Chapter 7
Lincoln Park Golf Course...
Nick stood at the edge of the third hole, in the taller grass that he thought he'd once heard called "the rough". "Fore!" Someone shouted. He ducked as a ball cracked through the trees, then smiled to himself, wondering what mystery the game held that drew so many people to traipse around after a little, white, dimpled ball.
Seeking safety, he walked on down the trail, through the woods, towards the edge of the cliffs. A strong wind soughed through the trees and blew into his face. He breathed deeply, enjoying the pungent smell of the sea, the pines, eucalyptus, and damp earth... the freedom... the height. Again Nick smiled to himself.... Only yards behind him, up the hill, was the imposing Palace of the Legion of Honor, hosting its busloads of tourists. How strange... it was a world away. Here, he was alone with nature... with the view of the Golden Gate... and beyond its orange span, Angel Island floated on the mists. Derek would have enjoyed this case, particularly since it had led here. God... he missed the man. He missed the male companionship, the banter... even the dreadful, incomprehensible sense of humor. He yearned for their moments of hushed comradery... moments in which nothing was said, yet each knew and understood what that moment meant to the other... and nothing ever need be said.
A twig broke behind him and he turned to see Alex. "Anything?" he asked.
"Not according to the head pro... no recent building that would account for our guy... no new bunkers... nothing... not even a pot hole repaired."
"I got the same story from the greens keeper," Nick informed her. "After the last time, they don't dig deeper than the few inches it takes to move the holes here and there on the greens. I talked to the head of maintenance at the Palace too... nothing."
Alex pulled her scarf around her ears and buttoned her coat. "I'm cold.... Let's keep walking.... It's funny," she commented. "It's freezing here, but not even twenty miles away, it's over ninety... and thirty miles away... it's a hundred-and-ten."
"Such is life in crazy California... and next week it could be ninety at Coit Tower... or forty," Nick chuckled. "So... what else did you find out?"
"The last sighting around here was by hikers coming off the Land's End Trail. You know where the other end of trail is?" she mischievously asked.
The former SEAL shook his head.
Alex chuckled. "The old Sutro Baths... right there below Cliff House and old Laughing Sal."
"Great... maybe the old guy decided to take a hike.... OK, we probably got an hour or so before the fog starts rolling in.... We'd better get a move on. It's gonna be a long hike back up... and I don't want to do it in pea soup."
< < + > >
Nick was glad of the exercise. He now seemed to spend most of his time riding a desk.... Gone were his daily, twenty-mile runs. Not good... his old drill instructor would not be impressed.
As they reached the steps that descended to Land's End Beach, a windswept woman, walking three dogs, approached from the direction of the Camino del Mar, the main trail to Sutro Heights Park. She smiled and pulled the biggest dog to one side to allow them to pass.
"I'll talk to the dog lady," Alex suggested. "If this is her regular beat, maybe she's seen something. I'll meet you back here."
"You could stand to burn off a few calories, you know.... Nah... I'd probably have to lug you back up anyway," Nick said with a touch of sarcasm and a charming smile as he turned to descend the steep, irregular, railroad tie steps.
< < + > >
Land's End Beach...
The former SEAL found a tiny beach, barely a sliver of sand at the base of the ragged cliff. Small nooks were sheltered from the wind by stone wall fingers... obviously constructed by sun-worshipers. He approached the first such oasis and stopped short.
Two men lay naked upon their towels... soaking up the sun's weak rays. They rolled over to face him.
"Hello, Sweetie," the first greeted him, grinning at Nick's shocked expression. "I take it you're not a regular to Land's End!" he said.
"Ahh... no... sorry...," Nick mumbled. Backing away quickly, he managed to trip over his own feet and sat down, hard, in the deep sand.
"Ouch!... That's gotta hurt," the naked man joked. "Would you like me to rub your 'owie'?"
"Stop it, Julian." The other man stood up to offer Nick a hand. "Can't you see the poor dear doesn't know what to do with himself."
"I could make a suggestion or two," Julian flirted.
"Look... sorry...." Nick struggled to regain his "equilibrium" and his footing. Not knowing where to look, he studied the sand at his feet. "I was wondering... if you'd seen anything strange down here."
"All the time, Dearie," Julian responded.
"Strange?..." The other man repeated as he gave due consideration. "'Strange' in what way?" he asked.
"I was looking for an old man...," Nick began, then bit his tongue when he saw grins cross their faces.
"Oh... no... Dear... that would be a terrible waste," Julian replied.
Nick glanced around and discovered their conversation had attracted the attention of the inhabitants of the other rock shelters. More naked men emerged... some clutching towels... but most not.
"Has he lost someone?" one chubby man called out, concerned.
"An old man, apparently," Julian informed them. Then, turning back to Nick, he asked, "Is this a specific old man... or would any old queen do?"
