The Narrows (24 page)

35

E
LEANOR WISH ANSWERED MY KNOCK and that surprised me. She stepped back to let me in.

“Don’t look at me that way, Harry,” she said. “You have this impression that I’m never here and that I work every night and leave her with Marisol. I don’t. I work three or four nights a week and that’s usually it.”

I raised my hands in surrender and she saw the bandage around my right palm.

“What happened to you?”

“Cut myself on a piece of metal.”

“What metal?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That thing up in the desert today?”

I nodded.

“I should have known. Is that going to hurt you playing the saxophone?”

Bored with retirement, I had started taking lessons the year before from a retired jazzman I had come across on a case. One night, when things were good between Eleanor and me, I had brought the instrument with me and played her a tune called “Lullaby.” She had liked it.

“Actually, I haven’t been playing anyway.”

“How come?”

I didn’t want to tell her that my teacher had died and music had dropped out of my life for a while.

“My teacher wanted me to switch from alto to tenor—as in
ten or
fifteen miles away from him.”

She smiled at the lame joke and we left it at that. I had followed her through the house and into the kitchen, where the table was actually a felt-covered poker table—with cereal milk stains on it thanks to Maddie. Eleanor had dealt six hands faceup for practice. She sat down and started gathering up the cards.

“Don’t let me stop you,” I said. “I just came by to see if I could put Maddie to bed. Where is she?”

“Marisol’s giving her a bath. But I was counting on putting her to bed tonight. I’ve worked the last three nights.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine. I’ll just say hello then. And good-bye. I’m driving back tonight.”

“Then why don’t you do it? I got a new book to read her. It’s on the counter.”

“No, Eleanor, I want you to do it. I just want to see her because I don’t know when I’ll get back.”

“Are you still working a case?”

“No, that all sort of ended up there today.”

“The TV news didn’t have much on it when I watched. What is it?”

“It’s a long story.”

I didn’t feel like telling it once again. I walked over to the counter to look at the book she had bought. It was called
Billy’s Big Day
and its cover showed a monkey standing on the highest step at an Olympics-style award ceremony. The gold medal was being put around his neck. A lion had received the silver and an elephant the bronze.

“Are you going back to join the department again?”

I was about to open the book but I put it down and looked at Eleanor.

“I’m still thinking about it but it’s looking that way.”

She nodded as though it was a done deal.

“Any further thoughts from you on it?”

“No, Harry, I want you to do what you want.”

I wondered why it was that when people tell you what you want them to tell you, it always comes with suspicion and second-guessing attached. Did Eleanor really want me to do what I wanted to do? Or was her saying that a way of undermining the whole thing?

Before I could say anything my daughter came into the kitchen and stood at attention. She wore blue-and-orange-striped pajamas and her dark hair was wet and slicked back on her head.

“Presenting a little girl,” she said.

Eleanor and I both broke out the smiles and simultaneously offered our opened arms for hugs. Maddie went to her mother first and that was all right with me. But it felt a little like when you hold out your hand to someone to shake and they don’t see it or just plain ignore it. I lowered my arms and after a few moments Eleanor saved me.

“Go give Daddy a hug.”

Maddie came to me and I lifted her up into a hug. She was no more than forty pounds. It is an amazing thing to be able to hold everything that is important to you in one arm. She put her damp head against my chest and I didn’t mind that she was getting my shirt wet. That was no problem at all.

“How are you, baby?”

“I’m fine. I drew your picture today.”

“You did? Can I see it?”

“Put me down.”

I did as instructed and she ran off, out of the kitchen, her bare feet slapping on the stone tiles as she headed to the playroom. I looked at Eleanor and smiled. We both knew the secret. No matter what we had or didn’t have for each other, we would always have Madeline and that might be enough.

The running of tiny feet could be heard again and soon she was back in the kitchen, towing a piece of paper held high like a kite. I took it from her and studied it. It showed the figure of a man with a mustache and dark eyes. He had his hands out and in one hand was a gun. On the other side of the page was another figure. This one was drawn in reds and oranges and had eyebrows drawn in a severe black V to indicate he was a bad guy.

I crouched down to my daughter’s height to look at the drawing with her.

“Is this me with the gun?”

“Yes, because you were a policeman.”

I nodded. She had said it like
pleaseman
.

“And who is this mean guy?”

She pointed a tiny finger at the other figure on the drawing.

“That is Mr. Demon.”

I smiled.

“Who is Mr. Demon?”

“He’s a wrestler. Mommy says you wrestle with demons and he’s the boss of all of them.”

“I see.”

I looked over her head at Eleanor and smiled. I wasn’t mad about anything. I was simply in love with my daughter and how she viewed her world. The literal way in which she took it all in and took it on. I knew it wouldn’t last long and so I treasured every moment I saw and heard of it.

