Ghosts In the Heart. Michael J.D. Keller

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      As Peter joined them, Mckenzie gestured toward the wooden building and the view beyond. “Your friend must be doing pretty well” he said. “Property with this kind of water front exposure doesn’t come cheap.” Even as he spoke, Mckenzie’s analytical mind recognized the inconsistencies in his observation. The property might be expensive but the building was obviously modest and hardly new. The parking lot had only a few cars in it, and except for a small sign over the door proclaiming Trattoria de Alesandra, there was little to even identify it as a restaurant.

      “The property belongs to Sandra’s uncle” Peter said. He was going to tear down the building and develop the site into something else.”

      Brenda had moved between the two men and linked her arms with both gently urging them toward the door. Like a veteran actress picking up perfectly on her cue, she continued Peter’s explanation. “Sandra is her Uncle Benjamin’s favorite niece. When he found out that she and Matt wanted to operate a restaurant, he leased them this place. He said he would give them a year to prove they could do it.”

      “So how are they doing? Mckenzie kept the doubt out of his voice. It was a Friday night but the Trattoria de Alesandra did not appear to be turning eager patrons away.

      “It’s coming along” Peter said. “They have only been open a couple of months and there is a lot of competition in the Sausilito restaurant business.”

      Mckenzie did not look at Peter Stewart but he had heard too much concealed emotion in too many interrogations to miss it this time. Stewart entertained both hope and concern for his friend’s business enterprise. Concern was beginning to displace hope.

      The door, a heavy dark wood with carved designs more ornate than might be expected from the otherwise plain exterior of the building swung inward. An old fashioned tinkling bell mounted on the inside announced their entry. The restaurant consisted of one large dinning room and a deck visible through the large glass door on the far wall. The tables set up for alfresco dining on the deck were covered and unoccupied. The late October chill had overwhelmed any romantic desire for a closer view of the cityscape across the water.

      In the dinning room, Mckenzie quickly counted about thirty tables, only six of which were occupied. The short bar over to the right was also devoid of patrons, leaving an obviously bored bartender with nothing to do except aimlessly rearrange the glasses in the rack against the wall.

      A young man, Chinese in appearance, was sitting at the small reception desk that held the cash register and an appointment book. Mckenzie suspected that there had been few entries in the book tonight. From the pensive look on his face, the man appeared to be looking over the evening’s receipts and taking little pleasure from his examination.

      The silvery ring of the small bell broke his serious mood and he looked hopefully toward the door. At the sight of Brenda and Peter his face came alight with a broad smile. He jumped to his feet and hurried to meet them.

      “Hey counselor” he said with a tone of affectionate levity animating his voice. Peter vigorously shook his hand. “How are you doing Matt? Sandra chase you out of the kitchen again?” So, this was Peter’s former classmate Mathew, Mckenzie thought. In Brenda, the mixture of genes from her Caucasian mother and Chinese father had produced an exotically beautiful woman. Mathew on the other hand seemed to be a portrait of old China, untouched by any competing culture. Mckenzie reflected on the irony. He was about to eat dinner in an Italian restaurant run by a Chinese-American lawyer - only in San Francisco.

      Matt’s smile became a guilty grin. “You know Sandy. She said I was gaining too much weight sampling the dishes.”

      Brenda interjected a quick comment. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I have seen what you call a sample. You don’t give your customers that much food.”

      Matt turned to Brenda, shaking his finger at her as he lapsed into what Mckenzie recognized as Mandarin Chinese. Matt seemed to be in the midst of scolding her when Brenda launched a fierce response, the Chinese words flowing over each other like water passing over stones. For a moment they stood toe to toe, obviously mock anger reflected in an increasingly vociferous exchange. Then they both burst into laughter before they hugged each other.

      Peter looked at Alex and chuckled. “I don’t think either one of them can actually speak Chinese. I think they make it up as they go along just to confuse me.”

      Brenda still had her arm around Matt’s waist. “You have known him longer than I have Matt. Has he always been this paranoid?”

      “Pretty much.”

      Mckenzie experienced a disconcerting sense of isolation. Friendships had never been part of his life. He felt like an intruder interjecting his presence in world where he did not belong. Instinctively, he took a small step backward.

      Peter cut off his attempted escape. “Matt, this is our friend Alex Mckenzie. Alex, this law school dropout is Mathew Yeung.” Mckenzie held out his hand and Mathew grasped it eagerly - as if suddenly impressed.

      “Alexander Mckenzie” he said. The great detective - San Francisco’s answer to Sherlock Holmes and Mike Hammer.” Mckenzie smiled warily at Mathew before turning a baleful glare on Peter Stewart.

      “I think my press agent has been overstating things a bit. I am just a policeman.”

      “Yeah right” Mathew replied smiling broadly. Come on, I know you are all hungry so let’s get you a table and get some food out here.”

      “About time” Brenda replied. “I’m eating for two you know.”

      Mathew seated them and then hurried off toward the kitchen. “Don’t worry about menus” he called back over his shoulder. “Sandy is going to want to fix you something special.”

      As they settled into their chairs, Brenda looked first at Mckenzie and then her husband. “Okay guys. Ground rules for the evening. There will be no shop talk by the policeman or the prosecutor. If you break that rule, I will tell you all about in detail my latest intensive care trauma case and no one will have an appetite. Do we have a deal?” Peter glanced at Mckenzie and winked. Simultaneously both men answered “Deal.”

      CHAPTER 4

      “It’s nice to be friends with the boss” Peter observed as Mathew emerged from the kitchen bearing a large glass bowl. Trailing behind him the bartender, now happy to have something to do, was displaying, with an appropriate flourish, a bottle of wine. Mckenzie caught a glance from one of the other patrons who was clearly wondering who these new arrivals were and why they merited such immediate service.

      “Panzanella” Mathew said as if announcing a major culinary triumph. “Tuscan Bread salad. It will hold you until Sandy gets your special pizzas ready.” Without waiting for an invitation, Mathew pulled up a chair, sat down and reached for an empty wine glass. The bartender, quickly introduced as Brian, extracted the cork and began to pour red wine from a bottle of Valpolicella.

      “Just a little taste for me” Brenda cautioned. “Pregnant ladies have to stick to water.” She grinned mischievously. “Mostly.”

      “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?” Mathew asked.

      “No, Doctor Kuhn doesn’t like to do ultrasound until 18 weeks and I’m only a little past 12.” “Maybe it will be one of each” Peter Stewart’s voice was equal parts teasing and tenderness.

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