CHAPTER 2 SISTERS ARE DOIN' IT FOR THEMSELVES
Eve Dwyer sat down across from me without invitation. Phil scooted over promptly to the table.
"Paquita, this is the lady I told you about." He beamed at Eve. "What can I get you?"
She waved a hand to ward off the offer. "Oh, no, please, I can wait in line."
Phil would hear none of it. He pressed her into giving him her order, bringing it back in record time with a small plate of pastries, as well as a refill for me.
"You ladies need anything, you just ask".
She beamed a megavoltage smile at Phil before he moved back to the counter. "Paquita?" she gave me a small friendly laugh. "I'm betting the nuns at Mission Dolores never called you that."
I ignored her comment. "Look, Phil thinks you're looking to buy some artwork from me. He doesn't know who you are. He thinks you're just some rich matron from Nob Hill who goes slumming, finding artists here in Mission to dangle the possibility of buying art from, mostly to amuse themselves and their friends with."
"Fran, I am a rich matron from Nob Hill. I can buy art from Mission Artists for my own appreciation. I saw several of yours yesterday. You're very good. I think I might like to buy one or two from you before I leave, if the price is right. Unlike my friends, I don'tbuy for amusement, though I could, if I wanted to." She sipped her coffee carefully. "But, that's not me, and what you really want to know is why I'm here."
Damn certain I wanted to know why Eve Dwyer was in town and asking for me. She was the unspoken ghost in the room the first year I worked for Ironside. The internal question, "What would Eve Whitfield do? "caused me to second guess myself almost every time I went out on a case. I finally stopped asking it during the second year. Now, my question was, "Will Fran Belding ever be a cop again?"
"Ed asked me to come and talk with you. He and I have stayed good friends". She replied without waiting. She took a long swallow of coffee and motioned to Phil who immediately trotted over. "Phil, could we have a couple of go cups and a bag for these? It's such a gorgeous day. Fran and I are going to enjoy it out walking. Denver is better designed for biking and climbing; not walking. I really miss that."
He brought us a bag and two filled Styrofoam cups, telling me he'd make Robbie cover for Dina and refused to take payment from Eve. As I left, he took my backpack, making sure I had my keys and wallet.
"Something tells me you're not gonna be needing this today, Paquita. It'll be in the office tomorrow."
A short walk took us to one of the many small city parks. We sat down at a table, took off the coffee lids, sipped and nibbled.
"I miss the bay and the ocean so much."
I could hear the sadness in her voice.
"There's something about the colors, the smell. It gets into your soul. It's probably in our DNA. Denver is very different. There's no ocean. But I'm getting to appreciate the mountains more."
"Why did Ed send for you?"
"You're his partner. He cares about you."
"He knows how to get hold of me."
"You don't answer."
That was true. He called, sent notes and tried to visit every week. Mark too. What could I say to them? "Hi, glad you're doing so well. I'm down so low; I don't know what up looks like?" I wanted them to see me as competent and strong, not damaged.
"So, before he stages a police raid on your apartment, he thought you might like to talk to someone who's been where you are." She gave me a direct look, making me feel like a butterfly pinned to a collection board. I couldn't escape it. "Apparently since you don't seem to want Ed's Mark's, or the Chief's help, Ed thought I might be able to reach you."
I wracked my brain. Eve hurt? When had this happened? The guys never mentioned anything about it.
She anticipated my question. "It took place, oh, almost eight years ago. I made a huge mistake, I let the guy get me off balance and next thing I know, I'm waking up in a hospital recovery room after surgery to remove a bullet".
I nodded. Glenville had gotten me off balance too.
"I didn't know if I wanted to be a cop after that."
I didn't know either. "How did you get past it?"
"Ed, Mark, the Chief, Sam, for starters. My own family wasn't a great deal of help. They never wanted me to be a police officer in the first place. It wasn't seemly for one in my social class to work.They hoped I'd give it up after that, my mother especially."
"How did you decide to become a cop?" I asked.
"The Chief," came her quick reply. "He made me realize I could do something more than attend fundraisers for the Police Benevolent Association."
"I grew up watching dad doing things that helped people, not hurt them. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a nun. I wanted to keep my father and others safe from all the hate in the world, all the hate I'd experienced as a child, by teaching love. But I realized I needed to be out in the world." I said softly. "When he was murdered, he was trying to do just that, help someone."
"Where were you when that happened?"
"In the Castro, watching parking meters. After the funeral, it seemed that the entire Police Department thought my dad was dirty, including the Chief. I decided to find my father's killer on my off time. Thinking I didn't have the Chief's support was hard for me because he and dad were poker buddies. He knew mamita; he watched me grow up. He wrote a recommendation letter for me to get into the Academy, I didn't even ask for that. He knew my father wouldn't shake down anyone. When he didn't start investigating immediately, I was devastated. I felt totally alone."
"What did you do?"
"I picked up a gambler named Charlie Rhine. I heard he had connections to the floating casinos in town. He worked for Joe Julian, one of Eddie Rogers' lieutenants."
Eve nodded. She knew who Eddie Rogers was.
Julian was ambitious and figured he could take over Rogers's crew and be the new mob boss. My father and I were just bait. "Julian planned my father's murder. He created a fake bank account for dad with three hundred thousand in it. He had a mole inside Vice, so he knew when the raids on the casinos were happening and that the Chief had reinjured his neck. What I know now was that the Chief was waiting for the right moment to go after Julian and after my adventure playing Nancy Drew, as he called it, followed by his fall; the Chief set the trap. Julian believed the Chief was more concerned about his health and the angry orphan cop than he was trying to catch him. Once he found the mole in Vice, the Chief would have all the puzzle pieces needed to clear my father's name. The mole turned out to be one of Ed's friends in Vice. It hurt him to have to arrest him, but he did.