“Can I keep this picture?”

“How come?”

“Because it is beautiful and I want to always have it. I have to go away for a while and I want to be able to look at it all the time. It will remind me of you.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going back to the place they call the City of Angels.”

She smiled.

“That’s silly. You can’t see angels.”

“I know. But look, Mommy has a new book to read to you about a monkey named Billy. So I’m going to say good night now and I’ll get back to see you as soon as I can. Is that okay, baby?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

I kissed her on both cheeks and hugged her tight. Then I kissed the top of her head and let her go. I stood up with my picture and handed her the book Eleanor would read to her.

“Marisol?” Eleanor called.

Marisol appeared within a few seconds, as if she had been waiting in the nearby living room for her cue. I smiled and nodded to her as she received her instructions.

“Why don’t you take Maddie in and get her set up and I’ll be right in after saying good night to her father.”

I watched my daughter leave with her nanny.

“I’m sorry about that,” Eleanor said.

“What, the picture? Don’t worry about it. I love it. It’s going on my refrigerator.”

“I just don’t know where she picked it up. I didn’t directly say to her that you fight demons. She must have overheard me on the phone or something.”

Somehow I would have liked it better knowing she had said it directly to our daughter. The idea that Eleanor was talking about me in such a way to someone else—someone she didn’t mention at the moment—bothered me. I tried not to show it.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Look at it this way, when she goes to school and kids say their dad is a lawyer or a fireman or a doctor or something, she’s got the trump card. She’ll tell them her daddy fights demons.”

Eleanor laughed but then cut it off when she thought of something.

“I wonder what she’ll say her mother does.”

I couldn’t answer that, so I changed the subject.

“I love how her view of the world is uncluttered by deeper meanings,” I said as I looked at the picture again. “It is so innocent, you know?”

“I know. I love that, too. But I can understand if you don’t want her thinking you’re out there literally wrestling with demons. Why didn’t you explain it to her?”

I shook my head and thought of a story.

“When I was a kid and I was still with my mother, there was this time that she had a car. A two-tone Plymouth Belvedere with push-button automatic transmission. I think her lawyer gave it to her to use or something. For a couple years. Anyway, she suddenly decided she wanted to go cross-country on a vacation. So we packed the car and just took off, her and me.

“Anyway, somewhere in the south—I don’t remember where—we stopped for gas and there were two water fountains on the side of this service station. There were signs, you know. One said WHITE and the other said COLORED. And I just sort of went up to the one marked COLORED because I wanted to see what color the water was. Before I got to it my mom yanked me back and sort of explained things to me.

“I remember that and sort of wish she’d just let me see the water and didn’t explain anything.”

Eleanor smiled at the story.

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know. About eight.”

She stood up then and came over to me. She kissed me on the cheek and I let her. I put my arm loosely around her waist.

“Good luck with your demons, Harry.”

“Yeah.”

“If you ever change your mind about things, I’m here. We’re here.”

I nodded.

“She’s going to change
your
mind, Eleanor. You wait and see.”

She smiled but in a sad way and gently caressed my chin with her hand.

“Will you make sure the door is locked when you leave?”

“Always.”

I let go of her and watched her walk out of the kitchen. I then looked down at the drawing of the man fighting his demon. In the picture my daughter had put a smile on my face.

36

B
EFORE GOING UP TO MY EFFICIENCY at the Double X, I stopped by the office and told Mr. Gupta, the night man, that I would be checking out. He told me that because I had been keeping the place on a weekly basis, my credit card had already been dinged for the entire week and I told him that was fine, I was still leaving. I told him I would leave the key on the dinette table after I gathered up my belongings. I was about to leave the office when I hesitated and then asked him about my neighbor Jane.

“Yes, she is gone, too. Same thing.”

“What do you mean, same thing?”

“We charge her for a week but she not stay a week.”

“Hey, do you mind me asking, what was her full name? I never got it.”

“She is Jane Davis. You like?”

“Yeah, she was nice. We talked on the balconies. I didn’t get to say good-bye. She didn’t leave a forwarding address or anything like that, did she?”

Gupta smiled at the prospect of this. He had very pink gums for someone with such dark skin.

“No address,” he said. “Not that one.”

I nodded my thanks for the information he had given me. I left the office and went up the stairs and then down the walkway to my room.

It took me less than five minutes to gather my things. I had some shirts and pants on hangers. I then took out of the closet the same box in which I had brought everything and filled it with the rest of my belongings and a couple of toys I kept in the place for Maddie. Buddy Lockridge had been close, calling me Suitcase Harry. But Beer Box Harry would have been better.

