Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon

by Donna Andrews

  Maybe, I thought, but that sounded more like Liz thinking than Ted. I had a feeling the only thing Ted wanted to accomplish with his blackmail scheme was causing trouble. But I didn't think telling her that would be a good idea.

  “Then use that,“ I suggested. “If you reveal what he was up to, I bet you can manage a plea bargain that doesn't even include a felony. But if you kill anyone else, you can't possibly get away with it.“

  “Just watch me,“ she said. “After I – “

  “Police! Drop your weapon and put your hands up!“

  Liz froze – she didn't drop the gun, but she didn't do anything desperate, either, like whirl and begin blasting at the police. Which was a good thing. The voice had come from behind her back, but I could see that the figure standing in the library doorway wasn't the chief or any of his men. It was Michael. And my eyes were sufficiently adjusted to the low light that I could tell the object he was aiming at her wasn't a gun – it was his cell phone. I only hoped he'd turned it off before he drew it – even the most distraught homicidal maniac would be suspicious of a cop whose weapon began caroling Beethoven's “Ode to Joy“ in the middle of a shootout.

  “I said drop your weapon and – “

  “Aaaaiieeeee!“

  With a bloodcurdling shriek, a figure leaped out of the shadows and attacked Michael with a series of swift kicks and blows. Liz leaped out of the way as the two of them came sprawling into the library. Michael ended up flat on his stomach with the breath knocked out of him. But apparently he'd managed to land at least one well-aimed blow. His assailant was curled up in a fetal position with his hands between his legs. The cell phone landed a few feet from Michael's head and began tinkling out the “William Tell Overture.“

  “Oh,“ the assailant groaned. “I hate it when that happens.“

  “Rob?“ I said, recognizing the voice. “Is that you, Rob?“

  Michael couldn't speak yet, but he growled.

  “Get your hands up,“ Liz ordered.

  Rob put one hand up while the other continued to clutch his groin. Michael began raising his hands. Liz jumped to the conclusion that he was reaching for the cell phone.

  “Don't touch that thing!“ she shrieked.

  Michael froze. Rob winced and quickly raised his other hand. The cell phone switched to “Auld Lang Syne,“ which I thought was an awfully tactless choice, under the circumstances. Apparently the fall had set off the feature that played all the tunes in the cell phone's memory, so you could decide which one you liked. I hated them all – what's wrong with a simple ring, anyway?

  “Rob, why did you attack Michael?“ I asked.

  Rob raised his head, recognized Michael, and dropped back with a groan.

  “I really blew it, didn't I?“ he said.

  “And Michael, what are you doing here?“

  “I had a premonition that something bad was going to happen,“ he said. “So when you hung up on me this morning, I told the director I was having a family emergency and could we finish the big magical duel scene as quickly as possible so I could wrap up for the week. And then I caught the first flight I could get out of L.A.“

  “The white knight rides to the rescue,“ Liz said with a sneer. “Some rescue.“

  The phone chose this moment to switch to “Scotland the Brave.“ I pondered, momentarily, what would happen if you crossed a cell phone with an equally irritating Affirmation Bear and then stowed the idea away for future consideration.

  “He tried to rescue us,“ I said. “He nearly succeeded. Rob, what the hell were you doing here?“

  “When you said Dad was with you, I remembered that he was going down to the office to check something out, and I wondered what the two of you were doing,“ he said. “I figured you were detecting something. And then I saw someone sneaking up the fire escape and climbing through one of the back windows.“

  “That would be me,“ Michael said.

  “Hey, at least I got that move right,“ Rob said, cheerfully. “Did you see how well I did it?“

  “Fantastic,“ I said. Rob's face fell. Maybe I sounded too sarcastic. Ironic – it would be just Rob's luck that the one time in his life that he executed any kind of martial arts maneuver flawlessly it could very well cost him his life.

