Mike could sense chaos unfolding from a mile away and Janaea Dancy was all of it.
A beautiful package on the outside, and yet, the burdens she carried with her as volatile as sweaty TNT.
And right now, Mike could sense these burdens bleed over into their lives, private and professional, at the latest curveball the gorgeous but eccentric daughter of a poet had thrown at them.
Yale Courtland Dancy had, in a burst of misguided frenzy brought on by his disease, taken a taxi to the Presidio Heights neighborhood, supposedly to look for an old friend. By the time Janaea returned home, he was long gone, leaving a vague note about his whereabouts without saying when he'd be back.
Severely frightened, the young woman followed suit, spending half the night looking for her father from one city block to the next, too afraid or worried to call the police.
When she finally did find him, he sat inside a white Mercedes convertible, smoking a cigar he'd bought at a nearby tobacco store, feeling thoroughly accomplished.
With a smug grin on his face, he convinced her to get into the car before he drove off toward the marina district, where he'd promised to take her out to a fancy dinner.
Mike wondered why the alarm bells had been so sluggish to go off in Janaea's mind when it came to this whole situation.
Clearly, something from his past had triggered Yale's memory to act so erratically, another one of those sick games dementia could play on the mind.
What she should have done was to call for help and get the situation of the stolen vehicle settled. Instead, she made him take her out to dinner, then snuck out of the restaurant without paying before driving off in the Mercedes.
Following was a violent argument that resulted in Yale losing control of the vehicle and driving it into the churning waters of the Bay. It was conceivable that their sole witness hadn't noticed the significantly shorter man behind the wheel, but only saw Janaea bracing for impact.
According to the young woman, they both made it out of the freezing waters with only minor scrapes and bruises, then decided to take a cab home and call it a day.
That was, until her conscience kicked back into gear and she'd sought out Steve's help.
There was no doubt in Mike's mind that the lab and R&I findings from the car due this morning would match her statement to a tee.
The bigger problem in this strange coincidence however was what to do about Yale and his increasingly erratic behavior? In his current state, Mike doubted he'd be fit to stand trial and even if he did, who could sentence a man in failing mental health for the car heist?
Their only hope was that whoever owned the Mercedes would have good insurance on the expensive vehicle, along with a fair amount of forgiveness in their heart.
Running a hand over his tie that was askew from one too many times he'd anxiously scratched his chin or ran a hand across the back of his neck, Mike took a sip of tea to refresh his throat after relaying to his partner everything Janaea had told him.
Steve seemed to take it a lot harder than he'd anticipated, the young inspector having fallen quiet as he tried to digest the debacle Yale's actions had caused. Torn between his affinity for the poet's daughter and his duty as a police officer; Mike could tell that he was struggling to make the right call.
It was a learning lesson he didn't wish on anybody, but at least fate had chosen a young man wise beyond his years to conquer it.
"I am sure there are homes that could…", Steve began, only to have Janaea place her finger on his lips, shaking her head.
"I already made some calls. The artist life did not allow Yale the wherewithal to…spend the rest of his years in a comfortable setting of warmth and caring. A church mouse's salary isn't enough for the ivory towers of senior care, I'm afraid."
"Well, his limited income is one thing, but we can't have him out there committing felonies, Janaea.", Mike said, keeping his expression stern as he leaned against the back of the armchair, "Sooner or later he's going to do something far worse than sink an expensive car. Dementia or not, he's going to have to answer to that. But in the meantime, we can help you look for alternatives. There's gotta be someplace he can stay. Because you can't keep an eye on him all day, you have to go to work to earn money. It's not fair that you are burdened with his care all on your own."
His words brought on a few more tears that Janaea quickly wiped from her cheeks as she nodded slowly.
"Well then, Lieutenant Stone, I am placing myself at your mercy. Maybe you can find the solution that has evaded me for weeks."