As the Crow Dies

by Kenneth Butcher

  Lucile pulled her head off Segal’s shoulder. “Did something happen to Gloria?”

  Segal’s eyes went cold. She fell into him again, and Dinah wondered if it was a bit too dramatic.

  “Listen, Lucile, it’s really not a good idea for you to be here right now.” Dinah pictured the spectacle of the body being wheeled out on a stretcher, which for many people was the most disturbing vision in an incident like this. She also thought of reporters showing up.

  Lucile stood upright and wheezed out a breath, her face drained of color. “Do you think I’m in danger?” she asked.

  Segal opened his mouth, closed it.

  Dinah filled in the gap. She explained that it was true, after all, that people who worked with Francis Elah were not doing well lately. And although Lucile was not an employee of Creatures 2.0, all had to be cautious who were dealing with the company.

  “I don’t want to go home, at least not right now,” Lucile said in a hushed tone.

  Dinah spoke up. “Lieutenant, let me suggest you take Miss Devroe someplace where she will feel safe. I can stay and oversee things here.” Segal started to protest, but Dinah gave him a look of assurance. “I’ll call you when Lewis gets here. Meanwhile, the scene is in the hands of the techs. It will be all right. There’s not much to do until Lewis is found.”

  Segal nodded and led Lucile away.

  CHAPTER 17

  Rules of Recovery

  Segal emerged from sleep, called forth by a sound. He left the nether world with a dichotomous range of reluctance and also a profound sense of contentment. The contentment arose from a cellular level, or maybe someplace even deeper. The sensation calmed him as he had not been calmed in a long time.

  He could tell from the level of light that it was still night, but past that he had no sense of what time it was. The covers were warm, the bed infinitely comfortable, and he felt no impulse to move. Then the message tone on his phone sounded—the low beat of African drums—and he realized a similar tone had called him from sleep.

  He slipped out of bed and walked to the kitchen of his apartment, where the phone was charging. He did have a text. It was from Dinah, who had taken charge of the operation and waited for Lewis Abraham to surface. The message on his phone read, “Found Lewis, on his way here now.”

  Good, he thought. Wonder where the hell he’s been. He looked at the time on the phone. It was 3:45 A.M. His eyes drifted to the little corkboard on the wall. A page torn from a memo pad was secured there by a thumbtack. Written across the top of the pad in perfect script was a list penned by his therapist:

  Dr. Gold’s Rules for Speedy Recovery

  Get plenty of sleep

  Limit consumption of caffeine

  Do not identify closely with crime victims

  or anyone else involved with police cases

  He looked at his cell’s clock, which had advanced to 3:46 A.M. He needed to go in and help Dinah and would not sleep anymore this night. Check. The smell of coffee seemed eminent. He wondered when Vortex Doughnuts opened. Check.

  He peered down the hall toward the bed, where Lucile Devroe slept like an angel, one arm extended above her head in a pose from a Renaissance painting. Double-check.

  It had started earlier that night at the crime scene with Lucile’s vulnerability and fear and the death of Chickey and now Gloria, two of her friends and former colleagues, killed in the span of two days.

  But no, he thought. In reality, it had started from the instant he laid eyes on her at Biltmore. As Dr. Gold would say, we know. That is, Segal clarified in his own head, we sometimes know everything we need to know just by looking at another person. We see, but we pretend we don’t and move though life powered by the stories we make up. Well, Segal thought, there’s nothing like death to push aside pretense and make us look at reality.

  Lucile had said she didn’t want to spend the night at home alone. That was partly emotional, partly practical, too. Once in his car, they drove straight to his apartment with no discussion. Once there, he got as far as getting a cover and pillow for himself to use on the couch, but when he found Lucile in his bedroom, her cotton dress had dropped to the floor, and a second later she was in his arms. It was the end of pretense between them, and the couch had not been needed.

  The hell with it, he thought. So far, his recovery had not been all that speedy. Besides, Dr. Gold had also advised him on the importance of relationships, citing studies that showed a strong correlation between happiness and close ties with other people. Didn’t matter. He’d needed Lucile and she’d needed him.

  He dressed quickly and silently, wrote Lucile a note, tore it up, and wrote another, more intimate. He started to pick up his coat and thought about the paperback in the pocket. Sure, as hell don’t need The Great Gatsby right now, he thought, meaning he did not need a story about an obsessive love affair that went tragically wrong, including the death of an innocent woman tangential to the main conflict. He removed it and went to the small bookcase on the wall. “The Great One,” he whispered under his breath. He pulled Elmore Leonard’s Freaky Deaky off the shelf and smiled. He recalled that the plot included a detective falling in love with a girl involved in a complex crime. As usual with the Great One, the story ended with everyone getting exactly what they deserved, although Segal could not immediately remember exactly what that was.

  He managed to get out the door without waking Lucile. He took the soundness of her sleep to be a good sign. No doubt, she deserved it as much as he did.

