Evan Horne [04] Bird Lives!

by Bill Moody

I slide down the counter, find myself sitting on the floor, and wonder how I got there.

  “What do you want?” The sound of my own voice is shaky, stuck in my throat.

  “Don’t worry, Evan. You have nothing to fear. We’ll talk again.” There’s a few more seconds of Coltrane, then nothing.

  I sit on the floor for several minutes, my head against the counter, the phone still in my hand. My pulse is racing. I feel cold. When I finally get up, my hand is shaking as I light a cigarette. I think for a moment, then dial Andie Lawrence’s number.

  “Special Agent Lawrence.”

  “Andie, it’s Evan.”

  “I’m so glad you called. I—”

  “Just listen to me, Andie.” I take a breath. “Andie, I just got a call from the killer.”

  “What? Oh, my God! How do you know it was him?”

  “She knew about the feathers. You hear me, Andie. She knew about the feathers.”

  “She?”

  “Yes, the killer is a woman.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I jump when the phone rings again. It penetrates the silence, the sound magnified, the space between rings agonizingly long. Nothing but the hum of the refrigerator to compete with it. Mesmerized, as if it’s a poisonous snake coiled to strike me, I wait tensely for the third ring. The machine picks up, and I hear my own voice.

  “Hi, this is Evan Horne. Who are you? Leave a message and let me know.”

  “Evan, please pick up, it’s Andie Lawrence.” Her voice sounds desperate, pleading. “Evan?”

  I close my eyes, realize I’ve been holding my breath. I feel my shoulders relax as I exhale deeply and reach for the phone. “Yes, Andie.”

  “Evan, thank God. When you hung up, I thought something happened. I—”

  “I just couldn’t talk anymore. Something did happen, Andie.”

  “Evan, are you all right? You sound, I don’t know, distant.”

  I know what she’s hearing. I can’t seem to make my voice go beyond a monotone. “I’m here, Andie. I, I don’t know what to do.”

  “All right, Evan. Listen to me. You’ve got to snap out of it. You must have a tape recorder, a small cassette player?”

  “Yes, have to find it.”

  “Good, get it out and keep it near the phone. Keep it near the phone. Do you understand? If she calls back, you can at least record half of the conversation.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I feel like I’ve been under water, but now I’m slowly swimming toward the ray of light on the surface. “I think I have one of those attachments to record the caller. I used it for interviews when I was writing.”

  “Good. That’s it, focus, Evan.” Andie says, “Find it if you can, and hook it up. We’ll bring some equipment. I’ve patched through a call to Cooper. He’s on the way.”

  Even now I can hear a siren wailing in the distance. “Okay. Andie?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “Just hang in there, Evan. We’ll talk about it when I get there. We’re on the way.”

  I put the phone down. The siren is louder now, probably only a couple of blocks away. I open the door and look out. It’s twilight. A gray haze filters back from the beach. Lights glimmer softly in windows across the street.

  Leaving the door ajar for Coop, I turn on some lights, then sit down on the couch and light a cigarette. My head is starting to clear when I hear Coop’s car screech to a stop, his footsteps quicken up the steps, then stop.

  He pushes the door open with his foot, comes in with his gun drawn, his body in a crouch. “Evan?”

  “I’m here, Coop.”

  He sees me on the couch, straightens up, and holsters his gun. He glances around quickly, then sits down next to me.

  “Jesus, I saw the door…Andie called me. I was on the way home.” He studies my face. “Shook you up, huh?” he says. “You okay?”

  I look at him and know he sees I’m not.

  “You got some booze in this place?” He goes to the kitchen and starts opening cabinet doors. “Scotch, right?”

  He doesn’t wait for me to answer. He brings the bottle of Dewars and a glass and pours a healthy shot. “Drink up, sport.”

  I gulp half of it, feel it burn going down, then settle warmly in my stomach. “Andie said to hook up my cassette player to the phone. I forgot. It’s in that drawer under the TV.”

