Unflappable

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Unflappable Page 5

by Suzie Gilbert


  “Back then Hélène was running a small clinic out of her house. She scheduled a meeting with Dean. She brought vet reports and photographs, and described exactly what happens to a lead-poisoned bird. Dean was not sympathetic. Things escalated. At the end? He told her to go fuck herself.”

  Warren closed his eyes and chuckled.

  “She had planned to stage a protest at his annual company party, which was held on the top floor of a building in Grand Rapids. But a big scary electrical storm was supposed to hit late that afternoon. Hélène called one of her First Nation friends, and asked him to bring her his ceremonial eagle feather jacket. It was a hundred years old. Four of them managed to get the cross to the roof of the building across the street from the party, and they attached it to the stairwell. They covered what they were doing with a black tarp until six o’clock at night, when the storm was raging and the party was in full swing. And then they pulled the tarp away.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “That’s what happened,” said Luna, gesturing to the photograph. “All those bigwigs saw a woman with wings, hanging in chains. They unrolled a banner that said KEVIN DEAN - EAGLE KILLER. The guy who took the photos wasn’t even a pro, he just took a bunch of pictures with his second-hand camera. She made him leave before the police arrived. Look at the lightning! Any one of them could have been killed.”

  “Two days later that photograph was in every newspaper in the country,” said Warren.

  “And Dean’s life took a turn for the worse,” finished Luna, with a grin.

  “Look at her,” said Warren. “She was cursing him out in three languages. She was just a little bitty thing, and they say it took four cops to get her off the roof.”

  Warren and Luna tapped their beer bottles together, and Ned regarded the famous photograph. Whoever designed this game was a master, he thought. I’m on a completely alien planet, yet there are recognizable historical elements.

  “But how will you get the eagles across the border?” he asked. “Don’t you need documents? And Mars…”

  “Named after the Roman god of war,” supplied Warren.

  “What’s his girlfriend’s name?”

  “Banshee.”

  Ned grimaced. “It’s because she’s really loud,” Luna explained.

  “I know what a banshee is!” said Ned. “It’s an Irish spirit, and they’re really loud because they’re announcing that somebody is about to die.”

  “If anybody dies it’ll be thanks to Mars, not Banshee,” said Warren.

  Ned sighed, determined to follow at least one thread to its conclusion. “So back to Banshee, who currently resides in Pennsylvania. How are you going to get her to Canada? Don’t you think if you swing by to pick her up, someone you don’t want to see might be waiting for you?”

  “See, that’s the…ahh!” Luna jumped backward, nearly toppling her chair.

  “Ha ha!” laughed Warren. “What is it about the sudden sight of a great big dildo that just sets people off?”

  Ned gave Luna a reproachful look. “That’s what you were talking about?” he asked, as a large armadillo sauntered out from beneath the table.

  Warren frowned. “Did you lead this young man to believe I was trafficking in sex toys?” he asked.

  That volunteer program was a big mistake, thought Ned. This is a textbook example of what happens when computer people decide they need to work on their social skills. “Don’t panthers eat armadillos?” he forced himself to ask.

  “Oh sure, all the time,” said Warren. “But not here, because all the injured or orphaned ones are either in the clinic or the bird cage. There’s nothing wrong with Jacques, though, that one there, he just walked in one day and I never had the heart to kick him out. But he ever takes a stroll into that kitty pen, he’s gonna get the surprise of his life.”

  “Look at him!” chortled Luna, sitting cross-legged on the floor as the armadillo rose on its hind legs and peered into her face. “If you’re wondering why he likes them so much,” she said to Ned, “there’s no real reason.”

  “Awww, ‘course there is,” said Warren. “They’re tough little guys. I’ll tell you what, couple years ago some douchebag shot one in his yard with a .38, and the bullet ricocheted off the dildo and hit his neighbor. Neighbor was just sitting there in her trailer, minding her own business. She was pissed. I expect the dildo was, too.”

  The dishes had been cleared from the dining room table, replaced by a battered map of the United States. Luna traced a route with her finger.

