A/N: I posted 2 chapters this week, please read chapter 9 first. And thanks again everyone for your kind words of encouragement and for reading.
Ch. 10: Adrift in a World of My Own
Sara drove them into Chinatown and parked two blocks away from the office building that housed the Tao of San Francisco. While walking the two blocks, they passed many stores with the doors open, vendors with tables out on the sidewalks, and restaurants with outdoor seating. Every business was owned and operated by members of the Asian community. There was very little English spoken or written anywhere and as Sara struggled while trying to make a purchase, he stepped in and spoke fluent Mandarin to the woman at the shop on the corner of Jackson and Becker Street.
He had told her that she should pretend to be a tourist and make several purchases. While she bought a Ogi, or a folding hand fan, he stepped over to the flower shop and bought her a peony flower, which was known as the "king of flowers". The big pink petals were connected to prosperity and happiness but could also symbolize love and romance. He also got her a bundle of purple lilacs.
Walking over to the brick wall along Becker Street where Sara was waiting for him, he handed her the lilacs, saying, "They go with your blouse." She was wearing a white silk blouse with a purple flower print. Taking the lilacs with a smile, she smelt them before putting them into her bag, stems down so the flowers could stick out one side.
Showing him the Ogi fan, she said, "It's handmade, has a bamboo handle. She said it's from Luoyang, Henan, China." The art on it was of white birds soaring through black tree branches with a blood orange sky. "What do these symbols mean?" she asked him as she pointed to the Chinese Symbols written on the side of fan.
Not answering her yet, he raised the pink peony flower in his right hand. "Peony flower, this one is called a Golden Circle because it has two to three outer layers of large petals. A ring of normal stamens remains and has the appearance of a golden circle between the narrow interior petals and the wide outer petals." Her hair was clipped back but there was a strand hanging down on the left side of her face. He moved the strand back with his right hand as he threaded the stem of the flower through her hair behind her left ear. Keeping his hand on her face, thumb slightly rubbing at her cheek, her told her, "From the Song Dynasty on, fan painting became an art form of its own. Artists who make them tend to adorn them with their art and stories." Looking at the symbols on the fan, he told her, "What's written is a proverb about love based on the painting. The birds signify kindred and lively spirits, united by love and peace. Branches signify stability, growth and perseverance. The proverb goes: "birds flying in the sky as one; branches growing on the earth as one". It's a perfect symbolic metaphor to describe the harmony of souls in a relationship."
She was staring up at him, her eyes big and wide with anticipation as she said, "Oh. I was wondering why she kept insisting that I buy this one while gesturing to you at the same time. She must have thought that we, that you were—"
"In love with you?"
"Yeah," she said sort of breathlessly.
He smiled as he dropped his hand and gave a wink before stepping away back onto the sidewalk. "We should split up. It's better to stake out the business separately, especially since Li Yat-sen knows what I look like. If I get made, you'd be able to continue on with the job. I'll stay on this side of the street, while you take the other side. It's right up here on the next corner."
Looking over at her, he saw Sara looking down at the folding fan before she closed it and put it into her bag next to the flowers. Straightening off the wall, she gave a nod as she said, "Let's do it."
On the corner of Jackson and Stockton Street was Tian Tian fish market; an ice truck was parked along Stockton delivering locally caught seafood to the market. Across the street from the ice truck was a shaokao grill that was open to the street and provided outdoor seating. Sitting at the counter inside, he had a view of the front door off Jackson and side door off Stockton that were the entrances and exits to Tao/SF that was on the opposite corner. Above the side door was a fire escape that went up to the roof.
Tao/SF was advertised as a tourist agency that provided local tours of the city to visitors from China. Though, having been on the street for the past two hours, he hadn't seen anyone enter or exit the building.
An open sign was in the window, the lights were on, but there wasn't much activity inside the building or outside it. A phone number was printed on a banner around the awning that was the one that was in the phonebook, and he had used a payphone to call it but didn't receive an answer. Sitting at the front counter of the shaokao grill across the street, he had placed an order of kao chuan, made fresh. He had time to wait.
