Forever Odd

fragile as he had been as a child, Danny was one of an unfortunate minority of OI adults who must remain cautious. He had not in a long time casually broken a bone, as when he had at the age of six cracked his wrist while snap-dealing Old Maid. But a year ago, in a fall, he had fractured his right radius.
        For a moment I studied the woman’s footprints, wondering who she was, what she was, why.
        I followed the swale about two hundred yards before the tracks departed it. They vanished on a stony slope.
        As I started to climb the hillside, the satellite phone rang.
        She said, “Odd Thomas?”
        “Who else?”
        “I’ve seen your picture,” she said.
        “My ears always photograph bigger than they are.”
        “You have the look,” she said.
        “What look?”
        “ Mundunugu .”
        “Is that a word?”
        “You know what it means.”
        “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
        “Liar,” she said, but not angrily.
        This was the equivalent of table conversation at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
        She said, “You want the little creep?”
        “I want Danny. Alive.”
        “You think you can find him?”
        I said, “I’m trying.”
        “You were so fast, now you’re damn slow.”
        “What do you think you know about me?”
        In a coy voice, she said, “What is there to know, baby?”
        “Not much.”
        “For Danny’s sake, I hope that’s not true.”
        I began to have the queasy if inexplicable feeling that somehow Dr. Jessup had been murdered… because of me.
        “You don’t want to be in trouble this bad,” I said.
        “Nobody can hurt me,” she declared.
        “Is that right?”
        “I’m invincible.”
        “Good for you.”
        “You know why?”
        “Why?”
        “I have thirty in an amulet.”
        “Thirty what?” I asked.
         “Ti bon ange.”
        I had never heard the term before. “What does that mean?”
        “You know.”
        “Not really.”
        “Liar.”
        When she didn’t hang up but didn’t immediately say anything more, either, I sat on the ground, facing west again.
        Except for an occasional clump of mesquite and a bristle of bunch-grass, the land was ash-gray and acid-yellow.
        “You still there?” she asked.
        “Where would I go?”
        “So where are you?”
        I traded another question: “Can I speak to Simon?”
        “Simple or says?”
        “What’s that mean?”
        “Simple Simon or Simon Says?”
        “Simon Makepeace,” I said patiently.
        “You think he’s here?”
        “Yes.”
        “Loser.”
        “He killed Wilbur Jessup.”
        “You’re half-assed at this,” she said.
        “At what?”
        “Don’t disappoint me.”
        “I thought you said I already had.”
        “Don’t disappoint me anymore.”
        “Or what?” I asked, and immediately wished that I had not.
        “How about this…”
        I waited.
        Finally she said, “How about, you find us by sundown or we break both his legs.”
        “If you want me to find you, just tell me where you are.”
        “What would be the point of that? If you don’t find us by nine o’clock, we also break both his arms.”
        “Don’t do this. He never harmed you. He never harmed anyone.”
        “What’s the first rule?” she asked.
        Remembering our shortest and most cryptic conversation, from the previous night, I said, “I have to come alone.”
        “You bring cops or anyone, we break his pretty face, and then the rest of his life, he’ll be butt ugly from top to bottom.”
        When she hung up, I pressed end.
        Whoever she might be, she was crazy. Okay. I’d dealt with crazy before.
        She was crazy and evil. Nothing new about that, either.

----

    TWENTY
        
        I SHRUGGED OUT OF MY BACKPACK AND RUMMAGED IN it for an Evian bottle. The water wasn’t cold but tasted delicious.
        The plastic bottle did not actually contain Evian. I had filled it at the tap in my kitchen.
        If you would pay a steep price for bottled water, why wouldn’t you pay even more for a bag of fresh Rocky Mountain air if someday you saw it in the market?
        Although I am not a skinflint, for years I have lived frugally. As a short-order cook with plans to marry, paid a fair but not lavish