  “I’ll need to drive northwest, past the Great Lakes, and head for the Minnesota border. He shouldn’t be in the crate for more than five hours at a stretch, so we’ll just go from rehabber to rehabber. Whoever has a flight cage, and is willing to take the risk.”

  “An eagle underground railroad,” said Warren.

  “Exactly. I’ll line up a different ride each time, and cover my tracks.”

  “Give me three days,” said Warren. “I have to release that guy, make sure he’s okay, then I’ll take you.”

  “I can’t wait three days,” said Luna. “Ted’s picking us up tomorrow morning, and taking us to Carlene’s in Tallahassee.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Oh good, here he is. I didn’t hear it ring.”

  She read the text, and her face fell. “Shoot,” she said. “He can’t do it. He’s trying to line up someone else.”

  “Ned’ll take you!” said Warren.

  “No, he won’t,” said Ned.

  “Ned has to get back to work,” stated Luna. “He’s done more than enough.”

  She smiled at him warmly, bravely, sadly, her eyes like summer skies, her fragile frame buffeted by the harsh winds of fate. Her long legs were tucked beneath her. Her flawless skin was dusted with rose.

  “I’ll get you to Tallahassee,” blurted Ned.

  “Good man!” said Warren, clapping him on the shoulder. “You are a valiant knight, rescuing both the errant bride and her winged companion! Damn the Federales, full steam ahead! I’ll catch up with you in a few days.”

  “I’m so grateful to you, Ned,” said Luna. “More than you know.”

  “Gotta do my rounds,” said Warren. “Bedrooms are that way.” He saluted, took another beer from the refrigerator, and left.

  Luna picked up one of her duffel bags. “Yours is the second door on the left,” she said. “Have a good sleep.”

  Ned watched her go, berating himself for agreeing to drive Luna and her eagle to Tallahassee. But once he delivered them, he vowed, he would stay exactly five minutes, then he’d get back into his car and return to his life. If he was lucky, it would be without fanfare, arrest, or prosecution.

  Ned dropped his bag on the floor of his room, then wandered back through the house and onto the porch. In a small clearing stood Warren and Luna, bathed in moonlight, looking at the sky. They were focused so intently he followed their gaze, expecting to see a comet, fireworks, or at least a low-flying plane. He scanned the sky, but saw only the moon.

  Chapter 4

  Adam sat behind his desk, coffee in one hand, a contract in the other. Roland lounged in a big leather armchair, scrolling through the news. There was a soft knock on the door. Darcy entered, green-eyed and black-haired, her perfect body clad in leggings, sandals, and a tank top. “Morning!” she said, and waved a manila envelope. Roland nodded, and returned to the news.

  “How’d you do?” asked Adam.

  “Those wildlife people are a tough bunch!” she said. “I waited until Kelly McPhee left, then I went in and said I was Luna’s cousin. I said I couldn’t reach her, and they said they didn’t know where she was. I even started crying, and they didn’t care! But then I met up with another one in the parking lot, and evidently she wasn’t in the loop. She said the last time she saw Luna, there was a new volunteer. Long hair, glasses, mid to late twenties, drove an old blue Cadillac. She figured he was fairly local, because he signed up for once a week.”

  She handed
him the manila envelope. “It’s a start. I can widen the search.”

  “Thanks, Darcy. Good job.”

  “Anytime. Can I do anything else for you?”

  “Nope. That’ll do it.”

  “You sure?” she asked. She raised an eyebrow and gave him an inviting smile, but he smiled back and nodded toward the door. Darcy sighed, shrugged, and closed it behind her.

  Adam opened the envelope and pulled out photographs of three young men, each stapled to copies of their driver’s licenses and registrations. Thomas J. Tyler, age 29, wore wire-rimmed glasses, his hair pulled back, and owned a blue 1963 Cadillac Coupe De Ville. Ronald P. Smythe, age 35, wore rimless glasses, had a balding mullet, and owned a blue 1959 Cadillac Sedan De Ville. Edward K. Harrelson, age 26, wore horn-rimmed glasses, his shoulder-length hair in unruly waves, and owned a blue 1968 convertible Cadillac De Ville.