He ordered a beer with the kao chuan and thanked Ya`qūb as the bottle of Harbin beer was placed in front of him. "Xiè le," he told him as he grabbed the bottle and took a sip.
Down from Tao/SF was Fei Yang Company that advertised it sold herbs and ginseng. All the way down the street as far as he could see were signs with Chinese symbols and the English translations. Beyond the signs he saw the bay, the bridge that went into Oakland and the mountains in the distance since Stockton Street was on a slanted hill and he was at the top of it.
Ya`qūb, the owner of the shaokao grill, was Hui Chinese and originally from Xinjiang, China. Hui meant Muslim. His name was Arabic for Jacob. On the top of his head was a taqiyah, he had a thick beard, and he prepared the kao chuan in the traditional way of the Xinjiang region. He put the lamb pieces in a crisper box with cooking wine, salt, soy sauce, pepper, cumin and chili pepper. It got mixed all together and marinated for at least half an hour before grilling. He then poured on the oil, sprinkled white sesame seeds onto his workstation, stuck the pieces of lamb on bamboo skewers before pressing them down into the sesame seeds, both sides, and then fried up the kabobs for five to ten minutes.
As he waited for the food to be cooked, he watched the street. On the opposite corner of the tourist agency Sara was at the produce market. He'd almost expected traditional Chinese music coming from the small radio under the counter, but he also wasn't surprised to hear Ya`qūb humming along to The Platters song "The Great Pretender" that was playing.
Ya`qūb had explained that before the 1950s that Chinese pop music was heavily influenced by American jazz and other Western music. When the Communist party took over, all pop music was banned as it was called "yellow music", meaning it was pornographic and commercial. Any and all Western instruments had actually been sought out and destroyed. The music being performed in China now was "national music", or propaganda for the People's Republic of China. He said it wasn't bad music, but it wasn't free music either.
As the American music played from the radio, he watched as Sara crossed the street and headed into the grill.
~"Oh-oh, yes, I'm the great pretender, adrift in a world of my own. I've played the game but to my real shame, you've left me to grieve all alone…Too real is this feeling of make-believe, too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal…"~
She sat at the counter opposite him with a good view of the doors and down Jackson Street in the opposite direction. She placed an order and he watched as Ya`qūb grabbed a glass carafe of a yellowish tea called tieguanyin. He poured some into a small circular dish before placing the carafe with the remaining tieguanyin on the counter next to the dish for her to pour her own refills.
His eyes were supposed to be on the building across the street, but he couldn't take them off the woman sitting across the counter from him. As he watched her, the whole world drifted away as the fog filled his ears once again. Sound would come back to him soon enough but until then he took the opportunity to pretend no one else existed. It was only him and her.
Around her neck was a new purple and pink floral silk scarf she'd bought from a street vendor that went well with the flowers he'd bought her. Her eyes were looking out onto the street, doing his job for him, as he leaned on the counter, sipped on the beer, and soaked in this silent moment where everything else went away. For a moment he didn't mind being deaf since it meant that she was there, living in the fog with him.
She glanced over and caught him watching her; an easy smile appeared on her face before she picked up the tea dish and took a drink as her eyes went back to watching the activity on the street. Maybe this learning to love again thing wasn't too hard after all. She made it easy.
The lamb kabobs were placed in front of him. He started eating as he shifted his eyes toward the building. He finished the food and was on his second beer when he saw the side door to the Tao/SF business open and out walked Yat-sen and two other men. He quickly paid for the meal and drinks as he stood, picked up his hat, and headed out while grabbing a complimentary cigarette as he passed the dish that was against the wall next to the newspapers.
Standing out on the sidewalk as people passed by him in both directions, he took out the camera lighter, flipped it open and took several pictures of the men who stood out on the street. Then he flicked the flame on and lit the cigarette in his mouth and flipped the lighter closed as he crossed the street, keeping his eyes on the three men. All three were Asian with Yat-sen being the shortest of the three. One appeared to have a gun under his jacket while the other wore the same outfit he'd seen on Trevor the dock worker. Utility shirt, jeans, and dirty boots.
"Can I get a light?"
Glancing up, he saw Sara standing next to him holding a cigarette. He lit the cigarette for her before handing it over to her, saying, "Keep it. It's a camera. Just flip the top up, aim the lens, and press the button."