"No...," Nick responded with a very red, but straight face. "He's specific.... He's... well... he's a ghost... and not a very friendly one.... Look... sorry to bother you.... I guess I'm looking in the wrong place." With that he bolted towards the stairs.
"Hmmm... well.... He was somewhat short, but a handsome specimen, nonetheless...," Julian considered, then looked up at his friend and noticed his growing and visible appreciation of Nick's retreating figure. "Not that you couldn't give him 'stiff' competition, Sweet Cheeks!"
< < + > >
Angel Island... that night
"So... how's the child labor working out?" Alex snipped as she padded into the control room in her robe and slippers, carrying her cup of hot cocoa.
"I don't think Nadine was ever a child," Nick replied with a sigh. "Look... I'm sorry that crack this afternoon," he added, looking up from the computer and sensing the ice in his friend's mood. "I was outta line... and it's totally untrue... and I already got 'struck dumb' for it. Be glad you didn't go."
Alex offered a wicked grin. "So... you found out who prefers Land's End?"
Nick's face reddened. "You coulda warned me."
"Payback... Sailor," she quipped. "You're forgiven... and you're right. I need to tell Dom... no more apple fritters for breakfast. Funny... how we tend to fall back on comfort food when our lives go to hell.... All we do is pack on pounds... not happiness."
"I know, Hon," Nick commiserated as he gratefully accepted a rub for his tight shoulders.
"So, what did Nadine come up with?" Alex asked.
"Dr. Gerber fixed it for her to use the research facilities at the main library.... 'Just like a real scholar,' she said. Now she's on her way back to the museum.... It's Saturday night... and she's got a hot date... a real date.... I checked. Some young guy from the museum... a grad student from Berkeley.... I just downloaded her info."
"I hope you were diplomatic about your 'checking'." Alex smiled at the thought of "Nick the diplomat".
"Hey... I was discretion itself." Her friend's face assumed a playfully wounded expression. "'Sides, I ran a security check on the guy."
"Nick Boyle!... You're a Derek clone!... You know that?... Next you'll be asking me to 'trust you'!"
"I was careful... real careful," the former SEAL said with a hint of a smile and a familiar raised eyebrow. "Trust me."
"Sure." Alex sat down at her computer terminal, logged on, and opened Nadine's file. "What exactly did you tell her about the case?" she asked, glancing over at her colleague.
"That a friend's trying to locate an ancestor's grave... someone who was buried in Golden Gate Cemetery. I gave her a date around 1880... plus or minus ten... as a starting point... That's about it. Whatever she's got is gonna be vague.... I couldn't tell her what to look for... or why... or who!"
Alex scanned through the files... and smiled. "She's good... really good. She's found out that most of the gravestones and monuments were removed to clear space for Lincoln Park... the golf course and the Palace.... She checked the city's and county's online records' indices, but that's a dead end. Nothing in this case would have pertained to the usual stuff... like deeds.... Probably wouldn't even show up in permits... and so much was lost in the quake and fire anyway.
"Then she followed up with the San Francisco Museum and the various historical societies," Alex continued, "...trying to find what was done with the stones. Let's see there's an e-mail from a local cemetery expert... about a monument on the golf course... dedicated to a group who took care of old sailors... made sure they got a decent burial if they had no families." She looked over at Nick. "I didn't see that, did you? I saw that Chinese tomb and gate, but not the sailors' thing.
Alex continued to scan. "Interesting...," she muttered, as she opened Nadine's own notes. "She can't spell and has no idea what punctuation is, but she knows how to chase a clue. She says some of the stones were dumped... to form breakwaters... sea walls... road beds... just like they did with the quake rubble. Let's see... the possible recipients are the breakwaters at the yacht club, maybe the Aquatic Park, beneath Marina Boulevard and Marina Green... a drainage ditch in Buena Vista Park."
Nick put the map of San Francisco up on the main screen, deleted all the streets laid after 1920, then rose to study the possible routes and destinations.
"But... get this!" the researcher continued. "Good girl!... She got on the scent of one of the teamsters that did the hauling.... The main library has his day book in its manuscript collections. Evidently, a few of the guys got mad about the low pay and the long haul down to the Marina area.... So they dumped a few loads off the cliff.... It sounds like at Sutro Heights, which would put it right at the north end of Ocean Beach, where that steep downgrade starts at Cliff House.
"1909," she mused. "That would have been about the time the current edition of Cliff House was built.... So maybe they were doing road work as well. Wonder when the current bridge was built? Anyway... they got caught trespassing on the Sutro Estate.... The city fired them... and demanded the money back. Nadine thinks that maybe she can find it in the court records on Monday.... It sounds like they were hired back and had to haul double the number of loads for free."
"No shit!" Nick's interest was piqued... now that they had the when and the where. "But why did our guy suddenly go active now?"
