Over the Edge by Jonathan Kellerman by Over the Edge

Author:Over the Edge [Edge, Over the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-06T01:38:08+00:00

I thought of something.

'Billy,' I said, 'did you grow up in San Francisco?'

'Atherton, actually,' he said, naming one of the high-priced spreads just outside the city.

'Were you involved with the Haight-Ashbury scene?'

He laughed.

'When all that was going down I was a good little nerd who wanted to be an orthodontist just like Daddy. I spent the sixties memorising biology books. Why?'

'I'm trying to find out about some people who lived in an urban commune on the Haight.'

He shook his head.

'Never my scene, but I can tell you who might know. Roland Oberheirn - Roily O. He's a producer, used to play brass with Big Blue Nirvana. Remember them?'

'I think so. Sitars over a heavy backbeat?'

'Right. And pop Hinduism. They hit gold a couple of times, then got ego cancer and broke up. Roily was one of Ken Kesey's pranksters, heavily into acid, called himself Captain Trips. He knew everyone on the Haight. Now he lives down here, doing independent gigs. I can put you in touch if you want.'

'I'd appreciate that.'

'Okay. I'll call him tonight and get back to you. If I forget, call me and remind me. Robin's got all my numbers.'

'Will do. Thanks.'

He fluffed his hair and was gone.

Robin and I looked at each other.

'Rockin' Billy Ornstein?' we said simultaneously.

The next morning I returned to the building on Pico. This time the door was open a crack. I leaned against it and entered.

I was greeted by a flight of wide pine stairs and the aroma of pesto. At the top of the stairs were darkness and the faint muscular outlines of two Dobermans reclining, seemingly impervious to my presence.

'Hi there, fellas,' I said, and went up one step. The Dobermans sprang to their feet, snarling throatily. A heavy chain ran from each of their necks to the top stairposts, too long to be of much comfort.

The dogs bared their teeth and started roaring. I couldn't say much for their tone, but the duet was full of emotion.

'Who is it? What do you want?'

The voice was loud and female, emerging from somewhere behind the Dobermans. Upon hearing it, the dogs quieted and I shouted up:

'I'm looking for Gary Yamaguchi.'

A purple pear topped with grated carrots materialised between the two dogs.

'All right, honey pies, those are good boys,' the pear cooed. The dogs sank submissively and licked a pair of hands. 'Yes, sweeties, yes, sugar dumplings. Mama likes when you're alert.'

There was a faint click, and a bare bulk crackled to life above the stairs. The pear became a young woman - early thirties, blowsily heavy, wearing a purple muumuu. Her hair was a hennaed tangle, her pale make-up laid on with a trowel. She put dimpled hands on ample hips and swayed assertively.

'What do you want with him?'

'My name is Alex Delaware. I counselled him years ago, and I need to talk to him about another one of my patients who was one of his friends.'

'Counselled? You're a therapist?'

'Psychologist.'

She lit up.

'I love psychologists. My first two husbands were psychologists. You married?'

'Yes,' I lied, keeping it simple.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.