  “I hate to break up the reunion,“ Liz said. “But you need to tie them up. Tape them up. I have some other work for you.“

  “I still don't understand how you think you're going to get away with this.“ I said, stalling for time as I fiddled with the roll of duct tape and the phone began playing “Fur Elise.“

  “Don't worry about it,“ Liz said, gesturing with the gun. “I only hope I brought enough ammo for everyone. It would be so inconvenient if I had to go home to get more in the middle of this.“

  “You don't think the police will be a little suspicious when they find eleven bodies here in the office?“ I asked. “You don't think maybe they'll look around pretty carefully to see who could be responsible?“

  “The twelfth body will take care of that,“ she said.

  “Twelfth body?“ I repeated.

  “Yes,“ she said. “Mr. Mason, our disgruntled ex-employee. Sadly, the police will find out tomorrow that he has gone postal, captured many of his former colleagues along with the boss who fired him, tied – taped them all up, shot them, and then turned his gun on himself. If I have enough ammo. I suppose I could just burn the place down, but I'd really rather not. Are you finished there?“

  Alas, I was. Rob and Michael were taped up. As loosely as I could manage, but still, I didn't think much of their chances of getting loose. Unless she was serious about going home for more ammo, and lived pretty far out of town.

  “Come with me,“ she said. She made a move to leave the library, and at that moment, the phone, now lying at her feet, broke into “Jingle Bells.“

  “Aargh!“ she growled, and stomped down on the phone. It took her half a dozen blows, but she finally damaged it enough that it gave up with a small, reproachful whir. Then she backed out of the library, gesturing for me to follow. I did, hands still in the air. She backed down the corridor, always keeping just out of reach, as I exited the library. Then she followed me down the corridor, barking orders when I was supposed to turn or stop or go through a door.

  This is a good thing, I told myself. If I get a chance to make a move now, there's much less danger of hurting anyone else.

  But she wasn't giving me a chance. Normally I admire efficiency in anyone. But I hadn't found a chance by the time we ended up outside the janitor's closet in the hallway.

  “Open the door,“ Liz ordered.

  I hesitated. I suspected she had Mason inside, and I wasn't sure whether he was still a live prisoner or whether she'd already turned him into the twelfth body. I'm not as squeamish as Rob, but I still wasn't all that keen on making the acquaintance of another corpse –

  “I said open it,“ she snapped.

  I braced myself and followed orders.

  A duct-tape-trimmed face snapped up when the door opened, squinting through a pair of oversize glasses that had been knocked askew. He was lying in the space previously occupied by the mop and pail that had been in the corridor. If only I'd taken the time to put them away, I thought, mentally canceling my plans to give the cleaners a tongue-lashing.

  “This is Eugene Mason?“ I asked.

  “Drag him out,“ Liz ordered.

  I examined Mason's face as I did. so. He didn't look at all familiar for someone who had supposedly been hanging around the office for weeks.

  He wasn't easy to drag, partly because he was a big guy – maybe 250 pounds. And partly because he was squirming as hard as he could.

  I realized I could use that. He'd obviously been rubbing his mouth against something, trying to loosen the duct tape. I managed to turn him so his face was on the floor, and then stepped on the duct tape, ripping it more than half off.

  “Help!“ he shouted. “She's going to kill me! You've got to do something.“
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  “I would if she didn't have that gun,“ I said. “Why do you think she's going to kill you?“

  “Oh, nothing in particular,“ he said with heavy sarcasm. “Except maybe the fact that she knocked me out, tied me up, and now she's waving a gun at me?“

  “Let me rephrase that: Why does she want to kill you? Why you?“

  “Look, you don't even have to give me the last check,“ he said, looking up at me. “I'll sign anything you want. Just let me go!“

  “That's her call,“ I said, indicating Liz.

  “Keep dragging,“ Liz said.

  “Sorry,“ I said. “Just out of curiosity, have you been hanging around, watching the office?“

  “Hanging around here? No,“ he said. “I got a job up in D.C. just after they fired me here. I don't have time to hang around in Caerphilly.“

  “Then what are you doing here tonight?“

  “She called and told me Rob had changed his mind and they were going to give me my final paycheck after all. And I didn't have to sign their stupid agreement, just a receipt for the check. I was supposed to meet her here at the office after hours.“

  “Clever,“ I said to Liz. “And I bet the threatening phone calls were phony, too.“

  “Threatening phone calls?“ Mason repeated.

