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Esther Johnson's house was just a couple of blocks off Haight, and Charlie was lucky enough to find parking in a twenty-minute green zone nearby. (If the time came that he ever got to talk to someone in charge, he was going to make a case for special parking privileges for Death Merchants, for while it was nice that no one could see him when he was retrieving a soul vessel, some cool Death plates or "black" parking zones would be even better. )
The house was a small bungalow, unusual for this neighborhood, where most everything was three stories tall and painted in whatever color would contrast most with the house next to it. Charlie had taught Sophie her colors here, using grand Victorians as color swatches.
"Orange, Daddy. Orange. "
"Yes, honey, the man barfed up orange. Look at that house, Sophie, it's purple. "
The block did have its share of transients, so he knew the doors of the Johnson house would be locked. Ring the bell and try to sneak through, or wait? He really couldn't afford to wait - the sewer harpies had hissed at him from a grate as he approached the house. He rang the bell, then quickstepped to the side.
A pretty, dark-haired woman of about thirty, wearing jeans and a peasant blouse, opened the door, looked around, and said, "Hello, can I help you?"
Charlie nearly fell through a window. He looked behind his back, then back at the woman. No, she was looking right at him.
"Yes, you rang the bell?"
"Oh, me? Yes," Charlie said. "I'm, uh - you meant me, right?"
The woman stepped back into the house. "What can I do for you?" she said, a bit stern now.
"Oh, sorry - Charlie Asher - I own a secondhand store over in North Beach, I just talked to you on the phone, I think. "
"Yes. But I told you that it wasn't important. "
"Right, right, right. You did, but I was in the neighborhood, and I thought, well, I'd just drop by. "
"I got the impression you were calling from your shop. You got all the way across town in five minutes?"
"Oh, right, well, the van is like a mobile shop to me. "
"So the person who won the lotto is with you?"
"Right, no, he quit. I had to kick him out of the van. New money, you know? All full of himself. Will probably buy a big rock of cocaine and a half-dozen hookers and he'll be broke by the weekend. Good riddance, I say. "
The woman backed another step into the house and pulled the door partway shut. "Well, if you have the clothes with you, I suppose I can take a look at them. "
"Clothes?" Charlie couldn't believe she could see him. He was completely screwed now. He'd never get the soul vessel and then - well, he didn't want to think of what would happen then.
"The clothes you said you thought might belong to my aunt. I could look at them. "
"Oh, I don't have those with me. "
Now she had the door closed to the point where he could see just one blue eye, the embroidery around the neckline of her blouse, the button on her jeans, and two toes. (She was barefoot. ) "Maybe you'd better check another time. I'm trying to get my aunt's things together, and I'm doing it all by myself, so it's a little hectic. She was in this house for forty-two years. I'm overwhelmed. "
"That's why I'm here," Charlie said, thinking, What the hell am I talking about? "I do this all the time, uh, Ms. - "
"Mrs. , actually. Mrs. Elizabeth Sarkoff. "
"Well, Mrs. Sarkoff, I do this sort of thing a lot, and sometimes it can get overwhelming going through the possessions of a loved one, especially if they've been in one place for a long time like your aunt. It helps to have someone who doesn't have an emotional attachment to help sort things out. Plus, I have a pretty good eye for what's valuable and what's not. "
Charlie wanted to give himself a high five for coming up with that on the spur of the moment.
"And do you charge for this service?"
"No, no, no, but I may make an offer to buy items you'd like to get rid of, or you can place them in my shop on consignment if you'd prefer. "
Elizabeth Sarkoff sighed heavily and hung her head. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to take advantage. "
"It would be my pleasure," he said.
