Echoes of a Distant Summer (24 page)

BOOK: Echoes of a Distant Summer
9.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Following me? How do you know he’s not following you? It’s probably someone you prosecuted unfairly.”

“I’ve never prosecuted anyone unfairly. I may have requested unusually high bail every now and then just to keep the court thinking expansively.… Hmmm, this guy is big and he’s by himself. He really doesn’t look like the nature type.”

“Well, if he’s not, he’s a damn poor surveillance professional. He doesn’t look like he’s in great shape and he’s got some great walking shoes,” Jackson commented sarcastically. “Those loafers look like some endangered species. He’s probably just a mugger who doesn’t know how to vacation.”

“I’m not worried,” Elizabeth said. “It looks like he only mugs people who can fight back.”

“I don’t want it to get that far. I just want to outthink him.”

“As long as the effort doesn’t involve your emotions, I’m sure you’ll come up with the correct course,” she said with a sly smile.

Jackson gave her a quizzical look. “Do you ever stop?”

Elizabeth chuckled and said, “Not with you; you seem to bring out the worst in me.” She paused a moment as she held his gaze then said, “What do you think about when you make love?”

Jackson shook his head then asked, “How did sex get included? We’ve had our little give-and-take over feelings and emotions, but we certainly haven’t covered the big
S
word.”

“I’m not talking about sex. That’s for animals,” Elizabeth corrected. “I’m talking about making love. Making love requires emotions and feelings.”

Jackson challenged, “Where does intelligence and lust fit into this?”

“I was hoping you were too old to be looking for something lustful. I was hoping you were more interested in sensual, romantic, interactive lovemaking than just mere sex.”

“How do you know I’m not? I haven’t heard anything that approximates a voir dire on this subject. And by the way, does your concept of romantic, interactive lovemaking include good, old-fashioned jungle fucking?”

Elizabeth was distracted. She said through gritted teeth, “He’s definitely staring at us! And I don’t like the way he’s looking at me!”

“If I have to confront him, it might as well be now,” Jackson said with resignation as he pushed off the bench and got to his feet. “This guy may have a gun. If he pulls one out, I want you—”

“If he pulls it out, I’ll blow his nuts off,” Elizabeth said, patting her purse.

“You carry a gun?” Jackson asked incredulously.

“I’m an ex-policewoman and now I’m a district attorney with a caseload of violent felonies. Of course I’m carrying a gun. I have a license and I never go anywhere without it. I’ve been attacked twice. Don’t tell me you’re one of those anti-handgun nuts?”

“I grew up around guns. I favor registration, but I’m not for banning handguns.”

Jackson turned and saw that the man was standing indecisively fifty feet away. He said with a derisive laugh, “This appears to be a problem beyond his ability.”

“Why don’t I just show him my gun and badge so we can go on?” Elizabeth suggested. “I don’t want this fool to ruin our day. I’m enjoying myself.”

Still watching the man, Jackson asked, “Why did you quit being a police officer?”

“They claimed I used excessive force, but I still left in good standing.”

Keeping the man in his peripheral vision Jackson suggested, “Let’s sit tight for a minute or two and let him decide what he’s going to do. It may be that he is simply a habitual sex offender who has the good taste to fixate on you.”

“Only that, huh? Well, Mr. Tremain, you sure seem to know how to charm a girl.”

“Anything for a laugh,” Jackson retorted. “Look, he’s headed back along the pavement toward the ranger station.”

“Let’s go in the other direction.”

“Why don’t we make it hard for this guy?” Jackson suggested. “Why don’t we run him a bit?”

“Run him? I run three miles four times a week and I hate it, but I do that for my body. This is a mental health day. I’d rather confront him than run anywhere.”

Jackson smiled but he questioned, “Are you serious? Anything might happen.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Elizabeth pulled on his shirt as Jackson was pulling on his pack and cinching it tight.

“Well, there’s a slight possibility this may have something to do with my grandfather, but they are professionals. This guy is obviously an amateur.”

“What have you gotten me into?” Elizabeth asked, standing up next to Jackson.

“I’m not sure that I’ve gotten you into anything yet. This may be just a random event.”

“Tell me why someone might be following you.”

“Listen, I promise to answer all your questions, but let’s leave this clown in the dust. He’s in terrible shape. We’ll wear him out in less than a mile.”

