Earthquake in San Francisco
Chapter 3
1
Officer Eve Whitfield entered the office and headed straight for the table where the boss had already finished his breakfast and read the morning San Francisco Chronicle. "Did you feel that earthquake, Chief? It nearly knocked me right out of bed."
The chief noted that his officer was extremely excited and animated. One would think she had never experienced an earthquake before. He rested the palm of his hand on his wheelchair, drawing his shoulders back. "Of course we felt it. It is not the first . . . "
"I had to get up early to pick things up from the floor knocked there by the quake!"
"Well then, that explains why you are late this morning," Ironside said sarcastically.
Eve smiled. The chief never missed anything. She was only late by five minutes, yet he still observed the time she entered the office. "I just couldn't help it, Chief. I drove around a bit looking at the damage.
Mark brought a cup of coffee and prepared to set it in front of Eve. Ironside took the coffee from his aide and set it in front of him. "Officer Whitfield is already wired. She doesn't need the help of caffeine." He took a sip from the mug. Immediately, made a face. "What'd you do to it this time?"
Mark shook his head at a remark he often heard from his boss. "For someone who complains about my coffee, you sure seem to drink a lot of it. Eve is not the only one who doesn't need the caffeine."
"What does the amount of caffeine I'm consuming have to do with the quality of the coffee I drink?" Ironside snarled.
"Oh, nothing, Chief, absolutely nothing. Everyone loves to drink lousy coffee," Mark quipped as Eve chuckled.
"Can we get some work done around here?" Ironside said with a frown on his face. "Miss Whitfield, just how hard is it to get a phone number from the phone company?"
"I have the number, Chief. I got it this morning. That is why I'm late. It wasn't checking out the damage that caused it. I stopped downstairs to get the information you requested." She reached into her purse, pulled out a paper and set it down in front of her boss.
Ironside picked up the paper which had a phone number written on it. He looked up at his pretty policewoman and with sarcasm asked, "Is it asking too much to know whose phone number this is?"
Eve smiled. "I thought you would never ask. You are not going to like it though."
"Try me," Ironside said.
"The phone number is a cell number and it belongs to Vivian Page."
Looking up sharply, Ironside deduced, "And Ed flew to New York City. He went to see her."
Eve pulled a print out and set it down. "That's right chief. It seems he went to New York to visit Vivian Page."
"Isn't that the chick that did one movie and then decided on the theater instead?" Mark asked.
"That's the one," Ironside said. "Why is she contacting Ed after all this time?"
"The question is more like . . . why is Ed flying all the way across the country to see her when she left him behind?" Mark asked.
"Maybe he just wanted to renew an old romance," Eve suggested. "I didn't understand why he was interested in her in the first place."
"I do. She is beautiful," Mark said.
"What's that to do with it? She put him down because he was a cop. She couldn't respect what he does for a living, or bother to try to understand why it's important to him," Eve pointed out.
"Whatever his reasons," Ironside interrupted his subordinates, "it's no longer any of our business. It's obvious Ed isn't in any trouble."
"That's a matter of opinion," Eve said.
Ironside didn't like it. He didn't like to see his people hurt. It seemed to him Ed was setting himself up for a fall. He really couldn't see Ed and Vivian Page together. She would never accept his choice of career, not the way he remembered it. Nevertheless, there wasn't anything further he could do about it. He had more important things to worry about than Ed Brown's love life.
"Let's try to get some work done this morning. Eve, get the warden on the phone for me."
Eve glanced at Mark and then turned her attention back to the chief. "You're going to Frank Hunt's parole hearing, then?"
"Eve, just get the warden on the phone." Ironside wasn't interested in rehashing that conversation again.
Eve went over to the chief's desk to get the phone number for the prison. She dialed the prison and waited for an answer. When she received it, she said, "This is Officer Whitfield of Chief Ironside's office. The chief would like to speak with Warden Leydon." When Leydon came on the line, she looked up. "Line two, Chief."
Ironside pushed the appropriate line. Before he could even greet the warden, Leydon said, "Robert, I've been expecting your call. You, of course, want to discuss Frank Hunt."
"I do. I want to attend his parole hearing," Ironside said.
"Robert, I must warn you the winds are pointing in approving his parole," Warden Leydon said.
"Warden, that would be a mistake," Ironside disagreed.
"Don't you think you are just a bit hard on the man? He's been a model prisoner since he arrived here fifteen years ago. I don't think you'll be able to convince the board to deny his parole this time."
