Divine Fury (15 page)

“I love adobo,” said Lee.
 
“Look.
 
There are no commitments.
 
I’ll tell you what I know and leave when you want.”

Wilkins searched his face, bit her lower lip and then stepped back to open the door wider and let him inside.

Lee sat on the sofa underneath a painting of Jesus.
 
On the opposite wall, a two-foot crucifix hung so that it was hard not to stare at it.
 
Then, he saw a playpen off in the corner and realized the bundle in the middle was a youngster napping.
 
The furnishings were nice – nothing fancy.
 
Probably bought at a department store.
            

Nancy Wilkins excused herself.
 
A few seconds later, she came back with a small bowl with hot white rice topped with small chunks of pork bathed in the dark brown adobo sauce.
 
She handed the bowl to Lee.
 
He held it to his face and inhaled the delicious smell.
 
Then, he picked up the fork in the bowl and took a first taste.

“This is great,” he mumbled.
 
He went for several more forkfuls, pausing only to swallow and murmur, “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
 
Nancy Wilkins settled back in the chair opposite the sofa, folded hands in her lap.
 
The small smile was back on her face.

Finally, Lee set the empty bowl down on the coffee table.

“Thanks.
 
That was terrific,” he said.
 
Wilkins gave him a nod.

“So,” said, Lee, switching gears.
 
“Like I said.
 
I’m happy to tell you what I know about why the police were here.
 
I believe it’s related to something that happened…I guess it was almost four weeks ago.
 
It was late at night.
 
Actually, early in the morning on Sunday.
 
It was at the USF hospital.
 
And, they think your husband might have been there.”

“What happened?” Wilkins asked very softly, as if afraid to know.

“Well, a man was shot.
 
He was killed,” said Lee.
 
“He was just a guy who worked in the office.
 
He was there late using the phone.
 
Just a young guy who happened to be there.”

 
Nancy Wilkins put her fingers over her mouth.
 
Lee could see her eyes water.
 
She wiped them but the tears continued to come.
 
She shook her head.

“I told him not to do those things,” she said.
 
“I told him to stick with fixing computers for people.
 
He was busy.
 
We were okay.
 
He just…”

She paused and took a slow, deep breath.

“Oh, Oscar…Oscar…,” she said, shaking her head slowly from side to side. Her eyes were still wet and she wiped them again.
 
She nodded to her left.
 
“He said he was going to do something to help him.”

She had nodded at the television which had been playing the entire time.
 
But with the sound muted, Lee had ignored it.

Lee saw a man in a dark blue suit, saying something and gesturing dramatically toward the audience with a pointed finger.
 
Then, he noticed that the man was holding a book in his other hand. Lee realized it was probably a Bible.
 
It was some sort of religious program.
 
Someone giving a sermon or lecture.

He stood and moved closer to the television.
 
Lee could see some lettering at the bottom of the screen.
 
Superimposed over the picture, it read: “Soldiers of Christ.”
    

Chapter 17

“See, I told you it wouldn’t be so bad,” said Lorraine Carr as she speared another prawn sautéed with red and yellow cherry tomatoes in butter and pastis, the anise-flavored liqueur.

She was doing nostalgia today.
 
Her hair was pulled back with a clip in the back.
 
She was wearing a simple black, sleeveless dress.
 
A silver necklace and white circular earrings completed the look.
   

Lee plunged his fork into a small mound of Dungeness crab layered with thinly shaved fennel and seasoned with sweetened Japanese rice vinegar.
 
He thought that if Carr was trying for Aubrey Hepburn, she had it pretty close.

They were celebrating Lee’s first article about the Harper campaign at Fringale, a French bistro in San Francisco’s South of Market district that was his favorite lunch spot, particularly when it was on someone’s expense account.
 
The article had run that morning:

Monday, May 17, 2004

Campaign Playing Like a Bad Movie

By Enzo Lee

If the early days of the Andrew Harper campaign were made into a movie, the competition for titles would boil down to “The Campaign That Couldn’t Shoot Straight” vs “Apocalypse Now: Harper’s Run for Governor.”
    