"I assume it didn't go over well with Ed."
"No, and I was glad to see Ed angry with someone other than me."
"Ed told me Julian didn't shoot your father?"
"No. It was his girlfriend, Betty Anderson. She did it because she loved Julian and wanted him to succeed. She said during the trial she'd do anything for him. She didn't even know who dad was. He was just another cop bearing down hard on her man. She told my father she had information about the floating casinos and he agreed to meet her. He got out of his car and she shot him. He never even had a chance to draw his weapon."
"So that's how you joined the Chief?"
"Pretty much, but it was more like being drafted. I went very unwillingly. I didn't impress Mark or Ed at first with my police professionalism, especially Ed. It took a long time with Ed."
Eve sighed. "It took me a long while to get through to Ed that I was serious about being a cop too. But, being drafted, that's a good way to describe it," She laughed. "It happened to me just about the same way. I'd taken a couple of years at UCSF, but really had nothing else on my mind but that week's sale or where the newest club was opening. I met the Chief when he was investigating a shooting in a club I was at with some friends. This was before he was shot. I gave a very detailed account of the shooting and the suspects to him. He asked me why I was wasting my time with the dilettantes. Two weeks later, an application to join the next academy class came in the mail with no return address. I guessed who it was from. I filled it out as a joke, but I found I liked police work and the rest is history. But it wasn't until just before the Chief was shot, that Ed finally began to accept me as his partner. Don't know if it's that Marine attitude of his, or if he was a closet sexist like most of the department was and felt I didn't belong. But he did tell me the thing that impressed him first about you, was your compassion towards Betty Anderson at the end. After you found out she murdered your dad, you asked that she be given all the time she could be given with him. Ed wasn't sure he could have behaved that way. I know I wouldn't have."
"Blame it on my Catholic upbringing I guess. I would have felt guilty forever. I didn't want her to go through what I did the night my father was killed. Not being able to say goodbye to someone you loved. It's a terrible feeling. It makes you crazy. It eats away with you. I'm still working on the forgiveness part of that, but…. "My voice trailed off.
Eve smiled again and reached out for my hand. From then on it was easy to talk to her. Our coffee grew cold and pastries uneaten as we sat and talked about cases, our families, coworkers, lovers, and in Eve's case, her husband.
"Sam's the Assistant Chief of Detectives in Denver, but you probably know that already. He's got the fire and smarts to make it to chief."
"How'd you meet?"
"At Giamatti's".
I laughed. Giamatti's was a hangout for cops. I'd met several dates there, often critiqued by my partners, who conveniently happened to be there at the time, and Ed, Mark, the Chief, and I often went there for dinner or drinks after finishing a case.
Eve motioned, and we got up disposed of our trash and walked on. She pulled out a small photo album and flipped through it, finding a picture of a smiling man with a square jaw and sandy brown hair.
"Good looking guy".
"He's worth sharing a life with, that's for sure." Eve said, with the giddy look of someone who had found the mother lode.
We walked quietly for a while longer, watching the joggers and couples.
"Ed said you were hurt badly by this creep Glenville. You don't feel you're all the way back yet, do you?"
"No", my voice sounded small, weak.
"When I was shot, I'd just met Sam. I didn't think anyone would want such a damaged, stupid, person. Especially not the mighty Robert Ironside or this great guy I'd thought of beginning a life with. When I got out of the hospital, I dropped my resignation on the Chief's desk, called Sam and dumped him over the phone. Then I moved back into my parent's house, ready to begin the life of a dissolute, spoiled heiress, now with a bullet pucker. Finita l'commedia." Her hands splayed out in the San Francisco gesture meaning anything from "whatever "to "finished" to "huh?", depending on how fast, widespread, and directional the hands moved.
"What brought you back?"
"Ed and Mark did, with a lot of love from Sam. Mark told me daily how screwed up the office was without me. Ed reminded me of all the good I had done and could continue doing, if I only came back and that the idea of my waking up each day wondering what dress I'd put on, or party I'd go to, disgusted him and I'd become quickly bored and boring and I'd hate myself. I tried it for a month just to spite them. Sam just refused to go away. He literally camped on the doorstep. One morning there was the Chief in the front room. He told me it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and decide finally, come back to work or not, and make my choice very carefully."
"And you did."
"Yes. Two years later, I married Sam and shortly before that, he was hired in Denver".
"Do you miss it?"
"The work? I did at first, but not now. I have Sam and Suzanne in my life and she's a handful."
Flipping through her album, she found another picture of a young girl, maybe four or five years old laughing at the photographer. Blond and blue eyed like her mother and determined like her father. "She's five and a half, going on thirty- five." Eve laughed. "Grandma and grandpa have her right now. They can't get enough of her, so that means a trip back once every two months or so."
The sky had begun to darken. The work day was ending. Workers were coming out of their offices, their jackets tightened about them to ward off the cool evening breeze coming off the bay, heading off to trendy little places to drink small glasses of artisan alcohol and eat organic local grown farm to restaurant food on equally small plates at astronomical prices. Eve lead me down another side street, steering me into a small restaurant. The sign on the outside identified the place as Colibri. I could smell chilies, garlic, and onion, making me nostalgic for my mother's and grandmother's kitchens, Suddenly, I was hungry, but I felt underdressed, almost shabby, passing by diners in their chic business Armani and Ralph Lauren. The hostess greeted Eve like a long- lost friend, leading us to a quiet table in the back, close to the kitchen and the bar. She called over to the bartender,
"Pete, this is my friend Eve. Would you take special care of them tonight, please?"