Part 9 (1/2)
Angie sent Stan out to find an all-night grocery to buy basic supplies for a baby, while she helped Hannah set up a couple of bottles of formula.
It was near dawn when Hannah, wearing one of Angie's nightgowns, sank into Stan's bed, exhausted, and Angie headed back to her own apartment.
Stan still hadn't returned from the store.
Chapter 10.
As soon as Angie woke up the next morning she was on the phone with Paavo to tell him about her adventurous night with Stan's strange new girlfriend. He warned her to stay away from Hannah and her troubled relations.h.i.+p. Every cop knew that domestic disputes, even if the couple wasn't married, were potentially the most violent and the most dangerous.
Connie was much more interested, and she had news for Angie as well. She'd donated her hot tub clowns and a few other items to the public TV station's week-long annual auction to raise money and pledges, and while at the KQED studio, she learned that the station had gotten a number of the city's biggest restaurants to donate dinners for four. The auction director had planned to have the restaurateurs share the TV camera to promote their restaurants and the event.
As soon as Connie said that, Angie knew it was a disaster waiting to happen. Connie affirmed it, saying jealousy ran rampant, with each owner demanding peak audience time and more minutes on camera than any other owner. The whole concept was threatening to fall apart.
While Connie spoke, Angie thought about the restaurateurs all gathered in one spot-owners of the type of place Serefina would likely choose for a party. She barely had a week and a half left. Maybe she'd gone about this all wrong and needed to talk to the owners themselves.
Just then an idea sprang to mind. It was the answer to her prayers-and maybe KQED's as well.
Paavo got himself a cup of French roast, black, at the South San Francisco Starbucks, then took a seat at the table across from Sal. He'd called him that morning, planning to discuss face-to-face the foolishness of sitting outside Schull's apartment. If she saw him, she'd have a case against him that Johnnie Cochran wouldn't be able to get him out of.
To his amazement, Sal showed up wearing what looked like a doctor's white jacket.
”What's that getup?” Paavo asked.
”When you called this morning,” Sal said, ”I realized you'd be the perfect foil. Let's go.”
”Go? Go where?” Paavo's voice rose. ”We need to talk.”
”We'll talk in the car.”
Sal headed out the door, and Paavo followed, fuming. Now he knew where Angie got her one-track mind.
”Do you want to drive?” Sal asked. ”Or shall I call a taxi? I'm not sure of the way, and I don't like driving in strange neighborhoods.”
”The way to what?” Paavo asked.
”The Langley Porter Psychiatric Hospital.”
After much arguing, which did no good, Paavo decided to drive them himself in hopes of convincing Sal to change his mind. His hope was in vain.
”May as well park in the doctors' parking,” Sal said.
Paavo went to the general area. ”It's not going to work,” he warned.
Both men got out of the car. ”Come along and find out,” Sal answered, clipping an ID badge to his breast pocket. The badge had his photo and was from San Francisco General, which worked closely with the city's mental health facility. ”It's amazing what a little money can buy,” he said, patting the badge.
”You'll get caught.”
”Dio! You're like the Voice of Doom,” Sal complained. ”The same thing over and over. Relax! You'll be there to arrest me if I do anything wrong. I just want to look at her records. It's not as if I'm going to rob the place!”
”Sal, it's illegal.” Paavo said the words as slowly and forcefully as he could.
”So is jaywalking.”
He headed for the hospital, Paavo at his side.
”Excuse me, nurse.” Sal strode up to the woman at the reception desk. ”Where can I find the archived medical records? I need to look up something right away that's a good twenty years old.”
She looked him over quizzically. ”I'm sorry, but do you belong here?” she asked.
Here we go, Paavo thought.
Sal lifted himself up to his full height, his voice quivering with indignity. ”I'm Dr. Salvatore Amalfi. Who do you think I am?” He peered down his nose at her.
”Oh, of course...I'm so sorry,” the nurse murmured. Then, stronger, ”You'll need to go to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Keep to the right when you get off the elevator. It's all the way at the end of the hall.”
”Thanks.”
Paavo breathed deeply as they took the elevator.
They got a few surprised looks as they pa.s.sed a couple of orderlies and a doctor and walked through the bas.e.m.e.nt corridor, but no one questioned them.
They went through the file cabinets until they found the one with her records, listed under her original name, Janice Schullmann.
Sal pulled it out and read, Paavo peering over his shoulder.
She'd been engaged to be married, and one week before the wedding, she learned that her fiance had run off to Reno and eloped with another woman. When he returned, she tried to run him over with her car.
She accepted a stay in the mental hospital, and in return the ex-fiance didn't press charges.
The diagnosis in layman's terms was ”a psychotic episode brought on by extreme jealousy.”
”A very scary woman,” Paavo murmured.
Sal nodded, his face a little pale.
Hannah padded barefoot into the kitchen, where Stan sat at the table reading the Chronicle. Her face was still wan and tired, and she was bundled in a thick terry cloth bathrobe from Angie.
”You're awake,” he said, jumping to his feet.
She was already asleep when he finally made it back from the grocery last night, or, more accurately, this morning. He rarely went grocery shopping. Trying to shop for a woman was bad enough, for a baby was impossible. He read labels until his eyes went all bleary and finally a female store clerk took pity on him and helped him out.
He'd slept on the sofa in his clothes, not wanting to disturb her by going into the bedroom to get his pajamas.