FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 32

 Chapter 32

 

The following day I got onto the northbound L Taraval streetcar and transferred to the Number Six bus, which went through the Haight -Ashbury District.

         It had been a while since I had walked along Haight Street. It was as colorful and lively as I remembered it. Head shops were still the big thing. Many of them sold cigarettes and hookahs and tacky items strictly for tourists.

         I turned left on Cole Street and walked slightly uphill on the even-numbered side. Across the street was a deli that looked inviting.  I was famished. I had eaten nothing in Starbucks, actually nothing since a meager breakfast of corn flakes. I crossed the street and entered the deli. A cute brunette, maybe thirty-something, came up to the counter. 

         “How big is your club sandwich?” I asked.

         “Our turkey club is like so high…” She showed me.

         “Perfect.”

         I found a seat by a window, which looked out to the street. There was something weird, aside from the fact that I was sitting across the street from a crime scene. 

         “Be right back,” I said.

         I hustled out of the deli and crossed the street. I walked past a few houses and stopped in front of a blue and white Victorian. The body had been found in front of it. I noted the Corinthian pillars. The curving bay windows on the second story.  

         Something kept pulling me to look at the house to my left. 

         I had never been here before. But for some reason this house had drawn my eyes like a magnet. It was smaller than its neighbors, nothing much to look at. Two doors, split level.

         I stepped back and viewed it from the street.

         It looked as if it had been squeezed between the bigger, more elegant buildings on either side of it. I wrote down the house numbers.

         I shook my head. It wasn’t coming to me, whatever it was.

         I crossed the street and reentered the deli.

         The turkey club was as big as promised. I gobbled it down as I gazed at the house across the street. As I washed the rest of my sandwich down with a Coke, I finally realized what was bugging me: I had seen photos of the house next to the blue house. But where? And when? It had an arch over the entrance. Two front doors. There were two gables on the roof.

         I called my brother for information. He was not pleased.

         “What the fuck? You’re still wondering bout that house? What’s up with that?  Those folks have been interviewed. Same with the next-door neighbors and the neighbors across the street. We covered the whole street, bro. And don’t even think of interviewing anybody on Cole Street and posing as a cop. You’re not a cop.”

         “Yes, I know. You keep reminding me of that.”

         “If you piss someone off, it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass.”

         “Can I just say something?”

         “No!”

         “Thank you,” I teased.

         “I didn’t—!”

         “I was about to say that I’m interested in the history of that building.  Specifically, who’s lived there.”

         “Have Terry look it up.”

         “She’s asleep.”

         “Jesus Christ. You’re unbelievable.”

         “Sorry, but this might be important. You’re sitting in front of your computer, right?”

         Silence.

         “And trying to eat my lunch.”

         “After lunch is fine.”

         “Oh it is, huh?”

         “Please.”

         Colin sighed loudly, probably for my benefit.

         “Going back how far?” he asked.

         “Fifties, I guess.”

         “I’ll see what I can do.”
Colin glanced over at a plump desk sergeant, who was playing with his smart phone. 

         “What’s the house number?” he asked.

         “There are two.”

         “Huh?”

         “Two front doors. Split level.”

         Jesus, he can be dense at times!

         “Split level, right. Shoot.”

         I gave him both numbers. He disconnected at once.