see Brother Erasmus slapped into a psychiatric ward without a very good reason. d.a.m.n it, why did he have to disappear?
aIt may come to that, but letas give it another twenty-four hours.a aOkay. And, Al? I talked to the guy in Chicago, heas going to fax us some records when he can dig them out. And before that, on my way in, I stopped by and talked with that antique-store owner Beatrice told me about.a She reviewed that conversation for him, the trim woman in her fifties who had seemed mildly disturbed by her occasional loveras death, but mostly embarra.s.sed, both by the affairas becoming public knowledge and by how little she actually knew about the man: He was not one for pillow talk, it seemed. She did say that he had a fondness for boastful stories about an unlikely and affluent past, which she dismissed, and a habit of denigrating the persons and personalities of others, often to their faces.
aWhich is pretty much what weave heard already.a aI know. Well, Iall let you know if the Chicago information comes in. Talk to you later.a aLook, Martinelli? Donat get too hooked on this. You donat have anything to prove.a There was silence on the line for a long time. aItas Sunday,a he said. aGo home. Work in the garden. Take Lee for a drive. Donat let it get to you, or youall never make it. Understand?a aYes, sir.a aDonat give me that asira bulls.h.i.+t,a he snapped. aI donat want to work with someone who obsesses about their cases.a aAlla Kate started laughing,- she couldnat help it. aYouare a fine one to talk about being obsessive. What are you doing right now? What did I interrupt?a His silence was not as long as hers had been, but it was eloquent.
aLook, Martinelli,a he said firmly, athat Brancusi case doesnat look good, and thereas a lot hanging on my testimony tomorrow. I donat think you can call that obsessive. Iam just doing my job. I only meanta”a aGo work in your garden, Al. Go for a walk on the beach, why donat you? Go to a movie, Al, thereas aa”a He hung up on her. She put the receiver down, still grinning, and went home to pry some weeds out of the patio bricks.
Monday morning, Al was in court and Kate was in Golden Gate Park. While Al was being dragged back and forth over the rougher parts of his testimony, Kate walked up and down and talked with people. She ignored the women with s.h.i.+ny strollers and designer toddlers, the couples soaking up winter sun on spread blankets, the skaters and bikers, and anyone with a picnic. The homeless are identified by the mistrust in their eyes, and Kate rarely chose wrong.
She talked with Molly, a seventy-one-year-old ex-secretary who lived off a minute pension and spent her nights behind an apartment house in the shelter that covered the residentsa garbage cans. Some of them left her packets of food, shead received a blue wool coat and a nice blanket for Christmas, and yes, she knew Brother Erasmus quite well, such a nice man, and what a disappointment he wasnat at the service yesterday. A couple of the others had tried to lead hymns, but it just wasnat the same, so in the end shead just marched down the road and gone to a Catholic church, although she hadnat been to a church in twenty years, and it was quite a pleasant experience. Everyone had been so nice to her, welcomed her to have coffee and cookies afterward, and what do you know, as she got to talking to one of the girls who was serving the coffee, it turned out that they needed some help in the office, just three or four hours a week, but wasnat that a happy coincidence. Itad mean she could buy a real dinner sometimes, such a blessing, dear.
Then Kate talked with Star, a frail young woman with the freckles of childhood across her nose and a curly-haired four-year-old son who leaned on his motheras knee as she sat on the bench, his thumb in his mouth and his eyes darting between Kate and the hillside behind them, where three small children in Osh-Kosh overalls and European shoes giggled madly as they lowered themselves to the ground and rolled, over and over, down the lawn. Staras hair was lank and greasy and she had a cold sore on her mouth, but her sonas hair shone in the wintery sun and he wore a bright jacket. Star had lived on the streets since her parents in Wichita had thrown her out when she was four months pregnant. Her son Jesse had been born in California. Her AFDC was screwed up,- the checks didnat come. So theyad been in shelters the last few weeks. Yeah, she knew Erasmus. Funny old guy. At first she stayed away from him, thought he was weird. After all, an old guy who wants to give a kid a toy, a person has to be careful. But after a while he seemed okay. And he was really good with Jesse. He gave him a party for his birthday back in November, a cake for G.o.das sake, with his name on it, big enough for everyone in the shelter. And last month when Jesse had a really bad cough, it was just after the AFDC screwup, Brother Erasmus had just handed her some money and told her to take Jesse to the doctoras. Well no, he hadnat said it like that,- he talks funny, kind of old-fas.h.i.+oned like. But he had said something about doctors, and it was a good thing they went, because it was pneumonia. Jesse could have died. And she was sorry Erasmus wasnat here yesterday, because she had wanted to talk to him. It was sort of an anniversarya”a whole year shead been clean now. Yeah, she didnat want Jesse growing up with a junkie for a mom. And what if she went to jaila”whatad happen to him? And there was a training program she thought she might start, wanted to talk to Erasmus about it. Well no, he didnat really give advice, just sometimes in a roundabout way, but talking to him made things clearer. Yeah, maybe shead sign up anyway, tell him about it next week.
Star was seventeen years old.
Kate saw her three army buddies from the other night, two of them lying back on their elbows in the gra.s.s with their s.h.i.+rts off, the third one curled up nearby, asleep. Yes, they had missed Erasmus yesterday, especially Tony. He got really wild when the Brother didnat show, started shouting that the old guyad been taken prisoner, that they had to send a patrol out to get him back. aStupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d,a commented the veteran with the collar-to-wrist tattoos, not without affection. The other one shrugged. Nightmares last night, too, and now there he was, sleeping like a baby. Maybe it was time to head south. Not so cold in the south, get some work in the orange groves. If she saw the old Brother, tell him the infantry said hi.