  “Absolutely brilliant,“ I said, not trying to hide the bitterness in my voice. “You had this planned all along.“

  “Actually, the original plan was to lure both him and Ted here at night, and make it look as if Ted had surprised him trying to break in,“ she said. “But when the mail cart suddenly appeared with Ted just lying on there…“

  She shrugged.

  “Irresistible temptation, I suppose,“ I said. “And you could still use your disgruntled employee as one of the suspects. Everyone believes in the stalking and the threatening phone calls, of course, because it wasn't just you reporting them. I mentioned them to the chief, and I bet you got other people to do the same thing. Rob, for example.“

  “Most people are so easily manipulated,“ she said with a smile that I would once have called sly. Now I was trying to decide between sadistic and just plain crazy.

  “Keep dragging,“ she said.

  So I kept dragging until we had Mason inside the reception room. By the time we got him there, I was panting from exertion. I was faking it, a little; I do have more upper body strength than that, but I figured if she thought I was overcome from the exertion, I'd have a better chance of getting the drop on her. I feigned exhaustion and let Mason fall to the floor with a thud by the reception desk – about where the mail cart stopped, I thought.

  “Pick him up again,“ Liz said. “Or I'll get someone else.“

  “Right,“ I panted. “Just give me a second.“

  The door opened.

  “Do you realize you left your dog in the car?“ Doc said as he walked in, leading Spike. “It may be nighttime, but it's still in the eighties out there. Do you want the poor thing to –?“

  “Put your hands up!“ Liz snapped. “Stop that immediately. Get back there!“

  The last order was to me. When I realized that Doc's entry had distracted Liz, I made a wild leap for the reception desk, intending to vault over it and grab something – anything – that could be used as a weapon. I wasn't quite so tired as I'd been pretending, but I guess I was more tired than I realized. Instead of clearing the top of the reception desk, I landed on it and slid across. My foot caught on the upright pole of George's stand as I passed. The stand tilted way back and then righted itself with a snap as I fell off the desktop and landed on its base. George, though half-asleep, managed to keep his grip on the perch during the initial tilt, but then lost it when the stand snapped back, propelling him across the room nice a misshapen cannonball.

  Straight at Doc, whose hands had shot into the air on Liz's command. He was still holding Spike's leash, and Spike, to keep from choking, was standing on his hind feet. And not happy about it, from the sound of his barking.

  When Doc saw George flying toward him, he dropped the leash and put his hands in front of him, either to catch George or fend him off; it was hard to tell which.

  And when Spike realized he was free, he lunged at the nearest object. Which, bless his evil little heart, was Liz. He buried his teeth in her ankle.

  “Get that thing away from me!“ Liz shrieked. She was shaking her ankle, but Spike was doing his best pit bull imitation and refused to be shaken off.

  I saw this from behind the reception desk, where I was frantically scrabbling to find something I could use as a weapon. But when I saw Liz aiming her gun at Spike, I decided I had to act, weapon or no weapon. Although she was probably as likely to hit her own ankle as Spike, the odds were better that she'd miss both of them and plug poor Doc, who was struggling with a very angry George. So I vaulted back over the reception desk, grabbed Liz's wrist with my right hand, and began smacking her in the face with my bandaged left hand.

  We teetered back and forth a few times until I managed to bang her wrist hard against the edge of the desk. I must have hit a nerve or something; her right hand went limp and the gun fell to the floor. She shrieked and tried to claw at my face with her nails, so I hit her in the stomach, hard. She half staggered and half fell backwards, into the closet.

  She landed in the box that held the Affirmation Bears, several dozen of which squeaked various encouraging affirmations as she landed. At least most of them squeaked affirmations. Obviously the box contained a few that the guys had been tinkering with. As I grabbed the gun and pointed it toward Liz, one of the bears produced a prolonged belch, and another squeaked “Hehehehehe… wipeout!“ followed by a familiar riff of surf music.