"When's the hearing?" the chief asked.
"Tomorrow. That's why I contacted Commissioner Randall. I wanted to let you know about it."
"You could've called me directly," Ironside said.
"It is not always easy reaching you, Robert. I figured Dennis would let you know right away. You know, we didn't have to inform you at all. I did it because I feel I owe you."
"You don't owe me a damn thing."
"I feel I do. You came to the prison to see Terry Wilson and were taken prisoner by him and his men. You could've been harmed, even killed. We should have known Wilson was up to something when he asked you to come to the prison," Warden Leydon said regretfully.
"Seems to me you were the one that got shot."
"Yes, but it was your ingenuity that kept Wilson from getting away with it. He should've picked a different officer if he wanted to escape."
Ironside wasn't in the mood to go down memory lane. Quite frankly, he didn't feel Leydon owed him anything. Nor was he going to allow him to distract from the business at hand. "Frank Hunt will kill again if you release him."
"Robert, be reasonable. We'll have to release him in five years anyway. Keeping him here is just taking up space we need."
"So now you're considering releasing criminals because they are taking up space," Ironside growled.
"You know better than that. He hasn't violated one single rule and has stayed completely out of trouble. We need the space for more violent criminals. I'm sorry, Robert, but you're going to have to accept that Frank Hunt is going to get his parole."
"I don't have to accept it and I don't. I'll see you tomorrow." Ironside slammed the phone into the receiver. He didn't like it. They were making a grave mistake. Frank Hunt only behaved himself to get out of prison early. There wasn't any way the man changed. Ironside could feel it in his gut and his gut feelings were never wrong. He had to try to keep Hunt in prison where he belonged.
"Chief, maybe the commissioner is right. After all Frank Hunt has been a model prisoner over the years he's been incarcerated," Eve said.
"Frank Hunt is no more rehabilitated than Charles Manson," Ironside grumbled.
"Manson is dead, Chief," Mark reminded him.
"And, he died in prison. So should Frank Hunt."
"Well, it doesn't look like that's going to happen," Mark said. "According to the commissioner, the parole board is going to turn him loose."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ironside insisted. "I'm going to that hearing tomorrow. I have to try to convince the parole board to turn down his parole."
"It doesn't sound like it is going to do any good, Chief," Eve warned him.
"I'm going to try anyway," Ironside said. He wheeled over to the computer and turned it on. Once it had booted up, the chief pulled up Frank Hunt's records. He went to prison for robbing banks. What bothered him was he'd gotten away with murder. Ironside was as sure of it as he was certain he'd never get out of the flaming chair. Justice! Sometimes he wondered why it eluded some people. His friend's son was murdered by Frank Hunt. Yet, the parole board was about to turn his killer loose. Of course, he wasn't in prison for murder. Nevertheless, he couldn't believe they would allow a man who committed felony bank robbery to go free. Hunt should serve his entire sentence.
He continued looking through the file. There had to be a hint of how he got away with murder. If it was there, Ironside was going to find it. If he couldn't keep him behind bars for bank robbery, he would tie him to the murder. He was determined to find the evidence. It had to be there. The man simply didn't belong on the streets. Turning him loose would mean the death of some unsuspecting citizen, and Ironside was sworn to protect the people of San Francisco. He damn well was going to do it. The detective had made up his mind. He was reopening the murder of Zack Hill. He intended to hang his murder around Frank Hunt's neck. There wasn't any doubt, at least not in his mind that Hunt was his killer. It was time he paid for that crime as well. That would put him in prison for the rest of his natural life.
2
Ed opened his eyes. Looking over to Vivian's side of the bed, he could see that it was empty. She was already up and out of the bedroom. He could smell the aroma of bacon and eggs in the air. It was a long time since a woman made him breakfast. In fact, it was a long time since he'd spent the night with a woman. His job with the chief kept him from entering into a meaningful relationship. Actually, he knew that wasn't true. The chief had Katherine, and he worked just as many hours as Ed did. He supposed the real reason was he never got over Vivian Page.
Brown threw the covers back and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. Walking over to his suitcase, he pulled out his robe and slipped into it. He'd have to follow the smell of breakfast since they had headed for the bedroom as soon as they arrived. He didn't have any idea where the kitchen was located her huge penthouse apartment.
