Houdini

By Rick Hartford

“Are you a spiritual man, Mr. Blackbird?”

The woman posing the question was wearing a tiny white bikini as she lay on a black leather chaise lounge, smoking a Benson and Hedges menthol cigarette which she held in her left hand. In her right hand: a drink, which she sipped while holding the gaze of Ricardo Blackbird’s very private eyes.

“Its a Bloody Mary, Mr. Blackbird, Hair of the dog, I”m afraid. Care to join me?”

Blackbird felt like growling.

Eve Goodnight was in her 70’s, with long white hair that fanned out behind her head, framing a face which seemed to be carved out of pure white soapstone.

Her body was ageless, with luminous white skin, startling green eyes and red lips that, if your name was formed on them, would capture your soul for eternity.

Ricardo Blackbird let her beauty wash over him like summer rain on hot asphalt.. She was like a perfect flower, her scent intoxicating.

Like a vampire, Eve Goodnight feasted on young men. There was a name for women like her: Saber Tooth Tiger.

Blackbird knew he wouldn’t make the cut,. He was 30, with bourbon on his breath, a day old unshaved face that felt like 40 grit sandpaper and a sweaty black lycra muscle shirt under a black silk suit.

He was coming off a job.

A dirty job.

Swimming in a mosh pit after grabbing the red wig off of his skip trace’s head at a heavy metal concert, he watched a balding drag queen float away in the stream of humanity. The crowd picked Blackbird up and threw him back on the stage like projectile vomit.

Some days were just that way.

“So?” Eve Goodnight said.

“I’m sorry, I forgot the question,” Blackbird said. He hadn’t, really, but spirituality wasn’t his strong suit. He only prayed when somebody was trying to kill him, which he had to admit was becoming more often. Maybe muttering the Our Father as you dodged yet another bullet, literally and figuratively, was spirituality .

The two were situated in Goodnight’s enormous tropical greenhouse on the grounds of her estate in West Hartford. There were birds everywhere, flitting through the tropical trees making the place feel like the set of a Tarzan movie. Blackbird loved those old movies. No music, all ambient sound.

For a moment Blackbird thought he heard “ungowa,” off in the distance, although it turned out to be an air conditioner starting up.

Thankfully, Eve Goodnight moved on from her question.

This is a bird sanctuary, Mr. Blackbird. It is my spiritual place and my mission. I rescue abused birds, parrots mostly, and give them a home where they can be free from cruelty. I’ve had birds who have been living with crack addicts, being forced to inhale that poison on a regular basis. Some of my rescues have lost practically all their feathers from stress. Many parrots are stolen from their families in the wild. I am lucky enough to make enough money to take care of them when I get them.

Blackbird nodded.

“Do you know how I make my money, Mr. Blackbird? I am the owner of a high end escort service that caters to the sexual needs of the rich and powerful. I have asked you here today because my dearest friend has been kidnapped. I need you to get him back. I come to you because I am aware that you have contacts inside the nefarious world of outlaw motorcyclists.”

“Who is this friend,” Blackbird asked.

“The love of my life. His name is Houdini.”

Blackbird was going to say something about straight jackets, but decided against it.

Why not call the police?”

“Because Houdini is a Scarlet Macaw, Mr. Blackbird. Nobody gives a damn about a missing bird.”

Blackbird pointed to a chair next to her. “May I?”

She nodded, and continued.

”“I had a maid. Nice girl but rough around the edges. Tattoos. A black leather biker jacket. She took a liking to Houdini. Yesterday Houdini went missing and she didn’t show up for work.”

“What motorcycle gang is she in?”

The Snake Charmers, judging by the cobra tattoo on her right leg. My personal assistant did some research and found them, right here in the city.”

“Why would she take your bird?”

“I thought she would ask for a ransom, but I haven’t heard from her,” Eve Goodnight said.

“Over the years I have compiled a little black book that keeps the wolves away, or at least makes them behave. I’m sure that more than one person would like that book and I have an inkling that somehow it is at the source of Houdini’s kidnapping.”

“Why do you think this motorcycle gang is behind this? “

“I suspect they are merely serving the role of a middleman. Or maybe they are actually blackmailing one of my clients. That would explain why I haven’t heard anything. The person being blackmailed is assessing their situation.”

“”I like the way you are thinking,” Blackbird said. “”But how did this young woman know about the black book?”

“I don’t know. She had no access to my personal information, which is all in a safe. I’m the only one who knows the combination. I have nothing on my iPhone, no diary, nothing.”

“Why did you name your bird Houdini?”

“He’s had that name from before I met him. He refuses to stay locked up in a cage. He always finds a way to escape.”

“So, a real Iive private eye,” Charles, Eve Goodnight’s personal assistant, said as he handed Blackbird the envelope with his retainer. The two men were in the kitchen.

“What do you think about the girl?” Blackbird asked..

“She has a tough shell, Charles said. “But she is sweet on the inside.”

“And you know about her inside how?”

Charles laughed. “My girlfriend’s niece went to school with her. She said that she was an innocent who was swept up by the leader of the pack, so to speak.