  Coop digs in the drawer. Throwing aside cassettes and speaker wires, he comes up with it. “This it?”

  “Yeah, I think the recording wire is still in it.”

  “Right,” Coop says. He goes to the phone, plugs in the recorder, and attaches one end of the wire with the suction cup to the receiver. “There’s a tape in this. You need it?”

  “No, go ahead.” I listen to the whir as he rewinds the tape, picks up the receiver and listens for a dial tone, then hangs it up.

  He sits down with me again, puts his hand on my shoulder. “Listen to me, man. This place is going to be swarming with FBI and police any minute, and you’ve got to be ready.”

  “What do you mean?” He’s leaning toward me. His eyes flick to the sound of more sirens.

  “The FBI likes overkill. They don’t know what to expect. They’ve probably told the cops to surround the house. I’ll handle that, but Andie, maybe Wendell, are going to be here any minute asking you a lot of questions, so get it together. They’re going to want to know your first impressions, anything you can remember about the voice. This is vital. You with me?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay, but I need some ice in this, or I’m going to be drunk by the time they get here.”

  “Coming up.” Coop takes my glass and goes back to the kitchen. I can hear him in the fridge, dumping ice cubes in the sink, then he’s back. “Here you go,” he says.

  I take another short drink, lean back against the couch, and close my eyes.

  “I’m fucked, Coop. You know that, don’t you?” When he doesn’t answer, I open my eyes and look at him.

  He looks away. I know he doesn’t want to answer. “We’ll see.”

  There’s loud knocking on the door. When Coop opens it, I can see at least four dark uniforms. Venice Police. Coop turns back once to glance at me, then steps outside. He knows one of them. He shows them his badge, gives them some instructions I can’t make out, and they go back out to the street. I watch it all like it’s a movie unfolding in front of me.

  Coop leaves the door open and comes back to me. “They’re going to secure the street, take care of traffic. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be all right.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. I can feel Coop’s edginess. He’s like a Rottweiler on a choke chain that smells trouble. I close my eyes again, rerun the call in my mind, know I’ll never forget the voice.

  A few minutes later, Andie comes in, followed by two other guys in jeans and warm-up jackets. I’ve never seen them before. They’re both carrying cardboard boxes. One also has a small plastic toolbox. Coop nods Andie toward me. “I’m going to check outside,” he says.

  Andie looks at me. “Where’s your phone, Evan?”

  “It’s—”

  “Over here,” one of the guys says.

  Andie nods at them. “Do it.”

  I watch one of them take out a tape recorder, wires. They’re fast and efficient. One opens the tool kit, starts unscrewing the phone receiver. His buddy hooks up the tape recorder after disconnecting mine and pushing it aside on the countertop.

  Andie watches them work. In just a few minutes they have everything set up. One of them checks for a dial tone. “We’re in business,” he says.

  “Okay,” Andie says. “I’ll show him how to work it. Thanks, guys.” They don’t even look at me as they leave.

  Andie sits down on the couch, eyes the drink in front of me. “Are you okay? We need to talk.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I’m not, really. I still hear that voice in my head. You’re going to help me, Evan. What did she mean?


  Andie takes out a pad and pen. “Okay, tell me everything that happened.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, I had just finished playing back my messages when the phone rang. I wasn’t even thinking. I just picked it up, thought it might be Natalie.”

  “And what did you hear first?”

  “Nothing at first, just silence, then music.”

  “What was it? Did you recognize it?”

  “Coltrane, John Coltrane, saxophone, an old recording. The album is called Soultrane, the song was ‘Good Bait’.”

  Andie writes it all down, checks the spelling with me. “Did you hear anything else? Background noise, anything like that?”

  I think for a moment, take a drag on my cigarette, and exhale. “A blowing sound, just like that.” I watch as Andie writes on her pad. Maybe a smoker.

