Michael Connelly - Blood Work

“I know. I don’t mean to sound unhappy with you. It’s not you at all. But I’m frustrated.”

“I understand that. I don’t want you to be. Let’s go have a nice dinner and we’ll talk more later.”

“Okay.”

“You go on out there with Raymond. I’ve got to change.”

After changing into a clean pair of Dockers and a yellow Hawaiian shirt with flying slices of pineapple on it, McCaleb led them down the docks to the restaurant. He hadn’t bothered reeling in Raymond’s line. He’d put the rod in one of the gunwale holders and told the boy they’d check on it when they got back.

They ate at the table with Graciela and Raymond on the side that afforded them a view of the sun just starting to set over the forest of sailboat masts. Graciela and McCaleb ordered the grilled swordfish special, while Raymond had fish and chips. McCaleb repeatedly tried to draw Raymond into conversation but was unsuccessful most of the time. He and Graciela mostly talked about the differences between living on a boat and living in a house. McCaleb told Graciela about how peaceful and restoring it was to be on the water.

“And it’s even better when you’re out there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the Pacific.

“How long before you have your boat ready?” Graciela asked.

“Not long. As soon as I get the second engine back together, it will be ready to run. The rest is all cosmetic. I can do that anytime.”

On the way back after dinner, Raymond walked quickly ahead of them along the seawall, an ice-cream cone in one hand and a flashlight in the other, his blue sweater on, his head bobbing this way and that as he hunted with the light for fiddler crabs scaling the walls. The light was almost gone from the sky now. It would be time for Graciela and Raymond to leave when they got back to the boat. McCaleb felt as though he was already missing them.

When the boy got far enough in front of them, Graciela brought up the case again.

“What else can you do at this point?”

“On the case? For one thing, I have a lead I want to follow, something they might have missed.”

“What?”

He explained the geographic cross-referencing he had done and how he came up with Mikail Bolotov. When he saw her getting excited, he quickly cautioned her against it.

“This guy’s got an alibi. It’s a lead but it may go nowhere.”

He moved on.

“I also am thinking about going to the bureau to get them involved in the ballistics.”

“How so?”

“This guy could’ve done this elsewhere. He uses a very expensive gun. The fact that he didn’t get rid of it between these two cases means he’s hanging onto it and so he might’ve used it before somewhere else. They have some ballistic evidence-the bullets. The bureau might be able to do something with it if I can get them the material.”

She didn’t comment and he wondered if her common sense told her that this was a long shot. He moved on.

“I’m also thinking about going back to a couple of the witnesses and interviewing them a little differently. Especially the man who saw part of the shooting up in the desert. And that’s going to take some finesse. I mean, I don’t want to step on Winston’s toes or make her feel I think she dropped the ball. But I’d like to talk to the guy myself. He’s the best witness. I’d like to talk to him and then maybe a couple of the witnesses to when your sister was… you know.”

“I didn’t know there were witnesses. There were people in the store?”

“No, I don’t mean direct witnesses. But there was a woman who drove by and heard shots. There are also a couple of people in the reports that your sister worked with that night over at the Times. I’d just like to talk to all of them myself, see if maybe anything changed in their memories about that night.”

“I can probably help you set that up. I know most of her friends.”

“Good.”

They walked along in silence for a few moments. Raymond was still well ahead of them. Graciela finally spoke.

“I wonder if you’d do a favor for me.”

“Sure.”

“Glory used to go see this lady in our neighborhood. Mrs. Otero. She also would leave Raymond with her if I wasn’t around. But Glory would go by herself sometimes to talk to her about her problems. I was wondering if you would talk to her.”

“Uh… I don’t… you mean, you think she might know something about this or is this, like, to console her?”

“It’s possible she might be able to help.”

“How would she be able to…”

Then it dawned on him.

“Are you talking about a psychic?”

“A spiritualist. Glory trusted Mrs. Otero. She said she was in touch with the angels and Glory believed it. And she’s been calling and saying she wants to talk to me and, I don’t know, I just thought maybe you’d go with me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t really believe in that sort of stuff, Graciela. I don’t know what I’d say to her.”

She just looked at him and it cut him that he thought he saw disapproval in her eyes.

“Graciela… I saw too many bad things and bad people to believe in that stuff. How can there be angels out there or up there when people do the kinds of things they do down here?”

She still didn’t say anything and he knew her silence was a judgment.

“How ’bout I think about it and let you know?”

“Fine,” she finally said.

“Don’t be upset.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I got you involved in this and I know it’s a big intrusion. I don’t know what I thought. I guess I just thought you’d…”

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’m doing it now for me as much as you. Okay? Just don’t give up hope. Like I said, there’s still a few things I’m going to do and Winston isn’t going to let this drop, either. Give me a few days. If I get stalled out, maybe then we’ll go see Mrs. Otero. Okay?”

She nodded but he could tell she was disappointed.

“She was such a good kid,” she said after a while. “Having Raymond changed everything for her. She straightened up, moved in with me and just got her priorities right. She was going to school in the mornings at Cal State. That’s why she had that night job. She was smart. She wanted to get into the other side of the newspaper business. Be a reporter.”

He nodded and kept silent. He knew it was good for her to keep talking like this.

“She would have been good at it. I think. She cared about people. I mean, look at her. She was a volunteer. After the riots she went down to South-Central to help clean up. After the earthquake she came into the hospital to just be in the ER and tell people it would be okay. She was an organ donor. She gave blood-anytime any hospital called and said they needed blood, she came in. That rare blood… well, she was rarer. Sometimes I really wish I could’ve traded places and that it was me who went into that store.”

He reached over and put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting manner.

“Come on,” he said. “Look at all the people you help at the hospital. And look at Raymond. You’re going to be great for him. You can’t think about who was more worthy or about switching places. What happened to her shouldn’t have happened to anyone.”

“But all I know is Raymond having his own mother would’ve been better than me.”

There was no way to argue with her. He moved his arm and put his hand on her neck. She wasn’t crying but she looked like she might start. He wanted to console her but knew there was only one way he could do that.

They were almost to his dock. Raymond was waiting at the security gate, which was open a couple of inches as usual. The spring return was rusted and the gate never closed on its own.