Murder and Mayhem (48 page)

“Some nights I couldn’t sleep and I’d sit at the
computer and get in touch with bikers all over the U.S. That’s how I stay in
touch with most of the Harley guys.” Danny held her close and whispered, “I
love you, Nicola and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He closed
his eyes and offered a silent prayer to the ghostly image that sat on his bed
late at night and whispered secrets learned from the dead.

* * *

United Airlines Flight 187 touched down in San
Francisco at 11.55 on the morning of September thirtieth. According to locals
it was another picture perfect day in paradise
.

 They collected the BMW from the parking station on
South Airport Boulevard with Danny behind the wheel, crossed the 380 flyover to
280 and headed north.

When he cracked the window open a little the air smelt
fresh and clean from early morning rain.

“It’s so good to be home,” Nicola said as the warm
breeze caught her hair and blew it across her face. She reached up and tucked
it behind her ears.

Danny could hear the faint tinkle of her earrings as
they danced in the breeze. He looked over, and smiled. “It is good to be back
in the city by the Bay. I’ve had a wonderful time in the east but San Francisco
is the place I love best.”

As they passed rows of houses on the side of the hill
that looked like cardboard boxes in need of a paint job, Danny said, “Would you
like to stop at Stonestown and have lunch at the Galleria or wait until we get
to Mill Valley?” Even though it was only around one in the afternoon their
bodies were still on eastern-time so their stomachs were telling them it was
four o’clock–with breakfast a long forgotten memory.   

“Why don’t we have something to eat in Mill Valley
before we head home? I need to stop at the market anyway.”

“Okay, just tell me where you want to go.”

Like all northbound traffic, they bypassed the toll
booths and drove onto the Golden Gate Bridge. The air seemed to vibrate,
virtually hum, as tourists crowded the narrow walkways enjoying the last of the
unseasonably warm weather.

Danny turned on the radio and the distinctive voice of
Van ‘The Man’ Morrison singing Bright Side Of The Road, filled the car. Nicola
turned up the volume and they joined ‘The Man’ in a loud off-key trio.

When the song ended, Nicola lowered the volume. “Van
Morrison used to live at Four Corners at the top of the ridge and still has a
lot of friends in the area. Sam, my neighbor, used to be in a band and knew all
the local musicians. He told me Van Morrison showed up at Rancho Nicasio
recently and did a live recording.”

“Rancho Nicasio? Where is that?”

“West Marin. It’s in the hills north of Fairfax off
Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, not far from Point Reyes.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a small rural community originally part of a
Mexican land grant that stretched from San Geronimo to Tomales Bay on the
coast. Rancho Nicasio is well known for its concerts. People come from all
over, especially during the summer months.”

“Have you ever been there?”

“No. It’s not the kind of place I’d go on my own. Not
that it’s rough or anything like that it’s mainly couples or groups, or
families. They have barbecue on the lawn where people are encouraged to bring
folding chairs and picnic baskets. They don’t go there to drink. Not that there
isn’t any alcohol. They have a fully equipped bar. People mainly go for the
entertainment.”

“If they don’t go there to drink and are encouraged to
bring their own food how does the place make any money?”

“They charge an admission fee,” Nicola said.

Danny nodded.

“I wish I had been there to hear Van Morrison sing. I
bet he put on quite a show,” Nicola said.

“Can you imagine what it must have been like living in
San Francisco during the summer of love? Janis Joplin, Van Morrison, Jim
Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead, Muddy Waters, Jefferson Airplane,
The Mamas and the Papas and Led Zeppelin. All the great musicians were here.
The sixties were not just a period in time, but a state of mind. Sex, drugs and
rock ‘n’ roll! What times they must have been!”

“I wasn’t even born then,” Nicola reminded him.

“Well, I was just a babe in arms at the time, but who
could forget them. They were all larger than life. It’s sad so many of those
great musicians have gone. And those heady days when the world seemed to be
filled with music and love will never come again.”

At the Mill Valley exit, Danny turned onto Shoreline
Highway and drove past the Manzanita parking lot. In the distance, Mount Tamalpais
stood sentinel over the valley, its peak shrouded in clouds.

“Does the mountain ever get snow on it?” Danny asked
as he slowed at the Miller Avenue intersection and turned right.

“Not often, just a light dusting a couple of times a
decade. If it’s snow you want you have to go to Lake Tahoe on the Nevada border
or Yosemite National Park in the Sierra Nevada’s. Mammoth Lake is another
popular ski resort.”

When they stopped at the set of traffic lights outside
Tamalpais High School, Danny noticed a smartly dressed young woman hurrying up
the stairs. A large tote hanging off one shoulder bobbed up and down with the
rhythm of her measured step. Suddenly the bag slipped from her shoulder and
tumbled down the stairs, scattering the contents. When the young woman crouched
down in her tight-fitting red skirt and high heels to gather up papers strewn
across the sidewalk, the car behind the black BMW tooted its horn. The woman
looked up and smiled at the driver and gave a half wave. The driver tooted
again–this time more persistent.

When Nicola looked over at Danny, she realized he was
watching the woman. “Danny, the traffic lights have changed.”

“Sorry.” He gave an apologetic wave to the impatient
driver, and as he drove off he glanced in the rear-view mirror at the woman in
red still crouched on the sidewalk gathering up her belongings.

Once released–you can’t put the genie back in the
bottle.

