tell me to run. I couldn't call Dupree because he was still locked up. But I couldn't have talked to him anyway because I would have had to lie to him about Coretta and I was too upset to lie.
So I dialed the operator. And when she came on the line I asked her for long distance, and then I asked for Mrs. E. Alexander on Claxton Street in Houston's Fifth Ward.
When she answered the phone I closed my eyes and remembered her: big woman with deep brown skin and topaz eyes. I imagined her frown when she said 'Hello?,' because EttaMae never liked the telephone. She always said, 'I like to see my bad news comin'; not get it like a sneak through no phones.'
'Hello,' she said.
'Etta?'
'Who's this?'
'It's Easy, Etta.'
'Easy Rawlins?' And then a big laugh. The kind of laugh that makes you want to laugh along with it. 'Easy, where are you, honey? You come home?'
'I'm in L.A., Etta.' My voice was quavering; my chest vibrated with feeling.
'Sumpin' wrong, honey? You sound funny.'
'Uh … Naw, ain't nuthin', Etta. Sure is good to hear you. Yeah, I can't think of nuthin' better.'
'What's wrong, Easy?'
'You know how I can reach Mouse, Etta?'
There was silence then. I thought of how they said in science class that outer space was empty, black and cold. I felt it then and I sure didn't want to.
'You know Raymond and me broke up, Easy. He don't live here no more.'
The idea that I made Etta sad was almost more than I could take. 'I'm sorry, baby,' I said. 'I just thought you might know how I could get to him.'
'What's wrong, Easy?'
'It's just that maybe Sophie was right.'
'Sophie Anderson?'
'Yeah, well, you know that she's always sayin' that L.A. is too much?'
Etta laughed in her chest. 'I sure do.'
'She might just be right.' I laughed too.
'Easy …'
'Just tell Mouse that I called, Etta. Tell him that Sophie might have been right about California and maybe it is a place for him.'
She started to say something else but I made like I didn't hear her and said, 'Goodbye.' I pushed down the button of the receiver.
I put my chair in front of the window so I could look out into my yard. I sat there for a long time, balling my hands together and taking deep breaths when I could remember to. Finally the fear passed and I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was looking at my apple tree in the pre-dawn.
I put the card that DeWitt Albright had given me on the dresser. It read:
MAXIM BAXTER
In the lower right-hand corner there was an address on La Cienega Boulevard.
I was dressed in my best suit and ready to ride by 10 a.m. I thought that it was time to gather my own information. That card was the one of two things I had to go on, so I drove across town again to a small office building just below Melrose, on La Cienega. The whole building was occupied by Lion Investments.
The secretary, an elderly lady with blue hair, was concentrating on the ledger at her desk. When my shadow fell across her blotter she said, to the shadow, 'Yes?'
'I came to see Mr. Baxter.'
'Do you have an appointment?'
'No. But Mr. Albright gave me his card and told me to come down whenever I had a chance.'
'I know no Mr. Albright,' she said, again to the shadow on her desk. 'And Mr. Baxter is a very busy man.'
'Maybe he knows Mr. Albright. He gave me this card.' I tossed the card down onto the page she was reading and she looked up.
What she saw surprised her. 'Oh!'
I smiled back down. 'I can wait if he's busy. I got a little time off'a work.'