  “Look at this,” said Adam, exasperated.

  Roland rose and surveyed the photographs. “I’ve got that conference call,” said Adam, gathering the paperwork and returning it to the manila envelope. “Do me a favor and give this to Lloyd. Tell him to call Nichols and read him the three plate numbers, and I want to file a Missing Person Report.”

  Roland raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is she doing?” asked Adam.

  “You know what she’s doing.”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “She doesn’t want to be here.”

  For a moment Adam met his gaze, then he lifted his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on.

  “Then we’ll just have to find her,” he said, “so I can change her mind.”

  • • •

  Ned cruised along Interstate 75, heading north, listening as Luna crooned to her eagle in a husky half-whisper. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’ll be all right.”

  Ned’s neighbor walked her Chihuahuas by his window each morning, spouting such high-pitched, rapid-fire baby talk that he was regularly tempted to race from his apartment and bludgeon her to death with his oversized coffee cup. Luna, on the other hand, spoke in a voice so soft and warm that he felt a foreign, wistful pang in his heart. He wondered how he could get her to keep it up.

  Luna glanced at Ned. He piloted the enormous blue car unhurriedly, one arm resting on the window, the tendrils of hair which had escaped his ponytail blowing in the breeze. What luck, she thought, that his company’s nerd squad had sent him to Starfish Key. She leaned her head back, and curled a leg beneath her.

  “So, um…I meant to tell you,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Yesterday I gave your former phone to a friend heading for Miami.”

  “Why?”

  “When he got to his hotel, he used it to call a few airlines. This morning he dropped it off at my company’s Miami office, and today one of my co-workers will put it in the mail being overnighted to our office in Denver. Tomorrow a co-worker in Denver will use it to call a few airlines, then he’ll put it in the mail being overnighted to our office in Portland. So according to anyone who’s hacking your phone, for the next several days you’re on your way out west.”

  “What!” she gasped, and punched him on the arm. “That’s brilliant!”

  “Ow,” said Ned, pleased.

  “Didn’t your co-workers want to know why?”

  “I said it was part of a Treasure Hunt.”

  “But I didn’t see you give the phone to anyone!”

  “You were out like a light.”

  “Thank you,” she grinned, then looked down at her pinging phone. “It’s from Harper,” she said, and read it aloud.

  689-333-2150 Your cousin stopped by Starfish Key with a lot of questions and somebody told her about the new volunteer with the Cadillac. Since I know you don’t have a cousin you better ditch the car

  “What do you mean, ‘ditch the car?’” said Ned, alarmed.

  Luna bit her lip. “Did you give Kelly your real name?”

  “Uh…yeah?”

  “Adam’s looking for me. He must have had somebody go to Starfish Key and pretend to be my cousin, to see who I could have left with. Let me thank Harper and ask Warren.” She typed, then read the response aloud.

  PRIVATE CALLER A DMV check will get his plates. Cops will be out. Don’t go through any tollbooths, they have cameras.

  Ned snorted. “You can’t just call the DMV and get somebody’s license plate number!”

  Luna regarded him sympathetically, as if he’d said something stupid but wasn’t fully to blame. The phone pinged again.

  PRIVATE CALLER Maybe they think you’re still in the area. How far are you from Tallahassee?

  “About an hour,” said Ned.

  “We need to pull over,” she said, after she read the reply. “Someplace inconspicuous, with dirt.”

  Twenty minutes later they were back on the highway, Ned’s face set in a scowl, the car filled with strained silence. Her phone pinged.

  [email protected] I had everyone check in with me after they deleted your old contact info. Have 112 so far, will run the others down. Be careful!

  [email protected] You need fish?

  [email protected] Can’t wait to see you!

  [email protected] Oh damn, Luna! I’m sorry I insulted you!

  [email protected] Forget about it, Esther!

  [email protected] Esther, get back to work! We need you!

  [email protected] So does Jim Beam!

  [email protected] Shut up, Bob! Ignore him, Esther!

