He tossed the folded sports section on the sofa beside him and got slowly to his feet, picking up his empty coffee cup as he crossed towards the kitchen. He resisted the urge to look at his watch, not wanting to know how much time was left until dinner, was left in the day. He was really beginning to chafe under the restrictions that had been placed on him by his bosses and his doctors. He was convinced he had recovered enough to return to a normal life, if not to work; everyone else seemed to think otherwise.
He had just put the cup on the counter and was reaching for the percolator when there was a persistently loud knock on his front door, accompanied by the doorbell being rung over and over. With a very annoyed scowl, he started briskly towards the entrance. "I'm coming!' he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he snapped the thumb turn, twisted the knob and reefed the door open all in one angry movement.
He froze when he saw his grinning partner standing on the stoop, staring at him with bobbing eyebrows behind the dark glasses. "Get up on the wrong side of the bed?" the younger man asked with a chuckle.
His eyes narrowing suspiciously, Mike tilted his head slightly. "What are you doing here?"
Steve's face fell and he grunted. "Well, if that's the way you're going to be about it…" he began snarkily as he pretended to start away.
Mike's right hand shot out and he grabbed his partner's leather jacket sleeve. "Wait, don't go," he said quickly. Steve stopped and looked at him expressionlessly. "I just meant… well, what are you doing here?" His tone this time was a lot more conciliatory. Though they had spoken on the phone a couple of times, they hadn't seen each other since their meeting with Healey and Haseejian at the Union Street apartment three days earlier.
Steve started to smile again. "Well, I thought you might want to join me and go for a little drive on this…" he gestured towards the street, "this gorgeous afternoon. What do you say?"
Mike stared at him for a beat then looked down at the street and the Porsche parked against the curb on the other side. "In your car?"
The younger man shrugged. "Why not? I was thinking of maybe taking it down towards Pacifica, take a walk along Mori Point… you know, give the car a good run and allow us to get some fresh air…"
"Some fresh air, hunh?"
Steve nodded.
Mike pursed his lips, his face unreadable, then he smiled resignedly. "Why not? I've been cooped up in this place long enough. Just let me get my windbreaker." He turned back into the house.
Steve took a step closer to the threshold. "Sandra not given you your car keys back yet?"
Mike reappeared with his coat and house keys in his hand, pulling the door closed behind him as he stepped onto the landing. "No," he said pointedly as he locked the door and followed his chuckling partner down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. "She promised tomorrow but I'll believe that when I see it."
Mike settled into the low-slung sports car with a grunt and a smile; he had spent the past several days taking walks up and down the hills of his Potrero neighbourhood, but this felt like an adventure, and one he sorely needed.
"Mori Point shouldn't be very crowded today," Steve mentioned as he slipped the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. "Middle of the week and all that."
"Well, you couldn't've picked a prettier day," Mike noted, glancing up at the bright blue sky.
The Porsche slid smoothly away from the curb and started down De Haro heading north.
"How are you feeling?" the older man asked with a glance across the front seat.
Steve grinned. "Better every day. I almost feel like I could go back to work, you know."
Mike chuckled. "Me too. But somehow I don't think either one of us are going to be allowed to step foot back in Homicide until our month is up, no matter what we say."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right. I'm gonna take full advantage of it, though." He glanced across the front seat. "I'm gonna take Jennifer up to Sonoma next week for four or five days, do a wine tour."
"That sounds like a great idea. It's harvest time; your timing couldn't be better."
"Yeah, that's what I thought too."
"I just might have to get you to buy a case of Jeannie's favourite Riesling for Christmas." Mike twisted in the seat to look over his shoulder. "Just how much cargo can this little thing hold, anyway?"
Steve chuckled. "Oh, don't worry - it can hold a couple of cases of wine… as well as our luggage."
Laughing softly, Mike settled deeper in the bucket seat. He stared out the side window, watching the world go by for several long seconds before he started to frown. "I thought you said we were heading south?"
"Hmmm?" Steve grunted, as if pretending not to hear.
Mike looked at him, frowning. He pointed out the side window. "You missed the on-ramp for the 101. Where are we going?"
Steve unsuccessfully tried to suppress his smile as he stared straight ahead, ignoring his partner's question. After a long beat, he said enigmatically, "You'll see."
Mike continued to stare but, receiving no response, slumped in the seat and, frowning, looked through the windshield, trying to figure out where they were headed.
