Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 05 - Till Death Do Us Part (15 page)

“Actually, it sounds like a fun day. It’s amazing how I live in the Bay Area but never visit the city unless I have guests in from out of town and have to play tour guide.”

“So true. Hey, you won’t follow me in your car and then stay away from me, lurking like an alley cat while we are out today, will you?”

“No, I think I’ll just tag along as another friend on a trek to the city.”

“Perfect.” I went to take a shower. The weather app on my phone said it would be around sixty-seven degrees in San Francisco. I could never live there, it was just too cold. I dressed in jeans, a black V-neck shirt with Minnie and Mickey Mouse on it, and grabbed my black sweatshirt and a coat. Today, I’d have
two men, one on each side, and one armed with one, probably two guns. What could happen?

Chapter 18

As I came out of my bedroom, Art joined me and we walked toward the front door. Before I could open it, Kenny came in. I like it when everything goes like clockwork.

“You’ve got to drive, Stretch,” Kenny said, as he held the door for us.

“Why? Where is your car?”

“Since I decided to fly, I left it in Nashville. I have to go back and clean out my house at some point, so I left it in the garage and took a cab to the airport. I have a rental but it …,”

“Looks like a rental,” I finished.

He nodded.

“No problem. You know I love to drive.”

Kenny smiled and said, “Hang on tight, Art, you’re in for a real treat.”

“Excuse me?” Art said, his eyes and voice looking wary.

“She’s got a lead foot and loves her brakes. I told her she should have gotten a stick on her new Jeep. She drives her automatic like it
is
a stick, slowing on curves and wishing she could downshift.”

I didn’t disagree. I would have loved having a stick shift, but I sit in too much traffic when I go to Tom’s house. Sticks are a pain when the traffic is stop and go. Maybe when I moved to Gainesville, I’d trade this Jeep in for one with a manual transmission.

I got into the driver’s seat and watched Kenny and Art stare at each other as to who would get into the passenger seat and who would have to take the back.

Finally, I said, “You can protect me better from the back, Art. That way you can see where we are going and who is behind us.”

Art nodded and got into the back seat. Kenny got in, squeezed my hand and smiled. What I said was true, but with Kenny’s long legs, it would have been hell for him to climb into the back seat.

When I started the engine, my country-western station came on and Kenny turned it up. We sang along as we drove the freeways to Jack London Square. Art kept looking toward the front, then sides, then behind us – looking for a tail. I noticed a
few times he was tapping his fingers on his lap. He must be a country music fan, too.

“What time does the ferry leave?” Kenny asked.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t it run every few minutes like BART?”

“I don’t know,” Kenny shrugged.

“I’ll look it up on my phone,” Art said.

Both Kenny and I nodded.

“If we hurry, we can make the 9:15 ferry. If we miss it the next one isn’t until 11:00.”

I pushed down on the accelerator. After all, I had an FBI agent in the car with me. He should be able to keep a cop from giving me a ticket, right? I hoped so. I swerved around several cars and pushed the Jeep’s speed up a little more.

“You needed to encourage her to drive fast?” Kenny said to Art and hung on to the door handle when I maneuvered around another car.

“Sitting around at the ferry terminal for over an hour makes us a sitting duck, I’d rather be moving.” He grabbed the armrest as I slid across two lanes.

We arrived at the parking structure for the ferry at 8:55, so we hustled down the street to the ferry. There was no one waiting for the ferry and no ferry at the dock. I was afraid it came early and we missed it. But before we got to the dock, the ferry pulled up.

“Good driving, Stretch,” Kenny grabbed my hand and we walked down the dock. Art stayed on my other side, constantly searching the crowd and studying the faces.

We got on the ferry, Kenny went to pay our fee and we sat down in the seats on the main floor of the ferry.

When we settled down, I asked, “Are you looking for someone in particular or just looking at everyone?”

“Actually, I am keeping a look out for the brother of the guy who tried to kidnap you.”

“Santana?” I asked.

Art frowned.

