Chapter 2
The next day – the day of the conference - Steve paid one of the stores Eve had mentioned, a visit. It was terribly crowded. It was just before Christmas, after all. He observed a big, fat Santa Claus. Steve had loved Santa as a kid, but this one seemed to be stressed out and awfully busy. He hardly had time to listen to the kids' wishes. Things had changed a lot over the last two decades! The Santa was sweating heavily under his red costume. Somehow Steve felt an aversion to him.
He scolded himself. He wasn't here to indulge in reminiscences or to judge an old man who merely did his job, but to solve crimes.
He turned around and watched the people around him. There were mostly women with and without small children and elderly people right now. Of course the men and many women had to work at this hour on weekdays. And the thieves? Had the thefts taken place on Saturdays because the thieves only 'worked' on Saturdays?
What kind of thieves would work on Saturdays only?! Maybe students!
Involuntarily his glance turned back to the depressing Santa Claus. If he weren't that fat, then he could hide a lot of stolen goods under his costume. Maybe not all Santas were fat?
There was a chance that some stores employed students as Santas. They would only work on Saturdays, when most parents were bringing their children for visits.
Ten minutes later Steve was facing a very busy store director in his office.
"People should report thefts immediately, then the chances of catching the thieves would be much higher! We have excellent house detectives. Anyway, I don't think that there are many thefts in our store..."
Steve tried to calm him down. Nobody accused him of anything. "I just want to know if you employ students as Santas."
"Usually not. A slender young man isn't exactly what you expect under a Santa's costume. But this year we were a bit short of personnel. We needed more helpers. I think there are a few students."
Steve was sent to the personnel manager. He was still young and somehow he had managed to keep a sense of humor. He confirmed that there were indeed five students working as Santas. Two of them were high school seniors who only worked Saturdays because of school during the week.
Keller continued his research in the other stores Eve had mentioned. The situation was the same: Not enough Santas this year. In each of them there were high school students working Saturdays as Santas this year.
Steve noted their names and addresses.
Next task was to run a background check on all of them.
The young inspector sighed. If he had to do all this work alone it would keep him busy until...
Staring at the addresses he noticed that most of the boys were living in Mission district, four out of the seven in the Tenderloin. Ok, maybe this wasn't so surprising after all. This was an area inhabited by poor people mostly, whose kids needed to work to make a living. And then they might have talked to each other and learned of this job opportunity. Maybe they even went to school together!
It might save him a lot of legwork if he started the investigation at this end.
A phone call was enough to find out that one of them attended Polytechnic High School, and a second confirmed that every single one of the seven young Santas were students of this old educational institution.
By the time Keller had found out that much, he decided to share his knowledge with Sgt. Brown, who was very impressed about his efficiency. He started to believe that there might be more than a coincidence. He scratched his head as often when deep in thoughts.
"You know what – Poly was my high school. I graduated there in 1957."
"They were famous for their football team, weren't they?"
Ed grinned. "Yes, our team won the City Championship during most of the forties and in the beginning of the fifties."
"I suppose you were on the team?"
"Yeah, but in 1956 we lost in the final game." He didn't mention that he had won the Championship with them in 1955.
"I suppose I'll pay them a visit, right?"
The dutiful sergeant hesitated and glanced at the piled up files on his desk with a blatant lack of enthusiasm. Ironside had left him a workload which wasn't to be mastered in 24 hours. "This is my old school. Somehow this makes the matter personal."
"Come with me! The files won't bite you because of that."
The files probably won't, thought Ed and picked up his jacket.
On their way they discussed what Steve had found out.
If the Santas were thieves, then they had to be working together with helpers – maybe smaller kids. What if the Santas distracted the parents and the younger children emptied their pockets, then they gave the stuff to the Santas who hid them under their costumes?
"Sounds plausible to me," commented Steve. "But what do they do with the stolen goods?"
"There must be an adult fence involved, I'd say."
Together they entered the run-down building which hadn't been attractive even in its best times, which obviously were long gone.
They found themselves in a dull hallway.
"Eddie? Edward Brown, the fastest gentleman on the football field – is that really you?"
Ed turned around. A tiny white-haired man with a cane hurried to join them.
"Really – it's you! What a delight to see you, my boy!" The old teacher was beside himself with joy.
Steve had to suppress a grin. The "boy" was older than himself and towered over the seasoned educator.
"Cyrus! Cyrus Carpenter, look who's here!" shouted the teacher.
A middle-aged, tired-looking man with thick glasses shuffled by. He hugged Ed Brown, who had turned into a pillar of salt.
