“He’d have pursued his passion anyway,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s what the Savage men do-pursue their passions. I should’ve set a better example-”
“Stop it, Ricky,” Rae said. “You’ve been a good father to him.”
“Have I?”
“Yes.” She stood. “I’m going to try Charlene again.”
Ricky watched her leave the waiting room, then said to me, “This is about Keim, isn’t it?”
Charlotte Keim, the operative I’d lured away from Hy’s firm years ago, only to have to ask him to lure her back when she broke up her relationship with Mick. “Probably.”
“A passing driver found him under his bike on the shoulder of Highway 1 at five this morning, reeking of alcohol. What the hell was he doing there?”
Playing with his death wish.
I didn’t voice the thought. “Apparently he’s been in a pretty self-destructive mode lately.”
“You knew this? And you didn’t warn us?”
“I only found out yesterday. It was one of the reasons I came down.”
He nodded, grasped my hand. I followed his gaze as a doctor in scrubs approached us. The doctor looked too young to be so tired; he smiled reassuringly at Ricky.
“Your son’s a lucky man, Mr. Savage. He’ll be in casts for a while-left arm and leg-but he’s young and he should heal completely. He’ll need physical therapy, and I’d also recommend counseling. Has he been drinking heavily for long?”
Ricky looked at me, shrugged. “I haven’t seen much of him lately.”
I said, “I think his drinking may have been escalating since last winter, when his woman friend broke up with him.”
The doctor looked questioningly at me. Ricky introduced me as Mick’s aunt and employer.
“Well,” he said after we’d exchanged greetings, “he’s still in recovery, but you should be able to visit with him soon for a few minutes. One of the nurses will take you to him.”
Then he was gone and Rae was back, saying Charlene and her husband Vic were on their way up from Los Angeles. Hy followed her in, asked about Mick’s condition; Ricky reported what the doctor had told us. At that point Charlotte Keim rushed through the entrance.
“What’s she doing here?” Ricky asked.
“I called her,” Hy said.
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“She has a right to know. And he has a right to see her if he wants to. It may even help him.”
“Get her out of here.”
Hy kept silent, his gaze level with Ricky’s. After a moment, Ricky looked away. “Ah, what the hell. Just keep her away from me.”
Hy went over to Keim, who was pale, her brown curls disheveled, and guided her to the opposite side of the room.
Rae said to Ricky, “You can’t blame Charlotte. Mick did this to himself.”
“… I know that. Like I did a lot of things to myself. And like me, I suppose he’ll try to blame it on everybody else.”
“I don’t think so. Over the past few years you’ve set a good example for him.”
“Whatever. I just want to see him.”
I moved away, went over to Hy and Keim. She looked at me, eyes moist. I put my arm around her and said, as Hy had to me earlier, “This is not your fault. It’s good of you to come.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care for him.”
“I know.” I looked at Hy. “Why don’t you guys get some coffee? I’m going to drive over to the pier for a while.”
The pier was always occupied, even on a Sunday. This morning, two cars belonging to the architects in the second-story suite opposite ours were parked in their spaces on the floor. I went up the stairs to the catwalk, and ripped down the GENIUS ROOM sign from Mick and Derek’s door, before I continued to my office. I shuffled through the papers in my inbox till I found the Port Commission’s rental-increase notice.
They had to be crazy.
No way we could afford this. And even if that hadn’t been the case, I’d feel I was being extorted every time I walked through the door.
But where the hell would we find comparable space?
Maybe it was confirmation that I’d be better off out of this business. But maybe not…
I settled down to do some hard thinking.
Mick had been moved to a private room when I returned to the hospital. He was awake, his parents and their spouses beside his bed. His left limbs were in casts, the leg elevated; cuts and bruises marred his features and his nose was taped where it had been broken; both eyes were black. And he was angry-with himself.
“I’m such a stupid shit-” He saw me in the doorway. “Hey, Shar, you didn’t have to come down here.”
“I was already in town when you pulled your genius act.”
He smiled weakly. “I guess I better take the sign down.”
“I already did.”
Charlene hugged me and said, “I think the four of us should take off, so you can talk with Mick before he gets his next pain shot and falls asleep. Meet us at Rae and Ricky’s later.”
After they’d all exited, I said, “What did you think you were doing?”
He grimaced. “Jesus, I hurt. I don’t know. To tell the truth, I don’t remember anything except thinking I could fly on the bike.”
“Be glad you couldn’t.”
“… Charlotte was here. Dad was pissed, but he let her see me.”
“And?”
“She told me we’d talk later. I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but at least she came.”
“And you got the attention you wanted from her.”
He closed his eyes. “Not now, Shar.”
“Okay. How long’re they going to keep you here?”
“Dad’s having me moved to a private hospital ASAP.”
“Will you have computer access there?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Why?”
“I don’t want your skills atrophying while you recover.” I reached out to take his right hand.
Again he grimaced. “I feel half dead. Only dead people don’t hurt this much-I hope.”
“They’ll give you a shot soon.”
“I’m counting the minutes.”
“Don’t talk any more now.”
We sat holding hands till the nurse came with the shot and asked me to leave.
The hard thinking at the pier had paid off. Now I detoured on the way home to the Spanish-style apartment my operative Craig Morland and SFPD homicide detective Adah Joslyn shared in the Marina district.
Adah came to the door wearing blue sweats. God, how did she manage to look elegant even when her armpit area was streaked with perspiration?
“Craig and I just got back from our run on the Green,” she said, catching with her fingertips a drop of moisture from one of the cornrows she’d recently taken to wearing. Her smooth, honey-tan face creased between her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nobody called you two about Mick?”
“No. What happened?”
“It’s bad, but he’ll live. If you’ll invite me in and give me a drink, I’ll tell you both. And then I have a proposition for you.”
It was after five, and Hy and I were relaxing in front of the fireplace in the parlor, a cat in either lap, when Glenn Solomon returned my earlier call.
I cut from pleasantries to my main question: “How much influence do you have at city hall these days?”
“If you mean, do I have something on the mayor? No. But I’ve got the goods on some very highly placed officials.”
“What about the Port Commission?”
“One of those highly placed officials has influence there, yes.”
“You willing to call in some markers in exchange for a free pass on the next few cases you bring to the agency?”
“Always willing to call in markers for you, my friend.”
“Okay, here’s what I need…”
When I replaced the receiver, Hy toasted me and said, “You’re back, McCone. All the way.”
Monday
The Monday-morning staff meeting had gone well. In fact, a kind of giddiness had prevailed. The boss was back-even temporarily. But as I soared above Oakland’s North Field on my way back to Mono County, following the ATC’s instructions, once again I felt remote from the everyday concerns of the agency.