“And he is?”

“Kenneth Lovelace, head badass of The Snake Charmers. And would you like to know something special about him, Mr. Blackbird? He collects Barbie dolls.”

“And what do you collect, Charles?”

Not sure what you mean, Shamus,” Charles said, an edge in his voice.

“I thought maybe names, addresses, vulnerabilities,” Blackbird said. “A little black book, to be exact. The girl had to know of its existence, did’t she?”

“I have no idea of what you are talking about. Find your own way out,” Charles said, “unless you want to share your little smear with Ms. Goodnight. Some detective you are, throwing around insinuations without a shred of evidence.”.

“Point well taken,” Blackbird said. “I do like to throw things out there, and see where they stick.”

Blackbird left the house and climbed into his 1970 black Caddy convertible. He had a Beretta Tomcat in a hidden compartment under the dash and a bottle of vodka under the driver’s side seat. You could call him a survivalist.

He took a ride over to the Snake Charmers “clubhouse,” a rundown Victorian located about 100 yards from the dog pound. The dogs were howling at the full moon. Maybe they wanted somebody to grab it and throw it for them.

The clubhouse was deserted, other than a skinny kid with more tattoos than the Illustrated Man. A new recruit, they had left him behind to mind the headquarters, he said after Blackbird asked for Dee Dee.

His name was Saint.

“Saint what?” Blackbird asked.

“Just Saint,” he said.

Blackbird thought of crossing himself, but decided against it.

Saint told Blackbird that the group had gone to a rally in New Hampshire for the weekend.

“Did Dee Dee go with them?

“She drives the van with the booze and the food,” Saint said. “So she would be following them up.”

“Is Kenneth going too?”

Saint was beginning to get suspicious.The mention of his leader’s name caused one dim bulb to light up. Blackbird could tell from the sudden narrowing of his eyes. You could read him as easily as the Sunday comics, but in his case they weren’t particularly funny. Saint flicked open a gravity knife.

“Your not the law, are you mister?”

“‘I’m a private eye, Saint, which is probably as far from the law as you can get, actually.

Please tell Dee Dee I’m looking for her. She has something that my client wants and is willing to pay handsomely to get it back.”

“What’s that?”

“Its personal,” Blackbird said. “I’m sure you understand.”

“You mean none of my business, right?”

“You are a quick study, Saint,” Blackbird said, pressing a wad of twenties in his hand.

“What’s this for?” Saint asked.

“For your favorite charity, Saint. What is it?”

“That would be me, I guess.”

“‘You should erect a monument to yourself,”” Blackbird said.

Dee Dee was a good hour behind the pack. Usually it was a joyous occasion, a rally. The boys and their babes would take over a motel near the rally, cook steaks in the parking lot, get drunk and get into fights. The babes would show their breasts.

An uncomplicated existence..

Dee Dee was nervous. She lit another joint and rolled down the window so she wouldn’t get any of the smoke on Houdini riding in the cage in the back.

Dee Dee started to cry every time she thought about what she was doing. She brushed back more tears, both for herself and for Houdini. She didn’t know what Kenneth planned to do with the bird, Dee Dee looked at Houdini in the back of the van and decided she couldn’t go through with it. She pulled over to a gas station to use the ladies room and buy some snacks for her and Houdini. Then she was going to call Charles for help.

As soon as Blackbird got to his apartment at the Colt Building, the phone rang. It was Charles.

“Great news, Blackbird. The girl who took Houdini relented and wants to give him back. She is at a gas station in New Hampshire just over the Massachusetts line. I told her to stay put and wait for you.”

‘Blackbird said he was on the way.

Dee Dee left the store and saw the broken window in her van. She opened the door and saw Houdini’s cage was missing.

Frantic, Dee Dee went from car to car in the parking lot, asking drivers if they had seen somebody taking the bird. She found a retired couple with a Winnebago parked in the lot who had seen it. The couple had been sitting outside their mobile home in lawn chairs soaking up the sun when a black Crown Victoria pulled into the slot next to Dee Dee’s van. A tough looking character with a shaved head and a gun in a shoulder holster smashed out the driver’s side window with a hammer and took the bird.

Blackbird pulled into the lot about a half hour later. He found Dee Dee with the retirees, who confirmed the kidnapping of Houdini.

“I think you know more than what you let on,” Blackbird said to her. “Let me help you.”

Dee Dee looked at the ground and closed her eyes Tears ran down her face.

Eve answered the door herself when Blackbird came to her later that night. She had also been crying.

Blackbird thought about the fact that his profession was filled with sadness and grief. He figured that something must be wrong with him.

“Come in,” she said, leading him into the kitchen. She gestured to a piece of paper on the kitchen table.

Eve was wearing a white velvet full length robe. Blackbird imagined that she had nothing on under it, and then silently chastised himself. “He picked it up and read it. “It’s just as you said,” Blackbird said. “They want the Little Black Book.”

“They will never let Houdini go,” Eve said. “What’s to say that if I give them the book there aren’t copies?”

“Maybe they figure the threat of another kidnapping, or worse, will get you to stay in line,” Blackbird said. “Leave the details to me. I’ll arrange the trade.”