Before leaving I checked the refrigerator and saw I had one bottle of beer left. I took it out and cranked it open. I figured one beer for the road wouldn’t hurt me. I had done worse in the past before a drive. I thought about making another cheese sandwich but skipped it when the thought reminded me of Backus’s routine of eating grilled cheese sandwiches each day at Quantico. I went out onto the balcony with the beer for one last look at the rich men’s jets. It was a cool and crisp evening. The blue lights on the far runway twinkled like sapphires.

The two black jets were gone, their owners either quick winners or losers. The big Gulfstream remained in place, red dust caps over the intakes on its jet engines. It was settled in. I wondered what the jets might have had to do with Jane Davis and her stay at the Double X.

I looked over at Jane’s empty balcony, just four feet from my own. The ashtray was sitting on the railing and I could see it was still filled with half-smoked butts. Her unit had not been cleaned yet.

And that gave me an idea. I looked around and down at the parking lot. I saw no human movement except for out on Koval, where the traffic was stalled at a traffic light. I saw no sign of the night security man or anyone else in the parking lot. I quickly hoisted myself up onto the railing and was about to climb across to the next balcony when I heard a knock on my door. I quickly dropped back down and went in and answered the door.

It was Rachel Walling.

“Rachel? Hello. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing that catching Backus couldn’t cure. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

I stepped back to let her enter. She saw the box with my belongings piled into it. I spoke first.

“How did it go today when you got back into town?”

“Well, I got the usual tongue-lashing from the SAC.”

“Did you lay it all on me?”

“As planned. He fumed and fussed but what’s he going to do? I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

“Then what?”

“Well, for starters, do you have another one of those?”

She meant the beer.

“Actually, no. I was just finishing this one and was going to take off.”

“Then I’m glad I caught you.”

“You want to split it? I’ll get you a glass.”

“You said you wouldn’t trust the glasses here.”

“Well, I could wash —”

She reached over for the bottle and took a sip from it. She handed it back, her eyes staying on mine. She then turned and pointed to the box.

“So you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, back to L.A. for a while.”

“You’ll miss your daughter, I guess.”

“A lot.”

“You’ll come back to see her?”

“As often as I can.”

“That’s nice. Anything else?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, though I thought I knew what she meant.

“Will you be coming back for anything else?”

“No, just my daughter.”

We stood there looking at each other for a long moment. I held the beer out to her but when she came forward it was for me. She kissed me on the lips and then quickly we put our arms around each other.

I know it had something to do with the trailer, our nearly dying together out there in the desert, that made us press so hard against each other and move toward the bed, that made me reach over and put the beer bottle on the table so I could use both my hands as we pulled at each other’s clothes.

We fell onto the bed and made survivors’ love. It was quick and maybe to some degree even brutal—on both our parts. But most of all it satisfied the primal urge in both of us to fight death with life.

When it was over we were entwined on top of the bed covers, she on top of me, my fists still tangled in her hair.

She leaned to her left and reached for the beer bottle, knocking it over first and spilling most of what was left on the bed table and floor.

“There goes my security deposit,” I said.

There was enough left in the bottle for her to take a draw and then pass it to me.

“That was for today,” she said as I drank.

I gave her the rest.

“What do you mean?”

“After what happened out there, we had to do this.”

“Yeah.”

“Gladiator love. That’s why I came here. To catch you.”

I smiled, thinking of a gladiator joke from an old movie I liked. But I didn’t tell her and she probably thought I was smiling at her words. She leaned down and put her head on my chest. I held up some of her hair, more gently this time, to look at the singed ends. I then moved my hands down and rubbed her back, thinking it was strange that we were being so gentle with each other now, just moments after being gladiators.

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in opening a branch of your private investigations office in South Dakota, would you?”

I smiled and stifled a laugh in my chest.

“How about North Dakota?” she asked. “I could be going back there, too.”

“You have to have a tree to have a branch.”

She hit me with a gentle fist on the chest.

“I didn’t think so.”

I shifted my body so that I came out of her. She groaned but stayed on top of me.

“Does that mean you want me to get up and get off and get out of here?”

“No, Rachel. Not at all.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that the door was unlocked. I had a vision of Mr. Gupta coming up to see if I had left yet and finding the two-backed monster on the bed in the supposedly empty unit. I smiled. I didn’t care.

She raised her face up to look at me.

“What?”

“Nothing. We left the door unlocked. Somebody could come in.”

“
You
left it unlocked. This is your place.”

I kissed her, realizing I had not kissed her lips during the entire time we had made love. Another strange thing.

“You know what, Bosch?”

“What?”

“You’re good at this.”