  Luna laughed. “It’s from the rehabbers,” she said. “Esther’s sorry she called me a bitch who does jack shit for wildlife! Didn’t I tell you she’d be sorry? You want me to read them to you?”

  “No,” said Ned. They had stopped at the edge of a deserted rest stop, poured their water onto the ground, scooped up the resulting mud, and flung it all over the lower half of his formerly pristine 1968 Cadillac De Ville.

  “Listen,” she said. “I really am sorry about the mud. As soon as we get to Carlene’s, I promise I’ll help you clean up every bit of it. But don’t you feel better knowing no one can read our plates?”

  The GPS guided them through back roads and a maze of subdivisions. Ned rolled into the driveway of a neat raised ranch and stopped beside a Toyota hybrid. As he and Luna slid out, the front door opened and a stout woman in her early forties barreled toward them, her glorious, waist-length brown hair streaming behind her.

  “Luna, darlin’!” she cried, enveloping her in a bear hug. “What a kick in the pants it is to meet you in person after all these years!”

  A smiling blond man appeared behind her. “Derek,” he said, and offered his hand. “Carlene’s other half.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you both!” said Luna. “This is Ned!”

  “Hello there, darlin’!” said Carlene, enveloping him in another hug. “Now, not to be pushy or anything, but let’s get your bird out of the car and your car into the garage, because Harper says people are looking for you.”

  “That is one beautiful automobile!” said Derek. “I’m kinda surprised you take it off-roading.”

  “You said you needed a big flight cage, so I figured you had one of those raptor bastards with you,” said Carlene, peering inside the Cadillac. “Holy shit, I guess I was right, look at the size of that crate! So Ned, I only do songbirds, and I hate those raptor bastards because some of ‘em eat my little guys. But if one of ‘em gets hurt, then even if he is a raptor bastard I’ll try to fix him, because what am I supposed to do? He’s still a wild thing! Come on, bring him in.”

  “I’m just dropping Luna off,” said Ned. “I have to go.”

  “I promised to help you clean up your car!” said Luna.

  “Use the bathroom and we’ll show you around, then you can get back on the road,” said Derek.

  The right half of the backyard was ablaze with flowers. The water in three birdbaths shimmered, bright feeders hung from the trees, and all were alive with small, darting birds. On the left
half of the yard stood four medium-sized wooden flight cages, all lined with soft green mesh. Visible through three of them were more small birds. In the fourth one Mars stood alone, Gulliver among the Lilliputians. He hopped into a large black rubber tub filled with water, ducked his head, and let the water run down his back.

  “This is like the Garden of Eden, Carlene!” said Luna. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “We can’t thank you enough!” she cried, throwing an arm around Luna’s shoulders. “Those two flights on the left? Those are thanks to you. I don’t know if you know this, Ned, but Luna here’s like Santa Claus for rehabbers.”

  “There’s a lot I don’t know,” said Ned, gazing at the bright turquoise streak running from the top of Carlene’s hair all the way down the left side.

  “You know why I did that? Because I talk a blue streak, so’s I might as well wear one. And this way if Derek ever goes deaf, he can find me in a crowd! You got quite a head of hair yourself. Anyway, come on, we’ll give you a tour and then say farewell.”

  The sunny living room was as colorful as the garden, with cushions and pillows in primary colors and floral prints. Vying for space in the den were two big easy chairs in front of a flat screen TV and a long, wide table piled high with what looked like the contents of an entire craft store.

  “Derek works for an insurance company, and when I’m not doing birds I make crafts,” said Carlene. “Why people want this kinda crap cluttering up their homes is beyond me, but they do. Now come on and I’ll show you the bird room, and don’t forget there’s no talking except a whisper. Which is obviously a bigger problem for me than for any of you.”

  Ned and Luna followed her into a large, bright room and stopped in astonishment, as they appeared to be standing in a long-leaf pine forest. The sun’s rays illuminated knee-high ferns, wiregrass, and cabbage palms, while a delicate mist crept toward a cluster of pitcher plants. Gauzy clouds drifted in the blue sky. The sounds of birdsong, crickets, and tree frogs emanated from an iPod set up in the corner.

 

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