Ed opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall. He forgot to pack slippers, so he'd have to be satisfied walking around barefoot. It appeared to be an advantage as the carpet was so plush, he felt as if he were walking on cotton. After a couple wrong turns, he finally located the kitchen. Vivian was just placing eggs on the two plates that had been set on the glass table-top. Ed couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten at his own kitchen table. Actually, he'd eaten at the chief's table far more than he had at his own.
Vivian looked up to see the detective standing in the doorway. "It's about time you got up, Ed Brown. I was just about to come and get you. Bacon and eggs for breakfast just like what I imagine your chief eating for breakfast."
"The chief doesn't care for eggs," Ed told her, "but he will eat them if they're placed in front of him."
She stopped for a moment. "If you don't like eggs, I can make you something else for breakfast."
He smiled. "Eggs are fine. Unlike the chief, I like them."
Vivian was pondering how to raise the subject of the meeting she'd set up. She worried Ed wouldn't like what she'd done. How else were they going to be together if one of them didn't give in and move to the other side of the country. It couldn't be her. Her job was here in New York. She was a theater actress. Any actor or actress worth their salt stayed in New York. Certainly, they could tour with a play that moved around the country. Those plays still originated in New York. Besides, this was the city to be in when it came to working in the theater; just like Los Angeles was the city to be in if one wanted a career in television or the movies. Even movie actors and actresses had to go on location to film the movies.
Ed Brown, on the other hand, was just a police officer. Despite the fact she loathed his profession, she would look the other way regarding it. It was a profession he could work anywhere. It was not as if San Francisco was the only city that had police. Every city did. Therefore, he could work anywhere in the United States, which meant he could work right here in New York City. She had to get him to understand that. Why did Robert Ironside have such a hold on him? She didn't know, but she had every intention of breaking that hold.
Ed sat down to eat his breakfast. Vivian sat at the other side of the table. Never taking her eyes from him, they ate in relative silence. When the last of the bacon and eggs had been devoured, Vivian knew she couldn't put off the discussion anylonger. "I've a surprise for you today, Ed Brown."
He looked up at her and smiled. "Surprise? What surprise?"
"I want you to meet someone today. I've asked him to talk to you." Vivian reached out and placed her hand over Ed's hand.
"So who am I meeting?" Ed asked.
"That's a surprise. I'm not going to tell you. You'll know soon enough. I want you to promise me you'll go into this with an open mind." She looked directly into his brown eyes.
Ed instantly became a bit uncomfortable. What was Vivian up to? Who was she taking him to see? He supposed the only way he was going to find out was to go along with it. "All right, I promise to have an open mind."
She grinned at him. "I knew I could count on you." Vivian stood up and began clearing the dishes. "We'd better get ready. I'll call my chauffeur to be ready to take us in a half-hour."
"Can't we just take a cab like everyone else?"
She grinned. "Nothing but the best for you. Now get ready while I do up these dishes."
"Don't you have a maid for that?" Ed asked.
She turned to face him. "Of course I have a maid. She only comes in once a week. Don't you think I am capable of doing the dishes or do you think I just pile them up in the sink until she comes in?" She was amused and it showed.
"Okay, you do the dishes and I'll get ready." Ed walked over to her, kissed her, and headed back to the bedroom.
Vivian watched as he left. She almost crossed her fingers. Everything she had planned was riding on how open he'd actually be to this interview.
3
Mayor Ted Barr walked into Dennis Randall's office. He approached the commissioner's secretary who perked up right away. Barr had been appointed by the city council to take over as mayor after the disgraced Patrick Simpson had been arrested for the murder of Howard Jergens and for embezzling thousands of dollars from the city. Betsy heard Ted Barr had every intention of being elected to the position in the next election. He had political aspirations which did not stop at being mayor of San Francisco. It was only a stepping stone for him and everyone knew it.
"I don't have an appointment, Betsy, but I'd like to see the commissioner if he can find the time."
"I'll check with him, Mister Mayor. Please have a seat." Mayor Barr went over and sat down. Betsy picked up the receiver and punched the intercom to her boss' office. When he answered, she told him, "Commissioner, the mayor is here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment, but he is wondering if you've a minute to talk to him."
A moment later, the door to the commissioner's office opened and Dennis Randall came out. "Mister Mayor, come in. It is good to see you."
Mayor Barr followed the commissioner into his office as Randall shut the door behind them. "How's the transition going, Ted?"
