The Gentlemen's Hour by Don Winslow Read Free Book Online Page A

world, timed to go off at the same moment.
    The one in San Diego was especially poignant.
    They went out just before dawn to wait for the sun, as Kelly had for his morning meditations. Everyone brought a flower lei and tossed it into the water. Someone played a tune on the uke while someone else sang a song in Hawaiian, then a Buddhist monk said a prayer. Then anyone who wanted shared a memory or a thought about Kelly—his kindness, his superb skill, what he taught, how he was, his gentle humor, his strong compassion. There was some laughter and a lot of crying.
    Boone didn’t say anything; he just fought to hold back his tears.
    What impressed him the most were the black and Mexican kids who paddled out even though most of them couldn’t swim and looked scared shitless. Boone kept an eye on them to make sure they made it back okay, which they did.
    They just wanted to pay their respects to the man.
    Now Boone looks out at the same piece of water and remembers thatday. He also remembers something that Kelly said to him one Saturday afternoon. Boone had been helping him keep a bunch of inner-city kids from drowning themselves while body-boarding down at La Jolla Shores, and a tired Boone asked Kelly why he went to all this trouble.
    In his famously soft voice, Kelly answered, “You and I were lucky. At a very early age we found something that we loved, something that made our lives worth living. And I can’t but believe that if you think your own life is worth living, you value other people’s lives as well. Not everyone is as lucky as us, Boone.”
    Now Boone argues with Kelly Kuhio’s memory. Yeah, but Kelly, the kids you worked with had nothing. The kid who killed you is a rich, spoiled little bastard who grew up with every advantage.
    Then he hears Kelly’s dry, humorous voice. Apparently not, Boone.
    So you’re going to help Corey Blasingame, Boone tells himself. Stop flailing around like a barney, you know you’re going to do it.
    Because Kelly Kuhio would want you to.

18
    Boone walks back into The Sundowner and sits down at the booth.
    Not Sunny sighs and turns to the cook.
    â€œGot it,” the cook says.
    â€œWhy me?” Boone asks. “Why not some other PI?”
    â€œBecause you know the scene,” Petra answers. “Another PI would take God knows how much time just to catch up on a learning curve that you already know.”
    â€œWhy did Alan take this case?” Boone snaps.
    â€œCorey’s father is an old fraternity brother,” Petra says.
    â€œSo I take it he can handle Alan’s bill.”
    Petra nods.
    â€œDoctor? Lawyer? Indian chief?”
    â€œReal estate developer.”
    â€œI hate him already.”
    This is true. Generally speaking, Boone would have every real estate developer in Southern California put on a bus and driven over a cliff if it wouldn’t kill the bus driver. If he can find a bus-driving real estate developer, though, it’s on.
    Not Sunny sets Boone’s plate down. He takes a big bite of the reheated machaca , then says, “I won’t help you go for an acquittal.”
    â€œWe’re not asking that,” Petra says. “Just a sentence that reflects the facts, that a drunken teenager threw one punch with unfortunately tragic consequences, as opposed to the mob mentality that’s driving an inflated first-degree murder charge. We don’t want to go to trial, Boone. Just try to get enough leverage that we can make a deal that resembles justice.”
    They want to knock it down to voluntary manslaughter. Boone knows that the State of California has mandatory sentencing guidelines—a vol man plea bargain could get Corey anywhere from 24 to 132 months in prison. Figure it somewhere in the middle range.
    â€œTell Alan I’ll take the case.”
    â€œActually, I already did.”
    Because with all your contradictions you’re really a very simple man, she