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“I have some idea,” she said. “I helped out a little with my sister.”
“Oh, you have a sister too. I’m sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”
“Daniella,” Dani answered, disturbed to be telling her name to her own mother.
“I love that name! If I had another daughter, I might have named her that. But we always thought the perfect family was one girl and one boy, so we stopped after Nick. I’m sorry, Daniella, where are my manners? Come in and visit. Tell me all about Marcello and the rest of your family. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember your mother’s name.”
“Kathy,” Dani said, remembering Marcello’s wife. She knew these people only by name, by the annual Christmas cards, though she knew she had met them as a young child. At this point, she didn’t know how to tell her mother she wasn’t Marcello’s daughter. She was having trouble speaking at all and it was actually a convenient assumption. She hadn’t had the presence of mind to rehearse how she would explain her identity when her mother opened the door and didn’t recognize her. She just hadn’t been able to believe that was a possibility.
“I can’t stay, Mrs. Barsetti. I’m on duty. I just thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.”
“Call me Aunt Nora, please.” She looked past Dani. “Oh, look, there’s Rachel!” She waved.
Dani turned around to see her sister taking a long box out of her car. She waved up to the porch and shut the trunk.
“She’s got the wedding dress!” said their mother excitedly. “Oh, you have to stay to see this.”
Dani didn’t think she could bear it. “I really have to go.”
“Well, come back for dinner any time. And you should tell your father that we can’t wait for weddings and funerals to see one another.”
“I’ll do that.”
Dani turned to leave and her mother rushed her. “Let me hug you, Daniella.” She wrapped her arms around her, and Dani stooped over her and did the same, hugging her closely, closing her eyes and enjoying the familiar smell of her perfume, the same scent she had always worn. When Dani pulled away, Rachel was standing beside her on the porch.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“This is your cousin Daniella,” their mother said. “Marcello’s daughter.”
“Really? Daniella? Sorry, I can’t…” Her arms were full of the box, so shaking hands was not an option. “Oh! You’re the police officer from yesterday in the shop. That’s how you knew my name.”
Dani nodded politely, anxious to get away.
“Why didn’t you introduce yourself yesterday?” Rachel asked, her forehead wrinkled up in puzzlement.
“You were busy and I…bridal shops sort of creep me out. But I’m happy to meet you at last.”
Rachel laughed. “I hope weddings don’t creep you out. Mom, did you send all my cousins an invitation?”
“Of course! I sent Marcello an invitation for his entire family.”
“Will you come?” Rachel asked, her eyes bright and hopeful.
“Yes,” Dani said. “If I can.” She moved awkwardly down the steps. “Congratulations. Nice meeting you both finally.”
“Thank you for stopping by,” called her mother after her. “I hope we’ll see you and your sister at the wedding.”
Dani skipped down the steps, waiting until she heard the door shut before turning back around to look at the house again. Was this the last time she’d ever see it? she wondered.
Feeling beat up, she returned to the Jetta. Once seated behind the wheel, she lost control of her emotions completely and began to sob. She couldn’t believe this was happening. But it was true. It was really true. She had no life here. She didn’t exist here. Nobody knew her. Nobody cared about her. She had been erased!
She wrapped her arms around the steering wheel and buried her face in them, letting herself cry for several minutes.
Eventually, she lifted her head, wiped her eyes and nose and composed herself. A few minutes later, she dialed Gemma’s cell phone, prepared to sound cheerful. Her voice mail answered, so she left a brief message. “Hi, pretty lady, it’s Dani. Looking forward to seeing you tonight.” She gave her the new phone number in case Gemma needed to call.
She then took off for Berkeley.
Traffic on the Bay Bridge was just heating up this time of day, but there were no serious delays. Around the campus, Berkeley looked a little sleepy, as classes were probably mostly over for the day. Without an official police vehicle, Dani was in the streets like everybody else, trolling for a coveted parking spot. That took so much time and she had to park so far away that she was practically sprinting to reach the appointment on time. After asking a couple of students for help locating Stanley Hall, a multistory blue and gray building, she made it to Dr. Littleton’s office four minutes late.