  He rolled up at Creatures 2.0 a little after four. The crime-scene tape was still in place. That and a single squad car were all that remained of the outwardly visible police presence. He walked to the front door and thought how quickly the world moved on, how for most people, even those who knew the victim, the events of last night would be a bump in the road from which they would quickly recover. They would go on with their rhythm of meals and work and coming and going. Gloria would not. That’s the way of the world, Segal thought. But not for us. He knew that for himself and Dinah, there would be no moving forward until they resolved this. He wanted renewed stakes in the game, and this was the game.

  He went through the lobby and checked beside the desk where the body had been. It was clean. There was no chalk outline on the floor and no requirement for one in the age of digital photography. It occurred to him to find out what had kept Gloria working so late. However, there was little on the desk, and when he tapped on the computer’s keyboard, he found he needed a password to log on. Voices came from the lab and he moved toward them.

  Lewis wore a tuxedo, minus the tie. He stood hunched, searching through a filing cabinet. Dinah sat on a stool at one of the lab benches with a small notebook. She used her pen in a lazy fashion, he assumed drawing pictures on the page opposite her latest notes, a habit she had picked up from him. That and the habit of writing down short bursts of first impressions. His notebooks were like illustrated haiku, more triggers for discussion later rather than recordings of fact. Both acknowledged him by pausing their tasks. Dinah winked. Lewis resumed with the file cabinet.

  “You’re making me feel underdressed tonight, Lewis,” Segal said.

  “Seems while we pursued the lowly sport of roller derby, Mr. Abraham here focused on more refined arts,” Dinah said.

  “I happened to be at the opera,” Lewis said low key.

  He’s trying to make it sound unpretentious. Segal raised his eyebrows.

  “What? A black man can’t go to the opera?” Lewis asked.

  True, it was easier to picture Lewis at the Orange Peel or one of the other music venues downtown than the opera, yet Segal was not about to admit that. “And the opera lasts till three in the morning?” he asked.

  His fingers continued to work through the file drawer. “I’ve been over this with the sergeant here. I met someone there, a lady, and we spent some time together after the performance. She and I both would be in a world of trouble if it came out, if you know what I mean. I really don’
t want to involve her in this unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  Segal could relate.

  “You may already be in a world of trouble, Lewis. I don’t know if you noticed, but two of your coworkers were killed in the last two days. A third is missing.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Lewis said. “I came in as soon as I got the message. Your sergeant here asked me to see if anything is missing. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “Do you know what Gloria was doing here so late?” he asked. “It looked like she was working on something out there. I didn’t see anything on the desk.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Lewis said. “That’s what I was checking the file for. She was consolidating all the documents related to Richard, his training, habits, flight patterns, feeding rituals. Some of it was already in the computer system. Most of it though was in hard copy here in the files. She was supposed to scan any hard copies we had. It was a big pile. Not sure how far she got. I’m looking in here. No Richard documents. That means she could have taken them all out, but then, like you said, I didn’t see any around her desk either.”

  Dinah scribbled in her notebook.

  Fast this time. She’s penning impressions. Good. “Anything else missing?”

  “The crow cam’s gone,” Lewis said.

  “You mean the government one or the new and improved version you and Francis made?” Dinah asked.

  “The old one, government issue,” Lewis said.

  “The new one’s still here, then? It wasn’t taken?” Segal asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  Segal waited. Dinah paused.

  He exhaled sharply, then confessed. “I put it on, Richard. When he was here. Earlier today.”

  “You what?” Dinah narrowed her eyes.

  “Why’d you do that, Lewis?” Segal asked. Heat filled his chest. He was surprised and exasperated. It was one more way the events in this case seemed to be spinning out of his control. What was Lewis up to?

  Lewis huffed in a breath. He stood upright, cheeks holding air before he let it out. “You want to find Francis. And I sure as hell want to find Francis. I mean, I’m left here all alone dealing with this stuff. The cam was here, so I figured, why not? Maybe we get lucky. Maybe we learn something.”

  Dinah raised an eyebrow.

  Segal had to wrestle with it. He inhaled and exhaled. “You know what, Lewis? That might be a good idea. What do you think, Dinah?”

  “Good.”

  “That might be the best idea any of us has had all day.” Dinah returned to drawing, slow lazy strokes. “Only next time you have a great idea like this, Lewis, check with us first.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Like a Rolling Stone

  The predawn light filtered through the big windows of the lab. Segal looked at his watch. “There goes the night,” he said.

  Lewis was gone. Segal considered their next move.

  “How is Lucile Devroe?” Dinah asked. “Did you get her settled down and find her a safe place to stay last night?”

  “Uh, yeah. She’s okay, she’s safe,” Segal said, a little too quickly. He felt the overwhelming need to take a drink of coffee.

  Dinah watched his face for a moment. “Oh, brother. I’m not even going to ask.”

  Segal avoided her eyes, thinking about what to say, then realizing there was nothing he could say, nothing he needed to say. Dinah probably understood this stuff better than he understood himself.

  “So where is she going to be today?” Dinah asked.

  “She’ll be out at Biltmore at work. She should be okay there. Later, she’s got a movie shoot. She’s supposed to do something with her own trained crows. I think it would be good to be there. She said it’s a vampire movie.”

  “I may have met the director of that movie at a party a couple of weeks ago,” Dinah said. “Maybe I’ll touch base with him before we go out.”