In less than 10 days:

-An environmental policy announcement turned into a dramatic rescue at sea of six journalists tossed into the ocean while Harper prattled on about the fate of otters.

-An out-in-the-fields press conference concerning Harper’s immigration stance was dive-bombed by an errant crop duster seemingly intent on delousing a couple dozen reporters and photographers.

-A campaign-changing endorsement turned into an embarrassing ‘oops’ moment when former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Arthur Wainwright withdrew his support 90 minutes before its planned announcement.

           
Journalists covering the campaign are now torn between demanding combat pay and extra protective gear to attend future events and the morbid fascination that comes with witnessing a slow-motion train wreck…

“I’ve got to admit it’s played out a little differently than I expected,” said Lee.

“Me too,” said Carr.
 
She paused while she dipped a small piece of bread in the sauce in front of her and popped it into her mouth.
 
“Why do you think they’re shooting themselves in the feet?
 
Pretty soon there won’t be anything left to hit.”

“I don’t get it either,” said Lee.
 
“I mean the people running the campaign are all experienced pros.
 
I’m sure there’s some bad luck involved.
 
But the solution to bad luck supposedly is good planning.
 
So, something is going wrong.”

The waiter came by with their entrees.
 
For Carr, duck confit on a bed of French lentils soaking in a red wine sauce.
 
Lee had the poached black cod with capers and a light tomato sauce.
 

“Yum,” said Carr. “This place is great.
 
Why don’t I know about it?”

“Running with the wrong crowd, I guess,” said Lee.
 

“Hmmm,” said Carr.
 
She licked her finger and made a vertical line in the air.
 
“The man knows food.”

“Uh oh,” said Lee.
 
“The air tally again.”

Carr put her fork down, crossed her arms and arched one eyebrow.

“What does that mean?” she said.

“Oh…well,” said Lee.
 
“You guys – I mean women – don’t like to be graded, right?
 
Someone calling you a seven or an eight.
 
Or in your case, a twelve.”

Carr laughed.
 

“Are you about to ask me for a raise?” she said.
  

“Should I?”

“No.
 
And, don’t take it personally,” said Carr.

“Okay.
 
I won’t,” said Lee.
 
“But…um…back to the grading thing.
 
You get the point, right?
 
It’s a little demeaning.
 
Like being back in fifth grade.
 
Getting a passing grade.”

“I get it,” said Carr.
 
“Look.
 
I’ll try to be more qualitative in the future.
 
How about, ‘Your taste in food and knowledge of local culinary establishments is impeccable.’ ”

“Much better,” said Lee.
 
“See.
 
Wasn’t so hard, right?”

“Uh.
 
Yeah.
 
Okay,” said Carr.
 
“If that really makes you happy, so be it.”
 

“Hey. I know this is changing the subject,” she continued.
 
“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Yeah…sure.
 
Ask away,” said Lee.

“What happened in New York…I mean at the paper there,” she said.
 
“I know a little bit, but not the full picture and I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Hmmm.
 
I see.
 
And is this inquiry personal or professional?” said Lee.

“Well.
 
That’s a good question,” said Carr.
 
“How do I answer that?
 
I mean I can’t not be the city editor sitting here, right?
 
But would I be asking this if I wasn’t city editor?
 
Yes.
 
I would.”

“Well.
 
Okay then,” said Lee, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
 
“Where do I start?
 
You know, I haven’t actually had to tell this story that often.
 
It’s like…I don’t know…people know enough that they avoid asking about it.
 
‘How did that train wreck work out for you?’
  

“All right.
 
The beginning.
 
That’s always a good starting point.
 
I’d gotten to know a detective on the police force pretty well.
 
We helped each other on a couple of cases – low level corruption.
 
You know, zoning commissioners selling their votes.
 
That kind of stuff.

“So, one day, he tells me another detective is in big trouble.
 
A well-known guy – almost a celebrity – had been caught stealing drugs from the evidence room.
 
My guy had all the background.
 
He even had a copy of the log showing when the cocaine was checked out.
 
Internal affairs is investigating.
 
The whole thing.”