“I’m not thrilled with the idea of running. We only defer an inevitable confrontation.”

“If this guy works for my grandfather’s enemies, he is not too bright and he won’t know shit. If, on the other hand, he’s just a fool looking for trouble, we avoid all that by leaving his lard-ass behind.”

“Okay, but do you promise to tell me everything about your grandfather?”

“As much as I know,” Jackson agreed.

“Let’s go.”

Jackson and Elizabeth set out at an easy pace, jogging in unison, occasionally looking back over their shoulders for the man. He appeared after they had gone about a quarter of a mile. When he saw that they were running away, he followed, lurching back and forth in a heavy trotting gait. After a mile they came to the steep descent to the west garrison. Jackson directed Elizabeth to the path which followed the slope down under a large stand of eucalyptus. Neither of them was winded when they reached the path.

“Be careful,” Jackson cautioned. “The ground is hard and it’s covered with all these little eucalyptus seeds, which makes the footing a little tricky.” He went down the path, sliding on masses of the seeds. Elizabeth followed and slid into his arms at the bottom of the hill. Jackson
caught her easily and guided her to solid ground. Holding her hand, he led her across an open meadow then behind a row of vacant, boarded-up old houses, where they waited for the man to appear on the far side of the meadow.

When Jesse got to the path under the eucalyptus that Jackson and Elizabeth had taken, he was out of breath and panting. There was a pain in his side which lanced across his abdomen each time he took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run so far. This was not turning out the way he planned. He was told to follow the john and his girlfriend and take pictures of anyone they met, but they must have identified him after the ferry. When they started running, he knew he was in trouble. He hated this stupid assignment. It was impossible to follow someone in a park without being seen.

Jesse’s legs were still trembling when he started down the hill. He stepped on what he thought was solid earth, but it turned out to be a patch of dried grass and eucalyptus seeds. His leg shot out from underneath him and he fell heavily to the ground and rolled to the bottom of the hill. He lay supine for several minutes before he attempted to move. He got to his feet slowly, wincing from a searing pain. His right hip had taken the brunt of his fall and now it was painful to stand. He dusted himself off, but it was a lost cause. His clothes were ruined.

He looked around quickly to see if anyone had witnessed his humiliation. Fortunately, there appeared to be no one in the immediate vicinity. He was intensely ashamed, but anger soon displaced his feelings of embarrassment. When he walked out from underneath the eucalyptus into the meadow, he discovered that his hip hurt so badly that he could not walk without an obvious limp.

Looking through the shrubbery of Texas privets beside a vacant house, Jackson said, “I feel better. He’s walking like he’s got a stick up his ass. Now we can go and finish our talk. I don’t think he’ll be able to keep up with us or find us.”

“Are dates with you always like this?”

“Only when the woman carries a gun,” Jackson said as he led the way through bushes behind the row of houses to a narrow dirt path which climbed steadily up a heavily wooded hill.

“That’s very funny,” Elizabeth said lightly. “At this point I am trying to figure out why I am unfazed by the fact you have some clown following you.”

“How do we know he’s not following you?”

“I prosecute serious, violent felons. They don’t follow me to state parks while I’m with a man, they attack me at night when I’m alone on the streets of Oakland. They don’t act like fools; they’re scary. This guy is a buffoon and I’m certain I’ve never seen him before.”

Jackson scrambled up a particularly steep section of the path and then turned and offered his hand to her.

“Step back and give me room,” she advised him as she climbed up on her own.

The path leveled at the top of the hill and ended at the base of two large cement structures which had an unobstructed view of the Golden Gate. To the left of the bridge, in the distance, the multicolored haziness of San Francisco’s buildings rose above the blue of the bay as if rendered with an impressionist’s brush. There was a steady breeze flowing through the mouth of the Gate, blowing past Angel Island. Bunches of white calla lilies growing at the base of the cement structures danced back and forth on their slender green stalks from the force of the wind.

“Oh, look!” Elizabeth exclaimed, pointing to the lilies. “This is one of my favorite flowers. Look at those perfect ivory flutes filled with those orange stamens. It is both simple and elegant.”

