Joanne Pence_Angie Amalfi 02 by Too Many Cooks

Author:Too Many Cooks
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780061081996
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1994-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Lunch with Henri had been mercifully uneventful that day, and as soon as it ended, Angie telephoned Mrs. Calamatti.

“This is Angie. Did you talk to your sister?”

“Not only that. Her son knew a little about it. He thinks the place you want is in Berkeley. The upper floor of a brick building on Dwight Way near Telegraph.”

Bingo! That was easy. Why couldn’t the police do as well? “You’re a doll! See you later.”

Angie could have simply given Paavo this news along with the photos, but considering the trouble she’d caused him, she wanted to be sure the information was correct. How long could it take to find out?

Her Ferrari would have broken the speed limit, crossing the Bay Bridge and then heading north on 1-80 to Berkeley, except that there was too much traffic. Berkeley was a place where anything goes, as long as it was politically correct. Compared to Berkeley, San Francisco was John Birch Society country. Angie felt like a fish out of water here; her Italian-Catholic upbringing didn’t prepare her for this kind of place.

She rode down Telegraph Avenue until she spotted a parking garage on a side street. It was worth the big tip to the attendant to be sure he’d keep a watchful eye on her Ferrari.

Telegraph Avenue was a 1960s nostalgia lover’s dream. Angie had been told by older friends that little had changed there in thirty years. It was a place where the Grateful Dead were still young, Janis Joplin still hung around with Bobby McGee, and the Free Speech Movement was considered the height of daring. Although college bookstores, coffee shops, and very nineties students existed side by side with small colorful shops that sold used records, books, sandals, tie-dyed T-shirts, and all kinds of psychedelic funk, it was the latter that drew her attention. Angie thought the street looked like something one should find in Disneyland. Between Frontierland and Tomorrow-land there should be an old-fashioned Hippieland. It could look just like this.

She wove her way through the mass of students and street people and the cacophony of sounds that filled Telegraph day and night.

“Spare change, lady?” Lady? Did she look that old already? But then, the girl who spoke to her looked about fourteen. The girl’s chubby-faced healthy looks told Angie she was in no imminent danger of starvation. She was the sort who gave beggars a bad name.

“Hari krishna, hari krishna.”

Angie glanced at the group of chanting middle-aged men in their saffron robes and Birkenstock sandals. She wondered if these same people had danced in circles on this street years ago. Their shaved heads would hide any gray or bald patches. Maybe that was the secret of their popularity?

“Free abortions, now!”

“Got any change?”

“Save the Berkeley Five! Give donations!”

“Falafel! The taco from Morocco. Get your falafel!”

“Love one another, brothers and sisters. We must learn to love, to dedicate ourselves, our bodies…”

“Hari rama, rama, rama…”

“Sexism sucks!”

“Gimme some change, lady!”

She scurried even faster toward the building on Dwight Way. It was a square two-storied building with a brick facade.

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