“Tell you what, Mick. Let’s make it go away, and maybe Patrick can use this opportunity to move ahead with being a productive member of society.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Dwight. You’re making my day. And his.”

“Okay, then get me his rehab records and we’ll put it into a package for the judge.”

Posey was talking about making it a pretrial intervention case. Patrick would have to take biweekly drug tests and in six months the case would go away if he kept clean. He would still have an arrest on his record but no conviction. Unless…

“You willing to expunge his record?” I asked.

“Uh…, that’s asking a lot, Mickey. He did, after all, break in and steal the diamonds.”

“He didn’t break in, Dwight. He was invited in. And the alleged diamonds are what this is all about, right? Whether or not he actually did steal any diamonds.”

Posey must have realized he had misspoken by bringing up the diamonds. He folded his tent quickly.

“All right, fine. We’ll put it into the package.”

“You’re a good man, Dwight.”

“I try to be. You will withdraw your motion now?”

“First thing tomorrow. When do we go to court? I have a trial starting the end of next week.”

“Then we’ll go for Monday. I’ll let you know.”

I hung up the phone and called the reception desk on the intercom. Luckily, Lorna answered.

“I thought you were sent home,” I said.

“We’re about to go through the door. I’m going to leave my car here and go with Cisco.”

“What, on his donorcycle?”

“Excuse me, Dad, but I don’t think you have anything to say about that.”

I groaned.

“But I do have a say over who works as my investigator. If I can keep you two apart, maybe I can keep you alive.”

“Mickey, don’t you dare!”

“Can you just tell Cisco I need that address for the liquidator?”

“I will. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hope so. Wear a helmet.”

I hung up and Cisco came in, carrying a Post-it in one hand and a gun in a leather holster in the other. He walked around the desk, put the Post-it down in front of me, then opened a drawer and put the weapon in it.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You can’t give me a gun.”

“It’s totally legal and registered to me.”

“That’s great but you can’t give it to me. That’s il-”

“I’m not giving it to you. I’m just storing it here because I’m done work for the day. I’ll get it in the morning, okay?”

“Whatever. I think you two are overreacting.”

“Better than underreacting. See you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Will you send Patrick in before you go?”

“You got it. And by the way, I always make her wear a helmet.”

I looked at him and nodded.

“That’s good, Cisco.”

He left the room, and Patrick soon came in.

“Patrick, Cisco talked to Vincent’s liquidator and he still has one of your long boards. You can go by and pick it up. Just tell him you are picking it up for me and to call me if there is any problem.”

“Oh man, thank you!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got even better news than that on your case.”

“What happened?”

I went over the phone call I’d just had with Dwight Posey. As I told Patrick that he would do no jail time if he stayed clean, I watched his eyes gain a little light. It was as if I could see the burden drop off his shoulders. He could look once again at the future.

“I have to call my mom,” he said. “She’s gonna be so happy.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you are, too.”

“I am, I am.”

“Now, the way I figure it, you owe me a couple thousand for my work on this. That’s about two and a half weeks of driving. If you want, you can stick with me until it’s paid off. After that, we can talk about it and see where we’re at.”

“That sounds good. I like the job.”

“Good, Patrick, then it’s a deal.”

Patrick smiled broadly and was turning to go.

“One other thing, Patrick.”

He turned back to me.

“I saw you sleeping in your car in the garage this morning.”

“Sorry. I’ll find another spot.”

He looked down at the floor.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot that you told me when we talked on the phone the first time that you were living in your car and sleeping on a lifeguard stand. I just don’t know how safe it is to be sleeping in the same garage where a guy got shot the other night.”

“I’ll find someplace else.”

“Well, if you want, I can give you an advance on your pay. Would that help you maybe get a motel room or something?”

“Um, I guess.”

I was glad to help him out but I knew that living out of a weekly motel was almost as depressing as living out of a car.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If you want, you could stay with me for a couple weeks. Until you get some money in your pocket and maybe get a better plan going.”

“At your place?”

“Yeah, you know, temporarily.”

“With you?”

I realized my mistake.

“Nothing like that, Patrick. I’ve got a house and you’d have your own room. In fact, on Wednesday nights and every other weekend, it would be better if you stayed with a friend or in a motel. That’s when I have my daughter.”

He thought about it and nodded.

“Yeah, I could do that.”

I reached across the desk and signaled him to give me back the Post-it with the liquidator’s address on it. I wrote my own address on it while I spoke.

“Why don’t you go pick up your board and then head over to my place at this second address. Fareholm is right off Laurel Canyon, one street before Mount Olympus. You go up the stairs to the front porch and there’s a table and chairs out there and an ashtray. The extra key’s under the ashtray. The guest bedroom is right next to the kitchen. Just make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.”

He took the Post-it back and looked at the address I’d written.

“I probably won’t get there till late,” I told him. “I’ve got a trial starting next week and a lot of work to do before then.”

“Okay.”

“Look, we’re only talking about a few weeks. Till you get on your feet again. Meantime, maybe we can help each other out. You know, like if one of us starts to feel the pull, maybe the other one will be there to talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

We were quiet for a moment, probably both of us thinking about the deal. I didn’t tell Patrick that he might end up helping me more than I would help him. In the past forty-eight hours, the pressure of the new caseload had begun to weigh on me. I could feel myself being pulled back, feel the desire to go to the cotton-wrapped world the pills could give me. The pills opened the space between where I was and the brick wall of reality. I was beginning to crave that distance.

Up front and deep down I knew I didn’t want that again, and maybe Patrick could help me avoid it.

“Thanks, Mr. Haller.”

I looked up at him from my thoughts.

“Call me Mickey,” I said. “And I should be the one saying thanks.”

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

I looked at the big fish on the wall behind him for a moment, then back at him.

“I’m not sure, Patrick. But I’m hoping that if I help you, then I’ll be helping myself.”

Patrick nodded like he knew what I was talking about. That was strange because I wasn’t sure myself what I had meant.

“Go get your board, Patrick,” I said. “I’ll see you at the house. And make sure you remember to call your mother.”