  “Don't move!“ I said. “Doc, are you all right?“

  “That was wonderful,“ he said. “Risking your life to save your beloved dog!“

  “Yeah, right,“ I said.

  I risked a glance to where Doc was half sitting, half lying. George had found a new perch, on Doc's head. The excitement had obviously made George sick to his stomach again. And from the many small claw and beak wounds on Doc's face I deduced that George had been fairly insistent about reaching his new perch, and Doc seemed eager not to move any more than he could help.

  “Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!“ trilled a bear, alerting me to the possibility that Liz was on the move.

  “Stay where you are!“ I said. “I have the gun, and I know how to use it, too.“

  Which wasn't a lie. I may not have taken lessons, as Liz had, but I'd already figured out which end to point in her direction. If this species of gun had a safety latch of some sort, logically she'd already have taken it off while guarding me, so presumably if I pulled the trigger, bullets would emerge. Where they'd go was anybody's guess, of course. Unfortunately the odds were low that any of them would end up where I wanted them – in Liz's black, treacherous heart. Which was probably just as well; I might feel less bloodthirsty when the last hour or so was further in my past.

  “Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today,“ a bear chirped.

  “I'm not moving. They're just settling or something,“ Liz said hastily.

  “Still, it's good advice,“ I said, stepping over Doc to get to the switchboard. Using my bandaged left hand, I managed to knock the receiver off the hook, snag the cord with my arm, and drop it down where Doc could grab it.

  “I’ll dial 911,“ I said. “You talk to them.“

  Once I was sure the police were on the way, I gave Doc the gun and told him to guard Liz for a couple of minutes. I left him sitting on the floor, clutching the gun with both hands and telling George, who was still perched on his head, what a good, brave buzzard he was. I went back to the library. Everyone looked up anxiously when I came in.

  “Relax, folks,“ I said. “George and Spike saved the day, I've called the police, and Doc is keeping Liz out of mischief until they get here.“

  I could tell if they hadn't all been gagged I'd have heard a collective sigh of relief. They a
ll began squirming, each obviously hoping to catch my attention and get untied first. The room looked like my fifth-grade science project the day all the cocoons began hatching at once.

  I played favorites and untied Michael first. He reacted the way you want the love of your We to react after a close brush with the grim reaper, and we briefly ignored the restless wiggling of the others.

  “One of these days I will manage to rescue you, you know,“ he said finally, in a shaky voice.

  “The way my life keeps going, I have no doubt of it,“ I said. “Go help Doc keep an eye on Liz.“

  “Oh, God,“ Rob moaned when I took off his gag. “This is terrible.“

  “Relax,“ I said. “The danger's over.“

  “Yes, but think of the bad publicity we're going to get,“ he said.

  I was momentarily stunned into silence. When had my happy-go-lucky brother begun worrying about publicity? But he looked so miserable that I took pity on him.

  “Don't worry,“ I said. “It was a lawyer gone bad. Can't you see the headlines already: Real Life Lawyer from Hell Attacks Mutant Wizards CEO. Hit Game Comes to Life in Hostage Crisis. You couldn't buy better publicity if you spent millions.“

  “You think?“ Rob asked, rubbing his wrists.

  “Sales will go through the roof,“ I said. “Go untie Dad.“

  I headed back to the reception room. Not that I didn't trust Michael to keep Liz neutralized. But Chief Burke had a very big “I told you so,“ coming, and the way I wanted to deliver it was to have him walk in to find me holding a gun on the real killer.

  I never claimed to be subtle.

  It was several more hours before Michael and I finally got back to the Cave.

  “I could sleep for a week,“ I said, gazing fondly at the lumpy sofa bed and thinking how wonderful it was that I'd been too busy that morning to transform it into its sofa incarnation.

  “We could fly back to California in the morning,“ Michael said. “Give me one good reason why we can't do that. In fact, give me one good reason why we can't just get back in the car and drive up to Dulles right now.“