Across the street, he watched as the three men parted ways with the tall man with the gun following Yat-sen up Stockton and the dock worker heading down Jackson. "I'm sticking with them. You go inside and see what you can find out. I'm pretty sure the dock worker is heading back to the docks."
They crossed the street together and he watched as she headed to the door of Tao/SF while he stayed behind Yat-sen as they headed north on Stockton. They crossed Pacific Avenue and he tossed the cigarette into the trash bin as he passed it. Two blocks up they took a left on Vallejo and then a right onto Powell Street. He crossed the street to the opposite side and then turned up Powell Street to follow behind the two men. As they neared the next corner, the men stopped in front of a tall four-story blue building with fire escapes protruding off the front of the building below the windows. A red awning only had the street address of 1555 Powell printed on it. Nothing else, not even a phone number.
There were two doors besides a window covered with blinds that were closed. One of the doors went into a hallway with stairs that lead to the apartments above the business. The second door was to the business that was on the ground floor. Next to the building was a small white building; Istanbul Cafe was painted in red along with a crescent moon and star and it said that it had been established in 1892. It had outdoor seating with tiny tables with two chairs per table.
Using his camera watch, he took pictures as Yat-sen opened the door to the business and walking inside. He walked across the street and saw the name of the business printed on the door: R.B. Investments. Walking past the building to the cafe, he grabbed a newspaper out of the newsstand next to the door and sat at the table near the corner of the sidewalk and ordered a Turkish coffee. He had a good line of sight on the front door and sidewalk as he flipped open the newspaper to the crossword section and took out his pen from his inside jacket pocket.
The waiter returned with a small porcelain coffee cup on a saucer plate along with a piece of lokum and a copper cezve filled with the coffee and a glass of water. The waiter poured the coffee into the cup for him and then left him alone. He let it cool as he took a drink of the water. After a couple minutes, and filling out a few answers to the crossword, he took a sip of the strong coffee before going back to the working on the puzzle while watching the door as he wondered how Sara was doing.
Sara's POV
There had been many things said to me over the years while working for Grissom and at the moment only two of them came to mind as I opened the front door to Tao of San Francisco. The first was a quote from Leo Tolstoy that Grissom would say about performing a stakeout: "The strongest of all warriors are these two: time and patience".
The second thing that came to mind as I entered the quiet and empty lobby was: "Lie through your teeth, just don't impersonate a cop".
It wasn't usually illegal to lie to get someone to talk to you. You could tell people anything, that you worked for the electric company, or was a census taker, anything, and it was amazing how people opened up and started talking. Pretending to be someone else was one of the oldest tricks in the P.I. handbook, if there was such a thing. Being charming, likable, and telling a few white lies could turn up all kinds of information. And if all else fails, act like you're in danger and need help. Everyone wanted to be a hero and if they thought you needed their help, well, it opened a lot of doors.
The only thing I wasn't allowed to do was pretend to be law enforcement or a public official; basically, nothing that would legally compel someone to talk to me. I also couldn't impersonate someone to obtain their financial information or anything like that. There were many things that could have me wounded up in jail and my newly obtained P.I. license revoked, and I wasn't about to have that happen so soon.
But like most things, sometimes having to bend a rule or a law was unavoidable. Just know a good cop and it didn't hurt to have a friend who was the District Attorney. And as long as no felonies were committed, most didn't bother slapping on the cuffs or filing charges.
The only reason felonies and bending the rules entered my mind was because the lobby was empty and the door behind the counter was ajar. There were San Francisco brochures on a table along the wall across from a water cooler and a couple of chairs. On the wall was a mural painted of red and green hills and an orange and purple sky and a blue river swirling down from the hills through a flower field. On the floor by the table were candles and incense that were burning. I didn't know it was for a religious reason or only to remove negative energy, or it could have been both, but I didn't dare disturb it as I walked by it and rounded the counter to the partially opened door.