When they started to approach the Haight, Mike thought his suspicions were about to be confirmed as they neared the bodega. But when the Porsche didn't make the appropriate turn, he frowned again, shooting a confused glance across the front seat. Steve was still smiling, and still concentrating on the view through the windshield.
Steve snapped the turn signal on and the sports car made a right-hand turn onto Masonic Avenue, heading north. They drove right through the Haight towards the Panhandle then, after a couple more turns, slid into a free parking space at the curb on Hayes. He glanced across the front seat, trying to suppress a grin, as he turned the engine off and slipped the key from the ignition. Mike, frowning in confusion, was staring out the side window, trying to figure out why they were here.
Steve opened the door and got out, then leaned back in. "Are you coming?" He slammed the door and locked it.
Mike shot him a look as he reached for the door handle and climbed awkwardly out of the eye-catching sports car. As he shrugged his windbreaker on, he looked up and down the street. "What are we doing here?"
Steve locked the passenger side door and put the keys in his jacket pocket then, trying not to chuckle, started up the street; Mike was still looking around, hoping to see something that would help him figure out what was going on. "Coming?"
With a low growl, Mike jogged slightly to catch up with the younger man, knowing he wouldn't be getting any clues as to the reason for their visit to this part of town.
They walked to the corner of the block. Mike stepped to the curb to wait for the light to change but Steve made an abrupt right turn and approached the glass front door of the building on the corner; an abandoned and empty restaurant, its windows covered with newspaper. As he pulled the door open, he looked back and grinned. Frowning warily, Mike approached his partner and the open door.
"They had to move," Steve said with a warm chuckle. "After everything that happened at the bodega, well, the school couldn't stay there. They had no place to go. But, ah, well, somehow a couple of… influential social activists in the neighborhood caught wind of what was going on… and they talked to some people with clout down at City Hall… and some wheels began to turn." He gestured towards the open door, and Mike stared at him curiously as he slowly moved past him and entered the building. "It's, ah, it's not open yet," Steve continued as he stepped beside his partner, taking of his dark glasses to look at the scene in front of them, "but they're working on it… as you can see."
It was a large open room, a former diner whose counters had been removed to free up more space. A large blackboard covered the opening where the order window had been. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air. The cracked and worn linoleum floor was being torn up and piles of new tiles were scattered around the room. In the far corner, the desks were stacked, as were several small wooden chairs.
Mike stared, his eyes wide, his expression unreadable. He swivelled his head slowly as his trained eyes took in everything.
There was a flurry of activity from the unseen kitchen and a couple of people, who had obviously been painting, came through the door into the main room, stopping suddenly when they spotted the newcomers. Steve looked sideways at his partner as Mike recognized Neil and the older man exhaled quickly in surprise.
His face breaking into a grin, Neil almost charged across the room. "Holy hell, am I glad to see you," he laughed, his relief palpable as he approached the older detective, throwing his arms open and grabbing Mike in a bear hug.
The cop, who had braced himself, wrapped his own arms around the barrel chested man and squeezed. Steve looked down and took a couple of discreet steps back.
Neil pulled back slightly and stared into Mike's face. "Are you okay? Man, I heard what happened. I couldn't believe it."
Mike was nodding and smiling. "Yeah, yeah, I"m fine, really. Like I keep telling Steve," he glanced at the younger man, "I have a hard head."
Neil, who continued to stare and shake his head slightly, dropped his arms and took a step back, looking Mike up and down to make sure he was telling the truth. "Man, what a thing, eh? Who'da thought Carol'd be the one doing all that shit…?"
Mike tilted his head with a facial shrug. "Well, we still have to prove it to a jury but yeah…"
"Yeah… but, man, she coulda killed you, you know?" He looked into Mike's eyes, his own almost guilty, and shrugged helplessly. "I should never have left that night but she told me you'd gone so, you know, I didn't think twice. I took her word for it."
Mike was shaking his head. "It's not your fault, Neil, believe me. She's smooth, she's a good liar…"
"She sure is…" Both men fell quiet, contemplating what might have happened that night.
Neil stared at Mike again. "I'm glad you're -" he began awkwardly and Mike cut him off, gesturing at the room.
"So tell me what's going on here," he said with a smile, taking a step deeper into the room.
Neil glanced at Steve, who smiled at him encouragingly, then fell into step beside the older man as they started slowly across the floor under repair.
Steve stayed near the door, watching the two men who had formed such a strong bond in such a short time, and who now shared a connection that neither of them could have foreseen. He smiled to himself; their trip to Pacifica would have to wait for another day, he thought. But he really didn't mind.
