Robert Crais - Indigo Slam

When the table was clean, Teresa came over, sat in the big chair, and gave me a smile. 'Would you like a cup of coffee?'

'No, thanks.'

'Well, if you change your mind.' Prim and proper. In absolute control of her environment, and of this meeting with the employee. 'Now, what have you found?'

Water was running in the kitchen. Winona 's night to do the dishes. 'Has your father mentioned a man named Tre Michaels to you?'

She shook her head. 'No. No, I don't think so.'

'How about Wilson Brownell?'

She stared thoughtfully as if maybe this rang a bell, but then she shook her head. 'Uh-uh.' Charles skulked in from the dining room and leaned against the wall.

'Tre Michaels worked with your father. He saw your dad a couple of weeks ago, and your father said that he was thinking of taking a trip, but he didn't say where. At about that same time, your dad made five long-distance calls to Seattle and spoke with Wilson Brownell, twice at considerable length.' When I mentioned Seattle Teri and Charles glanced at each other, and Charles crossed his arms. 'I phoned Mr. Brownell, but Brownell denied knowing your father. I think he's lying, and I think maybe your dad went to Seattle to see him. I'm going to fly up tomorrow to ask Mr. Brownell in person.' I didn't mention the drugs, or why Clark had been fired from Enright.

Teresa looked nervous. 'Why do you have to go to Seattle?'

'I told you why.'

She frowned harder. I thought she wanted to object some more, but you could tell that whatever her objections might be, her desire to find her father was stronger. 'Okay. I guess I should pay you some more money.'

I raised a palm. 'Forget the money. I'll take that part of it up with your father when I find him.'

Charles was frowning, too. He seemed less happy about my going to Seattle than Teresa. She said, 'How long will you be gone?'

'Two days, maybe three. Less if I get what I'm after right away.'

They were watching me now, all big eyes.

'I've asked my partner to come over. His name is Joe Pike, and he'll be around if you need anything.'

Charles looked sulky. 'What are we gonna need? You think we're babies?'

'No, but I'll sleep better if I know there's someone to help you if you need it.'

The doorbell rang. Charles grabbed his knife and raced for the door. I said, 'Ask who it is.'

Charles threw open the door and there was Joe Pike, filling the frame, motionless. Pike is six-one, with long ropy muscles, short dark hair, and a face that gives you nothing unless you know him well. His arms are laced with veins, and bright red arrows had been tattooed onto the outside of his deltoids a long time ago. They point forward. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off and blue Levis and bottomless black pilot's glasses. The glasses tilted toward Charles.

Charles dropped the knife and screamed, 'Run!' He tried to slam the door, but Pike caught the door without effort, and gently pushed it open.

I said, 'Lighten up, Charles. This is Joe Pike. Joe works with me.'

Charles was leaning into the door with everything he had, making little sounds like 'Grr, grr, grr.'

Teresa snapped, ' Charles !'

Charles jumped away from the door and ran past Winona into the kitchen, breathing hard. Winona was standing in the kitchen door, hands soapy and dripping, sniffling like she was about to cry.

Teresa said, 'It's okay, honey. He's one of the good guys.' She looked back at me and shook her head. 'We can take care of ourselves. We don't need a baby-sitter.' Charles peeked out from behind the door.

Joe Pike looked at the knife on the floor, then at the children, and then at me. 'Baby-sitter?'

I spread my hands. 'He won't live with you. He'll just be around, and you'll have his phone number. If there's anything you need, you can call him.' I looked at Joe. 'Right?'

Joe's head swiveled so that the flat black lenses angled my way. I thought he might be amused, but you never know.

Teresa's mouth set in a stubborn line. 'It's all right. We're fine.'

I said, 'Look, I'm not leaving you guys here alone. Joe will be outside, and he might drop in a time or two, and that's the way it has to be.'

Teresa wasn't liking it, but I wasn't giving her a lot of choice. 'Well, I guess there isn't much I can do about it, is there?' Stiff.

I shook my head. 'No.'

Charles finished eyeing Joe and skulked out from behind Winona. 'Lemme see your gun.'

Pike picked up the serrated knife, flipped it into the air, then caught it by the blade. He looked at Charles, and Charles ducked behind Winona. Pike walked over and held out the knife. Handle first. 'Put this away before someone gets hurt.'

Charles took the knife and disappeared into the kitchen.

Pike turned to Teresa. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Haines. My name is Joe.' He held out his hand and she took it. I think she blushed.

Winona smiled. 'My name's Winona.'

Pike glanced over at me and said, 'Go ahead and leave. We'll be fine.'

That Joe. To know him is to love him.

I left them like that in the deepening purple of twilight, and went home.

I approached my house with a suspicion I do not often feel and let myself in. The three drops of blood were still by the cat's door, and the quiet house still held an air of alienness that I resented. The cat slipped in through his cat door, sniffed the three drops, then snicked across the floor and sat by his bowl. Guess he had moved past it.

I gave him a can of Star Kist tuna, then opened the sliding glass doors that lead to my deck. The twilight air was cool and scented with wild sage. I put Jimmy Buffett on the CD player, then poured a glass of Cuervo Gold, had some, then went out to the side of my house and selected a fat green lime from the tree I planted two years ago. It went well with the Cuervo. My home had been invaded, and I could either let my feelings for the place be changed by that event or not, but either way would be my choice. The event is what you make of it.

I spent the next two hours cleaning both bathrooms and the kitchen and the floors. I threw out my toothbrush and opened a new one, and I washed the sheets and pillowcases and towels. I pulled the plates and the silver from the cupboards and drawers and loaded them into the dishwasher, and vacuumed the couch and the chairs and the carpets. I scrubbed the floors hard, and spent the remains of the day cleaning and drinking until, very early the next morning, I had once more made peace with my home.

I packed, then fell into a fitful sleep as Jimmy Buffett sang about Caribbean sunsets, over-the-hill pirates, and a world where fifteen-year-old girls didn't have to carry the emotional weight of their families.

Later that morning I went to Seattle.

Seattle is one of my favorite cities, and I often think that if I did not live in LA, I might live there. Where the sky over Los Angeles is more often dimensionless and ill-defined, Seattle is capped by a continually redefined skyscape of clouds that makes the sky there a visibly living thing, breathing as it moves, cooling the city and its people with a protective cloak, and washing the air and the land with frequent rains that come and go in a way that freshens the place and its people. You can get the best coffee in America in Seattle, and browse in some of the best bookstores, and fish for silver and blackmouth salmon, and, until recently, the real estate prices were so low compared to those in Southern California that herds of Californians moved there. A friend of mine from Orange County sold her house and used the equity to buy a beautiful home on the water at Bainbridge Island. Cash. She used the balance of her equity to invest in mutual funds, and now she spends the bulk of each day painting in watercolors and digging for butter clams. So many Californians did this that property values in the Seattle area went through the roof and many native Seattleites could no longer afford to live in their own town. Whenever I visit I say I'm from Oregon.