E Is for Evidence

"I got the impression she intended to fly out. Do you want to talk to her if she shows up?"

"Yes, I'd like that," I said, careful to omit any refer-ence to the fact that I'd met with her the night before. She hadn't seemed paranoid to me at all and she'd never men-tioned Terry's name.

Olive stirred on the couch, shifting positions. "Just in time for New Year's. Everyone'll be here." She glanced at Terry. "Did I tell you Bass gets in tonight?"

A look of a

"Me! Absolutely not. Ebony sends him money, but you wouldn't catch me doing it," she remarked. And then to me, "Bass and I had a falling-out at Thanksgiving and we haven't spoken since. He's got a big mouth in matters that are none of his business. I think he's loathsome, and he's just about that fond of me."

Terry glanced at his watch and I took that as my cue. "I should let you go if you've got a party," I said. "I don't feel we've been any help," Olive said. "Don't worry about it. I've got other sources. Just let me know if you come up with anything you think might pertain."

I left my card on the coffee table. Terry walked me to the door while Olive excused herself to fetch her coat. He watched her disappear into the bedroom. "I didn't want to mention this in front of her," he said, "but Lyda Case scared the shit out of me this afternoon."

"How so?"

"I don't want to make Olive nervous, but the woman threatened me. I don't think it has anything to do with Lance or I'd have said so up front. This is different. I don't know what it's about, but she really sounded cracked."

"What kind of threat?" I asked.

"Out of nowhere, she asked me how old I'd be on my next birthday. I didn't know what she was getting at, but when I told her I'd be forty-six, she said, 'Don't count on it.' And then she laughed like a fiend. Jesus, the sound made my blood run cold. I can't believe she was serious, but my God! What a thing to say."

"And you have no idea why she suddenly got in touch?"

"I haven't talked to her for years. Since Hugh died, I guess."

"I understand there's some question about the man-ner of his death."

"I've heard that too and I don't know what to think."

"How well did you know him?"

"I wouldn't say we were close, but I worked with him, oh, probably five years or so. He never struck me as the sort who'd commit suicide. Of course, you never know what someone under pressure will do."

"Pressure?"

"Lyda'd threatened to leave him. Hugh was a sweet guy, but he was terribly dependent on her and I think it just knocked the props out from under him."

"Why was she leaving? What was that about?"

"I wasn't privy to the details. Lance might know."

Olive reappeared, white fur coat across her shoulders, the green dress over her arm. Terry and I abandoned the topic of Lyda Case. He made no comment when she gave me the dress. Maybe Olive always gave away her clothes. The three of us left the house together, confining ourselves to small talk.

It was fully dark by then and the night was chilly. I turned on the heater in my car and drove to a pay phone in Montebello Village, putting a call in to Darcy at home. I wanted to stop off and see her before I went back to my place. But she told me Andy 'd worked late, so she hadn't had a chance to search his office. She was going in early the next morning, and said she'd call if she came up with anything.

I hung up, realizing then how exhausted I felt. In addition to the jet lag, I was operating on a bad night's sleep, and the fragmentary nap I'd picked up this morning wasn't helping anything. I headed home. As I turned the corner onto my street, I spotted Daniel's rental car, still sitting at the curb in front of my apartment. I parked and got out. Even in the dark, I could see him slouched in the front seat, feet on the dash as they had been before. I was just opening the gate when he rolled down his window. "Can I talk to you?"

I felt something snappish rise up in me, but I forced it back down again. I don't like being bitchy, and I hated admitting to myself that he still had the power to distress. "All right," I said. I approached the car and halted about six feet away. "What is it?"

He unfolded himself and emerged from the car, lean-ing his elbows on the open car door. The pale glow from the street light gilded his cheekbones, touching off strands of silver in the cloud of blond hair.

"I'm in a bit of a bind," he said. His face was dappled with shadows that masked the remembered clear blue of his eyes. After eight years, it was amazingly painful just to be in his company.

I thought the safest course was to repeat information back to him without comment. "You're in a bind," I said. There was a brief silence wherein I assumed I was meant to quiz him on the nature of his problem. I clamped my teeth together, waiting patiently.

He smiled ruefully. "Don't worry. I'm not going to ask you for money and I'm not trying to get in your pants." "This comes as a big relief, Daniel. What do you want?" The bitchy tone was already back, but I swear I couldn't help myself. There's nothing more infuriating than a man who's manipulated your emotions once and now thinks he can do it again. I could still remember the charge that ran between us early in our relationship, sex-ual electricity infusing the very air we breathed. It had taken years for me to realize that I had generated most of it myself out of my own neediness. Maybe that's what was making me so churlish in retrospect. I was still chafing at myself for what a fool I'd been.

"I need a place to stash my gear," he said.

"What gear?"

He shrugged. "I got a two-thousand-dollar acoustic guitar I can't leave because the trunk lock is busted on the rental car I picked up. It'll get ripped off if it's in the back seat."

"You brought a guitar like that all the way from Flor-ida?"

"I thought maybe I'd pick up a gig out here. I could use the bucks."

"What happened to your friend? I thought you got a ride with someone. Why not take it to his place? Or is it a woman? I guess I never asked you that."

"Well, no, it's a guy," he said. "The problem is, he doesn't actually live here in town. He was just passing through on his way to San Francisco and he won't be back till late on Sunday. That's why I had to rent a car of my own."

"Where are you staying? Don't you have a place?"

"I'm working on that. The town's booked solid be-cause of the holidays. Meantime, I can't even pull into a gas station to take a leak without hauling everything in with me. It's just for a couple of days."

I stared at him. "You always do things like this, you know that? You're always in a bind, shifting your weight from foot to foot, hoping someone'll bail you out of the hole you're in. Try the Rescue Mission. Pick up a woman. That shouldn't be so tough. Or sell the damn thing. Why is it up to me?"

"It's not up to you," he said mildly. "It's a simple favor. What's the big deal?"

I ran out of steam. We'd had this same exchange a hundred times and he'd never heard me before. I might as well save my breath. I might as well give him what he wanted and get it over with. It was probably just an elabo-rate excuse to prolong our contact. "Never mind," I said. "No big deal. You can park the damn thing in a corner until Sunday and then I want it out of here."

"Sure. No problem. Thanks."

"I'm warning you, Daniel. If you've got a stash any-where within six blocks of here, I'll call the cops."

"I'm clean. I told you that. You can look for yourself.

"Skip it " I said. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't bluff on that, because he knew me well enough to know I'd have him thrown in the slammer if I caught him.