Free Blood of Others by Rick Mofina Page A

forgot to follow through on the abandoned car, check for dealer
stickers, club or association decals, an employee parking sticker. Run down the
tag.
    “Damn!” He slammed his palm on
the breakfast table. He didn’t need this now.
    “Tom. What’s going on out there?”
Ann called from the bathroom where she had spent much of the morning with Zach,
who was sick again.
    “Nothing.”
    Reed heard Ann start the shower.
In a few minutes she would emerge to begin the inquisition.
    He had picked up Zach last night
in Berkeley after filing his story at the paper. By the time Ann had arrived
home from Los Angeles later that night, Reed and Zach were asleep.
    Zach had woken early, vomiting
again. Ann went to him. He didn’t sound too bad. Eventually, Reed rolled out of
bed and headed to the door to get the newspapers. Now, sitting at the kitchen
table, staring at them and snatches of the TV news, he heard Sydowski’s advice
ringing in his ears. “Stay with this one.”
    He knew he would pay a price for
failing to identify Iris Wood. But something far more significant loomed. Reed
sensed this murder was just a knothole glimpse into something colossal,
something terrible. He could almost smell it. But that didn’t matter now with
his wife standing before him, silk blouse, hands on hips, gorgeous eyes filled
with righteous anger.
    “So when were you going to reveal
to me that you took Zachary to the doctor, Tom?”
    “Today. Good morning, dear. How
was Los Angeles?”
    Ann got a grapefruit and kiwi
from the refrigerator. Slammed the door. Poured coffee. Stood at the counter.
Glared at the muted TV news. Shook her head while slicing into her grapefruit.
    “Let’s see if I’ve got it right,
Tom.” Juice-dripping blade pointed at him. “Zach is sick. You take him to the
doctor. Give me some line about milk.”
    “I bought milk yesterday and
drank it.”
    “You dump him on my mother so you
can go to work on your day off. Have I got it?”
    “The doctor said he was fine but
wants him to see an allergist. I got called out to a story and your mother was
happy to have Zach for the day. Cripes, Ann, you act like I sold him to crack
dealers.”
    “I am worried about him. He’s
sick with something and you don’t seem to care.”
    “I rushed him to the doctor
yesterday. She said he was fine and he was fine. Call your mother. Ask
her. Once we left our house he seemed to be okay.”
    “When is he supposed to see the
allergist?”
    “I’m not sure. Dr. Cranson wanted
you to call her, I think.
    “Crenshaw. Doctor Crenshaw.” Ann carved hard into her fruit. “Weren’t you supposed to be off yesterday?
That’s why I went to L.A.”
    “Brader called me. Demanded I
come in. He was going to fire me if I refused.”
    Ann bit into her fruit, chewing.
    “Just quit. Quit, Tom, and write
your books. We can swing it from the stores.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Yes, you do. Admit it. You’re
addicted to it. It’s like a drug for you. You can’t see how it’s messing with
your priorities. It always has.”
    “Hey, don’t worry, baby. I’ve got
my priorities in order.” Reed lifted his mug to sip coffee. A blue slip of
paper was stuck to the bottom of it.
    “What is that?” Ann rushed over,
snapped it. “This is Zach’s appointment with the allergist! Tom, it’s this
morning!”
    Neither of them noticed Zach,
wearing sneakers, a faded red 49ers T-shirt, white chinos, hands in his
pockets. He was a little pale, a few morning cowlicks, but looked fine. He was
behind the counter staring at the muted TV news.
    “Can I go to school today, Mom?”
    Ann was reading the note; then
her watch, calculating the time she needed.
    “How you doing, pal?” Reed said.
    “Okay. I’m really hungry.” Zach
pointed at the news. “Dad, is that the murdered woman from the bridal shop?”
    Ann’s attention shot between Reed
and Zach. “How does he know that?” She switched the set off, seized the Chronicle from Reed, speeding through