The professor rose from a swivel chair to greet her with a cordial smile. She was a tall, slender and elegant woman in her thirties with carefully styled black hair and a flowing, long-sleeved orange blouse that perfectly complemented her bronze skin. Taupe-colored pants and espresso-colored T-straps completed the outfit. She wore makeup, including lipstick, but none of it was overstated. With large, almond-shaped eyes, she was a striking-looking woman. Tall women unnerved Dani, as it was unusual to run into one taller than herself. Professor Littleton met her eye to eye, but she was wearing two-inch heels. Barefoot, Dani would have edged her out by about an inch, and that knowledge sat well with her.
“Officer Barsetti,” she said in a pleasant low voice, “nice to meet you. Please sit down.” She motioned to the only other chair in the room, molded plastic, no doubt the chair where ardent students sat to do their begging, complaining and worshipping. Littleton then shut the door and sat gracefully in her desk chair.
Dani sat, noting how the chair put her several inches shorter than the professor. The office contained unruly piles of books and folders on shelves, but the long desk was neat with organized stacks of paper, a desktop computer and a healthy-looking jade plant. A two-drawer filing cabinet was beside that. On top of it sat a printer. On the wall above the desk were three framed certificates, Littleton’s degrees. Dani noted that one of them, issued from the University of Southern California, contained the phrase “Doctor of Medicine” in bolded type. The other two were PhDs, but the lettering was too small for her to make out the subjects. On this side of the closed door was a yellowed poster with tattered edges and mod style lettering that said, “Make Love, Not War.” The o’s had peace signs in them. Dani found herself staring at the poster until Littleton said, “That belonged to my predecessor and I decided to keep it, a memento of the campus legacy. Besides, when it comes right down to it, I would much rather make love than war myself.”
Dani faced her to find a smirk on her lips and a faintly suggestive look in her eye.
“What’s this about, Officer?” Littleton asked, becoming serious. “You said something about black beetle beans over the phone.”
“Yes. Dr. Ruben said he mailed you some.”
“I haven’t gotten them yet.”
“Probably tomorrow then. You’ve heard about the bombing?”
“Oh, yes.” She shook her head. “Absolutely horrible. I couldn’t believe it.”
“The rest of the beetle beans were lost in the explosion, so the ones in the mail may be the only ones in existence. Dr. Ruben naturally wants them back.”
This news clearly disappointed the professor. “I see. Why didn’t he tell me that himself?”
“He’ll probably be calling you. Right now, he’s overwhelmed with all of the destruction. The only reason he remembered sending you the beans is that the suspect wanted to know if any of them had survived the explosion.”
“The suspect?” Littleton’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Why?”
“I wish I knew.”
“So the man who did it has been arrested?”
“No, actually, he’s still on the loose. That’s why I’m here asking about the beans. It could be a lead. The bomber, Leo Darius, spoke to Dr. Ruben earlier today about the beans. Ruben didn’t tell him that some of them had been saved. It slipped his mind until he was speaking to me. Maybe you can tell me what’s special about these beans.”
Littleton crossed her legs casually. “As far as I know, and I’d go so far as to say as far as modern science knows, there’s nothing special about them. They’re an ancient legume that was once used as a food source in Asia, particularly in the Guangdong province of China where they were briefly cultivated in the sixteenth century. But their natural habitat has since disappeared due to encroachment by agriculture. They aren’t considered a viable food crop in the modern world, being difficult to mass produce, so nobody’s really noticed their disappearance. I was thrilled to find out Genepac had some in their archives.”
“But why are you interested in them?”
“That can’t be of importance, can it? I like to keep my work close to the chest, if you know what I mean. There’s a lot of competition in the academic world and I don’t want anything leaking out, at least not before I publish.”
“It may help us understand what he’s up to,” Dani explained.