Alex sighed in exasperation. "We're back where we started.... No ID on our apparition.... Not even a hope of one.... The cemetery records were destroyed in 1906... and no reason for the incidents."
Sipping her cocoa, she tried to remain focused on the fast moving images that swept across her screen. The silence of concentration grew. At last, slowing the progress, she tutted in mock dismay and turned to her companion. "I think your little protégée has been a naughty girl."
"No kiddin'," the former SEAL replied, "...and that surprises you. What's she done?"
"She's hacked into three city agencies... Risk Management... Public Works... and the Parks Department... plus the National Parks Service... for the Golden Gate National Recreation Area," Alex replied. "She's thorough and a 'creative' thinker. She was checking for anything pertaining to that whole stretch of coast... from Eagle Point clear around to Ocean Beach... Lincoln Park, the Legion of Honor, Land's End, Sutro Heights Park, the Sutro Bath ruins, Cliff House, Seal Rocks, Ocean Beach, the Great Way, Playland... even Queen Wilhelmina's Tulip Gardens at the very west end of Golden Gate Park." She paused in silence as she read, then exclaimed in amazement, "I don't believe it!"
Nick turned to his colleague in surprise. "Well, I do.... I don't guess hacking rates very high on the list of misdemeanors that little lady has committed. I'll wager there's a felony or two in there too."
"No...," Alex replied, distracted, eagerly reading the work order in front of her. "Listen to this.... No one up there at the museum or the golf course thought to mention this. There was a minor landslide a few months ago... along the cliffs below the third hole. A large area was lost... a narrow, but deep cut.... It uprooted a few trees, but didn't affect the golf course proper or the trails. By the description, I'd say you can only see it from out at sea. It's pretty much concealed from satellite photos by the trees. That's why we missed it. It's been blamed on a recent tremor and natural erosion."
Nick walked around to read over her shoulder, then returned to the main screen's map, which Alex replaced with an infrared image, then zoomed in. "Judging by the heat variations," he commented, "that area extends far enough inland to have caught the edges of the cemetery... and maybe some graves."
"That's it!... It must be," Alex agreed, joining him at the map. "Our spirit was sleeping peacefully... along comes a tremor to a cliff already undermined.... Boom... landslide... and he's either blown away like dust in the wind... or washed out to sea. For some reason, he didn't pass over when he died... now the grave is gone... the city he knew is gone... and the only other anchor... the gravestone... is gone too. He's totally lost."
"So... that's the why.... What do we do to fix it?" Nick wondered aloud.
"Ideally, we'd reunite grave and gravestone... to give him his resting place back," Alex pondered.
"Well... that's a non-starter," Nick replied. "His grave's gone... so's his marker... and we've got no idea who he is. We're up Shit Crick."
"We could try to encourage him to move on," Alex suggested.
"Yeah... right...." Nick was thoughtful. Finally, he turned to look into his friend's dark face. "Derek would have channeled him... shown him the way to the light."
"I've never done anything like that," she said, as her fingers nervously twisted the belt of her terry robe. "My 'Sight' is different than Derek's.... It's more like a barometer. I 'sense' things are happening.... I can sometimes communicate, but not in the same way. My 'Sight's' not as controlled.... It doesn't have the force... strength... focus.... I don't know how to describe it.
"With that Lithuanian 'thing'...." She enunciated the word 'thing' with utter disdain. "It had to be Vance who rejected her.... With that boy, Logan Thomas, I linked to him... and what he was experiencing when the entity attacked... but again... peace had to be made with the spirit by someone else... not me." Alex rambled on... trying to justify the butterflies she felt at the thought of being asked to "channel" a spirit. "At the Pennywhistle Inn that time... I simply talked to the little boy's ghost and found out that he was upset by the renovations.... All I did was find a middle ground.... They left his room alone.... He left them alone.
"But here... there's no 'peace' to be made. An angry spirit needs to be calmed. He needs a guide... to show him how to move on to the other side."
Nick sensed his friend's ambivalence... her desire to help opposed by her fear and the guilt over that fear. "No way," he agreed. "I won't allow you to take that risk. That's an order... Miss Moreau."
"Aye, aye... sir." She smiled and sketched a salute, which jokingly concealed deeper emotions. "What are we going to do then?... Just let him wander?"
"What about an exorcism?"
"He's not a demon.... I don't think it would work.... Maybe a blessing?... But where do we sprinkle the holy water?... The golf course?... The beach?... Where the sightings were?... All of the above?"
"Let's sleep on it," Nick replied, glancing at his watch.... "It's almost midnight.... I'm tired."
Alex nodded sadly. "Me, too.... You know what?... It's Saturday night... and the
Legacy 'in crowd' is doing what?... Going to bed... tired... and alone!"
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