Aces and Knaves

do?
    ***
    At eight o'clock we ordered a pizza to be delivered. By nine o'clock we were dressed and I was functioning almost like a human being. It occurred to me that I hadn't checked my telephone messages at home for well over 24 hours.
    I checked them using Esther's phone. There were three. Two were of minor consequence. The third was from Detective Washington, San Francisco Police Department. She said, "Mr. Patterson, I need to talk to you as soon as possible. Please call me." She gave a number but said she was working the day shift the next few days. She probably wouldn't be there now.
    When I hung up, Esther, who was making a career out of reading my face, said, "More trouble?"
    I told her about the call.
    She said, "It's probably nothing. She wants to fill you in on what's happening."
    "Detective Washington isn't the type of person who calls people just to chat. I'd better leave now so I can call her from home first thing in the morning."
    "Must you?"
    The way Esther kissed me at the door almost melted my resolve. I finally had to break away and go—fast.

    Chapter 9 DRUGS
    On Thursday morning I woke up at six, a half-hour past my usual time. I drank a glass of water and did some stretching. Then I went for my run, up and down the hills of Palos Verdes, for an hour. My body had been more upset by not running yesterday than by my lack of sleep. I was addicted to running and hated to miss a day. I needed the uplift provided by the endorphins flowing into my blood stream and the stress flowing out.
    The route back from my run took me past the post office, where I had a mailbox. I kept this PO box because of my baseball card business and also because I didn't want my father, and particularly Jacie, to monitor my mail.
    I went into the post office lobby and opened my mailbox. There were several letters; I could tell from the return addresses that they were from successful bidders for my cards on eBay. They contained checks. Receiving checks in the mail, no matter how small, always buoyed my spirits.
    I ran back to the house, took my shower and had breakfast, consisting primarily of orange juice and a large bowl of oatmeal, sprinkled with raw cashew pieces I purchased in bulk at Trader Joe's. It wasn't until I was getting ready to call Detective Washington that I noticed I had a message on my answering machine. It must have been left while I was running.
    I pressed it the "play" button and heard: "Karl, this is Arrow. I'm at Elma's house. I got here early to work on her finances because she is going to be tied up later with arrangements for Ned's memorial service. She called the San Francisco police yesterday to find out what they were doing about Ned's murder. She just got a call back a few minutes ago from a Detective Washington. The detective told her they had found Ned's rental car in a parking lot and there was cocaine in the trunk.
    "Elma went ballistic. She screamed over the phone and said it couldn't be true; it must have been planted. Then she demanded they search her house. She finally got Detective Washington to agree to coordinate a search with the Manhattan Beach police. I'm calling from my cell phone because Elma is on the phone with the Manhattan Beach police right now. I thought you ought to know about the cocaine." She gave her cell phone number and the message ended.
    So that's what Detective Washington wanted to talk to me about. I logged onto the Internet and checked the price of Dionysus stock. It had opened down another ten percent. I clicked on "news" and found a story with a dateline of today, saying that two plastic bags of cocaine had been found in Ned's car. Bad news travels fast—maybe too fast. How did it get out?
    I didn't know Ned well, but I didn't believe Ned was involved in drugs. I went to my online trading account and placed orders for Dionysus stock for Luz myself. Buy low.
    I placed a call to Detective Washington. She came on the line and said, "Mr. Patterson, we need to talk to you again."
    "So talk."
    "In person."
    "About the cocaine?"
    "So you know about that."
    "It isn't exactly a secret. It's all over the Internet."
    "Yeah, well that's unfortunate. Can you come up here?"
    "I don't know anything I haven't already told you. Besides, I'm running a business."
    "Look, Mr. Patterson, I don't want to get nasty and force you to come."
    Could she do that? I quickly weighed my options. I'd rather go to them than have them come to me. And I'd rather go at a time set by me than them.