She looked down at the sleeping Tony as she turned to go. His coat collar had slipped down. Behind his right ear, a patch of scalp the size of Kateas palm gleamed, scar tissue beneath the spa.r.s.e black hair.
Mark was next, a beautiful surfer boy, lean tan body with long blond curls. Kate wondered what the h.e.l.l he was doing still loose, but there he was, looking lost beneath the bare pollarded trees in front of the music concourse. Sure, he knew Brother Erasmus. Brother Erasmus was one of the twelve holy men whose presence on earth kept the waves of destruction from sweeping over the land. Every so often one of them would die, and then a war would break out until he was reborn. Or a plague. Maybe an earthquake.
Then there were Tomas and Esmerelda, standing and watching the lawn bowling. They were holding hands surrept.i.tiously. Esmereldaas belly rose up firm and round beneath her coat, and she did not look well. St, they knew who Padre Erasmus was. No, they hadnat seen him. St, they had an enormous respect for the padre. He wasnat like other padres. He had married them. Si, verdad, an actual ceremony. Yes with papers. Did she want to see them? Here they were. No, of course they had not filed them. They could not do that. Tomas had been married before, and there was no divorce in the Catholic Church. St, the padre knew this. But this was the real marriage. This one was true. And to prove it, Tomas had a joba”working nights. And they had a house to move into on Wednesday. Small, an apartment, but with a roof to keep out the rain and a door to lock out the crazy people and the addicts and thieves, and there was a stove to cook on and a bed for Esmerelda. Tomas would work hard. If it was a boy, they would name it Erasmo.
Three of the men she talked with would not give her their names, but they all knew Erasmus. The first one, s.h.i.+rtless on a bench, his huge muscles identifying him as recently released from prison even if his demeanor hadnat, knew her instantly as a cop and wouldnat look at her. However, his hard face softened for an instant when she mentioned the name Erasmus. The second man, hearing the name, immediately launched into a description of how head seen Erasmus one night standing on Strawberry Hill, glowing with a light that grew stronger and stronger until it hurt the eyes, and then head disappeared, a little at a time. Kate excused herself and walked briskly away, muttering, aBeam me up, Scottya under her breath. The third man knew Erasmus, didnat like her asking questions about him, and was working himself up into belligerence. Kate, unhampered by bedrolls and bulging bags, slipped away, deciding to stick to women for a while.
aThey love him.a Kate threw her notebook down on the desk and dropped into the nearest chair. Her feet hurt,- her throat ached: Maybe she was coming down with the flu.
Al Hawkin pulled off his gla.s.ses and looked at her. aWho loves whom?a aThe people in the park. I feel like Iam about to book Mother Teresa. He listens to them. He changes their lives. Theyare going to name their kids after him. Saint Erasmus. G.o.d!a She ran her fingers through her hair, kicked off her shoes, walked over to the coffee machine, came back with a cup, and sat down again. aHi, Al. Howad it go in court?a aThe jury wasnat happy with it. I think theyall acquit. The b.a.s.t.a.r.das going to walk.a Domenico Brancusi ran a string of very young prost.i.tutes, a specialty service that circled the Bay Area and had made him very rich. He was also very careful, and when one of his girls dieda”an eleven-year-old whose ribs were more prominent than her b.r.e.a.s.t.sa”he had proven to be about as vulnerable as an armadillo.
aIam sorry, Al.a aAmerican justice, donat you just love it. I was looking at the stuff your friend in Chicago sent.a aDid it come? Was there anything?a aTwo blots on Saint Erasmusas past. A DUI when he was twenty-fivea”forty seven years agoa”and then ten years later he plead guilty to a.s.sault, got a year of parole and a hundred hours of community service.a aAny details?a aNot many. It looks like what he did was pick up a chair in a cla.s.sroom and try to brain somebody with it. They were having an argumenta”a debate in front of a cla.s.sa”and it got out of hand. The gentle life of the mind,a he commented sardonically.
ad.a.m.n the man, anyway,a she growled. aWhy the h.e.l.l did he have to run off like that?a aExactly.a aWhat?a aWhy did he run?a aOh Christ, Al, youare not going to go all Sherlock Holmes on me, are you? The dog did nothing in the night,a she protests. aPrecisely,a says he mysteriously.a aYou are in a good mood, arenat you?a observed Hawkin. aHave you eaten anything today?a aNow you sound like my mother. Yes, I had a couple of hot dogs from the stand in the park.a aThereas the problem. Youave got nitrates eating your brain cells.a aSince when do you care about nitrates? You live off the things.a aNo more.a He placed one hand on his chest. aI am pure.a aFirst cigarettes and now junk food? That Janias a powerful woman.a Al Hawkin stood up and lifted his jacket from the back of his chair. aCome on, Martinelli,a he said. aIall buy you a sandwich and you can tell me about the Brother Erasmus fan club.a
EIGHTEEN.
Some might call him a madman, hut he was the very reverse of a dreamer.
It was now two weeks since John had been killed, thirteen days since his funeral pyre had been lighted, and Kate woke that Tuesday morning knowing that her case consisted of a number of details concerning a fine lot of characters, but the only link any of it had was a person she would much prefer to see out of it entirely.
Kate had been a cop long enough to know that likable people can be villains, that personality and charisma are, if anything, more likely to be found attached to the perpetrator than the victim. She liked people,- she sent them to jail: no problem.