Flesh And Blood by Jonathan Kellerman

“Just what Cheryl said.”

“The kid wasn’t drowning? You just decided to play hero?”

“At the time it seemed the right thing to do.”

“I’m asking because sometimes she gets careless,” he said. “Not intentionally, more like . . . she doesn’t always pay attention.” Pause. “Did she wave for you or did you just volunteer?”

“I saw the boy out in the water, couldn’t tell he was a good swimmer, and went after him. That’s it.”

“Oh boy,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve rubbed you the wrong way. Sorry, I just wanted to know. For the sake of those kids. I’m their uncle, and more often than not the responsibility falls on my wife and me.”

I didn’t answer.

He said, “We’re talking child welfare here, my friend.”

“I volunteered,” I said. “I probably overreacted.”

“Okay,” he said. “So now I’ve got a straight answer. Finally.” Grin. “You’re making me work, bro.” He wiped his forehead.

We walked to the fence in silence. When we got there he placed his hand on the gate latch. “Look, you did a good deed, I really would like to compensate you. How about two hundred, cash, and we call it a deal? Also, I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about this— You live around here?”

“Tell who?”

“Anyone.”

“Sure,” I said. “Nothing to tell.”

He studied me. “You don’t know who she is?”

I shook my head.

He laughed, whipped out the billfold.

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

“You really mean it, don’t you?” he said. “What are you, one of those Samaritan guys? Okay, listen, if there’s anything I can do for you—like if you need some work—do you do construction stuff? Or maintenance? I’ve always got something in development. Did you come from Paradise?”

I nodded.

“The restaurant,” he said. “That’s one of mine—we’re going to turn it into a landmark. So if you need a gig …” He slipped a white business card out of the fold.

KENT D. IRVING

Vice President and Projects Manager Duke Enterprises

“Duke,” I said. “Not the magazine?”

“Yes, the magazine, bro. Among other things.”

I smiled. “Then how about a free subscription?”

“Hey, there’s an idea.” He slapped my back, drew his head back, and looked into the sun. Edging closer. Crowding me. “Give my office a call, we’ll send you a coupla years’ worth.”

I said, “I can see why you wouldn’t want me talking to anyone.”

“Can you?” Harder slap. “Well, there you go. And I know you’ll show some class. Not showing class would make a lot of people very unhappy, and you don’t look like the kind of guy who wants to spread unhappiness.”

“God forbid.”

“God doesn’t always forbid it,” he said. “Sometimes we have to look out for ourselves.”

He held the gate open, waited until I’d walked to the cable car and boarded, then produced a remote-control unit of his own. Big smile and a thumb flick and I was descending.

He waved bye-bye. I waved back, but I was staring over his shoulder, a hundred feet beyond, by one of the rock ponds, where a man in tennis whites stood and tossed something to the flamingos.

Thick torso, bulky shoulders, a cap of cropped black hair.

Black Suit, now in tennis whites. Drawing back his arm, he pitched to the birds. Scratched his head. Watched them eat.

Kent Irving kept his eye on me as I sank out of view.

29

WHEN I GOT BACK to the broken pier, Norris was sitting in the sand, legs yogi-crossed, smoking a joint. As I dragged the kayak to shore, he got up reluctantly and looked at his bare wrist. “Hey, right on time. Any wildlife?” He offered me the j.

“No thanks. Just birds. The feathered kind.”

“Oh well,” he said, toking deeply. “Listen, any time you wanna take a ride, let me know. Keep bringing cash and I’ll keep giving you a discount.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Yeah . . . good idea.”

“What is?”

“Bearing shit in your mind and not somewhere else.” Rocking on his knees, he settled, sucked hungrily on the cannabis, stared out at the darkening ocean.

I drove up from the cove to the coast highway, turned right, and parked on the beach-side shoulder, with a hundred-yard view of the entrance to the Duke estate. One more hour—what could it hurt?

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