Jackson nodded in acknowledgment. “They are pretty. It’s time to climb.” He began to climb the outside of one of the structures. The top of the structure was only fifteen feet above the ground and it was an easy climb, with both handholds and footholds all along its side. Elizabeth followed without difficulty.

“I had no idea that you were going to turn this date into an athletic event,” she said, following him down into a deep, circular depression in the top of the structure. “What is this thing we’re on?”

“It’s one of the gun emplacements that was used to guard the entrance to the bay in World War Two.”

“What are we doing here?” Elizabeth demanded.

“This is where I propose we talk. Come on and sit down out of the wind in the cavity left by the turret. I brought a picnic blanket and something to nosh on. Are you hungry?” Jackson asked, opening his backpack and pulling out the blanket.

Elizabeth helped spread the blanket then said, “Food sounds good, but what about our friend?”

Jackson knelt down on the blanket and gestured for her to join him. “I don’t think he’ll find us. Unless he knows to look up here, and I doubt
that.” He took out two baguettes he had cut to fit into his pack, as well as a large slice of Brie, a slab of pâté, apples, a bunch of green grapes, a bottle of wine, and a half-gallon container of water.

Elizabeth rearranged everything that Jackson set out and when he gave her a questioning look she said, “See how well we work together?”

“As long as I don’t argue with your decisions,” Jackson surmised.

“You learn fast,” Elizabeth said as she picked up and examined the wine bottle. The label had come off. “What kind of wine is this?”

“Sonoma Chardonnay,” Jackson answered. “By the way, what was up with your friend last night? She really seemed to have a wild hair up her ass. Is she always like that?”

“A wild hair? I thought I explained that over the phone.”

“All you said was that she was emotionally unstrung,” Jackson replied as he took out a corkscrew and opened the wine.

“I guess you’d have a wild hair or two if you discovered that the person you’d been sleeping with for two years had been sleeping around the whole time.”

Jackson conceded with a nod of his head, “Maybe I would.” He handed her a napkin and a knife and gave her a long look.

Elizabeth returned his look then asked, “Have you brought other women here?”

“You’re full of questions.”

Elizabeth threw a grape and it hit him on the chest. “So answer.”

“Nobody worth anything.”

“That’s romantic.”

“It wasn’t meant to be; it was just meant to be true.”

“I love it when you get basic,” Elizabeth said as she put a branch of grapes in front of him. She looked up at him and asked with a mischievous smile, “So, am I worth something?”

“I’m trying to find out, but all I’ve been doing is answering questions.”

“Okay, here’s your chance. Fire away. What do you want to know?”

Jackson thought a minute and asked, “Are you from the Bay Area?”

“No, from Chicago.”

“What caused you to move out here?”

“I moved out here to join the police force after my father died. My uncle Elroy told me that several Bay Area police departments were looking for qualified women.”

“Oh, you have family here?”

“Not really. Uncle Elroy was a friend of my father’s when I was a child. My father was a police officer in the early fifties in Chicago, and Uncle Elroy was an officer with the San Francisco PD, and they met at a conference for black military police and became close friends. Our families would spend vacations together.”

Jackson shrugged and said, “Couldn’t have been too many blacks working for local police departments in the fifties. Let’s eat.”

“Your questions were rather pedestrian,” Elizabeth observed with a teasing smile. “But did you determine if I’m worth something?”

“You are relentless!”

Elizabeth hiked up a shoulder to emphasize that she was still waiting for an answer.

Jackson threw up his hands and conceded, “All right. All I know is that I feel something with you that I haven’t felt in years.”

“Are we back on the unfamiliar ground of your emotions?” She raised an eyebrow. “Or just in the dark generally?”

“If you want to be snide—”

“I’m sorry. I forgot you were sensitive.”

Jackson gave her a long, steady look. “I don’t have to be sensitive; there are other options.”

Elizabeth raised her hand in surrender. “I don’t like the sound of that. I like it when you’re sensitive, okay? Can we change the subject and talk about your grandfather? Do you have wineglasses?”

Other books

A Riffians Tune by Joseph M Labaki
Face the Wind and Fly by Jenny Harper
Love Beyond Expectations by Rebecca Royce
The Intimidators by Donald Hamilton
Hugh and Bess by Susan Higginbotham
The By-Pass Control by Mickey Spillane
Triple Exposure by Colleen Thompson