Chapter 5: I was back. I had planned and I was ready this time. I was waiting in that alcove on California, across from the Fairmont. It was mid-day, not midnight, and I had purchased a jumper to wear over my shirt, so even with my thin overcoat, I would be warm enough.
A week ago, I had shown up at night, waiting for my clients' daughter, and therefore by default her boyfriend, to turn up at the University Club across the way. It got late, and I nearly froze. The only person left was the SF Agency guy following the boyfriend, who in turn by default was following my client. He called himself "Chet." We weren't friends, but that hadn't made us enemies. Chet wasn't going to be here this afternoon.
Somehow, mysteriously, San Francisco remembered it was in California. It was a sunny day, no fog, just a slight breeze. The view from Nob Hill seemed Mediterannean, the warm air and the pleasing landscape of the East Bay in the distance. This must have been the kind of day that tricked the Spaniards into thinking it was their kind of place. Sweltering, I sat with my overcoat and jumper in my lap.
I had figured I was done. My clients' daughter was secluded in the Fairmont now, not looking great, but nothing a Hollywood doctor couldn't fix. Sure, afterwards she would spend a few quiet months in Ojai or Catalina, healing up, but by Christmas she'd be attractive and marriageable looking. Her Dad was happy and I was ready to go back South and get paid. I would leave the jumper in the hotel, just another wrong turn.
I hadn't counted on the Mom. That steely glare while her husband implored me to find his little girl--she was 24--in Pacific Heights should have tipped me. She wanted to know what was up with the boyfriend, and not to wish him well. The boyfriend was North, whether in Napa or Ukiah or Fort Bragg wasn't really clear. But I wasn't going to pursue him. But guess what? I knew who would, and Mom was fine with that. In order to extract myself from this, all I had to do was meet Chet's client "Anna," essentially swapping patrons. Better than going North and driving around windy Redwood forests at night.
I didn't have any trouble recognizing Anna. She was strikingly beautiful, as promised, but not in a Hollywood way. She introduced herself as Anna Popov, but if that was her name, it was only part of it. She was from the East, and I don't mean Boston or even St. Petersburg. She was from a distant part of Russia, with a name you couldn't really spell or pronounce. And with those cheekbones, she wasn't from peasant stock. She was a dark princess from an unknown land.
She called him "Chester" rather than "Chet." He didn't look like a Chester, of course, but it probably wasn't his name anyway, so I didn't dwell on it. We chatted about the unseasonably warm weather, and Anna said she was from Spokane, so the cold didn't bother her. Her English was native, but the accent wasn't Eastern Washington. She had grown up in Spokane, maybe, but how her family got there would have been another matter. Maybe they grew apples now, but that would have been a recent development.
Anna's concern was with why the boyfriend was so interested in the daughter. I thought it was easy: she was rich, good-looking and had no judgement. Perfect mark, right? Anna said no. She said "do you know her mother's maiden name?" I searched my memory, and came up with a name, sort of French sounding with a P. She laughed. Not a nice laugh. "That's her family name, if she were French."
"She's not French?" Anna just squinted at me, inscrutably. I was sitting there, with my overcoat and jumper in my arms, feeling uncomfortable and warm even in just my suit.
"Chester said you could help me. Can you find out her real maiden name, spelled how it's really spelled?"
"I'd have to go back to Los Angeles," I said, hopefully sounding a note of improbability.
Anna nodded. "There are phones." I suggested a fee, she shrugged and didn't dispute it. Did Anna have money, or was she just planning not to pay? Still, I at least had to string her along enough so that 'Chet' could keep my clients happy enough that they would actually pay the whopping bill I was planning to send them. Dad was fine, but Mom had to be kept engaged--all the more so if I was going to politely enquire about her heritage.
I was on Nob Hill, there was no fog, and I was sweating. Everything was wrong. I needed to get out of town. I agreed to the details with Anna, and exchanged some names and addresses. I had overstayed, and it was time to go before there was an earthquake or something.
really good story telling