"As you know, Dennis, it's never easy to take over after a scandal the multitude of what Patrick Simpson did. Everyone scrutinizes you closer. You almost have to pay for what the guy before you did."
Randall nodded in agreement. "It is always that way and I guess it should be. The public has a right to know we're honest."
"They do at that. I've come here to speak with you about a sensitive subject, Commissioner."
"Let me guess . . . Bob Ironside, right?"
Barr chuckled. "You know, that man is absolutely brilliant when it comes to solving crimes . . ."
"But he drives us nuts in the process. Is that what you were going to say? If you think he drives the city council crazy, you should try being his direct supervisor," Randall laughed with a raised eyebrow.
"Let's face it. We're not his superiors; he's his own boss," the mayor quipped. Randall and the new mayor shared another laugh.
"So what's Bob done that has you concerned?" The commissioner asked.
"It's this business with Frank Hunt. He's determined to keep him in prison."
"Yes," Randall acknowledged. "I'm aware of it. In fact, I just had a conversation with him regarding that very thing. I told him to let it go, or rather I advised him. I rarely give him an order. If it suits him, he'd ignore the order anyway, and I don't want to put myself in the position of having to discipline him."
The mayor laughed. "I told you he's his own boss, didn't I? Well, the public loves him. And, Patrick Simpson calling for that Internal Affairs investigation on him when he knew fully well he didn't do anything wrong, just made the public love him all the more. Actually, Dennis, I'll admit I don't care what he does as long as he keeps putting criminals behind bars."
"That's because you don't have to deal directly with him like I do," Randall said. They looked at each other and both men began laughing again. When they stopped, Commissioner Randall asked, "So, what's Bob done this time that you want me to try to reign in?"
"Actually, you already have tried that by telling him to accept that Frank Hunt is going to be released."
Randall shook his head. "That's not going to stop Bob from investigating the man and trying to keep him behind bars. He'll do it anyway despite me trying to discourage him."
"I don't want you to discourage him, Dennis," the mayor said.
Surprised, Randall asked, "Then just exactly what do you want me to do?"
"Tell me, how often is Bob Ironside wrong about a criminal?" Barr asked him.
"Once in a moon . . . a blue moon, when it's full, and has a smiley face on it," Randall said sarcastically.
Mayor Barr laughed heartily. "Dennis, you've been around him too long. You're becoming as sarcastic as he is."
Randall smiled. "He can rub off on you after a while. So, we've established he is rarely wrong. What's your point?"
"My point is if Bob thinks Hunt is dangerous and should remain behind bars, then I'm inclined to believe him. Besides, I got a call stating as soon as Hunt gets out, Ironside is his target. He wants him out of the way."
"You mean dead?"
"That's exactly what I mean. We've an obligation to protect the chief. Therefore, I'm ordering you to tell him to do everything he can to keep Frank Hunt in prison. If he can't do that, then he's to investigate the man to his heart's content until he finds something to put him right back there."
"If that's what you want, Mister Mayor, I'll go back and have another talk with him."
"Good. And Dennis, tell him he's not to go anywhere without one of his officer's with him."
"He'll never agree to that. He's too damn proud and stubborn," Randall pointed out.
"Tell him it's an order and one we expect him to obey . . . at least this time."
"Who was the call from, Ted?" Randall asked.
"I don't know. He refused to give his name and said Hunt was right where he belonged. He said Hunt has been on his best behavior so that he could get an early parole. Hunt wants to kill Ironside."
"And, you have no idea who this man was?" Randall asked.
"No, but there's only one place a man could get that kind of information," the mayor pointed out.
"Right in the prison itself. One of the inmates must've made the call."
"That's what I figured as well," Mayor Barr agreed. "That's the reason I'm taking this very seriously."
"I'll talk to Bob. I'll leave him with the condition he can investigate Frank Hunt if he'll accept police protection."
"Will that work?" Mayor Barr questioned.
"Probably not, but it's worth a try. He's going to investigate Hunt regardless of what we say."
"Well, you can only do so much. I'd better get back to work. By the way, the police did a great job handling the public after that slight earthquake. The looting was kept to a minimum and those that needed help got it."
"Thanks, Ted. It's gratifying to know someone notices," Randall responded.
Mayor Ted Barr headed for the door. "Dennis, keep an eye on Bob. We need him. Don't let anything happen to him. I'll see you later."
Randall watched as the mayor left his office. Picking up the phone, he pressed the intercom. "Betsy, I'll be out for the rest of the day."