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Street Dreams

Warner Vision

Chapter One

The rear area of The Tango was illuminated by a strong yellowspotlight above the back door. The man in white was short,five-seven at the most, with a rough, tawny complexion, a blackmustache, and hands flapping randomly. He was agitated, talkingbullet-speed Spanish. I picked up a few words, but didn't ask him tostop and translate, because I heard the noise myself-the highpitchedwails of a baby.

"Where?" I yelled over his words. "Dnde?"

"Aqu, aqu!" He was pointing to an army-green Dumpster filled tothe brim with blue plastic refuse bags.

"Call 911." I ran to the site and pulled out several bags, tearingone open and exposing myself to a slop of wilted salad greens, mushyvegetables, and golf balls of gray meat and congealed fat. As Isifted through the trash, my clean, pressed uniform and I becameperformance art, the deep blue cloth soaking up the oils and stainsof previously pricey edibles. "I need help! Necesito ayuda! Ahorita."

"S, s!" He dashed back inside.

The crying was getting louder and that was good, but there was stillno sign of the wail's origin. My heart was slamming against my chestas I sorted through the top layer of bags. The bin was deep. Ineeded to jump inside to remove all the bags, but I didn't want tostep on anything until I had checked it out. Three men came runningout of the back door.

"Escalera!"-a ladder-I barked. "Yo necisito una escalera."

One went back inside, the other two began pulling out bags.

"Careful, careful!" I screamed. "I don't know where it is!" I usedthe word "it" because it could have been a thrown-away kitten. Whenagitated, felines sound like babies. But all of us knew it wasn't acat.

Finally, the ladder appeared and I scurried up the steps, gingerlyremoving enough bags until I could see the bottom, a disc of dirtymetal under the beam of my flashlight. I went over legs first and,holding the rim with my hands, lowered myself to the bottom. Ipicked a bag at random, checked inside, then hoisted it over the topwhen I satisfied myself that it didn't contain the source of thenoise.

Slow, Cindy, I told myself. Don't want to mess this up.

With each bag removed, I could hear myself getting closer to thesound's origin. Someone had taken the time to bury it. Fury welledinside me, but I held it at bay to do a job. At the bottom layer, Ihit pay dirt-a newborn girl with the cord still attached to hernavel, her face and body filthy, her eyes scrunched up, her criesstrong and tearless. I yelled out for something to wrap her in, andthey handed me a fresh, starched tablecloth. I wiped down the body,cleaned out the mouth and nose as best as I could, and bundled herup-umbilicus and all. I held her up so someone could take her fromme. Then I hoisted myself up and out.

The man who had flagged me down offered me a wet towel. I wiped downmy hands and face. I asked him his name.

"Martino Delacruz."

"Good job, Seor Delacruz!" I smiled at him. "Buen trabajo."

The man's eyes were wet.

Moments later, the bundle was passed back to me. I felt grubbyholding her, but obviously since I was the only woman in the crowd,I was supposed to know about these kinds of things.

Actually, I did know a thing or two about infants, having a halfsister eighteen years my junior. Her mother, Rina-my stepmother-hadbecome very ill after childbirth and guess who stepped up to theplate when my father was in a near state of collapse? (Who couldhave blamed him? Rina almost died.)

The positive side was the sisterly bonding, at least on my part.Hannah Rosie Decker was my only blood sibling, and they didn't comeany cuter or better than she. I adored her. Matter of fact, I likedmy father's family very much. Rina's sons were great kids and Iloved them and respected them as much as anyone could love andrespect step-relatives. Rina took wonderful care of my father, afeat worth noting because Dad was not the easiest person to getalong with. I knew this from firsthand experience.

"Did anyone call 911?"

"Yo hable." Delacruz handed me another clean rag to wipe my dirtyface.

"Thank you, seor." I had put a clean napkin over my shoulder andwas rocking the baby against my chest. "If you can, get some warmsugar water and dunk a clean napkin into it. Then bring it to me."

The man was off in a flash. The baby's cries had quieted to softsobs. I suddenly noticed that my own cheeks were warm and wet,thrilled that this incident had resolved positively. Delacruz wasback with the sugar water-soaked napkin. I took it and put the tipof a corner into her mouth. Immediately, she sucked greedily. In thedistance I heard a wail of sirens.

"We've got to get you to the hospital, little one. You're one heckof a strong pup, aren't you?"

I smelled as overripe as rotten fruit. I placed the infant back intoDelacruz's arms. "Por favor, give her to the ambulance people. Ineed to wash my hands."

He took the bundle and began to walk with her. It was one of thoseKodak moments, this macho man cooing in Spanish to this tiny,displaced infant. The job had its heartbreak, but it also had itsrewards.

After rotating my shoulders to release the tension, I went throughthe back door of The Tango and asked one of the dishwashers where Icould clean up. I heard a gasp and turned around. A man wearing atoque was shooing me away with dismissive hands. "Zis is a foodestablishment! You cannot come in here like zat!"

"Someone dumped a baby in the trash outside." My stare was fierceand piercing. "I just rescued her by opening up fifteen bags ofgarbage. I need to wash my hands!"

Toque was confused. "Here? A bb?"

"Yes, sir! Here! A bb!" I spotted a cloud of suds that had filledup a sink. Wordlessly, I walked over and plunged my hands insidevery warm water. What the heck! All the china went into a dishwasheranyway, right? After ridding my hands of the grime, I ran the coldwater full blast and washed my face. One of the kitchen workers wasnice enough to offer me a clean towel. I dried myself off and lookedup.

The ambulance had arrived, red strobe lights pulsing through thewindows. I pointed to Mr. Toque and gave him my steely-eyed look."Like heartburn, I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

The EMTs had already cut the cord and were cleaning her up. Iregarded the medics as they did their job. A sturdy black woman washolding the baby in her arms while a thin white kid with aconsumptive complexion was carefully wiping down the infant's face.Both were gloved.

"How's she doing?" I asked.

They looked up. The thin kid smiled when he saw me. "Whew, you mustabeen hungry."

The kid's name tag said B. HANOVER. I gave him a hard stare and herecoiled. "Jeez. Just trying out a little levity, Officer. It breaksthe tension."

"How's she doing?" I repeated.

The woman...