“I don’t see how anyone else could have any interest in the beans. That’s truly puzzling.” She picked up a pencil and tapped the desk with the eraser. She seemed to have forgotten Dani was there. But after a moment, she looked up and said, “My interest stems from an obscure reference in an ancient text from the Han Dynasty.” She gave Dani a look that said, “Of course you don’t know what I’m talking about,” then added, “Around the time of Christ, give or take a couple hundred years.”
Dani let her know by her expression that she did indeed know what she meant by that. Why does everybody think cops are stupid?
“It was a tiny story,” Littleton continued, “about a man who was dying from an incurable disease that might be deduced to be cancer, but it’s impossible to know for sure. His doctor cooked up some beetle beans, mashed them and fed them to the man for three days. On the third day he got up from his sick bed and was completely cured.” She smiled, clearly pleased with the story.
“That’s it?” Dani asked. “That’s why you want the beans?”
She nodded. “That’s it. Of course, it’s a legend. Curing cancer in three days would be impossible. You can’t take a legend literally. Still, there could be something to it. I’ve found that a lot of ancient stories are rooted in fact. At any rate, it’s worth taking a look. But I can’t imagine how your bomber would be aware of this text that has never been translated into English. I only know about it myself through extensive research. I look for old references like that, for forgotten natural cures. Or even those that still linger in our folklore, like chicken soup.”
“Chicken soup? But it’s just an old wives’ tale. It doesn’t work.”
Littleton shook her head. “It actually does work. At least it helps. Science ignored that bit of folklore forever, but recently, we’ve taken a second look. That’s what I’m doing, taking a second look at the old remedies. Once upon a time, humans used only natural substances to cure diseases, and then we got modern medicine and forgot about a lot of the old, quite effective cures. But they’re coming back. In fact, modern medicine is turning more and more to answers found in nature. The problem is, we’ve only surveyed about one percent of the plants on earth for pharmaceutical uses. With a daunting backlog like that, where do you start? That’s why I look for things like the story I just told you. Humans have had tens of thousands of years before us to figure out what worked and what didn’t. They knew about aloe for burns and cardamom for indigestion. We quite arrogantly shoved aside all of that accumulated wisdom. Maybe they didn’t know exactly why cardamom worked, but they knew it worked.”
“You think the beetle beans, based on that one legend, can cure cancer?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a place to start. It’s more information than I’d have going into the rain forest and randomly picking a flower to study. I believe the cures are out there. We just have to find them…before we destroy their habitat. That’s where Genepac has been so valuable, but they’ve got only a small sampling covered.”
“Even smaller now.”
“Yes, sadly. Why would the bomber ask about these beans when he’s just blown up the world’s reserve of them.”
“Another question I can’t answer,” said Dani. “Maybe he was trying to destroy them and wanted to know if he had succeeded.”
“There again, it makes no sense. Like I said, these beans are nothing to anyone. They haven’t been studied. Nobody knows about them and nobody cares. Except me and some long dead Chinese poet.”
“And Leo Darius,” Dani pointed out. “He at least knew they existed.”
Littleton shook her head, perplexed. “That’s so unlikely. Who is this man?”
“Nobody really knows. The name appears to be an alias.”
“You’ve got me really curious now, Officer Barsetti. I’d love to ask him why he’s interested in black beetle beans.”
Dani laughed. “He’s a very dangerous man. In addition to blowing up Genepac, he shot and killed a man.”
“Yes, I remember hearing about that, an FBI agent.”
Dani nodded. “You’ll be lucky if you never meet Leo Darius.”
“I expect I never will. Since he doesn’t know about the beans Dr. Ruben sent me…”
Dani stood. “Right. He knows nothing about that or about you. Whatever his interest is in black beetle beans, he believes they’ve all been destroyed. As soon as the beans arrive, put them somewhere safe, call me and I’ll be over to get them. I’ll return them to Ruben myself.”
Littleton sighed and pursed her lips. “This is very disappointing.”