I couldn't hear anything coming from the back room and as I peered around the doorframe, didn't see anyone either. Using my foot, I eased the door open further and looked around. If this was a tourist travel agency, it was unlike one I'd ever seen before. Only the front lobby appeared to have anything to do with that business, while the back room appeared to be a warehouse. There were crates stacked on top of one another. All of the crates had identification numbers painted on the sides of them. Using the camera lighter, I took pictures.
There was another door off to the side. That was the one that Yat-sen and the other two men used to go out onto the street. Another door was to the left and it would go back into the building, or into a hallway that went to the stairs that went up to the other floors.
Another door was on the back wall and I wondered if it went into a bathroom or something because there should have been someone at the counter but there wasn't. The only thing I could think of was that someone was in the bathroom, in which case they would be coming back to the front soon. I eased the door back to only being ajar and searched behind the counter for anything. There was a calendar, and I took a picture of it along with a name and phone number that was written on a notepad by the phone.
Speaking of phone numbers, I saw one printed on a business card that matched the number on the brochure, but it wasn't the phone number on the awning outside. Taking the brochure and business card, I put them in my bag.
As I grabbed a paper cup and filled it with water from the cooler, I heard a noise in the back room and looked up to see a young woman in a patterned floral dress walk out the door and shut it behind her. She looked at me and I looked at her and we both smiled at the same time.
"May I help you?"
"Uh, I just walked in off the street. I thought I'd grab a brochure," I said as I picked one up off the table. "I was hoping one of them might have some great recommendations on places to eat here in Chinatown. I'm visiting from out East and…"
The woman had walked around the counter and grabbed a different brochure and opened it to reveal a page full of images of restaurants and names in Chinese symbols. There was a map on the back where each was located.
"That's helpful," I said as I looked over the map.
"Where, out East, are you from?" she asked.
Trying to think of a state out East, I said, "Oh–" and then uttered the only thing else I could say, "—hio. Ohio. It's in the Midwest."
"I've never been to the Midwest."
"It's nothing special. Wheat and corn fields," I said as I tried to remember what I remembered of the Midwest. All I could remember at the moment were wheat and corn fields. It was farmland. Then I looked down at the candles and incense on the floor and asked, "Is this a religious practice?"
"No, it's feng shui."
I nearly laughed. "You're using energy forces to harmonize the environment."
That earned me a wide smile and then the next thing I knew we were seated at the counter together and Mei, that was her name, Mei was telling me basically anything I wanted to know. Charm, likability, and the fact that I had some knowledge of feng shui had earned me a lot of trust.
Showing Mei the two different phone numbers, the one on the awning and the one on the brochure, I asked, "Why are there two different numbers? Do you have another location?"
Mei held up the brochure as she answered, "Yes. This number goes to our other location on Green Street."
"Have you ever been to that location?"
"No, my position is here."
Looking at the clock on the wall, I said, "Is that the time?" I stood as I told her, "I have to get going. Thank you, Mei."
She stood and walked with me to the door and said, "My pleasure. I don't get many visitors and I enjoyed talking with you. Have a good day."
As I left the building and slipped on my sunglasses, I wondered how Gil was doing.
End of Sara's POV
23 down, "One turn of the engine before he traveled by horse…" it was six letters and he stared at it like it was the oddest thing in the world. Then the only possible answer came to him and he realized it worked. Answer: walked.
He looked up from the crossword as the door to the business opened and out walked Yat-sen and the gunman. The two men started back down Powell Street but he didn't get up to follow. Since they were walking and not driving, the only place they could be going was back to where they started. He picked up the cup and took another drink of the strong coffee before going back to the crossword.
A couple minutes later he saw the door open again and out walked the mystery man himself. R.B. Grayson. He was, if anything, imposing; even on the sidewalk, as other people walked by him, they seemed to know to stay clear. While Grayson pulled out a cigarette case and lit one up, he used his camera watch to take a picture before Grayson stepped off the sidewalk and headed across the street.
He had several options but only one he could actually do as he saw Grayson get into a black 1955 Chrysler C-300 with a yellow and black California license plate 18 B 2118R. He wrote that down in the notepad as he watched as the car drove away. Pocketing the notepad, he finished the coffee, leaving the coffee grounds in the bottom, tossed the newspaper in the trash bin as he passed it, and then went to the door to the investment firm and opened it.
