Yuki said, “Tell Joe. You have to tell him. He needs to
go through this with you, and you need him, too.”
“Group hug,” I said.
We all stood up awkwardly in our booth and hugged across the table. I hoped this love and friendship would steady me until I saw Dr. Arpino again.
CHAPTER 99
THE NEXT DAY, early in the morning, I drove up Lake Street to Twelfth, but instead of heading to the Hall, I took a right onto Tenth, turned again onto California Street, and kept going.
Dr. Arpino’s office was on a tidy block of houses on Broderick Street, many of which doubled as doctor’s offices. I didn’t have to check the house numbers. I knew the place—a gray-shingled Victorian with dormers and white trim and a mailbox painted with flowers.
I stopped the car at the curb and sat there with the motor running. I thought about how when I’d gotten home last night, Joe had been almost glowing with good news.
“I got the job, Blondie.”
“And it’s the job you want?” I asked him.
“Turns out that dick Benjamin Rollins and I have some friends in common.”
“Wow. No kidding, Joe. This is amazing.”
I’d hugged and kissed him, thinking this new job had come through at just the right time. If the worst happened—the stuff of my nightmares—the Molinari family would have one income, anyway. And probably a good one.
I was due in Doc Arpino’s office in ten minutes, and he was usually on time. I turned on the radio to Jazz 91 and listened to something by the late, great Miles Davis. While “Blue in Green” carried the seconds along, I took out my phone and checked my incoming mail.
There was nothing but spam to distract me. I opened the junk mail folder and imagined no more snoring, considered an urgent request for money to get my friend safely back from Europe, and imagined a trip to the Bahamas for only $77 a night, all expenses included.
The Bahamas. If only.
I dropped my phone back into my bag and watched a school bus stop on the opposite side of the street to pick up a kiddo, who dashed off his front steps and climbed up into the big yellow bus. Then the bus was on the move, and as it passed me, I put my car in gear and drove up the street to the intersection at Union.
I slowed for the stop sign and came to a full stop. I watched an old man clipping his doorstep hedges. A calico cat trotted across the street, and when it was safely home, I revved my engine.
I was running away. This was not my usual style and I knew that I was being crazy. I had to go to see the doc. I drummed my fingers on the wheel.
Not going. Going. Not going.
A car honked behind me and I put my foot on the gas. My hands spun the wheel to the right and I turned onto Union, then I took another right onto Divisadero. I took two more right turns in this pretty neighborhood that looked as though it had been ripped from a storybook tale ending with “And they lived happily ever after.”
Having circled Doc Arpino’s block, I parked again beside the pansy-painted mailbox.
I sighed. I dragged myself out of my car and put one foot in front of the other until I’d reached the top of the doctor’s front steps.
I rang the bell and opened the door.
CHAPTER 100
I PUT THE doctor’s office in my rearview and drove to the Hall on autopilot.
I parked on Harriet Street under the rumbling roof of Interstate 80, and in a few minutes Brady crossed the alley and got into my passenger seat. He looked at me, did a double take, and said, “You’re scaring me, Boxer.”
I nodded as if I knew what I was going to say or do.
One option was to go for the weekly B12 shots and, at the same time, go to work as usual and hope for the best. That meant no all-night stakeouts, firefights, or hand-to-hand combat with insane gunmen. In other words, I could not safely do what I called my job.
Or I could get the weekly shots and take a medical leave, as directed by my doctor. During that time Conklin would get a new partner, and I would lose my place in Homicide. I just hated that thought. It was roughly equivalent to closing my eyes and jumping into a sinkhole.