The Ghost Orchid by Jonathan Kellerman EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Jonathan Kellerman
- Language: English
- Genre: Ghost Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Nearly getting killed can change your life in interesting ways.
There’s the physical healing, but that’s tedious to think about. What
fascinates me is how people behave when they know you’ve come close to
death.
Some you haven’t heard from in a while get in touch out of obligation.
Most of the time they have no idea what to say or do and you end up
assuring them you’re fine and trying to make them feel better. Or maybe
that was just me, reverting to the psychologist’s role.
I’m close to only two people on the planet.
The woman I live with handled the whole thing beautifully, pulling off
the perfect balance of caring for me and allowing me space when I needed
it. Even more impressively, when Robin allowed herself to get angry at me
for being in danger in the first place, she was able to talk about it
reasonably.
My best friend, a homicide detective, was overcome with guilt. I’d been
working with Milo when a lunatic nearly crushed me to death. No one’s
fault, reasonable precautions had been taken. Just one of those things that
happen. But, still.
He’d worked hard at keeping the guilt in check but I could tell. Our
conversations began ebbing into long silences, terminating when he told me
I needed to rest.
Eventually, his visits tapered off, though he tried to keep up with regular
phone calls. But he avoided talking about work, which peppered the calls
with awkward silences.
Worst of all, he stopped calling me in on cases. The “different ones”
where he tends to overestimate my talent. When I brought up the subject, he
claimed the two new murders he’d taken on were open and shut.
Four months after being injured I sat with Robin on the second-story
terrace that fronts our house, eating and drinking and enjoying the weather
that keeps people in L.A., and said, “Still nothing from Big Guy.”
She said, “Can you blame him?”
“I think he’s overdoing it. Objectively, he did nothing wrong.”
“Who’s ever objective, Alex?”
I poured myself another finger of Chivas—the pricey gold stuff I’d
never buy for myself. A guilt offering from Milo.
Neither of us talked for a while and I resumed rubbing the big, knobby
head of our little blond French bulldog, Blanche. She’s also been perfect.
Sitting next to me as I knitted, silent and patient, careful not to touch the
torn muscles in my chest. She’s always been a wonderful companion,
intuitive, perceptive, more keyed in to nonverbal cues than any human
could hope to be. But this was more. She knew something was different and
she cared.
Robin said, “All those custody cases came in but you’re still bored.”
“I could use some variety.”
“Know what you mean.”
That surprised me.
She said, “Why do you think I do what I do, baby? Every instrument’s
different, it’s not like I’m making the same armchair over and over.”
I said, “So you wouldn’t mind if I diversified. Maybe got into
macramé?”
She grinned and placed her small, strong hand over mine. Her hair’s
thick, auburn, and curly and when she’s not in her studio, she wears it loose
to the midpoint of her back.
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