Treasure Hunt

Another shrug. “That’s what we do, Wyatt. Run down leads. It’s police work.”

Wyatt sat back, let out a breath. “This is getting a little circular, don’t you think? You got any of these leads?”

Juhle paused, then spit out, “We got squat.”

“That was my guess,” Hunt said. “You know, time was this would have been a slam dunk for both of us, Dev. Win-win.”

Juhle glanced down the length of the couch. “Time was a lot of other things too.”

“You want to talk about some of ’em?”

“Talk’s cheap, Wyatt. And bullshit walks.”

“This isn’t bullshit. This is something I can legitimately do to help your investigation. We are going ahead and contacting potential reward sources-”

“And who are these sources?”

“People co

“None of them more than I do.”

“Granted. But we can generate leads you can’t. Calls from folks who would never call the cops. Most of what we get will be crap, sure, but if we even get one good tip you couldn’t get, you’re better off.” Hunt sat back, spoke matter-of-factly. “This is a free gift to you, Dev. Call it an apology if you want. Sometimes the jobs we do, we’re on different sides. It doesn’t have to be personal.”

This brought a cold smile. “And of course it’s going to put money in your pocket for what you just admitted to me was mostly going to be crap. For this I’m supposed to say thank you? You fuck with my career, my livelihood, and my family, and you tell me it’s not personal?”

“It didn’t happen that way, Dev. You could look at it that Gina and I saved you from being the cop who sent the wrong guy to prison. And then, P.S., she hands you the real guy, the actual killer. And you get the credit for that arrest. How’s that hurt your career? You want to tell me that?”

No answer.

“Your feelings?” Hunt went on. “Okay. After what happened on the stand, okay. Sorry. But your career? Your livelihood? Your family? I don’t think so.”

Up one flight on the main floor, the television laid down white noise. Tires squealed and a car’s horn sounded from outside on the street.

Juhle’s jaw was set, the corners of his mouth drawn down. He stared in the direction of the bookcase wall across from him, then pulled himself upright on the couch and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

Hunt lowered his voice. “This is a done deal, Dev. I’m telling you as a courtesy. This is happening. But whatever you think of it, we will help you any way we can.” Without a cease-fire, much less a peace treaty, in hand, Hunt got up. “Tell Co

Now that Hunt was on board with him, Mickey had all the excuse he needed to see Alicia Thorpe again.

They met at Bay Beans West, a coffee shop on Haight Street about midway between their two residences, got their brews, and realized it might be hours before they could find a place to sit inside. So they decided to walk instead, down to Lincoln and then due west into the teeth of the wind, out toward the beach.

For the first couple of blocks, they made small talk about the changing weather, Starbucks versus Bay Beans, how the La Cuisine classes were going for both Mickey and Ian, how everybody their age seemed to be doing one job for money, then all these other things that they seemed to like better for free-Alicia volunteering at the Sunset Youth Project, Mickey and Ian learning to cook.

“So what’s your day job?” Mickey asked her. “When you’re not volunteering?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“If it’s work that pays you, it’s not embarrassing. As my grandfather used to say, ‘There is no work, if done in the proper spirit, to which honor ca

A small contralto laugh. “That’s good. Does that apply to being the hostess at Morton’s?”

“Every job in the world, according to Jim. But especially hostess at Morton’s,” Mickey said. “Perhaps the most honorable of the service jobs.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll start trying to look at it that way. Instead of as six hours of mind-numbing tedium.”

“There you go.” They walked on in silence for a while, and then Mickey said, “Ian told me about your parents.”

She cast a quick glance over at him. “Yeah.”

“Did he tell you that pretty much the same thing happened to me?”

She stopped and faced him. “Your father shot your mother and then himself?”

“No. But my father disappeared and then my mother overdosed. Same result. No parents.”

She closed her eyes, then shook her head. “I don’t really remember it too much. It was just the way it was. I was only nine.”

“I was seven, but I think it’s the most indelible memory of my life-the shape under the sheet on the gurney, knowing it was Mom, as they wheeled her out.”

“I must have blocked it,” she said.

After a silence that lasted for half a block, Mickey cleared his throat. “So, about Dominic, all these charities he ran…”

“He only ran one. The Sunset Youth Project. And of course all the subordinate groups off that.”

“Okay. So what are those?”

She shrugged. “Let’s see. The art gallery, the two schools, the development company, the theater, the moving company, the Sunset Battalion…”

“Sunset Battalion sounds like a bunch of commandos.”

“No. It’s more like an urban Peace Corps. Mostly older guys, some of the girls, people who’ve been in the program awhile.”

“So what do they do?”

Another shrug. “Pretty much whatever needs to be done. Tutoring, handing out pamphlets, bringing back the strays, working the neighborhoods. They’re kind of the boots-on-the-ground people.”

His understanding limited at best, Mickey nodded.

“Well, then, with this other stuff, what’s the actual Sunset Youth Project do?”

“Sunset itself? It’s the… I don’t know what you’d call it. The umbrella. The administrative side.”

They kept walking, and she must have noticed another question playing around on Mickey’s face, because she said, “What?”

“I’m just trying to get my arms around this whole thing. I mean, if Dominic was only ru

“Well, the one program has maybe two dozen sites in the city, maybe more. The main office and K through eight down on Ortega, the residential treatment center in Potrero, the outpatient center for adults by City College. Then the high school…” She stopped the litany. “You get the idea. I could get you the whole list if you need it, but the point is that Sunset’s a huge organization. Huge.”

“What’s its budget? Do you know?”

“Total?” She thought a moment. “Fifty million a year, give or take.”

Mickey stopped in his tracks. “No. Really.”

“Really. I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere in that neighborhood. It’s in the a

“Fifty million dollars?”

“Somewhere in there, I’m pretty sure. With everything, I mean all the programs, Sunset’s probably serving five thousand people a day, all told, citywide. It adds up.”

“I’ll say. So where’s all that money come from?”

“Everywhere, Mickey, are you kidding me? Individual philanthropists, foundations, tuition and other income from the schools, moving company fees and the sale of the redeveloped buildings. I mean, a lot of these things are profit centers in themselves. But also there’s a ton of public health money from the city…”

“This city? I thought we were in a budget crunch.”

She nodded. “Always. But even if they cut way back, the Health Services Department is going to stay the single biggest agency in the city.”

“Is that true? The biggest?”

Alicia shook her head. “I’m sure that’s right. I think they’re in for five million to us, just Sunset. But then there’s also AmeriCorps, which is federal and funds the Battalion, for another several mil. And then there’s all the just day-to-day regular fund-raising.”