William Bernhardt - Dark Eye

Patrick had come, too, and I have to admit it gave me a bit of a charge, having him there, in the very place where I sleep and all. I made a resolution-as soon as all these interlopers cleared out of my apartment, I was going to insist that he go out with me. Shameless, I know, but let’s face it-I’m a squeaky wheel.

And I didn’t want to spend another night alone. Not if I could help it.

“We’ve added two extensions,” Tony Crenshaw explained, “so we can listen in and make a recording. We’ve also added an open line to Bell’s electronic switching center-ESS-and to humor Agent Chaffee, a hotline to the FBI’s communications room.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “How long does it take to make a trace these days?”

“Not as long as you might think. Depends on how the call arrives, but if it comes on all-electronic switches-and if it’s a local call from a residence, it will-we should have it in a minute.”

“So I have to keep him rambling for sixty seconds.”

“Not even. We’ve got a tone generator connected to your line. As soon as he calls, we’ll pick up and start tracing-but the tone generator will make a false ringing noise and fake him into believing you haven’t answered. We’ll cut it after four rings-otherwise he might hang up.”

“So that leaves me with, what? Fifty seconds of talk?”

“We could have someone else answer. Try to put him on hold.”

I shook my head. “He won’t buy it. He may be crazy, but he’s also smart.”

“Fine. After the fourth ring, click the interrupt button quickly to simulate the sound of the phone picking up. Then start talking.”

“Don’t seem too eager to chat,” Patrick said. “He’ll get suspicious.”

I agreed. “I think I can keep him talking. He’s concocted this brilliant scheme-in his eyes-but has no one to appreciate it. He wants me to be his audience. Who better to appreciate what you’ve done than the police officer who’s trying to catch you? He wants my admiration.” I gave Patrick a sly smile. “But I’ll make him work for it.”

Darcy sidled up beside me. “I think sometimes people’s voices on the phone sound scary. Do you think sometimes people’s voices on the phone sound scary?”

I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “I can handle it.”

His father cut in. “Darcy, why don’t you catch the bus home? Susan is very busy right now.”

Darcy frowned, then started stuttering again. “I-I-I would rather stay with Susan, I think. If-if-if-” He swallowed. “If you get scared, Susan, I’ll talk to him for you.”

My eyes got strangely itchy. “Thanks, Darce. Appreciate it.” Which I did, especially given how scared he was of the voice on the other end of the line.

After that, we sat around and stared at the phone. We had no idea when he might call. I wished I’d bought the latest Cosmo or something. My new apartment was distinctly short on reading materials, other than that Collected Poe. All my books were still packed up in boxes. It occurred to me that Darcy could probably recite any number of books to me from memory, but I declined to ask.

“Remember this,” Patrick said, “next time you’re asked to talk about the glamorous and exciting world of law enforcement.”

I laughed. “When I finally lose the rest of these chumps,” I said, “wanna go out and get-” I checked myself. “A sandwich?”

He beamed back a smile filled with potential. “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date,” I said, just in case there was any doubt about the direction I was heading. Before I could elaborate, the phone rang.

We all stared at each other. This was it. This was really it.

The machine picked up the line and the tone generator kicked in. I patiently waited for four rings. Crenshaw gave me the signal. Then I clicked the interrupt, took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Hello. Susan speaking.”

“Hey, Suze. Whatcha been up to?”

Breath poured out of me like a deflated balloon. It was Lisa.

“Haven’t seen you today.”

“Well… I’ve been busy. O’Bannon is working me like a plantation owner.”

“Want me to come over?”

“I do, but the problem is-” I glanced at O’Bannon. He gave me the okay. “I’m currently surrounded by about a dozen police officers.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I can’t go into it now. How about I meet you for breakfast tomorrow? Krispy Kremes sound good?”

“I could live with that. Eight too early?”

“See you then.” I hung up the phone and stared out into a sea of irritated faces. “Well, forgive me for having friends.”

And then we all sat down to wait some more.

After another hour or so, Patrick excused himself so he could review the security detail. I felt like I was probably safe at the moment, since I was surrounded by half the Vegas police force, but whatever. Maybe he just wanted to stretch his legs.

I killed time by showing Darcy the two card tricks I had learned in Brownies about twenty-five years ago. The problem was, he could always see how it was done. In fact, after watching it once, he could duplicate the trick himself.

“Hey, Chief,” I said, “did you know you have a potential cardsharp on your hands? I could see him running a three-card monte operation on the Strip.”

O’Bannon grunted.

We were all having a perfectly merry time-when the phone rang. Tone generator, four rings, and then I was on.

“Hello. Susan speaking.”

“Did you enjoy my gift?”

I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Friendly, but not too eager. Don’t challenge him. “It got my attention. I think the forensic lab will probably have more fun with it than I did.”

“They won’t learn anything.”

“You never know.”

“What are you doing, Susan? You’re not falling back into bad habits, are you?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Just spending a quiet evening at home.”

He chuckled. Actually chuckled. “I rather doubt that.”

“So what are you up to, anyway? Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t tell you. You’re not ready.”

“Aw, please. Fill me in. So I can appreciate what you’re doing.”

“You’re very clever, Susan. If you open your mind, you will find the truth. I only have time to tell you this: you would look beautiful in neon.” And then the phone went dead.

I checked my watch. Thirty seconds, tops.

I looked at Crenshaw. He was on one of the extensions, talking to the switching center. “Did we get a fix?”

After a few moments, he put down the phone. “No.”

Granger pounded a fist into his palm. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s local. We’re sure of that. But we don’t know where he is.” He looked at me sadly. “I think we should leave the recorder on and the equipment in place. In case he calls again.”

“Sure,” I said. “But he won’t. He’s already accomplished what he wanted.”

“We’ll get that tape recording to the sound lab. See what they can tell us.”

“And then?” Patrick asked.

“Then,” I said, “we have to figure out what he meant by that gibberish about the truth. And that crack about me looking good in neon.”

“It was just bullshit,” Granger said. “He was flirting with you.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

“Then what?” O’Bannon asked.

Good question. I fell back against my sofa and thought a good long while before answering. “It was a clue. To whatever he wants us to find next.”

This was a new experience for me. Being at a bar-The White Feather-but not ordering a drink. It was almost as seedy as Gordy’s, but it was near my apartment, and they served sandwiches as well as libations.

The three of us found a table-Darcy tagged along-and I ordered a club soda. Patrick relaxed as soon as I placed my nonalcoholic drink order. Maybe Darcy did, too. I felt proud of myself. I’d passed the test.