shake of the head.
“I guess were done.”
The waitress set the check on the end of the table. M reached over and picked it up. “Wow, you guys aren’t cheap.”
She pulled out her Visa credit card and placed it on the end of the table with the check. The waitress scooped it up and walked back towards the kitchen.
“I’m going to call and find out where the delivery truck is. Mark, I’m leaving it all up to you. I’ll give you a call as soon as I find out…”
“Excuse me.” The waitress held out M’s credit card. “Your card was declined.”
M turned her head sharply in the direction of the waitress.
“Did you try it twice?”
She set it on the table in front of M. “Yeah, sorry. Do you have another you’d like me to try?”
M dug into her billfold and pulled out a fifty.
“This should cover it.”
She picked up the card, gave the strip on the back a quick glance and slipped it in back in the wallet.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
M pulled into one of the public parking spots in front of the Fort Point Sheriff’s department. She couldn’t help notice when she drove up that the gated yard in the back was empty. When she pushed through the front door the energy level was almost non-existent. The dispatcher, a slender, blue-eyed brunette greeted her. Molly was an officer but chose to remain at the station.
“Where is everyone?” M asked.
Molly walked over to dispatch to answer a call. “The hotel.”
M sat on the edge of the nearest desk.
“Can you tell me what happened to Edward Platte?”
Molly swiveled around to face M.
“Sure, you were on the case. They sent him to San Francisco to be held for psychological observation.” She keyed another call asking directions for a domestic disturbance. “Do you want me to let Ramos and Buck know you’re on your way?”
“No thanks, I’m headed home first.”
Molly gave a wave as she turned back to the microphone to answer another call.
M stepped out into the sun and took a minute to put her hair into a French braid and fold down the Fiat’s canvas top. She figured that as long as she was headed up north she might as well enjoy the trip.
On Hwy 101, she let the Fiat gently roll into the corners before accelerating and shifting. She loved this part of the drive and found herself actually anticipating the curve that would bring the ocean into view, and where the road descended to just above the beach. For miles she watched breakers roll up the beach as she drove past, forcing herself to focus on the road, finally giving in, pulling off the highway onto a beachfront parking lot.
She tossed her shoes in the back seat and rolled up her cuffs, straightened up and looked longingly out to sea as if her father’s schooner might appear on the horizon. Her stomach tightened as she walked down the beach, and she felt tears form but blinked them away. Closing her eyes, she crouched, settling into the sand. Each wave flowed over her feet and ebbed away taking with it a little sand and some years until she was a teenager once again, standing on the poop deck of her father’s schooner, pleading with him not to be put ashore. A rising tide returned the years with a splash and she was on her feet back-peddling. Glancing at the horizon, she wondered, was it really so many years ago? Turning, she trudged back to the Fiat wondering at the memory that had haunted her these twenty-five years.
Pulling back on the highway she challenged every curve and straightaway driven by a fragmented memory she couldn’t understand and couldn’t forget. Finally slowing, she entered Dungeness Bay, stopping for the light at Pirate’s Knoll. She continued one more block, turning left off of Main onto Ocean View and left again on Sea Bass until she came to the back of the Malmstrom Building, drove up the alley and parked. She hesitated as she walked past the dumpster where she’d last seen the homeless man, and shook off the feeling of helplessness at not knowing who he was or
“I guess were done.”
The waitress set the check on the end of the table. M reached over and picked it up. “Wow, you guys aren’t cheap.”
She pulled out her Visa credit card and placed it on the end of the table with the check. The waitress scooped it up and walked back towards the kitchen.
“I’m going to call and find out where the delivery truck is. Mark, I’m leaving it all up to you. I’ll give you a call as soon as I find out…”
“Excuse me.” The waitress held out M’s credit card. “Your card was declined.”
M turned her head sharply in the direction of the waitress.
“Did you try it twice?”
She set it on the table in front of M. “Yeah, sorry. Do you have another you’d like me to try?”
M dug into her billfold and pulled out a fifty.
“This should cover it.”
She picked up the card, gave the strip on the back a quick glance and slipped it in back in the wallet.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
M pulled into one of the public parking spots in front of the Fort Point Sheriff’s department. She couldn’t help notice when she drove up that the gated yard in the back was empty. When she pushed through the front door the energy level was almost non-existent. The dispatcher, a slender, blue-eyed brunette greeted her. Molly was an officer but chose to remain at the station.
“Where is everyone?” M asked.
Molly walked over to dispatch to answer a call. “The hotel.”
M sat on the edge of the nearest desk.
“Can you tell me what happened to Edward Platte?”
Molly swiveled around to face M.
“Sure, you were on the case. They sent him to San Francisco to be held for psychological observation.” She keyed another call asking directions for a domestic disturbance. “Do you want me to let Ramos and Buck know you’re on your way?”
“No thanks, I’m headed home first.”
Molly gave a wave as she turned back to the microphone to answer another call.
M stepped out into the sun and took a minute to put her hair into a French braid and fold down the Fiat’s canvas top. She figured that as long as she was headed up north she might as well enjoy the trip.
On Hwy 101, she let the Fiat gently roll into the corners before accelerating and shifting. She loved this part of the drive and found herself actually anticipating the curve that would bring the ocean into view, and where the road descended to just above the beach. For miles she watched breakers roll up the beach as she drove past, forcing herself to focus on the road, finally giving in, pulling off the highway onto a beachfront parking lot.
She tossed her shoes in the back seat and rolled up her cuffs, straightened up and looked longingly out to sea as if her father’s schooner might appear on the horizon. Her stomach tightened as she walked down the beach, and she felt tears form but blinked them away. Closing her eyes, she crouched, settling into the sand. Each wave flowed over her feet and ebbed away taking with it a little sand and some years until she was a teenager once again, standing on the poop deck of her father’s schooner, pleading with him not to be put ashore. A rising tide returned the years with a splash and she was on her feet back-peddling. Glancing at the horizon, she wondered, was it really so many years ago? Turning, she trudged back to the Fiat wondering at the memory that had haunted her these twenty-five years.
Pulling back on the highway she challenged every curve and straightaway driven by a fragmented memory she couldn’t understand and couldn’t forget. Finally slowing, she entered Dungeness Bay, stopping for the light at Pirate’s Knoll. She continued one more block, turning left off of Main onto Ocean View and left again on Sea Bass until she came to the back of the Malmstrom Building, drove up the alley and parked. She hesitated as she walked past the dumpster where she’d last seen the homeless man, and shook off the feeling of helplessness at not knowing who he was or
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