Read Online Bad Love by Jonathan Kellerman - Free Book Online Page A

him.
    That meant food, water, shelter. A walk, when it got cool enough.
    A walk meant a leash.
    He and I took a drive to a pet store in south Westwood and I bought a lead, more dog food, biscuits in various flavors, and a couple of nylon bones the salesman assured me were excellent for chewing. When we returned, it seemed temperate enough for a stroll if we stayed in the shade. The dog stood still, tail wagging rapidly, while I put the leash on. The two of us explored the Glen for half an hour, hugging the brush, walking against traffic. Like regular guys.
    When I got back, I called my service. Joan said, “There’s just one, from a Mrs. Rodriguez — hold on, that’s your board . . . there’s someone ringing in right now.”
    I waited a moment, and then she said, “I’ve got a Mr. Silk on the line, says he wants to make an appointment.”
    “Thanks, put him on.”
    Click.
    “Dr. Delaware.”
    Silence.
    “Hello?”
    Nothing.
    “Mr. Silk?”
    No answer. Just as I was about to hang up and redial the service, a low sound came through the receiver. Mumbles — no. Laughter.
    A deep, throaty giggle.
    “Huh huh huh.”
    “Who is this?” I said.
    “Huh huh huh.” Gloating.
    I said nothing.
    “Huh huh huh.”
    The line went dead.
    I got the operator back on the line.
    “Joan, that guy who just called. Did he leave anything other than his name?”
    “No, he just asked if you treated adults as well as children and I said he’d have to speak to you about that.”
    “And his name was Silk? As in the fabric?”
    “That’s what I heard. Why, doctor, is something wrong?”
    “He didn’t say anything, just laughed.”
    “Well that’s kind of crazy, but that’s your business, isn’t it, doctor?”
     
     
    Evelyn Rodriguez answered on the first ring. When she heard my voice, hers went dead.
    “How’s everything?” I said.
    “Fine.”
    “I know it’s a hassle for you, but I would like to see the girls.”
    “Yeah, it’s a hassle,” she said. “Driving all the way out there.”
    “How about if I come out to you?”
    No answer.
    “Mrs. Rodriguez?”
    “You’d do that?”
    “I would.”
    “What’s the catch?”
    “No catch, I’d just like to make this whole thing as easy as possible for you.”
    “Why?”
    To show Donald Dell Wallace I can’t be intimidated. “To help the girls.”
    “Uh-huh
. . . they’re
paying for your time, right? His . . . bunch a heathens.”
    “The judge made Donald Dell responsible for the costs of the evaluation, Mrs. Rodriguez, but as we talked about the first time, that doesn’t obligate me to him in any way.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Has that been a problem for you?” I said. “The fact that he’s paying?”
    She said nothing for a moment, then: “Bet you’re charging plenty.”
    “I’m charging my usual fee,” I said, realizing I sounded like a Watergate witness.
    “Bet it includes your driving time and all. Door to door, just like the lawyers.”
    “Yes, it does.”
    “
Good
,” she said, stretching the word. “Then
you
can drive instead of me — drive
slow
. Keep your meter running and make them devils
pay
.”
    Angry laughter.
    I said, “When can I come out?”
    “How ’bout right now? They’re running around like wild Injuns, maybe you can settle ’em down. How about you drive out here right this
minute
and see ’em? You ready for that?”
    “I can probably be there in forty-five minutes.”
    “Whenever. We’ll be right here. We’re not taking any vacations to Hono
-lu
lu.”
    She hung up before I could ask for directions. I looked up her address in my case file — the ten thousand block of McVine Terrace in Sunland — and matched it to my Thomas map. Setting the dog up with water, food, and a bone, I left, not at all unhappy about running up the Iron Priests’ tab.
     
     
    The 405 freeway deposited me in a scramble of northbound traffic just beginning to clot, facing hills so smogged they were no more than shrouded, gray lumps on