“Well, Holly and I have a standing date every Friday at five to meet our friend Eddie Austin over at Smitty’s for an end-of-the-week cocktail. Would you care to join us?” Rob asked.
“No, I'd like that, but Jack and I have a dinner date with friends over in Tiburon at six. We should talk further about coverage of Fran’s service. On the Peninsula, this is going to be a big story.”
“Call my cell anytime over the weekend with developments, and text Holly when you have the date and time of the Adams service. I’ll try to get our best community photographer, Michael Marks in Mill Valley, to go over to Belvedere for the service and shoot some photos to go along with your story. Poor William Adams must be devastated.”
"I'm sure he is, Rob," Sylvia said as she got up to leave with both him and Holly.
Rob, stunned by the sad news, shook his head and said, “All the money in the world can never make up for a tragic loss like this.”
Detective Eddie Austin was already into his first Guinness beer when Rob and Holly came into Smitty’s, a favorite neighborhood dive bar on Sausalito’s Caledonia Street. Located in the center of the only commercial streets that day tourists rarely visit, Smitty’s was always quiet in the late afternoon. In four hours the music would be booming, and a group of locals would be celebrating the end of another work week. But at this time the three of them could have a drink or two in relative privacy and downshift from a demanding workweek into a hopefully restful weekend.
“Sorry we’re a little late,” Rob said, sitting down in one of the bar’s aged dark maple wood mid-century captain’s chairs. Tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly about the hardwood floor that on Friday and Saturday nights doubled as a dance floor. All three of them, as Sausalito natives, assumed little had changed inside Smitty's over the one hundred years of its history. That was undoubtedly part of its allure.
Holly waved to Gail, the only waitress on the floor at that hour.
“Hangar 1 martini, extra olives?” Gail said as she gave Holly a smile.
“You know me too well!”
“Only when it comes to your drink of choice, doll. Rob, a Guinness, right?”
Rob smiled and gave Gail a thumb’s up.
“The end of another tough week I imagine?” Eddie asked as he took another sip of his beer.
“With four editions to get out, they’re all tough weeks,” Rob said as Holly nodded in agreement.
“Well, Rob, you were the genius who decided to add new local editions to the paper’s original Sausalito-only coverage,” Eddie pointed out.
“Yes, but if I had never expanded our circulation, I would not have been able to afford the services of the talented Holly Cross. Readership brings advertisers, and that's the only fuel that keeps our two-person business running. You cops can have a few slow months, and the landlord won't put you out on the street.”
"True that. The business of law enforcement goes on regardless."
Holly stayed silent but nodded approvingly.
“You know, brains and beauty like Holly's don't come cheap,” Rob said, raising his Guinness toward Holly in a toast.
“Does that mean I should be expecting a pay raise anytime soon, boss man?” Holly asked as she carefully tipped her nearly full martini glass in returning Rob's toast.
“Well, not in the immediate future, but as soon as our ad revenue picks up some more.”
“That might be a while,” Holly replied with a raised eyebrow.
“Exactly!”
“Okay you two,” Eddie said with a smile and a shake of his head. “Speaking of local news, did you two hear about Fran Adams?”
“Just did from our community reporter with the Tiburon/Belvedere edition. Pretty sad,” Rob replied.
“How did you hear about it, copper?” Holly asked.
“Heard it on the local news on the way over here. The reporter on KGO said the William and Fran Adams foundation last year gave over fifty million dollars to charitable causes around the Bay Area.”
“Pretty incredible people,” Rob said. “If Karin and I had their kind of money I would like to think we would be that generous.”
“Before you start throwing money around, I hope I get that raise.”
“Don’t worry Holly; you’ll be in for a piece of the pie,” Rob said, giving Holly a wink and a smile as she looked down at a text on her phone.
“It’s from Sylvia," Holly said. “She just heard from one of the deacons at St. Stephen’s that Fran Adams’ service will be eleven-thirty on Wednesday. They’re going to have a brunch following the service. They’re hoping for a big turnout from the congregation as a show of support for William.”
“Wow!” Rob said. “I would imagine that’s going to be one serious buffet.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Rob?” Eddie asked.
“Should be one helluva a feed. Sure, why not?” Rob asked with a shrug. “I’ll get into the office an hour early on Wednesday and leave an hour late on Tuesday night. That should keep us on schedule to get the Mill Valley edition out on time, and we’ll do extended coverage of the Adams funeral for this coming week’s Peninsula edition.”
“You know,” Holly said with a raised eyebrow as she bit into an olive and pulled it off the end of a long toothpick she had been using to stir her drink. “I have to start hanging out with a better group of people. A valued member of our community has died, and all you two can think about is the buffet following her funeral service.”
Rob and Eddie looked at each other, shrugged, and then looked back at Holly.
“Our enjoying a world-class buffet will not change the sad event that happened, and what’s the
