“…… this anymore.” Clair’s voice.
“You owe me rent Sissy. Pay me and I’ll cut you loose.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Well when you can, I’ll be waiting.”
Her head bent lower down toward the table, maybe she had started crying, I couldn’t tell. She was quiet. He was eating. Nothing was said. She picked up a half sandwich, her face was fraught, she wiped her eyes.
“That last guy was disgusting.” Clair again. “His breath smelt like a dead fish, I don’t think he’d washed for a week. He tried to put his tongue in my mouth, I nearly fucking barfed.” Raith was quiet. “I can’t do it anymore Bobby. It’s not fair.”
“Two more and you can take the rest of the day off, go to a movie.”
“Fuck you, Bobby!” It was a whisper. They both continued eating, they were quiet. They left shortly after, I let them go.
I asked Sally if any of the other people in the café were bad people. She asked me to define bad. Hmmm… I guess there are all levels, we would have a different perspective. I said, murderers, rapists, pedophiles (I hoped there were none of those, didn’t want to see their lives), beaters of women or children, oh and terrorists. Then I thought of anybody who’d been in jail and anybody who’d stolen more than ten thousand dollars. That will do I thought to myself. None of the other patrons fitted my criteria, which was good I guess.
I left the Plum Blossom café confused and elated. Should I have intervened in the life of Clair Folsom and Bobby Raith? I don’t know. I told Sally to keep an eye on Clair, let me know if she was threatened in any way. That at least made my decision not to get involved seem okay.
I was amazed at my new gift. I wanted to understand what it could do and I truly didn’t want to go home. It was a new toy and I was going to play with it, just like a kid at Christmas. I walked toward the Muni Metro on Judah. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. The clouds were fluffy, not indicating any major rain. The wind had risen and blew strongly from the west, I hid my hands deep in the pockets of my warm coat. March was a beautiful month in the Bay area. The tourists hadn’t yet come out to play and warmer climes were just around the corner. While I waited for the train, the crucial question still hung heavily on my mind. Why? Why had the people of Cirion contacted us now? What was the threat to earth that had triggered this wild ride? Had Sally intentionally avoided answering me in the shower? If so, what were they hiding? Was that why she had stripped off? I decided it could wait until I got home later in the day. I just wasn’t in the mood for confrontation and I wanted to test out this new power that I’d been given. I took the Metro to Downtown. It was a mistake. I should have gone home and continued with my instructions.
Chapter 8
THE PROBLEM
The Muni Metro from the Sunset District where I lived was the busiest line in San Francisco, but on Thursday afternoon, heading east, the carriage was almost empty, just how I liked it. I examined the faces of my travelling companions and tried to guess who they were and whether they had any secrets. Then I called up Sally and asked her. None of the passengers met my criteria of ‘bad’. Mostly they were either old or heading in that direction like myself, or young women, often with pre-school age children, on their way home from visiting friends and relatives and eager to miss the rush-hour crush. All the new passengers at each stop were equally boring. My thoughts drifted to other things. Sally had said the recordings had started two-hundred and forty million years ago. What should I review? The obvious to me was Jesus Christ. As I was forming a question in my mind to ask, a wrenching feeling tore at my stomach. Did I want to find out the truth about the most famous person to ever walk the earth? I was brought up Catholic, my parents went to church on Sundays. But I couldn’t resist. I asked if there was a man called Jesus of Nazareth? And to show him to me. My heart thumped in my chest as his picture lit up on the screen. He appeared to be a poor man in a calf-length robe, dirty along the bottom edge and cuffs. His facial features bore a gentleness and his deep blue eyes radiated understanding. Not totally in keeping with the images that we all know, but similar. Yes, he did exist and yes he did preach his gospel of devotion to God. He died on the cross as we all believe. There was endless writing, which I would have to come back to. I was mesmerized by the simple image of this man who single handedly changed the world for the better and still after two thousand plus years was so revered. Was I the only person on earth to have seen him? It was an awesome feeling. I prayed quietly to myself asking Him to help me understand my current endeavor and I felt tears well up in my eyes and run down my cheeks. It was a truly moving moment.
I alighted at Powell St. and meandered slowly to Union Square, an immense feeling of pride and insignificance encasing me. My target was coffee in the square and an examination of the throngs that hung around that central landmark. I stopped in at a Starbucks and purchased a Grande regular to go, which I laced with half and half. I had a devilish sensation building up inside as I envisioned the results of my future snooping. I felt empowered, God-like. I would steal a look at various people and mentally point at them, exclaiming my superiority. ‘I know what you’ve done. You can’t hide from me.’ It was totally childish, but it was fun.
I took a seat on a cold bench across the street from the Westin St. Francis to begin my review of the people that frequented San Francisco. Using just thought I called up Sally and asked her to find me a ‘bad’ person in the Square.
One. What? I was disappointed. I lifted my head and saw a middle-aged guy sitting not too far away at an open-air café. He looked pretty tame to me. My heads-up display said he was Milton Frisen and his only crime was hitting his wife twenty odd years ago in Germany. I ignored him.
‘You might try expanding the area, include all the offices, shops and hotels?’ It was Sally’s voice I heard in my head.
‘Good idea, Sally.’ I imagined bad dudes only came out at night and were sleeping off yesterday’s sins.
Dang! Six hundred and twelve people made the list. I could feel a sudden fright inside myself. I queried the total number of people reviewed, which was more than three thousand. All of them were out of sight. Mostly men but there were a few women. I was totally fascinated. More than twenty percent of the population of this area. That’s pretty telling. I told Sally to sort the names by criteria. Most of the bad people were wife beaters, four hundred and two. I wondered if a slap would add your name to the list. I moved on and asked if there was a murderer in my midst? Seven, and two were women. Wow! I reviewed the two women. Both had killed their husbands; one had been caught but got off claiming self-defense. The other had done just five years for manslaughter. But the details on my screen told a different story. They were both guilty as hell. The first murder happened in 1997, eighteen years ago and she’d been re-married and done nothing bad since. The other woman, a Hispanic woman, was also reformed and a little further digging into her life, revealed that her husband was a true bastard. Good riddance.
I turned to the men. Many of the crimes were a long time ago, one guy had done time, twenty-five years in various penitentiaries. The other men on the list hadn’t been caught. I picked one, a guy called Manuel Fuentes. A nasty piece of work. Six murders, starting eight years ago. Four were gang-bangers, drug related, one was a woman, prostitute, he’d wanted rough sex. One was a kid, her kid; I didn’t like that. A ten-year-old boy, he had tried to defend his mother, Fuentes had hit him, too hard. No witnesses. I cringed, my heart beat a little harder. One never knew who was sharing your space. Fuentes was twenty-eight and from Chicago, the south side. I asked for his current location. He was across Geary in the mall, with a girl, checking out the shops. ‘Put him on the screen, real time’, I demanded. I could feel sweat building on the back of my neck. I loosened my coat, it appeared to be warmer even though I knew it was just my reaction to being so close to the child killer. I had to see this guy in the flesh, so I left my bench and crossed Geary. The little shopping mall was spotless; shoppers were well dressed and the stores were expensive. Not a place I’d expect to see the likes of a murderer. I glanced at a stranger walking alone, coming toward me and wondered, but didn’t check.