“What’s with the ‘Duke of the Tenderloin’ thing?”
“I think he uses it as a joke. Or maybe it started that way. But honestly, the people on the streets do look up to him. Even now you can tell how sharp he is. He’s spoken at meetings of the Board of Supervisors about conditions in the Tenderloin. He even managed to get another free clinic set up.”
“And he still lives on the streets?”
I hesitated. “Technically he lives behind a diner that gives him a free meal every day and a small air mattress under the rear eaves. He’s their security at night.”
Now we were only a few steps away from the door. I placed my hand on the doorknob, looked at Conklin, and said, “There’s one more thing. You heard what the guard said earlier, right? Barry doesn’t always have access to a shower. Sometimes he can be… more than a little ripe.”
“I’ve been around people with body odor before.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I said, “Remember those words.” Then I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Sitting at the end of our long, scarred conference table was the fifty-five-year-old former computer engineer, wearing the same 49ers sweatshirt I usually saw him in.
With my first breath I could actually taste Barry’s body odor in the back of my mouth. I did a sly glance over to Conklin, who was working hard at not covering his mouth.
I said, “Barry, how are you?”
“The same, Sergeant. Invisible to the city, estranged from my family, and finally free of all responsibility. I guess it’s a trade-off.”
When Barry smiled, I noticed he had another tooth missing from his upper right palate. That concerned me. I hoped it wasn’t from poor nutrition. His left eye seemed to be drifting a little bit as well. That worried me too.
I introduced Rich Conklin, who was polite and professional. God bless him, he always tried to show respect to everyone we met. But I didn’t fault him for not coming any closer.
We chatted for a few minutes. One of the things Barry said was “Your friend, the reporter, occasionally brings donuts to me. She doesn’t ask for anything in return. That’s nice.”
Rich gave me a look and I nodded my head, silently saying,Yes, he’s talking about your wife.I’d introduced the duke to Cindy a couple of years ago, when she was doing a story on the state of downtown San Francisco.
Finally, I asked, “What brings you in today, Barry?”
He leaned forward and said in an even tone, “Things are bad in the Tenderloin.”
“More than usual?”
“There are strangers coming and going. Sometimes you can’t find a cop even if your life depends on it. And sometimes it does.”
I listened to his concerns without saying a word. Barry was observant and smart. The city had pivoted away from uniformed cops patrolling as much of the downtown. Administration thought it was a way to reduce conflict. But in some areas it was emboldening criminals.
I said, “Tell me more about the strangers.”
“Three or four of them. At least one of them is a woman. She’sprobably in her early thirties. Dark hair. She hangs out with a guy who’s on the tall side. Over six feet, maybe six two. They don’t stay in the Tenderloin. I only see them every few days. I’ll figure out what they’re doing and get back to you.”
I pulled out my phone and brought up the ME’s digital composite of the young woman who’d washed up on Marshall’s Beach.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” I told him, turning the screen toward him. I explained the circumstances.
“Can I have a copy?”
I sent a command to our printer.
Barry said, “I’ll show it around. You never know.”
“We appreciate that,” I told him. Before Barry left, Conklin had given him a few printouts of the digital composite as well as four gift certificates to McDonald’s. A lot of cops had pivoted to giving informants food coupons. Tougher to blow on alcohol.
Besides, everyone liked McDonald’s fries.
