Blood Test

Blood Test Read Free Page B

Book: Blood Test Read Free
Author: Jonathan Kellerman
Tags: Fiction, General
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rattle. Still stunned, I
cleared my eyes soon enough to see the follow-through: a left hook aimed
squarely at my man-made jaw. Self-preservation won out over pity and I slid away,
took hold of his arm, and threw him full-force against the car. Before he could
have second thoughts I jerked him up, yanked the arm behind him, and pulled up
to the point where it was just short of snapping. It had to be agonizing but he
evinced no sign of suffering. Manics could get like that, on a perpetual speed
trip, impervious to minor details like pain.
    I kicked him in the butt as hard as I could and he
went flying. Grabbing for my keys, I jumped in the Seville and spun out.
    I caught a glimpse of him in the rear-view mirror just
before turning onto the street. He was sitting on the asphalt, head in hands,
rocking back and forth and, I was pretty sure, weeping.

2
    THE BIG black and gold koi was the first to surface,
but the other fish soon followed his lead and within seconds all fourteen of
them were sticking whiskered snouts out of the water and gobbling down food
pellets as fast as I tossed them in. I knelt by a large smooth rock fringed
with creeping juniper and lavender azaleas and held three pellets in my fingers
just beneath the surface of the water. The big one caught the scent and
hesitated, but gluttony got the better of him and his glistening muscular body
snaked its way over. He stopped inches from my hand and looked up at me. I
tried to appear trustworthy.
    The sun was on its way down but enough light lingered
over the foothills to catch the metallic glint of the gold scales, dramatizing
the contrast with the velvety black patches on his back. A truly magnificent
kin-ki-utsuri.
    Suddenly the big carp darted and the pellets were gone
from my hand. I replaced them. A red and white kohaku joined in, then a
platinum ohgon in a moonlight-colored blur. Soon all the fish were nibbling at
my fingers, their mouths soft as baby kisses.
    The pond and surrounding garden refuge had been a gift
from Robin during the painful months of recuperation from the shattered jaw and
all the unwanted publicity. She’d suggested it, sensing the value of something
to calm me down during the period of enforced inactivity, and knowing of my
fondness for things oriental.
    At first I’d thought it unfeasible. My home is one of
those creations peculiar to southern California, tucked into a hillside at an
improbable angle. It’s an architectural gem with spectacular views from three
sides but there’s very little usable flat land and I couldn’t envision room for
a pond.
    But Robin had done some research, sounding out the
idea with several of her craftsmen friends, and had been put in touch with an
inarticulate lad from Oxnard—a young man so outwardly stuporous his nickname
was Hazy Clifton. He had arrived with cement mixers, wooden forms, and a ton or
two of crushed rock, and had created an elegant, meandering, naturalistic pond,
complete with waterfall and rock border, that weaved its way in and around the
sloping terrain.
    An elderly Asian gnome materialized after Hazy Clifton’s
departure and proceeded to embroider the young man’s artistry with bonsai, zen
grass, juniper, Japanese maple, long-necked lilies, azalea, and bamboo.
Strategically placed boulders established meditative spots and patches of snowy
gravel suggested serenity. Within a week the garden looked centuries old.
    I could stand on the deck that bisected the two levels
of the house and look down on the pond, letting my eyes trace patterns etched
in the gravel by the wind, watching the koi, jewellike and languid in their
movement. Or I could descend to the floor of the garden and sit by the water’s
edge feeding the fish, the surface breaking gently in concentric waves.
    It became a ritual: each day before sunset I tossed
pellets to the koi and reflected on how good life could be. I learned how to
banish unwanted images—of death and falsehood and betrayal—from my mind

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