  “Good, that’s good,” she says. “Anything else?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Just the music, the blowing sound, and the voice.”

  “Okay, describe the voice. You’re sure it was a woman.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure, it was…smoky, low, not a real high pitch.”

  “It couldn’t have been someone using something to disguise the voice? Any kind of echo you could detect?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, tell me exactly what she said, what you said, as best as you can remember.”

  Andie transcribes the conversation, then has me read it over.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Then she hung up after a few more seconds of music.”

  “Still Coltrane?”

  “Yeah, that was playing all the time in the background.”

  Andie reads over her notes, then underlines three sentences: This is going to be so much fun. I need you, Evan. You’re going to help me. “Any idea what she meant by that?”

  “None.”

  “It wasn’t anybody you recognized, was it?”

  I shake my head slowly.

  “Okay, and this is important. You’re sure she was the one who mentioned the bird feathers?”

  “Absolutely.” I put out my cigarette. “It’s the killer, isn’t it?”

  Andie pauses a beat, taps her pad. “No one else knows about the feathers.”

  I look up then and see Natalie standing in front of us, Coop just behind her. I didn’t even notice them come in.

  “Evan, what happened? What’s going on?” Natalie is in a white warm-up suit, some kind of crinkly material. She’s made up, and her hair is brushed back off her face. She looks ready to go out.

  Andie stands up and holds out her hand. “I’m Special Agent Lawrence. You must be Natalie. I believe we talked on the phone.”

  I watch them size each other up. Natalie takes Andie’s hand briefly. “Hi,” she says, then looks back at me. “Evan?”

  “I’m sorry, Natalie,” Andie says. “I’ll be through here in a few minutes.” She nods at Coop, who takes Natalie by the elbow and starts to walk her out. Natalie turns, looking back over her shoulder. “Evan, are you all right?”

  I nod and look to Andie.

  “Sorry,” Andie says. She smiles slightly. “I just want to keep him focused here.” She turns back to me, then looks at her pad again. “Now anything else at all you can remember, no matter how small.”

  I light another cigarette and think. “No, nothing. Wasn’t that enough?”

  Andie nods her head, raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, it was plenty.”

  “She’s going to call me again, isn’t she?”

  Andie holds my gaze for a moment before answering. “Yes, but not tonight, probably not for a couple of days, which is good, gives us some time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “This was an exploratory call, just to let you know she’s out there, knows who you are, but there will be more. You can count on it.”

  “What do I do then?”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Andie looks toward the phone. “C’mon,” she says.

  She shows me which buttons to press to activate the recorder. It looks brand-new, very high-tech. “This will record all incoming calls. We’ll try, of course, but I don’t think there’s a chance in hell of tracing her. Every call you get, you push this record button first. We want her voice on tape.”

  She reaches into one of the boxes and takes out a cellular phone wrapped in plastic. It also looks brand-new, and not much bigger than a pack of cigarettes. She hits the talk button, listens for a moment, keys in some other numbers, and finally presses Off.

  “You keep this with you at all times, okay? Even if you leave the house to just go buy cigarettes or a newspaper. If you’re not home, your number will be forwarded to the cell phone. I’m the only one who will have the cell phone number, so we can talk without being on your home line.” She thinks for a moment. “Maybe Cooper too, if you want.”

  I nod. “What about Natalie?”

  “No,” she says, “I don’t think so. I’ve programmed my direct line in the cell phone. It’s hooked to my beeper.” She hands me the cell phone. I look at it for a moment, dreading what’s on the other end. I’ve never even had call forwarding. Now I’ve got a cell phone, caller ID, and a direct line to the FBI.

  “One more thing,” Andie says. “We’ll have someone on the street, unmarked car, at least till we know what’s going on, okay?”

  “Andie?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you think she meant?”

  “You’ve got to be ready. She wants you to do something.”