“Tom told me all about Carlos and his brother.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize he’d told you. Yes, Carlos and Santana usually do jobs together. Every time one was arrested, so was the other. It was unusual that he was by himself the other day.”

“We were parked in a strip mall. Maybe he had gone in one of the stores or restaurants when Carlos spotted me.”

“That’s a good possibility.”

“If you’d told me you actually thought someone was out here looking for me, I might have stayed home.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I do much better if people tell me things.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Kenny came back, handed us our tickets, and settled in next to us. The ferry left a few minutes later. Art was reading something on his phone, he kept flicking the pages.

“What kind of books do you like to read?” I asked Art.

“Historical with lots of guns and action.”

“You don’t get enough of that in your job?”

“Most of my job is doing exactly what I’ve been doing for the last day, watching people. It gets boring, so I read when I can.”

“Let’s go up and outside, Stretch,” Kenny said, never one to sit still very long.

“Good idea,” I looked over at Art, “You coming?”

“I’m your shadow,” he said, putting his phone in his pocket and rising.

“I don’t think you have to worry about us on the ferry. It’s practically empty.”

“Worrying is my job.”

I shrugged and we went up the stairs, through the cabin and out to the front of the boat. It was windy and cold, but felt great. I looked over the railing at the waves. Art sat on one of the bench seats in the front of the boat, phone out and engrossed in his book. Kenny put his arm around me and we stared out, both lost in our own thoughts. Going under the bridge was cool and around ten, we arrived at Pier 41.

Art put his phone away when the ferry stopped. The three of us walked off the ferry, on to the pier and toward Pier 39.

“What’s first?’ Art asked.

Together we said, “Frequent Flyers!”

“What?” Art asked.

“You’re going to love it,” I told him. “And it’s my treat for letting us go to the city today.”

“And best done on an empty stomach,” Kenny added.

Art looked skeptical. “I’ll reserve my decision until I know what Frequent Flyers are.”

Then, I took Art’s right hand and Kenny took the left and we dragged him to Pier 39. When he saw the huge bungee trampoline he shook his head.

“It’s so much fun, you’re going to be begging to do it again,” Kenny told him.

Art rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Art. Give it a try,” I prodded.

Art pulled out his phone, pushed several buttons and said, “Close in the ranks. I want you within grabbing distance of Liza.”

Silence.

“Because I’m going to try this stupid Frequent Flyer contraption.”

Another agent stepped up.

“Where’d he come from?” Kenny asked.

Art just stared at him and said, “You don’t think we came here all alone, did you?”

“Guess not,” I said.

The other agent took Art’s jacket, quickly hiding his shoulder holster so that no one in the crowd would see it. I guess it could be bad to bounce upside down with a gun. It would probably fall out, go off, and cause an incident that would mean hours in a San Francisco police station.

They hooked up Art to the belt harness which held him in the middle of two long rubber-band-like contraption suspended on two polls. I saw the agent who took Art’s jacket close in behind me. I smiled and turned my attention back to Art.

Art started by just jumping a few feet off the ground.

“Come on, Art. You are a big strong FBI agent; you can do better than that,” Kenny yelled.

“Who is Art?” the agent behind me asked.

I turned and said, “Long story, it’s what we call Tony.”

He nodded and went back to scanning the crowd.

Art finally got into the ride. He would push himself off, do a flip, and laugh – a true belly laugh. Kenny went next and then I did it. It’s an amazing feeling of flying.

“Now what?” Art said as they were unbuckling me from the harness.

“I’m starving,” Kenny and I said at the same time.

“It’s only eleven o’clock. You two are always hungry,” Art commented.

“Wow,” I said, “He’s spent so little time with us and he knows us so well.”

Kenny and I laughed, but Art didn’t crack a smile.

“There is a Hard Rock Café right on Pier 39, how about that?” Art suggested.

“You’re a great tour guide.” Kenny patted him on the back.

“And I’m paying,” Art said.

“No, we can pay for our own,” I told him. We were eating enough on the government’s money.