* * *

“Why don’t we eat somewhere special tonight?” Danny
said as they passed Taco Bell and KFC.

“I thought we’d have a quiet dinner at home by
ourselves.”

“I don’t want you slaving over a hot stove. It’s our
last night together and I want it to be something special.”

“All right, if that’s what you want.”

Nicola pointed to a restaurant on the opposite side of
the road and said, “We can stop there for lunch if you’d like.”

Danny slowed and waited for a silver Mercedes
convertible, driven by an attractive young blond start to back out of a spot.
When she stopped midway to call out and wave to a passing acquaintance, the diamonds
on her fingers and wrist caught the bright sunlight and almost blinded
passers-by.

“Come on sweet thing, move yourself,” Danny muttered.

As though she had heard him, the young woman turned
and gave him an apologetic smile, slipped a pair of designer sunglasses on her
pert nose and drove off in a shimmering wave.

Nicola laughed. “Living in Mill Valley you get used to
that sort of thing. They’re all affable folks around here, usually in no
particular hurry.”

Danny grinned. “So I’ve noticed,” he said as he
reversed effortlessly into the newly vacated spot…

*****

“How are you at reverse parking?” Rosie asked.

“I don’t do reverse parking,” I said absentmindedly as
I went through the last chapter making corrections. When I looked up Rosie was
sitting quietly waiting for an explanation. “Hon, there are certain things that
are beyond the limits of my capacity.”

“Can you give me a for instance?”

“Cooking–not likely; cleaning–only under dire
circumstances; washing and ironing–only if it’s something I wouldn’t trust Ross
with. Now, pillage and plunder I do on a regular basis, but, reverse
parking–not even in my worst nightmare. I’m left handed,” I said waving my left
hand in the air, as a reminder.

“Sorry, Bubbie, I forgot. I must have had a blond
moment.” Rosie removed her woolen cap and checked for signs of recent growth.

“Well,” I asked hoping for good news.

She shook her head. “Nope–nothing–nada. It must have
been one of those weird phantom nerve-end thingies amputees often experience.”

“Your mind obviously still thinks blond,” I said
encouragingly. Rosie nodded. “You see me tapping away at the keyboard so you
don’t even think about me being left-handed.”

“That’s true.”

“So tell me, how are you at
reverse parking?”

“Not even in my vocabulary,” she said with a
dismissive wave of the hand. “And, I’m not even left handed. Go figure!”

“It’s probably another one of those gene things.” We
nodded our heads sagely.

“You know what else, Hon?”

“What Bubbie?”

“I think we may have solved one of the most perplexing
problems to plague the planet–why most women can’t reverse park.”

“You’re probably right.”

“If we keep this up they’ll have us sitting on the
U.N. in no time.”

Rosie grinned. “And, before we know it those boffins
from the Scientific Community will be seeking us out.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. Her face looked tired
and drawn.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one night. We
can leave the rest of mankind’s problems for another day,” I said and shut-down
my laptop.

Rosie stifled a yawn and nodded.

“Can I get you anything before I tuck you in?”

“No thanks, Bubbie,” she said and snuggled down in the
bed.

I pulled the cover around her and kissed the top of
her head.

“Goodnight, Hon.”

“Goodnight, Bubbie.”

“Sweet dreams, my darling.”

“And…don’t let the bed bugs bite,” she whispered like
we used to when we were children sharing the same bedroom.

*****

Danny hit the remote and dropped some coins in the
meter then he took hold of Nicola’s hand and crossed to the restaurant.

A little further down the road, a car pulled into the
curb and cut the engine. The warm afternoon sun shone in through the windshield
and reflected off the mirrored wrap-around sunglass lenses he wore. He adjusted
his cap and flipped down the sun visor to block out the bright rays of the sun.
He shook a shiny red apple out of a brown paper bag and, as he peeled the skin
with a paring knife, he watched the red and white curl snake across his hand
like a strip of planed wood…

*****

I half expected to hear my sister’s voice calling from
across the hall, or race into the room demanding to know who this man was. But,
I’d tucked her in bed some time ago and felt sure she couldn’t read my mind
while she slept. But–I could be mistaken. Somehow, across thousands of miles
we’ve always come together with the same hair style. So, losing her hair from
chemotherapy drugs could explain my own thinning crown that I’d put down to
age. Not that I’m old, mind you. Or the countless times we’d be thinking about
each other when suddenly the phone would ring and one of us would be on the
other end. I often have the same connection with Little Sweetie. What is it
that they say–there are more things on heaven and earth… But if that were the
case how come I didn’t pick up on her cancer.

The house was quiet so I continued tapping away at the
keyboard while I waited for Ross to come home knowing he’d distract me when he
did.

*****

The evening sky was filled with orange and yellow
clouds as Danny drove the black BMW into the Manzanita parking lot and pulled
up beside a candy-apple red Maserati convertible, parked next to a black
Ferrari. As he closed the door to the BMW, he looked around and noticed other
expensive cars dotted throughout the lot.

“Am I going to have to hock a couple of Harleys to pay
the bill tonight?”

Nicola laughed. “Maybe a couple of those spare parts
you’ve been lugging around. But look on the up side, at least it’ll cut down on
excess baggage fees at the airport tomorrow.”

They crossed the busy road, cautiously dodging the
constant stream of traffic headed for the One-Oh-One southbound on-ramp and
joined the queue outside the Buckeye Roadhouse, a popular place with locals.