I smiled and told her thanks. A woman can play that card anytime and every time and always get the same response.

“I mean it.”

She dug her nails into my chest to underline her point. With one arm I held her tightly to me and we rolled over. I figured I had at least ten years on her but I wasn’t worried about it. I kissed her again and got up, gathering my clothes off the floor and walking over to the door to lock it.

“I think there’s one last clean towel in there,” I said. “You can use it.”

She insisted I take the first shower and I did. Then while she showered I left the unit and walked across Koval to a convenience store to pick up two more beers. I was going to limit it to that because I was driving that night and didn’t want alcohol to slow me down getting to the road or while on it. I was sitting at the dinette when she came out of the bathroom fully dressed and smiling when she saw the two bottles.

“I knew you’d make yourself useful.”

She sat down and we clicked bottles.

“To gladiator love,” she said.

We drank and just were quiet for a few moments. I was trying to figure out what the last hour now meant to me and to us.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“About how this could get complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to. We can just see what happens.”

That didn’t sound the same to me as being asked to move to the Dakotas.

“Okay.”

“I better get going.”

“Where to?”

“Back to the FO, I guess. See what’s shaking.”

“Did you hear what happened to the fire barrel out there after the blast? I forgot to look.”

“No, why?”

“I looked in it when we were out there. For just a minute. It looked like he had been burning credit cards, maybe IDs.”

“The victims’?”

“Probably. He burned books in it, too.”

“Books? Why do you think he did that?”

“I don’t know but it’s strange. Inside the trailer he had books all over the place. So he burned some and some he didn’t burn. Seems strange.”

“Well, if there is anything left of the barrel the ERT will get to it. Why didn’t you mention it before, when you were interviewed out there?”

“Because my head was ringing and I sort of forgot, I guess.”

“Short-term memory loss associated with concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

“I meant the blast. Could you tell what books they were?”

“Not really. I didn’t have time. There was one I picked out. It was the least burned of what I could see. It looked like it was poetry. I think.”

She looked at me and nodded but didn’t say anything.

“What I don’t get is why he burned the books. He set the whole trailer to go up but he takes the time to go out to the barrel and burn some books. Almost like . . .”

I stopped talking and tried to put the pieces together.

“Almost like what, Harry?”

“I don’t know. Like he didn’t want to leave the trailer thing to chance. He wanted to make sure those books were destroyed.”

“You are assuming that both things are together. Who knows, maybe he burned the books six months ago or something. You can’t just connect the two things.”

I nodded. She was right about that but still the incongruity bothered me.

“The book I found was near the top of the barrel,” I said. “It was burned the last time the barrel was used. There was also a receipt in it. Half burned. But maybe they can trace it.”

“When I get back I’ll check it out. But I don’t remember seeing that barrel after the blast.”

I shrugged.

“Neither do I.”

She stood up and so did I.

“There’s one other thing,” I said as I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket. I pulled out the photo and handed it to her.

“I must’ve grabbed it while I was in the trailer and then sort of forgot about it. I found it in my pocket.”

It was the photo taken from the printer tray. The two-story house with the old man out front next to the station wagon.

“Great, Harry. How am I going to explain this?”

“I don’t know but I figured you’d want to try to ID the place or the old man.”

“What’s the difference now?”

“Come on, Rachel, you know it’s not over.”

“No, I don’t know that.”

It bothered me that she could not talk to me after we had been so intimate just a few minutes before.

“Okay.”

I picked up my box and the clothing I had on hangers.

“Wait a minute, Harry. You’re just going to leave it like that? What do you mean it’s not over?”

“I mean we both know that wasn’t Backus in there. If you and the bureau aren’t interested in it, that’s fine. But don’t bullshit me, Rachel. Not after what we went through today, and not after what we just did.”

She relented.

“Look, Harry, it’s out of my hands, okay? Right now we are waiting on forensics to make a call on it. The bureau’s official position probably won’t be formulated until tomorrow when the director holds a press conference.”

“I’m not interested in the official position of the bureau. I was talking to you.”

“Harry, what do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say you are going to get this guy, no matter what the director says tomorrow.”

I headed to the door and she followed. We left the efficiency and she pulled the door closed for me.

“Where’s your car?” I asked. “I’ll walk you over.”

She pointed the way and we went down the steps and to her car, parked near the office. After she opened the door we turned and faced each other.

“I want to get this guy,” she said. “More than you could know.”

“Okay, good. I’ll be in touch.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. When I do, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. See you, Bosch.”

“Good-bye, Rachel.”

She kissed me and then she got in the car. I walked to my car, ducking between the two buildings that made up the Double X to get to the other parking lot. I was pretty sure it was not the last time I would see Rachel Walling.