A Small Matter Read Free Page A

for me. You
can’t let your emotions overwhelm you.”
    “I’ll be strong. It’s just that lately I’ve
found myself really regretting the ten years I spent in Japan--I
should have stayed here with you. I realize now that running away
to Japan was my way of trying to process Mom’s death--I was just
trying to escape everything. I shouldn’t have left you alone to
handle the aftermath by yourself.”
    “You did what you had to do. And look at you.
You’re one of the rising stars of the Los Angeles Police
Department. I’m so proud of you. Besides, after Mom died, and you
left for Japan, I wasn’t alone--I had Jack. Those ten years with
him were probably the best years of my life. It was like every day
I was a new bride. The only grief Jack and I experienced was our
inability to have children together, but we made up for it by
really loving each other.”
    A knock on the front door sent Dalk to the
vestibule. He returned with Mulroney--the big guy looking frazzled
in his baggy black slacks and tired white shirt--the only thing
she’d ever seen him wear. Mulroney’s sudden appearance at their
home was a common occurrence, him being extended family, having
partnered with Jack for the twenty-six years preceding Jack’s
untimely death. At Jack’s death, Mulroney pulled the pin on the job
and bought The Lamplighter to give himself something to do, keep
connected with cops, and in his own words, “to keep from eating his
gun”.
    “You’re just in time,” Vickie said. “The
coffee’s hot and so are the pancakes.”
    “Get dressed,” he said. “We don’t have time
to eat. We’re going for a ride.”
    “Oh? Where to?”
    “North Hollywood. Guy I know says there’s one
of these Virgin Mary ladies living over there who has a statue of
Our Lady that cries real tears and heals people.”
    "The hell you say. I just turned down an
offer of Sensei Toyama's roasted mice. I certainly don't need a
Virgin Mary lady lighting candles for me."
    "Please. It's the last thing I will ever ask
of you," Mulroney pleaded. "This woman is a real miracle
worker."
    "Okay, as long as you understand I am doing
it for you, not because I believe in her. But if she starts
handling snakes or drinking blood or anything, I am gone."

    Chapter 4

    Vickie entered the middle bedroom to look for
something to wear. It wasn’t an easy decision--the room had been
converted into a huge walk-in closet, the racks filled with an
amazing display of shoes, coats, and dresses, all the items
arranged by type, many of them still with the tags on. Bags and
boxes from famous designers lined the top shelves, as though
somebody had taken the whole of Rodeo Drive and extruded it through
a micro-screen, the net result appearing before her.
    Not sure exactly what the protocol was for
visiting a faith-healer in North Hollywood, she finally decided to
keep it simple, going with a black cashmere tee tucked into a long,
plum, knit skirt, finishing off the look with mid-calf black boots.
Against the morning wind, she buttressed her outfit with a trendy
white coat and topped off the whole thing with a few miniature
butterfly clips attached to her baby braids. The clips added a
touch of whimsy she did not feel.
    “You look incredible,” Mulroney said.
    “We’ll take my car,” she said.
    “Oh no. You know I can’t fit into that thing.
We’ll take mine.”
    “You coming, Dalk?” she said.
    “Can’t. I’ve got a building-search seminar at
10, after which I’m running the rookies up and down the fire trails
around Chavez ravine.”
    “Give me back my prescription. We’ll get it
filled on the way to the crying statue.”
    Mulroney led her out the front door to his
ride--a three-ton navy-blue Suburban with blackened windows. The
eighteen-foot-long monstrosity on its oversize tires looked ready
to assault a college campus demonstration, or an inner-city riot.
The Suburban was the un-ecologic, unapologetic choice of many
connected with copdom, it being the