you should distance yourself from this situation.â
I stopped pacing and turned to face him. âLook, Nando, I gave the kid the benefit of the doubt, okay? Heâs being thrown to the wolves by someone, damn it. And you know as well as I do that the justice system will only be too happy to oblige. I canât just stand by and watch that happen.â
Nando sighed heavily, nodded, and drained his beer. âSo, someone is setting the young artist up?â
âNo question in my mind. I mean, heâd already assaulted the guy once, and it was duly recorded in the newspaper. And to John Q Public heâs nothing but a pierced and tattooed thugâthe perfect fall guy.â
âWho would do such a thing?â
I shrugged. âI donât have a clue, but Iâm willing to bet it has something to do with the discovery of Nicole Baxterâs remains. I think Conyers must have known something, something important enough to get him killed.â
Nando popped another beer open. âIt would seem so. Otherwise, one would have to assume the timing is coincidental, which, of course, it never is.â
Nando left an hour later. I love the man, but he said absolutely nothing to make me feel better about my choice to stand by Picasso. I suppose thatâs what friends are forâto tell you when youâre hell-bent for disaster whether you want to hear it or not. When I was wearing three-piece suits and worrying about my career down in L.A., I would have listened to my friend, but not now. It wasnât just misplaced idealism, either, damn it. The case just didnât sit right with me.
I logged on my computer, typed in a complete set of notes covering the day, then fell into bed. Sleep came quickly, but I had a repeating dream of Conyersâ battered head floating past me as I fished a cold, swift river under a dark sky.
Early the next morning I called Gertrude Johnson, whose ten-acre spread sat uphill from mine. She was my accountant as well as my only close neighbor and had agreed to feed Archie in my absence. Before I could ask her about my dog, she said, âListen, Cal, I hope the time youâre spending in Portland is going to result in some receivables, because you were down almost twenty-five percent last month.â
My stomach took a quarter turn. âWell, some months are like that, Gertie.â
â Some months? This is getting to be a regular occurrence. Youâre down almost twenty percent, year over year,â she shot back.
âPortlandâs not like the valley,â I countered. âBusiness is still pretty good here.â It was a true statement as far as it went. âHowâs Archie?â Changing the subject seemed like the best way out.
After that bracing conversation with Gertie, I headed to the medical clinic on foot with the objective of getting there ahead of Scott and Jones. I arrived at 7:50 to find the place locked and no police in sight. I grabbed an outside table at the little coffee shop and waited with a double cappuccino.
Ten minutes later I saw Anna Eriksen coming down Davis. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they walk. Anna moved with long strides, her gait fluid, athleticâthe walk of someone with strong purpose. Dark slacks accentuated the length of her legs, and I decided she must have chosen medicine over dancing or marathon running. But her shoulders were slightly stooped, and as she juggled her briefcase and fumbled for her keys at the door, I sensed she was tired, maybe exhausted. I wondered when sheâd last taken a day off.
I caught up to her as she was entering the clinic. She turned to speak and the sun lit the streaks of gold in her hair. âOh, itâs you, Cal. I used the number on your card to call you yesterday and last night, but only got your machine. Iâve been worried sick. Is everything alright?â
I shook my head. âSorry. I didnât check my messages last night.â