  I sit for a long time on the couch with Natalie, just holding her. The TV is on low, but neither of us are really watching it. The cell phone lies on the coffee table in front of us. When it rings, we both jump. “Jesus,” I say.

  I pick it up, look at Natalie, and press the talk button. Natalie sits on the edge of the couch, her hand to her mouth. “Hello.”

  “Relax, sport, it’s just me checking in.”

  I sigh and sag back on the couch. “Coop. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Just checking the line. Andie gave me the number. I’m only a beeper away, remember that. Get some sleep if you can. You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Coop. See you.”

  “Bye.”

  I turn off the phone. Natalie flops back, runs her hands through her hair. “God, this is nerve-racking.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Natalie picks up the phone and suddenly giggles. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “What?”

  “Now you’ve got a cell phone, for jazz emergencies.”

  I laugh with her. “Yeah,” I say, “come quick, I need some blues changes on the double.”

  It’s not much, but it breaks the tension momentarily. When we settle down, we look at each other for a moment. “It’s going to be okay, Evan.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “You have Coop and the FBI, Special Agent Lawrence.” She shakes her finger at me. “You better watch it, buddy. She’s definitely not forty and frumpy, but it looks like she knows what’s she’s doing.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  I sleep badly, of course, tossing and turning most of the night. Twice I wake up and listen for the phone. For a while I just sit on the edge of the bed and watch Natalie sleep, thinking maybe she shouldn’t be here. That will be a battle. Former cop or not, Andie Lawrence will want to keep Natalie at a distance. Those lines have already been drawn.

  I lie back down, squeeze my eyes shut, and feel nothing till Natalie is shaking me. “Evan, it’s almost eight. You have to be at the Federal Building at nine.”

  I feel like I haven’t slept at all. After coffee and a long, hot shower, I walk Natalie to her car nearly half a block away. Just down the street, I catch a glimpse of a man sitting in a dark sedan. He looks up as we pass, gives me a brief wave.

  “Who’s that?” Natalie asks.

  “I don’t know. Efrem Zimbalist Junior, my babysitter? I’ll call you later, proba
bly from a pay phone.”

  Natalie looks surprised. “Why?”

  “I don’t know if they want me to tie up my phone. I’ll find out.”

  Natalie gets in her car and starts the engine. She looks up at me. “It’s going to get complicated, isn’t it?”

  “It already is.”

  I get to the Federal Building just after nine. Andie is pacing around the lobby, talking with a security guard, looking at her watch. She cuts him off in midsentence when she sees me walking toward her.

  “Bad night?” she asks.

  “Do I look that bad?” I just threw on jeans and a pullover shirt.

  She smiles. “No, not at all.”

  “Well, I’ve had better.”

  She nods. “We’re all set up. We want to go over the call again, see if we can come up with anything else, something you might have missed.”

  “I don’t think so, but whatever you think.”

  “Listen,” Andie says. “I know this has gone farther than we thought, but before we go upstairs, I just wanted you to know, I had nothing to do with the press leak. It was Ted. I’m not excusing him, but he got sandbagged by the reporter.”

  I look out the doors to Wilshire Boulevard. Traffic is heavy, and a small group of demonstrators, mostly men, are walking back and forth, carrying handheld placards, handing out flyers to passing pedestrians. One of the signs reads, GULF WAR VETS NEED BENEFITS TOO!

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? I didn’t mean to jump on you, but I was really pissed.”

  Andie follows my gaze. “That goes on all the time. Somebody is always protesting something.” She turns back to me. “It does matter. You had every right to be angry. I want you to feel you can trust me.”

  “I guess I have no choice, do I?”

  “Okay. I’ll settle for that now.”

  We start toward the elevators, but Andie stops. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Shit, I left it in the car.”

  Andie glares at me for a moment. “Get it.”

  I run back down to the garage and grab the phone. It’s still sitting on the seat. I jog back to the lobby, thinking maybe I subconsciously just don’t want it with me.