  “I’ll check in with Emily Elah. Let her know about Gloria. See if she’s heard anything else,” Segal said. He walked over to the windows. The air held a light mist as it so often did in the early morning hours in the mountains. The light bore scant color; everything was gray.

  “Might be worth a look around outside now that there’s some light. I know the guys checked it out with flashlights. Tough in the dark.”

  Dinah slid off the stool she was perched on and followed him to the door. Segal could tell by the way she moved that she was hitting a wall of exhaustion. She had worked yesterday, skated in the Roller Derby, and then stayed up all night managing the crime scene.

  “Why don’t you head home and get some rest,” he said. “I already got some myself.”

  A grin crept onto Dinah’s face. “Did you, Segal? Did you really get some? Rest, that is?”

  Segal started to say something.

  Dinah held up her hand. “It’s OK. I’ll just patrol with you a little and then go home and grab a couple hours sack time.”

  Outside everything was damp from the mist and the heavy dew. They took a couple of steps on the soft ground and Segal held up his arm to signal a stop while they scanned for footprints. But the grass was too thick and, in any case, if they spotted a print they wouldn’t know if it belonged to the assassin or one of their own officers who had been out last night.

  Segal heard a rustling in the tree branches ahead and ducked as if he might be dive-bombed by a crow. But it was just a couple of chickadees and a nuthatch at a feeder that hung nearby. Segal glanced at Dinah to see if she noticed how jumpy he was.

  The first trees they came to were white pines with a carpet of brown needles on the ground beneath them. Here and there were decaying stumps of ancient hemlocks which had died and made way for this new growth. Between the trees and stumps, Segal could make out a slight path leading uphill. And there on the brown pine needles was a knife, a combat knife, loose in its scabbard with a little glint of blade shining out.

  Segal approached and bent down for a closer look. Dinah’s hand went to her pocket.

  “Damn, I don’t have any gloves,” she said.

  Segal stood up and thought in silence for a moment. “They’ll be back for it,” he said. It was the first thought that jumped into his mind, and then he worked out why it must be so. “They’ll realize it’s gone and come back for it. If it’s the kind of professional outfit we think it is, they’ll have to. They can’t leave something like this behind. Probably has fingerprints and maybe even other ID. They’ll come soon, at first light.” He was thinking about leaving it as bait in a trap.

  “Sooner than you think, Segal,” Dinah whispered. She was facing up the path and drawing her gun at the same time. Segal saw a figure outlined in the mist, forty yards up the hill above them. He felt a flood of adrenaline as he reached for his gun, too. Dinah raised hers.

  “Police,” she yelled. “Hands up where we can see them. Now!”

  The figure made no sudden movement which would have ignited an immediate response from Dinah’s gun. Instead, he made a calm underhand pitching motion and stepped off the path and out of their view. Segal stood amazed for a moment. He heard a thud and then saw a dark object bouncing and rolling down the steep path toward them.

  “Grenade!” Dinah yelled.

  Segal felt her yank his sleeve and pull him to the side of the path before diving with him behind one of the huge hemlock stumps.

  He heard the grenade roll a little way past and he had time to count to four before the blast and the sound of shrapnel slamming into the trees around them and into the dense damp wood of the hemlock stump. The blast seemed to shatter his eardrums. The stump saved us. By the time he dared put his head up, he saw the man running downhill and skidding to a stop to pick up the knife, before running back up the hill. He moved with impressive speed for someone his size.

  Dinah jumped up to give chase, but Segal said, “No, this way.” He pointed into the woods at right angles to the path. “There’s nothing up that way but there’s a side street over here. They must have a car
waiting there.”

  Dinah took off running but then slowed to wait for Segal as he caught up.

  “Go ahead,” he yelled. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She took off, bobbing and weaving around trees and ducking low branches. Just as Segal had said, in a hundred yards or so she emerged onto a side street he could barely make out. She pulled back a little into the cover of the trees. Segal caught up to her, panting from the run. A van pulled up and stopped a little uphill from them and their man came trotting out of the woods toward it.

  She stepped out and took careful aim. “Stop! Police!” she yelled.

  The man reached the van and slid open the side door. He turned at her voice, and this time his hand went quickly to his waist as if to draw a gun of his own.

  Dinah did not hesitate. She fired at the center of the man’s body and he was knocked backward. He fell partly into the open door and Segal could see the hands of another person inside pulling him the rest of the way in. The door slid shut and the van screeched off. Dinah kept her pistol trained on the vehicle but there were houses across the street from it now and Segal knew they dared not fire.

  Dinah pulled out her cell phone. “We need assistance. Shots fired. We’re on—what the hell street is this, Segal?” Segal told her but by that time a siren blared and flashing lights approached. “Never mind,” she said into the phone. “A car’s coming. They must have heard the blast.”

  The police car screeched to a halt.

  Segal pulled his badge out. He ran toward them with its face in full view. “We need you to secure the site behind the lab building,” he shouted to the officers who got out. One leaned in and shut off the siren. Segal quickly described the location in more detail and what to look for. “And we need your car,” he said.

  The two officers looked at each other.

  “It’s OK,” Dinah said. “We’ll take good care of it.”