"How nice of you to come, Ed! Do we know your friend as well?"
No, Steve had not attended this school, and he told them so.
"Eddie was an excellent student, and without a doubt, the most polite one ever," explained Mayers, the white-haired math teacher and Vice Principal of Poly. "Every teacher wanted him to become a teacher – of their own subject."
That wasn't quite true: Ed had never been good at foreign languages.
"He qualified for a scholarship of Berkeley but declined it. Instead he chose to care for his mother who was sick. - But you are wearing a suit and tie, Eddie. So this means that you have taken up a respectable profession, right?"
"Hum..." said Ed, unsure whether they would consider police business as being something respectable.
Steve felt that if Ed could not speak up for himself he needed to step in for him. "He is a police detective now, and he works with the famous Chief Ironside!"
"Oh, I'm impressed! A most useful occupation! How can we help you, Officer Brown?"
"It's sergeant, sir, not officer," corrected Steve.
"Could we maybe..." asked Ed, pointing discreetly towards the Vice Principal's office. The teachers' voices as well as Steve's were very audible in the long hallway and Ed wasn't particularly keen on publicity right now.
"Of course, my boy, of course. Come on in!"
The furniture looked exactly the way Ed remembered it, only shabbier.
Mayers noticed his former model student's glance. "You have sharp eyes, Eddie. And you are right: this school isn't what it used to be. The fifties, your time, my boy, those were the times. We have always been a 'blue collar' school, but a fine one. It was 'either brain or brawn'. You had both. Now you don't need any of them anymore. Sometimes I think that the decline started on Thanksgiving 1957, when our football team lost the championship to Balboa, I suppose."
Ed must have left before that game, thought Steve with not much coherence, but probably that hadn't been the only reason for the decline of Polytechnic High School.
"It's a long, sad story. People don't want to enroll their kids into Poly anymore. Our test scores have gone down. We don't have many students like you, Eddie, students who are at the same time smart, athletic and studious. You also worked nights to support your mother, didn't you?
It's a different time now too. There are regular student disruptions, violence and high absentee rates. This school, I fear, has no future."
Although Ed had basically known that things weren't going smoothly for his 'alma mater', he still needed a few seconds to stomach this news, uttered so bluntly. No wonder some kids might be looking for money in the wrong places!
Steve, being less emotionally involved, was quicker to react. "Maybe the future of the school isn't the important thing, but the future of the youngsters?"
"Wisely spoken, my friend," answered Carpenter. "But I am too disillusioned to see this future. College graduates like Ed Brown or people getting scholarships for their achievements in sports, that's the big exception today. Most are lucky to get some kind of work when they leave here, and too many drop out – the Haight is too close, the drugs, you know... many of them will end there."
Now Ed spoke up, though very respectfully, "Sirs, I owe you and this school more than I can ever say. I'd like to help the school and the students if I can. But I'm in need of your help on a case."
"This is the spirit I remember of Ed Brown: always there with all his energy to do what's right. Of course, my boy. Tell us what you need and how we can help you."
Ed told it to them, and readily Mayers went to get the old year books.
"Look, that's Jock Polsky out there, one of the boys on your list!" exclaimed Carpenter.
The detectives noticed a boy who was taller than Steve, broad-shouldered and a little overweight. His jacket pockets looked baggy. Were there any stolen goods in them?
"Steve..."
"On my way!" exclaimed Steve and hurried out. It might be interesting to see where Jock was headed: just home or maybe somewhere to sell the content of his pockets?
The boy didn't notice that he was being shadowed. He used the bus to get northwards, getting off in the Tenderloin. Steve followed him.
Suddenly he almost stumbled over a little girl in his way.
"Hey, mister, have you seen my momma?" she asked, and brighter traces on her dirty face proved that she had most probably cried.
Steve was deeply touched. He had called his mother momma, and he had lost her once as well. On the other hand he had to follow the boy from Poly. Feverishly he pondered what he could do to help the poor kid.
From a side road two boys approached. They were a couple years older than the little girl. "Oh, Cindy, here you are!" exclaimed one of them. "We were looking for you everywhere. Your momma is sick from worry about you! Come home, quick!"
He seemed to understand that Steve wanted to help. "Thanks, mister. We will take her home."
Relieved that one problem was solved Steve hurried to follow his suspect.
Of a distance he saw the boy enter a run-down house in O'Farrell Street. Not much later he reached the door. It was unlocked. Steve opened it carefully... nobody was in sight. Steve took heart and entered.
From the left he heard voices. He stepped towards a second, closed door, hoping to understand what the people in there were saying.
Behind him, he heard another door open.