“Listen. This is the real deal and it’s on the record. I love you to death. I am honored to be your one true wife.”
Conklin said to his bride to be, “You had that all ready to go, didn’t you?”
“Maybe I did,” Cindy said. “Because that’s how I really feel about you, Richie.”
“Thanks for saying yes,” he said, hugging her right off the floor. They kissed and the jewelry box clattered to the marble floor. Parishioners sitting in the front rows applauded, a sound that echoed like doves’ wings beating overhead.
Chapter 42
JOE WAS ON A BUSINESS TRIP, inspecting the port in L.A., and he hadn’t been sure when he’d be home.
I ran with Martha down Lake Street from the Temple Emanu-El to Sea Cliff and back, my eyes locking on dark-colored sedans. I thought about Avis Richardson’s baby all the way. I couldn’t help myself, and after three miles of checking cars and beating the pavement with my Adidas, I was done.
Our apartment was dark when I walked in breathless and soaked with sweat.
I switched on some lights, showered, poured myself a glass of chardonnay, and then got busy in the kitchen. I decanted some doggy beef stew for Martha, filled up her water bowl, and turned on the TV. Chris Matthews was doing the Politics Fix segment of his show while I heated up the jambalaya that Joe had cooked a few days before. And then the phone rang.
The phone always rang.
A month back, I’d made the decision not to answer the phone — neither our landline nor my cell. In so doing, I had missed a phone call that could have changed my life.
Jacobi had called — four times, in fact — to offer me the lieutenant’s job he was leaving by moving up to captain. By the time I finally spoke with him, the job had been tentatively offered to Brady. I thought it was a sign that Brady should take the job.
That was okay with me. I liked the hands-on job of being a homicide cop. It was exhausting, and you could never put it down, not even for a night, but like for my father before me, working the street was my calling.
Jackson Brady, on the other hand, was ambitious. He had a history as a good cop, and I knew he was the future of the SFPD.
I’d done the right thing in stepping aside, but I was a little more careful these days to answer ringing phones.
The cordless on the kitchen counter was beginning its third ring. I peered at the caller ID. It was Cindy, so I snatched the receiver off its base.
“I’m getting married,” Cindy yelled into my ear.
“What? What did you say?”
“We’re getting married. Richie and me. He just proposed.”
“Oh my God. That’s fantastic,” I said, feeling some conflict between whoo-hooo and a fear of Cindy getting too much off-the-record information every night from my partner.
Plus, I had liked being number one on Richie’s speed dial.
That selfish thought faded as Cindy jabbered away into the phone about Richie’s bended-knee proposal at the Grace Cathedral, the diamond ring, and the happiness that was giving her heart flight.
“It’s wonderful, Cin. Let me congratulate Rich.”
“He’s on with his dad. I’ll tell him to call you. Oh, I’m getting incoming,” she said. “My mom is calling me back.”
“Go ahead, Cindy. I’m so happy for you both.”
I switched the channel to a ball game and watched the home team slaughter the visitors as I ate my dinner. Then the telephone rang again.
It was Yuki. What now?
“Linds, am I catching you at a bad time?”
Yuki had been stiff with me since I’d told her about my interview with Candace Martin two days ago. I was hoping that maybe this call would be a break in the cloud cover.
“It’s fine,” I said. “This is a good time.”