Read Online West Seattle Blues by Chris Nickson - Free Book Online Page A

you, I was scared when he called me from the hospital. He’d decided to find out about my dad’s death.”
    “I figured that.”
    “I’m going to tell him that he needs to stop. It’s not like my father was even any good. From everything my mom told me, he always had little scams going even when he was supposed to be working. But he never really had a regular job. He’d just go off for days on a card game or a bender. Didn’t tell her where he was headed.”
    I glanced over at Ian, absorbed in moving a toy car back and forth. “Yeah, but he was still Carson’s son. I can understand why he’d want to know.”
    “You know the only thing my dad left me?” Jim asked
    “What?”
    “A guitar.”
    “He played?” The idea surprised me, but perhaps it shouldn’t. It was probably there in his genes.
    “I don’t know. I never heard him play but I never really saw him, either. My mom said he never owned one when they were together. After he died I went over to his place and it was just there in his closet. But it’s a cool instrument. A Gibson J200.” Those were expensive. So at some point the man had some money to spare.Or perhaps he’d simply stolen the guitar. “You know the fret markers? They’re usually mother-of-pearl?”
    “Yes.”
    “These ones are blue. I don’t know what stuff it is. Plastic, maybe. But they shine and there’s some inlay like that around the soundhole as well.”
    “Sounds pretty impressive,” I told him. It did, too, unlike any other instrument I’d seen. It had to be custom-made. “Have you shown it to your grandfather yet?”
    “Not yet. It was in this ratty old case. I tossed that and bought a new one. But you know the really weird thing?”
    “What?”
    “There was a thousand dollars stashed in the lining of the old case.” He sounded as if he still didn’t quite believe it.
    “You got lucky,” I said. At least he’d finally gotten something from his father. “You should take the guitar over with you sometime. If Carson’s not too mobile, he’d probably appreciate the company and the music.” There was no response. I let the silence hang for a few moments, then said, “Tell him I’ll be over this evening, okay?”
    “Sure.”
    “And thanks for letting me know.”
    The rest of the day passed slowly. Ian had three more tantrums, each worse than the last. Then he woke from his nap screaming, as if all the devils of hell were after him. I didn’t know what could have been so terrifying. All I could do was hold him close and rub his back. The tears subsided into hiccups and finally to peaceful silence. I’d had enough, so I sat him in front of the television and let that entertain him while I looked for some sanity in cooking. Dinner for us and a casserole to take over to Carson. Dustin would be back about five; I’d go over to Beach Drive after we ate. I wanted to know what had happened, and, like Jim, urge him to stop.
    “You’ve got that look on your face,” Dustin told me over dinner.
    “What look?” I asked in surprise.
    “The saving-someone look.”
    “I do not. Shit.” I glanced at Ian but he hadn’t noticed. I’d tried to tone down my language ever since he was born. “Look, I’m just going to make sure Carson’s okay and try to stop him from going back and getting himself shot again.”
    “You just want to know what happened.” Dustin was smiling, his eyes twinkling.
    “Of course I do,” I admitted. I wanted to know what Carson had discovered, and how he’d ended up with a bullet wound.
    “The bet we made still stands. You’ll end up looking for the killer.” He was grinning, but I could see the worry flickering behind his eyes.
    “Nope,” I replied firmly. “I mean it, Dustin. You don’t know what I went through back then.”
    “We’ll see,” was all he’d say. I didn’t want to discuss it further; there was nothing to talk about. And, after my day with Ian, I just needed to be out of there. Away from the house, away from