Angle of Investigation Read Online Free PDF Page A

shoulder.
    “Imagine, a man trading the love of his life for that.”
    Bosch looked up at the tube and saw a commercial where a Santa Claus was drinking a cold beer after a long night of delivering presents and cheer. He looked back at Sugar Ray. He didn’t know whether to feel good or bad about what he had done. He had returned an instrument to a musician who could no longer play it.
    But as this indecision gripped his heart he saw Sugar Ray pull the saxophone closer to his body. He held it there tightly, as if it were all he had in the world. He brought his eyes to Bosch’s and in them Harry saw that he had done the right thing.
    “Merry Christmas, Sugar Ray.”
    Sugar Ray nodded and looked down. Bosch knew it was time to leave him alone. He reached over and gripped his shoulder for a moment.
    “Why?” Sugar Ray asked.
    “Why what?”
    “Why did you do this for me? You think you’re playing Santa Claus or something?”
    Bosch smiled and squatted down next to the chair. He was now looking up into the old man’s eyes.
    “I did it to try to make us even, I guess.”
    The old man just looked at him, waiting.
    “In December nineteen sixty-nine I was on a hospital ship in the South China Sea.”
    Bosch touched his left side, just above the hip.
    “I got bamboo-bladed in a tunnel four days before. You probably don’t remember this but—”
    “The USS Sanctuary. Off Danang. Of course I remember. You were one of the boys in the blue bathrobes, huh?”
    Sugar Ray smiled. Bosch nodded and continued.
    “I remember the announcement that the show was canceled because the seas were too high and the fog too thick. The big Hueys with all the equipment couldn’t land. We had all been waiting on deck. We saw the choppers coming in through the mist and then just turning around to go back.”
    Sugar Ray raised a finger.
    “You know, it was Mr. Bob Hope who told our pilot to turn that son of a bitch around again and put it down on that boat.”
    Bosch nodded. He had heard it was Hope. One chopper turned again and came to the Sanctuary. The small one. The one with the headliners onboard.
    “I remember it was Bob Hope, Connie Stevens, you and a beautiful black girl from that TV show.”
    “Teresa Graves. Laugh-In .”
    “Man, you remember everything.”
    “Just ’cause I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t remember. The man on the moon was there, too.”
    Bosch smiled. Sugar Ray was filling in details he had forgotten.
    “Neil Armstrong, yeah. But the rest of the band—the Playboy All-Stars—was on one of the other choppers and it went back to Danang. It was only you and you carried your own ax. You played for us. Solo.”
    Bosch looked at the instrument in the old man’s gray hands. He remembered the day on the Sanctuary as clearly as he remembered any other moment of his life.
    “You played ‘The Sweet Spot’ and then ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ ”
    “I played the ‘Tennessee Waltz,’ too. By request of a young man in the front row. He’d lost both his legs and he asked me to play that waltz.”
    Bosch nodded solemnly.
    “Bob Hope told us his jokes and Connie Stevens sang ‘Promises, Promises.’ A cappella. In less than an hour it was all over and the chopper took off. Man, I can’t explain it but it meant something. It made something right in a messed-up world, you know? I was only nineteen years old and I wasn’t sure how or why I was even over there.
    “Anyway, I’ve listened to a lot of saxophone since then but I haven’t heard it any better.”
    Bosch nodded and stood up. His knee creaked loudly. He guessed it wouldn’t be too long before he was in one of these places. If he was lucky.
    “I just wanted to tell you that,” he said. “That’s all.”
    “You were in the tunnels over there, huh? I heard about them.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “Coulda used you going about this bin Laden character.”
    He pointed up to the TV, as if that were where the terrorist was.
    Bosch shook his head.
    “Nah, it’s a