Walking inside, he spotted two desks facing each other with typewriters sitting on top of both, file cabinets on two of the walls, a table setup with forms and file folders. There was a fan on top of a file cabinet blowing air down onto the desks. A man with slicked back blond hair stood from one of the desks and walked over to him with his hands in his pockets. His suit jacket was off, and his navy tie was loose around the collar.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"I was hoping to catch the owner in. Is he here?"
The man shook his head as he told him, "He just left. Do you have an appointment?"
"I don't," he said as he looked around for a business card and spotted one on the man's desk. Picking it up, he read the name printed on it. "Adam Cohen. That you?"
"It is," Mr. Cohen said as he reached out and took the business card away from him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we only deal with those referred to us by existing clients."
"An existing client referred me. Li Yat-sen?"
Mr. Cohen glanced towards the front door like Yat-sen was suddenly going to walk back in to vouch for him, but he never did. Looking back at him, he asked, "What's this about?"
He didn't see any chairs around for guests to use to sit down, so he sat on the edge of Adam's desk as he told him, "I have a question. A small real estate investment firm is considering a new project. A piece of land has become available for purchase which has the potential to be the site of a new office building the firm is considering building and leasing. A decision regarding the purchase of the land must be made immediately because there is another interested buyer. The land can be purchased for $100,000. Total financial investment for the firm to purchase and build will be $500,000, given the interest rate. Here's the kicker, if the building is built, the firm expects that it will achieve full occupancy given the location. Making the potential revenue to be made, well…the sky's the limit, but it'd be at least 5 times the $500,000 investment. A guaranteed two and a half million dollars."
"And what's the question?" Mr. Cohen asked.
"The question is, do you want to be that investment firm or would you rather the land be bought by a competitor?"
Mr. Cohen eyed him for a moment before he pointed at him and said, "You're a real estate broker. Your client is the one with the piece of land for sale. What's your commission?"
He smiled as he told him, "And I'm sorry, too, Mr. Cohen. If you're not going to share your business card, I'm not sharing mine."
Mr. Cohen picked the business card back up and handed it to him. He took the card and pocketed it and pulled out his wallet. Behind his Private Investigators business card was one for real estate agent Lewis Dawson.
Handing it over to him, he said, "My commission will be ten percent."
"Of the $100,000 purchase price? You're banking ten thousand, that's not bad."
Smirking, he told him, "Don't wait to call. Like I said, we'll need an answer immediately. The end of the day if possible." He got up off the desk and left the building and headed back down the street.
Stopping on the corner, he spotted a pay phone and immediately dropped a quarter in it and dialed a number. Years ago his friend Lewis had obtained his real estate license and had changed his life's work from cars to houses. He still worked on cars but now he also did it between selling houses. After two rings it was answered by a woman with a heavily Spanish accented voice as she said into the phone, "Office of Lewis Dawson. This is Rosa speaking."
"Rosa, this Gil Grissom, I'm a friend of Mr. Dawson's. Is he in?"
"Hold one moment," she told him and put him on hold. Then the dial tone clicked and changed as she transferred the call.
It rang only once when it was answered. "Doctor Jekyll, I presume."
Rolling his eyes at his friend's way of greeting him, he answered with, "If he be Mr. Hyde, I shall be Mr. Seek. Happy?"
Lewis laughed on the other end of the phone and said, "I had to be sure it was you. I haven't heard from you in at least a year. I thought you were dead."
"I've been busy," he told his friend as he looked down the street and spotted an unoccupied taxi headed his way. "Hey, uh, listen, I just gave your card to someone I'm working for a case. Adam Cohen. He works for R.B. Investments. It's a real estate investment firm. If he calls, get everything you can out of him."
"And what illegal shenanigans am I now an unwilling participant in?"
"It's not illegal to give someone a business card," he said before he told Lewis what he'd told Adam Cohen as he hailed the taxi.
Lewis was quiet once he was done and then said, "Are you sure you're not a real estate broker?"
"No, why?" he asked. "You think I can be licensed? I'm going to need the money since I have to hire a new secretary."
"I'll license you. It could be a nice little side job when you're not running around the city taking pictures and peeping into windows."