“There hasn’t been any communication other than that letter,” Eve said.

“We won’t have to wait long, Blackbird said.

Kenneth Lovelace sat in his study inside the motorcycle gang’s clubhouse. He was working on a diorama he was creating. In it, a Ken doll wearing nothing but a speedo was strapped spreadeagled to a toy king size bed, his arms and legs fastened to each corner of the bed with tiny handcuffs.

Dominatrix Barbie stood over him wearing nothing but see through black lingerie and stiletto heels, a black goth spiked mask over her face and a black leather whip in her hand.

Kenneth was putting lipstick on the Ken doll’s cheek when a knock came at the door.

“Dee Dee wants to talk to you,” Sampson, the sergeant of arms, boomed through the door.

Kenneth put down his paint brush. “I’m busy,” Kenneth shouted at the door.

“You might want to make time for this, boss,” Sampson said.

Kenneth looked thoughtfully at the door.

“Tell her this better be good.”

The door opened.

Dee Dee wore see through black lingerie.

And stiletto heels.

Kenneth put down the paint brush.

“Long time, Baby,” he said

“Call me Barbie,” Dee Dee said.

Dee Dee crawled over him, kissing his chest, his neck, his lips. And then she pulled back.

“Baby, I want you.”

“Call me Ken.”

Later they lay in Kenneth’s bed with the smoke from their cigarettes swirling together like two white snakes embracing, Ken propped himself up on an elbow and admired Dee Dee’s body.

“I want you to return the bird,” she said.

“I wish I could help you, baby, but I don’t have him. You know I wanted him because I have a Scarlet Macaw Barbie doll in my collection. It”s my favorite right next to biker Barbie. After you told me that your boss had a Scarlet Macaw, I knew I had to have it. But I had nothing to do with that scene at the gas station. I have no idea who has the bird now.”

Dee Dee sat up in the bed.

“Well I do,” she said. She pulled on her clothes and left. Ken went back to his bondage scene. That was one good thing about Barbie, he thought. She never actually says anything.

Charles picked up on the third ring.

“Where is the bird?” Dee Dee said.

“I thought you delivered him to your biker boy.”

“Liar,” Dee Dee said. “Why I ever bought into your twisted plan I’ll never know. You said we were both going to be heroes, rescuing Houdini from that sap Kenneth. But you stepped in and grabbed him for yourself.”

Charles paused for a moment. “You’re right. I was greedy. But I promised you a fifty fifty split, and I’ll deliver. Come to my apartment and I’ll bring you to see the bird so you won’t have to worry.”

“Be there in 10,” she said, and ended the call. She was suddenly very afraid. Her first instinct was to light a joint, but that only made her confused. She had to be clear.

Dee Dee pulled up to Charles’ apartment building. She went to his front door of his unit, which was open. She called out his name.

“In back by the pool,” Charles called out.

She padded through the living room and the kitchen and came through the sliding doors by the pool.

Charles was in a lawn chair by the pool and he turned toward her, his Ray-Bans revealing nothing but what she already knew about him.

Darkness.

Why was she shocked when he leveled a pistol at her? She knew he was ruthless. She should have listened to Blackbird.

While Dee Dee lay face down in the pool, surrounded by an ever widening slick of blood, Charles pulled out of his driveway in his 1963 Jaguar XKE. A classic, but futuristic, redone in chrome. Blackbird was waiting at the end of the street. As Charles left, Blackbird followed him until he was led to a self storage facility on New Park. He saw Charles pull in, put the Caddy on the curb and jogged up to to the facility, getting in just ahead of he sliding gate closing behind him.

He saw Charles open the door to Unit 13, He willed Charles not to turn around.

Blackbird was almost to the door when he heard Charles swear. He peered into the unit which was empty save a bird cage in the center of the room.

Charles bent over to the cage and looked in. Blackbird could see the bird lying at the bottom of the cage. It wasn’t moving.

“The fucking bird is dead,” Charles said out loud. Charles opened the cage door and reached in to grab he still body. Houdini erupted in an explosion of feathers, racing for the open door. Charles raised his pistol and fired an entire clip at the bird as it flew higher and higher in the sky.

A feather floated to the ground, right next to a spot of blood.

Blackbird was behind Charles. He hit him in the back of the head with a sap.

Eve Goodnight lay dying of a broken heart.

She was in the greenhouse in a bed covered in blankets, although he temperature was in the 80’s and humid. The sun shined on her face as she closed her eyes.

Houdini had never returned. Eve had searched everywhere, as had Blackbird. But it had been a month and Eve had lost hope. She also lost interest in everything else and for the past few days she hadn’t eaten.

She opened her eyes and stared at the greenhouse ceiling far above her, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Then she saw something, high above her head.

It was Houdini, on top of the greenhouse roof looking down at her. He was calling to her!

It was real, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

“I’ll be right there with you darling,” Eve called out.

“I’m coming up there right now! Hang on, and don’t go anywhere!”

Eve threw off the covers to her bed and rose up to reunite with her sweet bird.