KIMI TOOK PHOTOS for another ten minutes, and then put the lens cap on her camera. "You have time to go to Peet's?" Peet's is a coffee shop in Fremont, the trendiest neighborhood in Seattle. I gaped, speechless. She wanted to go to Peet's with me? "Or do you have stuff to do?"
"I work, but not until the afternoon. Peet's sounds great."
Ten minutes later Kimi was ordering Chai tea. I wanted a large mocha with whipped cream, but I ordered tea. I nodded toward the chocolate biscotti in the glass jar on the counter. "You want one?"
She shook her head. "I just ate breakfast."
Just ate breakfast! I thought. That was two hours ago.
What I said was "I'm not hungry either."
From an upstairs counter, we looked out the window and watched people strolling along Fremont Avenue, some stopping to browse in the music shop or one of the vintage clothes shops. Most were in their twenties, and none seemed as if they were headed to work or school. Seeing them drifting about in the late morning would have driven my dad crazy. Delivery drivers were always quitting on him. I could almost hear him: "Young people just don't know the meaning of work."
Kimi stirred one packet of sugar into her tea. "I want to help out with the Angel story. You'll need photos, won't you?"
"Yeah. If there really is a story."
She sipped her tea. "He's got a story. I can see it in his eyes. He's gone through something." She put her cup down. "Where do we begin?"
"The way to do this," I said, feeling my way as I spoke, "is to brainstorm. Get all our ideas out and then sort the good from the bad."
She nodded. "Okay. Let's start with what we know. First, we know Angel is new to Seattle. Second, we know he's from Houston. And third, we know he got cut from his school's football team last year."
"I don't buy the last one. I don't care how big his high school was. With his size, he'd make the team."
Kimi considered. "Maybe he made the team but got kicked off for drugs or alcohol. Maybe he's pretending to be mediocre so McNulty won't check on his past."
"That's possible, but there's another possibility, too."
"What?"
"He could be cheating."
"Cheating? How?"
"You heard about that kid in the Little League World Series?"
"No. Tell me."
"Danny something. It happened years ago. He claimed he was twelve but he was really sixteen. He was a pitcher, and he struck out everybody. When he got caught, his team had to forfeit their title. Maybe Angel Marichal screwed up somewhere and now he's trying to sneak in one more year of high school football even though he's not eligible. "
"But if that's Angel's story, wouldn't he want to be a star? He wouldn't come back, play poorly at practice, and end up sitting on the bench, would he?"
"Probably not," I admitted.
We fell silent. Kimi finished her tea; I let the bottom inch of mine go cold.
"Okay, we're done brainstorming. What's next?" she asked.
"Now we start investigating. I'll Google him, then follow up whatever I get."