"I don't peep into windows," he said matter-of-factly before telling him, "Thanks, Lewis, I owe you."
"Buy me a beer sometime this century and we'll be even."
Smiling into the phone, he told him, "Call me when you hear something." He hung up the phone and got into the taxi and gave the driver his office address.
The driver was a black man who looked like he'd been driving this taxi since he could reach the pedals. He was patient with the traffic, easily going in and out of lanes and even taking a short-cut when he spotted the light turned red up ahead so as not to stop moving. A bluesy tune from Ray Charles played from the radio as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
~"So I know it's something, oh, what makes me be? Do you believe me child, I'm a fool for you? Oh-oh, I'm a fool for you…Did ya ever wake up in the morning? Just about the break of day, reach over and feel the pillow where your baby used to lay. Then you put on your crying, like you never cried before. Oh Lord, yeah, you even cry so loud, you give the blues to your neighbor next door..."~
The world turned silent again as it was engulfed in the fog. He opened his eyes and stared out at the passing street and felt like he'd been living inside those song lyrics for the past nine years. That was no place to live. It'd been where he had to live for so long because he thought he had to be there, that he couldn't let it go so he wouldn't forget. He didn't want to forget. He wanted and needed to remember.
It wasn't that he was still in love with his dead wife, it wasn't that at all. He wasn't. He missed her, sure, and he ached for the love that he used to have, but he wasn't in love with her any longer. It was that he was afraid that if he let them go then he wouldn't have the desire to find their killer. The need for closure would fade away along with her face from his memory until it was gone.
Every time he remembered, it reminded him why he was still doing this job. And now that he was getting to the end of doing this job, he also felt like he was nearing the end of any possibility of finding out who had killed his family. A part of him wanted to just assume the guilt just to end it. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be justice. He had to do it right.
He had to get the evidence somehow. Two things: shoe prints and the wedding ring. He'd know that ring anywhere. It had been inscribed. Shoe size was circumstantial, but it was also cumulative evidence. Evidence of which the parts reinforce one another, producing an effect stronger than any part by itself.
The cumulative evidence was starting to point to one person being the prime suspect in the death of his wife. And that man drove a 1955 Chrysler C-300 with the license plate 18 B 2118R, who was six feet tall, and a killer and blackmailer, who took accomplices to the homes he visited.
That meant that there was someone else. A witness.
Someone else had been in his house when his family was killed besides the shooter. Someone who Grayson could blackmail with that knowledge. Someone to do him favors from then on out, like clean up crime scenes and steer an investigation away from the real culprit.
That someone sounded very much like a cop.
~"...I been a fool for you, little girl. Way down in my soul, I'm a little fool for ya. So I know it's something, oh, oh, Lord, yeah, I'm a fool for you."~
His hearing came back to him as they neared the office building. He tipped the taxi driver, who's name was Jerry Edgewood, a ten dollar bill for getting him to his office in record time along with his business card.
"You a Private Detective?" Edgewood asked him as he got out.
"Yeah, and my fee's pretty flexible. I only ask for what you can afford to pay me, even if it's a nickel." He shook his hand and then headed into the building.
Catherine was still sitting behind the desk, and on the phone when he entered. Holding up a piece of notepaper, he took it and pulled out his glasses from his breast pocket and slipped them on to read it.
Warrick called him and there was a call back phone number. Going into his office, he picked up the phone on the desk as he sat down behind it and dialed the number. Checking the time, he realized it was going on three o'clock in the afternoon. The courts broke at five o'clock; that gave him two hours before he had to head over to Ray Langston's office to pick up the paperwork for the deal Jack Murphy made with him to turn state's evidence for a reduced sentence.
He was expecting Juan to answer the phone at the motel but was surprised to hear Sofia's voice instead. "Sofia, it's Grissom."
"Hey, boss man. Good news, I was able to go get the Murphy's' personal items. I packed them a bag today without any problems. I didn't see anyone hanging around their house and it didn't look like it'd been searched. I also got some things for Warrick."
"That's good. I'm actually calling for Warrick, he left a message for me to call him."
"Hang on a minute."