Art looked at Kenny and said, “I feel bad for almost shooting you last night, this will help ease my conscience.”

“Okay, by me. If it makes you feel better you can buy me dessert later, too.”

“Don’t push it,” Art said, but he was smiling.

We walked the few blocks to the Hard Rock Café, a great place with lots of music memorabilia.

The young hostess looked barely old enough to serve drinks. “You want to eat inside or out on the patio?” she asked, looking directly at Kenny and practically batting her eyes.

“Stretch?”

“Inside, it’s not that warm outside.”

“The lady wants inside,” Kenny told the hostess.

“Is she your lady?” she asked.

Kenny chuckled, low and sultry, “She is for this moment.”

“Moments pass,” she bantered back.

“That is so true.” Kenny baited her.

She handed him a napkin. “When the moment passes, give me a call.”

Kenny tucked the napkin into his jeans back pocket and when the hostess tried to seat us in the front, Art said, “We’d like to sit further inside the restaurant.” It didn’t sound like a request at all.

The hostess looked at him as if he had lost his mind, I’m sure she wondered why he cared so much about where we sat. I knew better after eating in restaurants with Tom. Finally she said, “I have to balance the wait staff’s tables. I have to put you in the middle, by the railing.”

Art shook his head, pulled out a black wallet and flipped it open. It was his FBI badge and the hostess took a step back. Art said, “I want the back.”

“Okay,” she stuttered and pointed toward the back where there was a table and said, “Is that table okay?”

Art scanned the arrangement of the restaurant, then narrowed his eyes on the table. It was set in a corner with walls on two sides of it. Finally he nodded and said, “That’s fine.”

Art put me in the corner – literally in the corner. I felt as if I was in a time-out chair. He sat next to me and put Kenny across the table. Art scanned the room one more time, then picked up the menu but continued to glance from the menu to the front doors and across the room. Twice he glanced at the electrical box for the restaurant that was on the back wall next to our table and then scanned the room looking for other exposed circuit breaker systems. Always a cop – looking for an exposed weakness in his security protocol. I was starting to feel like the president and his secret service detail.

Our food arrived and it was very good. Our waitress kept my tea and Kenny’s and Art’s soda glasses full. She was overly friendly, which meant she was hitting on Kenny. It always amazed me how brazen some women can be, but I was used to it. We always got the best service if we got a female waitress and even sometimes some male waiters.

When Art finished his lunch, he polished off the rest of my fries. For such a little guy, he could sure pack away the food. But then he paid the bill, so I didn’t begrudge him the fries I shouldn’t be eating anyway. Besides, I needed room for dessert later.

Afterwards we bought tickets for the Aquarium and wandered through it. Kenny took my arm, read all the cards and plagues to me in the first room, describing every fish in detail.

“I wish you could see this Stretch,” Kenny cooed. “The fish are so beautiful. They are red and gold and purple and huge.”

I could see he was pointing to a school of sardines rotating round and round a circular tank. They are all small and totally silver. I watched the people around us react to him – some of the people, especially the kids, were looking at him like he was nuts.

Kenny leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Weave him in, Stretch.”

I glanced from Kenny to Art, patted Kenny’s hand then grabbed for Art.

He startled when I gripped his arm.

“I am so happy, Art. Are the fish as beautiful as Kenny says they are?”

Art glanced from me to Kenny, then said, “Yes, Liza, they are beautiful.” He was having a lot of trouble not laughing. For a
man who didn’t laugh or even smile last night, he sure found Kenny and me quite amusing now.

We walked through this tunnel surrounded by starfish, sharks, and some huge other fish. It was really cool and I wondered if they did class field trips and, if they did, how much they would cost.

After the tunnel section there was a Touch the Bay section, featuring touch pools with sharks, rays and sea stars, and an interactive Bay Lab station. The room was filled with kids. Some were leaning over too far and would probably end up in with the bat rays. Others were climbing on rocks, that were clearly marked with a sign that said Do Not Climb on Rocks, and banging on the hedgehog glass enclosure. The rest were running from one place to another.