They still had no idea how Faye Farmer’s body had left the morgue and if the theft had anything to do with her murder.
The three had parted, driving away in separate cars.
There was almost no traffic downtown, and Rich drove from the Embarcadero Center through North Beach and Pacific Heights without catching a single light. From the Richmond he crossed the Panhandle on his way to the apartment he shared with Cindy on Kirkham.
As he drove, he thought about Jeff Kennedy’s story about his last fight with Faye Farmer, and understood how frustrated the man had been with the woman he loved.
He and Cindy had also been fighting. He said she was inconsiderate. She said that
He wanted comfort and affection when he came home. And maybe some good sex once in a while.
She said, “I’m busy,” and “I’m tired.”
Rich grabbed his cell from the passenger seat, speed-dialed Cindy, and when she didn’t answer their home phone, he called her cell.
“It’s me,” he said when she answered. “Where are you?”
He could hear background noise, dishes clattering, and the muffled roar of shouted conversation.
“Susie’s,” she said.
Susie’s. Where the “girls” meet to eat. Also blow off steam, commiserate, and do some problem solving, too. Maybe they could solve his problem.
He said to Cindy, “We’ve got a bad connection,” then clicked off.
He reversed his direction, headed east on Oak to Van Ness, and then turned onto Broadway. He was steaming the entire time. Cindy hadn’t told him she was going out. He’d had a day he would’ve liked to have told her about. He would have enjoyed seeing her face across the dinner table.
Ten minutes after he hung up with Cindy, Rich parked the car on Sansome and walked a couple of blocks to the corner of Jackson. The light coming through the windows of Susie’s brightened the sidewalk and made him think of food.
He pushed open the front door and walked into the Caribbean-style cafe and its welcoming ambience—steel drums, the pungent smell of spicy food, and the good feel of conversation bouncing off the walls.
The hostess had her back to him and he didn’t wait for her to turn around. He broke through the bar crowd in the front room, made his way along the narrow passageway, and walked past the pickup window, where he sidestepped a waitress with a loaded tray.
When he got to the back room, he saw Cindy, Claire, and Yuki at their favorite booth. Cindy’s blond hair was curled tight from the rain. It looked like a halo around her sweet face.
He said, “What’s today’s special?”
Cindy looked up and he kissed her.
She didn’t look happy to see him.
Chapter 43
CINDY COULDN’T BELIEVE that Richie had appeared without warning and was looming over her. He leaned down and kissed her and Cindy accepted his kiss, but she was pissed, giving him the eye that clearly told him so.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Hey, Claire. Yuki. I haven’t eaten. Cindy, I’m starving. What’s good here?”
Rich swung into the banquette, squeezed in next to Cindy.
“The pulled pork is tasty,” Yuki said.
“This seat is taken,” Cindy said, pointing to the half-full beer mug at Rich’s right hand.
“Not a problem.”
Rich signaled to the waitress, asked her for a chair, then ordered an Anchor Steam and pulled pork with plantains.
Claire said, “Richie, you’re looking pale, buddy. You sure you’re okay?”
“No, I’m
Cindy said, “Rich. Not here.”
“I’m taking this rare opportunity,” he said, “to get advice from our friends. They know us. Let me talk, Cindy.”
“You’re being ridiculous and you’re embarrassing me. But I guess you know that.”
“When I actually see her,” Rich said to Claire and Yuki, as if Cindy hadn’t spoken, “I want to cook dinner with her, watch a movie. But she says, ‘Not now, hon, I’m writing.’ She writes in her head, you understand,” Rich went on. “Then, when she starts typing, she might as well be in an under-ground bunker.”
The waitress put Richie’s beer down on the table, then dragged a chair to the head of the booth. She sat in it and said to Rich, “Hi—I’m Lorraine.”
“I’m Rich Conklin. Cindy’s fiance. Nice to meet you.”
“We just ran out of the pork,” Lorraine said. “Want to try the pulled chicken?”
“Okay. Fine.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Yuki said, “We’re all obsessed with our careers, Richie. Women have to work harder—”
“Do you talk to Brady?” Rich asked Yuki.
“Talk to him? Sure.”
“You go out to dinner with him?”
“Uh-huh. Couple times a week.”
Cindy looked up as Mackie Morales came back from the ladies’ room. She looked cute, seemed smart, had been working in the squad room for the last couple of months. Richie thought she was a good assistant. Very helpful.
Mackie tapped Rich on the shoulder, said, “I believe you’re in my seat, Inspector.”
Rich jumped up and said, “Morales. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Don’t let me interrupt.”
Morales took the chair at the head of the table and sipped from her mug. Cindy thought that Rich didn’t look so pale anymore. In fact, his ears were red.
“So I feel very bad,” Rich continued. “Cindy won’t talk about what’s bothering her. This is a bad situation for both of us. What do you think we should do?”
Cindy felt like something had exploded between her ears. She couldn’t take it for another second. It was outrageous.
“Rich, are you
“I need more than breakfast,” he said. “I need devotion.”
“Oops,” said Morales. “Well, my babysitter likes to go home about now. Thanks, everyone,” she said, putting a twenty on the table and grabbing her purse from the floor. “This was fun.”
“Yeah, me, too,” said Yuki. “Well, I don’t have a babysitter, but I’ve got a conference call. Play nice, you two.”
She kissed Claire’s cheek, did the same but more awkwardly with Cindy, who had gone stiff and was staring at Richie as if her eyes were the business end of double-barreled shotgun.
“I’m staying right here,” said Claire. “Let’s talk it out with Mama.”
Chapter 44