She went to put the phone down when he called out to her, "Hey, Sofia?"
"Yeah?"
Tapping his pen on the desk, he said, "I'm in need of a new secretary. Pays a hundred dollars a week, you'll still also work as an operative when I need you, and you won't have to work as a night manager anymore. What'd you say?"
He heard her laugh softly before saying, "I'll take it. When do I start?"
"Once this matter with the Murphy's' is settled."
"Thanks," she said, "for thinking of me."
"Don't thank me. You're good at what you do."
"I'll, uh, get Warrick for you," she told him before he heard the phone being placed on the counter.
As he waited for Warrick to come to the phone, he once again wondered how Sara was doing.
Sara's POV
I had used the pay phone, called the operator and got the address that went along with the phone number that was printed on the travel brochure. Taking my car, I got there in minutes seeing how it was only a few blocks up and over on the corner of Green and Powell Street. I stood looking up at the grey four-story building that had a sign on the front that didn't advertise a travel or tourist agency.
The white and blue sign read "Leon Company, General Contractor" along with the phone number that matched the one on the brochure. A bunch of Chinese symbols were printed above and below the English translation. I was wondering if the Leon Company was the actual translation for the Chinese symbols. Seeing how I didn't read Chinese, for all I knew the Chinese symbols translated into something else entirely.
Where I knew French, Spanish, and German, Gil was fluent in Spanish and Asian languages. He had learned when he moved up to San Francisco and noticed the substantial Asian and Hispanic communities within San Francisco. He wanted to be able to communicate with everyone in the city, so he learned all that he could and was still learning.
I was also learning the languages, but I wasn't nearly as proficient. Another language I was learning was American Sign Language. I hadn't told, or showed, Gil yet that I was learning because I wanted to surprise him when I was fluent enough to hold a conversation. Currently I wasn't at that point yet, hopefully in a few months I would be.
There were two doors right next to each other; one that led to the stairs that went up to the second, third, and fourth floors. The other door had no windows or open sign or anything, and it led to the first-floor business. All the front windows had a fire escape that led up to the roof. Beside the business door was a garage door. An alley ran along the left side of the building and going into the alley, I noticed how long the building was. It spanned the length of three of the buildings that were on the opposite side of the alley. At the end of the alley, I saw a sign for a sheet metal company that said it had been in business since 1910 and specialized in architectural, general, and construction sheet metal.
Looking at the other buildings along the alley, I saw a pale wooden one that looked like it housed apartments, another with orange vinyl that had a gate that opened up to walk along the pathway behind the back of the buildings. It only had two windows up near the top. A tall blue four-story building was next to it with two small windows near the top and a sliding door that opened onto a balcony. I couldn't see anything else because there was a wall that blocked the rest of the view.
Next to the blue building was a small white one with a red crescent moon and star. Above that was the name of the business: Istanbul Cafe. Looking further down the street I saw some trees lining the sidewalk all the way to the corner. There was a wooden fence that blocked off the outdoor seating from the rest of the sidewalk.
Turning back to the grey building that advertised it as Leon Company, I went to the door tried to open it. locked. Next to the business entrance was the door for the apartments above the ground floor. There were metal mailboxes against one wall beside the green door. Green door on Green Street…Really?
I looked around and decided to try the green door. It opened easily and I walked right in. Going up to the second floor, I saw a door that had a red and white sign drilled into the wall beside it. The sign for the Leon Company had been hanging from the second-floor fire escape. Tapping on the door, I waited for an answer; it never came. I knocked again, a little louder and waited.
Still nothing. Looking around and listening for any sound, I pulled out my lock picks and got to work on the door. Committing a B&E was only a misdemeanor if I didn't remove anything from the property. All I had to do was not get caught.
Slipping inside once I got the lock open, I shut the door behind me and took off my sunglasses as it was dark in the room. It wasn't much of a room. The only furniture were mats and pads on the floor. A low table with pillows around it instead of chairs. I realized immediately that someone who was most likely Asian lived there. I went into the next room and saw it was a kitchen. The room behind that was a bathroom and in the hallway was a hatch door built into the floor.