“By the way,” Dani said, opening the office door, “what do you teach?”
“Biochemistry, microbiology, that sort of thing. And gender studies now and then.”
“Gender studies?”
The professor gave her a knowing smile. “Hope to see you soon, Officer Barsetti.”
Dani left the campus and returned to her car, checking her DNA detector on the way. No green dot. She realized her pursuit of the beans was probably not going to lead her anywhere near Darius. But she didn’t know where else to go. Maybe tomorrow she’d go back to Genepac and hope to pick him up again on this ingenious scanner. But for now, she was off the clock. She had a date with her wife. For Gemma, she reminded herself, it was their first date, so she needed to make it special.
Chapter Twelve
“I love African violets!” exclaimed Gemma, taking the pot from Dani. “How did you know?”
She shrugged. “Just thought you might like it.”
It seemed a little like cheating to use insider knowledge with her, but the first time around, Dani hadn’t, and she’d fallen for her then, so speeding up the process wasn’t the same as pulling a con on her. Which is why Dani wore an outfit she knew Gemma would like—black jeans, a white blouse with ruffles around the neck and down the front placket. Over the blouse she wore a black and white print vest. Gemma always liked Dani best in black and white. So striking, she said. Dani wasn’t surprised to see Gemma wearing the same outfit she’d worn on their original first date, an emerald green blouse and taupe pants over black, heeled boots. She’d had her hair done too and wore her favorite cloisonné earrings. She was making an effort and she looked fantastic.
It had bothered Dani again when she walked up the steps to the door that Tucker hadn’t barked eagerly on the other side. His absence in this apartment was huge. The cats were so subdued in comparison.
Gemma put the violet plant on the kitchen counter, then turned back to Dani. She regarded her with a satisfied smile. “You look great tonight,” she said.
“You too.”
They took the Jetta to their favorite Italian restaurant, a place in North Beach they’d discovered together over three years ago. It was new to Gemma in this timeline.
“The carbonara here is terrific,” Dani told her as they read the menus. “They really do it right.”
Gemma gazed at Dani with curiosity. “It’s one of my favorite dishes.”
“It’s the best vegetarian option, though the pesto primavera isn’t bad.”
“How do you know I’m a vegetarian?” Gemma asked, putting the menu on the table.
Dani smiled self-consciously, wondering how she was going to make it through this evening without some serious missteps. “I just guessed. You’re a nutritionist and a lesbian. You’re either a vegetarian or a vegan, and I saw a yogurt container in your trash yesterday, so not vegan.”
“You’re very observant.” The answer seemed to satisfy her.
They ordered their meals and a bottle of wine and settled down to conversation. Gemma told stories Dani had heard before, and she retold her own that were now new to Gemma. How long will it be, Dani wondered, before I see a look in her eyes that belongs just to me? It was hard to be a stranger with her, and Dani slipped up a couple of times, like when she said, “You know how my mom and dad argue.” Then she had to backpedal and explain. But overall the meal went well. Gemma was clearly having fun. She was talkative and engaged. And Dani got better at the flirty posturing of a first date as the meal wore on.
“You said your sister’s getting married soon,” Gemma said over dessert. “Are you in the wedding?”
“Yes. Maid of honor.”
“Why are you rolling your eyes?”
Dani chuckled. “It’s just my mother. We had a very big fight the day Rachel and I decided on my outfit for the wedding. Actually, it’s not unlike what I’m wearing tonight, except that the blouse is blue, a bit more frilly, and there’s an embroidered jacket. My mother said I looked like a bullfighter in it and she threatened to call the entire wedding off if I didn’t wear an appropriate dress.”
Gemma giggled.
“I know, right? Can you imagine?”
Still grinning, Gemma shrugged. “You could probably pull it off.”
“No, I couldn’t! Believe me. We had this same fight over my high school graduation. That was the last time I wore a dress, and I only finally agreed because I had a graduation gown over it during the public event and nobody could see it.”
