Read Online A Measure of Blood by Kathleen George - Free Book Online

It’s better to be asleep. Awake, he has to worry if anyone saw him leaving the building and going to his car. And if someone did, if that person saw the license plate … His heart won’t quiet down.
    The water always begins slow and lukewarm. His roommates buy soap and shampoo as cheaply as possible—large generic containers of the things needed to clean themselves. They never touch his Tone soap or his hair conditioner even though Shin talks about special personal products that he loved in Seoul, things he intends to afford in the future.
    Seung, Shin, and Gab-do are not thieving sorts. They never hesitate to put their share in, or to show receipts, but for his own peace of mind, Nadal checks his money every time he goes into his room. No, nothing is ever missing.
    The three roommates stick together of course—it’s their chance to speak their language—plus they’ve had the place together since last year, so they know one another. Nadal’s only been here since last May when he got his one course approved and snagged the job. Then he saw Maggie and his son, and at first he believed he would be able to visit them, eventually move in.
    He listens through the splashing water for his roommates. No, not awake yet.
    They are good enough guys to room with, but it’s a business arrangement mainly. Right—what does he have in common with them? They cook. Rice and this. Rice and that. Other things. They always offer. He eats his frozen packets of burritos, his cans of beans. One night they wanted to go to a club on the South Side and asked him to go with them. He supposed they wanted to pick up American women and wanted his help. But when they got there, Seung told them all it was important from his experience not to look too eager. “Correct?” he asked Nadal.
    â€œThat’s what I hear,” Nadal said.
    â€œIt’s the same in Seoul. Clubs, the same everywhere.”
    Nadal didn’t like clubs and it galled him to spend so much money on a drink. Shin told him, “Always to drink slow, not spend too much.”
    The water finally comes hot. He scrubs himself.
    His car. He must get rid of it. Step one.
    As soon as he’s dressed, he sits down to breakfast. He is aware now of early snufflings from the next room as he stirs milk into his cereal, generic corn flakes. Each month he will plunk down two hundred dollars cash for the rent and fifty dollars for groceries and supplies. That’s the deal. The Koreans take care of the rest. Seung is the money manager. He buys chicken and cans of soup or beans for Nadal—Nate is how they know him here. He never even told them his last name—Brown.
    Brown . How this whole thing started.
    The supplies under the sink are pretty good—bleach and soap and glass cleaner and baking soda. His roommates are clean, anyway. His mother would surely approve of them for that. When they’re not around, he will scrub the car. Again and again. Three times.
    After breakfast, he forces himself to open his laptop and search for the news.
    There it is.
    Margaret Brown, 49, a single mother of a seven-year-old boy, was stabbed to death in her apartment on Morrowfield Avenue after noon on Sunday following an altercation with an unnamed man. Neighbors did not hear the disturbance but the child alerted them to the incident. Neighbors then discovered his mother, dead of her wounds. Police are investigating.
    Ms. Brown was a well-liked teacher of art in the elementary schools. Employed by the ART-FIRST program, she was hired to give private tutoring to students who showed promise as painters. She had a studio and was a painter herself.
    Commander Richard Christie of the Pittsburgh Police Homicide Division said it was early in the investigation. Police are working on the identity of the man reported to be arguing with Ms. Brown. The man allegedly believed himself to be the father of her son. Anyone with information about this person is