I took pictures and then opened it. There were stairs that lead down into the business below. A business only accessible through the second-floor apartment floor. This wasn't suspicious at all. I took more pictures and then took a step down and wondered what in the hell I was doing.
Going down, I stopped on every step and listened. When I didn't hear anything, I took another step and then stopped. It took me minutes to get down a three second flight of steps and my heart was pounding in my chest by the time I stepped off the last one. Blinking back at what I saw, it became very obvious very quickly that the entire first floor of the building housed a cultivation of opium poppy plants. Rows upon rows of them in wooden planters. There were bags of seeds piled on the floor on top of each other along a wall. Rows of shelves with seeds inside for growing. Looking up I saw big bright lights hanging down from the ceiling.
Okay. I think I found where the opium was coming from.
Taking out the camera lighter, I took some more pictures and then I got the hell out of there going back the way I came. Up the stairs, through the apartment, and out into the hallway. As I was going down the steps, I saw an Asian man and woman coming through the green door off the street.
Quickly turning around, I headed up the stairs until I got to the top floor and stopped to listened. There were footsteps coming up the stairs and they were talking to one another, but I had no idea what they were saying. The footsteps stopped down below on the second floor; I heard a door open then shut.
I headed back down the steps as quickly and quietly as I could but given the fact that every sound echoed in the tiny stairway, and all the steps were made of wood and wanted to creak, it wasn't very quiet. Getting to the green door, I yanked it open and hurried out onto the sidewalk and finally took a breath. As I started to walk away, I glanced back and up toward the second floor and saw the man standing out on the fire escape. He was looking right at me.
If I dared to take out the camera lighter, I would have had a perfect picture of the man. There was no time as he hurried back into the building after saying something in Chinese. Not waiting around to find out what it was, I turned around and headed in the opposite direction I had been heading and went instead toward the corner of Green and Powell where the Istanbul Cafe was located. Rounding the corner, I pushed open the door to the cafe and ducked inside, removed the scarf that I had around my neck, and shoved it into my bag as I also pushed down the purple flowers.
I wouldn't be able to change much of my appearance but maybe it would be enough to throw the man off if he was in fact looking for me. I also switched my bag from hanging down my left side to the right side. Finding the lady's restroom, I went inside and shut the door. My hands were shaking slightly but I was fine. I was okay. This was okay, I tried to tell myself as I turned on the water and grabbed a paper towel and wetted it. I patted my face and neck with the cold cloth, took a couple of deep breaths, and then removed the peony flower out from behind my left ear where Gil had put it.
Looking down at the flower, I smiled. I knew he was taking it slow because he had to. He was scared. I could see it in his eyes. He'd lost everything once. Lost the people he loved, and, in that loss, a part of him had been stolen away along with it. I understood how he felt.
A part of my heart had also been stolen away when my father died, when my mother was taken away, leaving me all alone. I'd been in a relationship with Hank for years, but it never felt complete. There was always something missing and I didn't know what. All I knew was that I was always holding myself back from being completely happy. Hank had put a ring on my finger, but it still wasn't enough. I didn't want it. He was honest and loving but it couldn't be trusted.
It was me; I knew it was. It felt like what had been stolen all those years ago was my ability to smile. That sounded odd because I did smile, but inside it all felt like a lie. A child could smile so easily, full of genuine love, and it would be the truth. My innocence was what had taken, stolen, and nothing had been easy since. That was until I met Gil. He made it easy. I smiled easily when I was with him, and it didn't feel like a lie. It felt real, like I could be that carefree child once again.
Putting the flower down into my bag, I closed it up and after a couple of minutes left the restroom carefully as I peered around the interior of the cafe. I didn't see the man anywhere, or the woman, so I left the cafe while slipping on my sunglasses and took the long way back to my car at a leisurely pace. It was a dead giveaway to run or look panicked. People looked at people who were running or acting odd. Taking out the brochure, I acted as if I was trying to find a place on the map which made it okay for me to take quick looks and glances around the street without seeming out of place. I didn't see anyone following me on the sidewalk or in a car.
Once back to my car, I got in and headed to the office.
TBC…
Disclaimer songs mentioned: "The Great Pretender" by the Platters. "A Fool For You" by Ray Charles.
