More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) (24 page)

I had a feeling Bob’s life depended on it.

Chuck’s Rib Joint was just the kind of place you’d expect a cop to hang out: Gritty, old, paper napkins and plastic cups. Budweiser calendars from days long past papered two walls. The perfect man cave.

Holding my file to my chest, I immediately spotted the enormous Samoan taking up an entire corner booth. He was pretty hard to miss. In front of him was a plate of ribs reminiscent of the ribs that tipped over the Flintstones’ car.

Detective Jardine looked up from his plate. He had barbecue sauce on his chin. “You Finn’s girl?”

“Excuse me?”

He held up the rib he was eating. “I’d shake your hand, but...please, sit down. Want to order something?”

I shook my head. “No thank you. I’m good.” I sat across from him.

“Vegetarian?” He said it as if he asked if I had leprosy.

“Carnivore.”

He liked this. I could tell. Detective Jardine wasn’t nearly as ugly as Finn had alluded. He was darker than I thought he would be, with black, wavy hair and chocolate brown eyes. He had an enormous face, like a cartoon face on silly putty that had been stretched. It was his smile that was disarming, and when he grinned at me, his whole big face grinned. “Finn didn’t tell me you’d be so cute. She trying to keep you all to herself?”

Why do men think that cute is a compliment? Cute applies to babies, puppies and smart three-year-olds. “Hardly. I appreciate you taking the time to see me. Finn told me you’re not crazy about reporters.”

“Hate Ellsworth the most.” Jardine set his picked clean bone on his plate and wiped his hands on numerous napkins. “Finn said you needed some help. If anyone but her asked me to sit here with a reporter, I would have slapped the shit outta her. So, what can I do for you?”

I told him about the missing homeless. He listened, nodding occasionally. When I finished, I shrugged. “If they were killed, wouldn’t their bodies have surfaced? I mean, who’s going to try to hide a homeless corpse?”

Jardine sighed and toyed with another rib. “I dunno, but I’m sure you got an idea or five.”

“I just need to know if there’s anything to this. I need some help; something, anything that I can use to find my friend, Bob.”  I pushed the file over to him. “These are just my ideas so far.”

Jardine rubbed his chin. “I’ll look through your stuff here and see if I can’t pin the tail on the donkey.” He took the file and smiled at me. “I understand you’re under the gun and your job is on the line. I’ll look through it all and see what I can see.” He pulled a twenty out and tossed it on the table. I didn’t think it was nearly enough and when he saw my eyes, he grinned. “They won’t charge me here, so I leave her a nice tip.”

I smiled. I liked him more and more.

When I got home, I was exhausted. My hopes of keeping my dream job now lay in the hands of Detective Jardine. He believed me. That much I knew. But cops wanted hard evidence, and unless my skimpy information led him to that evidence, I was going to be shit out of luck.

As I trudged up the stairs, Luigi followed. “Some crazy old woman with a bunch of animals came by looking for you.”

“What did she say?” I dusted some flour off his shoulder.

“Just that she hadda summa news.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Backa to the gutter, I suppose.”

I slapped his arm and flour dust went everywhere. “You’re terrible.” I checked my messages and found one from Danica, one from Finn and yet another one from Carter.

“Smug bastard,” I muttered, pressing delete. Finn told me that Jardine really enjoyed his meeting with me and that he was going to get right on it. I wondered if right on it meant tomorrow or in a week. I didn’t have a week. Hell, I barely had tomorrow.

Danica’s message was music to my ears. She complained of working too hard and wanted to get out for a drink. I changed, hopped in Ladybug and drove over to her office.

I picked her up and announced I had a few errands to run beforehand. She didn’t mind. Danica was always up for anything. Everyone needs a friend like Dani.

Half an hour later, we were in the Tenderloin.

“This is one of your errands? Jesus, Clark, you trying to get us killed?”

“You can stay in the car if you’re afraid.”

Danica reached into her purse and pulled out a small revolver. “I’m never afraid as long as I have my leetle fren’.”

Danica’s father had given her a gun shortly after I bashed Todd’s head in. She didn’t carry it until our sophomore year in college when there was a rape near campus. Mills College is one of the safer colleges on the West Coast, but it sits in a questionable neighborhood in Oakland. I wasn’t surprised that she still carried it.

“So, what are we doing here this beautiful evening?”

“Looking for a woman named Shirley and her three pets.” We got out and started down the street. The Tenderloin reminded me a lot of the Bayou; creepy, dark alleyways and unfamiliar creatures, some of which were deadly. It was easy to get lost, there were freaky sounds you never wanted to hear again, and you had to watch where you walked.

When we got to Geary, we heard Shirley before we saw her. Apparently, she was in one of her “in” moments of in-sanity because she was ranting at nothing.

“There she is.”

Danica stopped. “
That’s
your source?”

“Hush. She’s...she’s one of us.”

Danica stared over at Shirley, disbelieving. “Oh God, is that...”

“
That’s
what you and Britt saved me from becoming, yes.”

As we approached Shirley, I could hear her ranting something about Catholic priests and George W. with a little Rush Limbaugh thrown in for good measure. “No gun,” I said between gritted teeth.

“Can I mace her?”

I didn’t bother to respond. When Cotton spotted me, he sat up and wagged his tail. When Shirley saw the dog’s reaction to me, she stopped ranting and cocked her head at me. She was no longer blocking and I lowered my shields to feel every psychotic emotion she was experiencing. She did not quite remember who I was and was perplexed as to her animal’s response to me.

“Shirley, it’s me, Echo. Remember?”

She squinted at me with her head still cocked to one side and then she turned to Cotton. “I don’t, but my dog does. Seems to like you, too, which is odd. He don’t like many people. You from the government?” She lowered her voice. “CIA maybe?”

