Murray Hill || A Superhuman Tale - 1

Chapter Twenty-Three

From the sidewalk, Ms. Mettouchi's offices looked more like a large house than a high-tech startup. Possibly, the building had begun its life as such. But either way, it was clear that so much real estate would fetch a fortune in the San Francisco market.

After passing through an open metal gate into the yard, Tommy let himself in the main door, which was propped open. The entryway beyond was remarkably large and broad, almost like a small ballroom. Straight ahead, there was the top of a blonde head at work behind a receptionist's station cut from fashionable blonde wood. The blonde head popped up but seemed not to notice him. At that same time, a thin male in tight shorts was hoisting a bike onto a hanging rack to the right of the door. In the near distance, three or four people talked amid the clatter of at least two keyboards. The workday was underway.

After a scant few seconds, a shortish woman in blue jeans, sandals, and a black sleeveless blouse appeared from a doorway on the left and made a beeline for him. There was a cup of coffee and some papers in her left hand, and she smiled broadly and gawked openly at his face as she approached. When the woman reached him, she raised her right hand and gave his nose a gentle squeeze with her thumb and all four fingers.

"Fucking amazing," she said just above a whisper. It was clear she realized who he was.

"Now, how do you know I'm not the DHL guy?"

"You are absolutely not the DHL guy," she said aloud, barely holding back laughter. "Unless at this very moment I'm having my favorite porn dream again."

Both broke out laughing. The woman he assumed to be Ms. Mettouchi motioned him to follow in the direction from which she'd come.

"Claudia! I am not to be disturbed, no matter what," she called loudly, at no particular person, as they entered an even larger room around which stretched a long circular staircase.

A handsome woman with just a trace of an accent hollered her assent. Glancing over her shoulder, the accented woman caught sight of Tommy and did a rapid triple take. Suddenly, the room was quiet, and each of the five pair of eyes in the large office focused on Tommy and his companion as they walked up the staircase to the second floor.

"Get your minds out of the gutter and get back to work," the woman above him bellowed, without breaking stride.

The room to which she led him was a large space, with a high ceiling, that may have been a master bedroom at one point. It had become clear that his original guess was correct. The building once had been a mansion of some splendor, and it was equally obvious that Philly resided there in addition to using it for work.

The room's décor was interesting. The walls were lined in high bookshelves, and the center of the room was occupied by a heavy, L-shaped oak desk, with a single comfortable-looking chair on either side. To the right of the desk was a stand that held six large computer monitors, two high and three wide. There was an enormous leather couch just inside the door to the left. The room otherwise was sparsely furnished.

Tommy took a seat in the visitor's chair. He'd already decided on Ms. Mettouchi. It wasn't a Gift, per se, but the years had taught him to be a quick and shrewd judge of character, a subject upon which he almost never was wrong. Like his initial reading of Detective Mueller, he saw Philly Mettouchi and simply knew she was good people. There was a certain rakishness about her, a contempt for form and rules, but in her heart, she was intensely good.

He'd seldom in his life run across so many strikingly decent folks in such a short time: Mueller, Thomas, and now Mettouchi.

"So, Sam told you about me," he said as she took her seat. It was a statement rather than a question.