“Why CIA?” Danica blurted. I sent her another
shut up
glare.

“The CIA has been looking for me for a long time. If you’re from the government, you can just move along because I’m not going with anyone ever again unless I’m in a goddamned pine box, you hear me? Well? Are you or aren’t you?”

“No, Shirley, we’re not.”

Shirley looked over at Danica. “You afraid?”

Danica threw her shoulders back. “Of you? No.”

Shirley tossed her hair back and laughed like a lunatic. “Don’t imagine you’d say that if you weren’t packin’ heat.”

Danica looked over at me and I shook my head.

“Shirley, do you remember talking to me the other day about missing homeless guys?”

She scratched her head. “I don’t think I know you.”

“Come on, Clark, we’re wasting our time here. She’s got nothing.” Danica turned back to the car, but I stayed.

“Check your sock, Shirley.  I gave you a card and you put it in your sock. That sock,” I said, pointing.

“Really?” Shirley reached into her pocket and came up empty. “Who sent you? The Secret Service? Oh yes, they’re always looking under the wrong rocks. Do you know how many times I tried to warn them about nine-eleven? Then, when it happened,
then
they were finally interested, but it was too late.” She chuckled. “They been looking for me ever since.”

Danica was suddenly back at my side. “You didn’t say she was clairvoyant,” she whispered.

“Hush,” I said.

“We’re all in danger, you know? They’re not just after me. They
know
we exist. They just can’t get their hands on any of us. But they keep tryin’. Once they get a seeker, we’re all fucked. Fucked I say!”

“Come on, Clark. Let’s get out of here. Whatever it is you wanted you’re not going to find it here.”

Sighing sadly, I had to agree. The lucid woman I met had been replaced by this ranting woman before us. “Damn.”

Danica tugged my arm and Cotton responded by baring his teeth and letting out a low, threatening growl.

Shirley quieted Cotton. “He’s taken a fancy to you, Echo.” When she said my name, everything about her seemed to change. “Oh. Wait. We
did
speak, didn’t we?”

I nodded. “About the missing guys from the street.”

Closing her eyes, she breathed in slowly. “Yes. Yes, we did. As you can see, I’m not quite sane at the moment. I apologize.” Her eyes transformed back to their earlier crazed stage. “Come tomorrow...I must have something to say to you...didn’t I...don’t you live in a bakery?”

I nodded, feeling her revert back to her insane self.

“I have something...did you know the CIA uses bakers all the time? It’s the hours they keep...people don’t get suspicious. You’re suspicious, aren’t you? Good. You
should
be. It’s safer that way. Go on. Come back in the daylight when it’s safer.”

“Come on, Clark.”

Danica was right. “Okay, Shirley. I’ll come back later.”

As we walked away, Danica let out a low whistle. “Wowee, Clark, you sure know how to pick ’em. All that crazy talk about the CIA.”

“It’s serious stuff, Danica. If they knew...I mean, what if they got their hands on me? What if they threatened to kill everyone I loved if I didn’t point out the other supers I knew? What do you think I would do?”

Danica looked hard into my eyes. “You? You’d take your chances and throw me to the dogs.”

“Danica!”

“Am I wrong? I’m not saying you don’t love me, because I know you do. I also know that you are part of something larger than your own life, or mine for that matter. You’d have to protect those who protected you.”

“
You
protected me!”

“Once, Clark. Look, it’s no big deal. It wouldn’t happen that way, would it? I mean, they wouldn’t threaten the people you love, would they?”

I said nothing.

“Oh shit.”

“I know you saw a loon back there, but
something
scares her. I feel it and it’s very real.”

“Oh puhlease, are you actually saying you think the fucking CIA is after her?”

“I don’t know. I just know that her fear is real; that doesn’t mean that the threat is.”

“Fine. Where are we off to now? The soup kitchen? Goodwill?”

“Close enough. No, we’re going to where Bob used to hang out and see if anyone knows anything.”

“You think anyone will talk to you?”

I shrugged. “Good thing they don’t have to.”

No one had seen Bob or heard from him. Two more homeless had gone missing from the Tenderloin. It dawned on me that maybe these disappearances weren’t exclusive to the city. Maybe there were others missing from Oakland or Berkeley.

I needed to turn something in, so I decided I would run with this story first and hope that it didn’t lead to a dead end. I spent all night typing up the story and coming from an angle that might pique Wes’s curiosity. In the end, I realized I was turning in a story that had next to no real meat and when I woke up the next morning, it was time to face the music. I was going to lose my car, my job and a lot of points with my best friend. I wasn’t looking forward to this day. Maybe if I just stayed in bed all day, no one would notice.

Two seconds later, someone noticed. I let the machine get it.

“Branson? Looks like your time is up. Bring that pink slip and the little red car by the office before noon, will you? And no hard feelings. Someone somewhere will hire you.”

I groaned. Then I just lay there feeling sorry for myself for a couple of minutes before finally forcing myself out of bed.

After showering and prettying myself up, I finally made it out of the house by fifteen after ten. Most homeless don’t start moving around until well after nine, and I was determined to get to Shirley before she went back around the bend. She was my last hope.

She was in the same place she was when I saw her in the park.

Fortunately, she was on an upswing today.

“Echo? Is that you?” Shirley shielded her eyes from the sun. Cotton came over, tail wagging, eyes happy to see me. “Come take a load off. You wanted my help.” Snapping her fingers, Shirley jumped to her feet, scaring all three animals. “Now I remember. Someone came to me to about Smiley.”

“Smiley?”

“Yeah. I vaguely recall someone telling me they hadn’t seen him in a few days. You probably have seen him. He’s the old black guy who holds out one of those plastic Halloween pumpkins for money.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I know him.”

“A real sweetheart, that one. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Autism or something.”