Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold (21 page)

“No thanks.” Dismally Bear opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents—mostly condiments. Obviously, neither of the brothers had been out shopping since they had gotten back. He checked the freezer, found a package of frozen potpies, and pulled two out.

“You can’t microwave those,” Fish said. “They take a half hour in the oven. And putting them under the broiler can really backfire. I speak from experience.”

Without a word, Bear thrust the pies in the oven and turned on the timer.

Waiting again, he thought about Blanche, as he leaned against the central island. The search at the airport revealed that Blanche apparently hadn’t taken a plane out. So she was still in the City.
What was she doing? Did she have any idea how worried everyone was about her?

Quite possibly not, he realized. As far as Blanche knew, he was still in Europe and her mom and sister were in California. It was possible she had no idea what kind of turmoil everyone else was experiencing on her behalf. He wished again he had kept up better communication with her and not been so preoccupied with himself. Looking back over the past months, every time he had called her, it seemed as though they had talked about his problems, not about hers.

He stared out the window at the street far below at the currents of warm air snaking between the buildings. There were only a few pedestrians on the street at this hour. A man in a sports coat and sunglasses stood on the street corner, smoking, apparently waiting for a taxi. Bear had always wondered how people could smoke when it was so hot.

When they went downstairs to the lobby, Ahmed glanced at them, embarrassed.

“How you doing?” Bear said easily, trying to show there were no hard feelings.

The doorman nodded, and looked relieved.

Bear had no hard feelings against Ahmed, but seeing him reminded Bear that he was out on bail, and that unless he could prove his innocence soon, he might be returning to jail. Not only that, perhaps Blanche, when they found her, would also be charged and imprisoned. He didn’t blame her for hiding.

The knot in his stomach returned as they walked onto the street. The heat of the street hit him like the blast of an oven. As he opened the door to Fish’s car, he glanced around them. He noticed the man in sunglasses he had seen from the window was still smoking on the corner, apparently deep in the thrall of a tobacco addiction. From street level, Bear could see that the man’s broad shoulders and large head looked ominously familiar. He had dark hair and a broad, flat nose, which looked as though it had been broken in a fight. Apparently perceiving that he was being watched, the man turned his back, tossed his cigarette into the trashcan, and walked away.

“Hey, shut the door—I’ve got the AC on,” Fish said, checking his watch.

Bear obeyed and got into the car.
There’s no coincidence here,
he told himself.

They picked up Mrs. Foster at the small apartment building that had once been their temporary home. “You sure I should come along?” she queried as she settled herself inside the car. “After all, Mrs. Brier doesn’t know me at all.”

“We’ll just have to rectify that,” Fish said easily.

When they reached the Briers’ home, he took the lead in introducing Jean to Mrs. Foster.

“I’ve often heard Bear speak about you,” Jean said. She was looking much better this morning.

“And I’ve heard him talk a lot about you,” Mrs. Foster laughed.

“Would you like some tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee would be wonderful,” Mrs. Foster said, and Fish concurred as well. Jean and Rose took tea. Bear accepted a cup, but drank it standing.

“I’d like to start by going to the banquet hall right away,” he said. “Anyone else want to come?”

“I’ll come,” Rose volunteered.

“I think Bear and I should go alone,” Fish contradicted his brother, and glanced perfunctorily at the redheaded girl. “Sorry, Rose.”

“Rose, I’d rather you came with me anyhow,” Jean said, seeing Rose’s crestfallen face. “I’m going to the nursing home where Blanche volunteered to see if I can find anything out from the people that she visited. There are a lot of residents in that home, and if you help me, it will take less time.”

“I could go with you too, if you want,” Mrs. Foster said.

“That would be wonderful,” Jean said. “Bear—my car’s still in the shop. Could you give us a ride over?”

“Sure thing.”

After dropping off the women at the nursing home, Bear and his brother crossed the Throg’s Neck Bridge to get to Blanche’s workplace. Reflections, Bear remembered, was a rather expensive banquet hall set on a choice piece of Long Island real estate. He had taken Blanche there once. They parked the car and approached the massive building, which had been built in the 1920’s. They could see stained glass windows on the largest hall, which had turrets like a castle.

“I’d forgotten how much it resembles a church,” Bear said.

“A place to worship food?” Fish asked.

Bear chuckled. “Who knows?”

They walked through the gated doors and into the reception area. There was no one at the receptionist’s desk, but several waiters were chatting at a station further down the carpeted hall. Bear approached them, and a tall girl with a big frizzy ponytail came over to the desk.

“Can I help you?” She was Italian, and spoke with a characteristic Bronx accent.

Bear introduced himself and asked if he could speak to the manager.

“Mr. Scarlotti? Sure, I’ll get him,” the girl said, giving him a strange look, and disappeared through a side door. The other staff looked at them curiously, but didn’t come over.

A woman in a caterer’s uniform came into the reception area, wheeling a coat rack of costumes. All of them were black and white, and some of them were fantastical, sequined and bejeweled.

“What are those for?” Bear asked her as she stood, looking out the glass doors to the street.

“These? These were for a masquerade ball we had this past weekend,” the woman said, and rolled her eyes slightly. She was about thirty, with a mop of curly black hair, thickly-mascaraed lashes, and wore pale purple lipstick.

“Looks like it was pretty fancy,” Bear commented. Normally he wouldn’t be this chatty, but he wanted to find out any information that he could about Blanche.

“They’re a pretty fancy client,” she said shortly, folding her arms.

“Are they rentals?” Fish indicated the costumes.

“Bought,” the woman said flatly. “Just for this one event.”

“Wow! Somebody must have money to burn.”

“Their CEO doesn’t spare much expense on their parties. They do a lot of their events here. It’s good for us,” she added positively.

“So what are they going to do with the costumes now?”

“They told us to pitch them. But I called one of the local theatres to see if they can use them. They’re sending a guy to pick them up.”

“I see,” Bear paused. “Did you know Blanche Brier, who worked here?”

“Yeah, she was our receptionist,” the woman said. “One of the more dependable ones.” She looked at them a bit warily. “You friends of hers?”

“Yes,” said Bear. “Actually, we’re here looking for her. She’s been missing since Saturday night. Her family is pretty concerned.”

“Missing?” the woman repeated, her eyes suddenly widening. “For real?”

Bear nodded. The woman pursed her lips, opened her mouth, and then closed it again, apparently trying to decide whether or not to say more.

“I know she was fired,” Bear said quietly. “And I heard from the police that they think she stole some money. But that just doesn’t sound like the Blanche I know. So I want to find out what’s going on.”

“Did you ask a manager?” the woman asked.

Fish nodded. “We’re waiting for him.”

“You’re not going to get much out of Scarlotti,” she warned. “He’s always watching out for the company reputation.” She added, “My name’s Assunta. I worked with Blanche. She was a good girl. Real nice to work with.”

“Did you see her on Saturday?” Bear asked.

Assunta nodded. “She worked as the receptionist for the masquerade ball. This one.” She jerked her heads towards the costumes. “For the Mirror Corporation. It was a fundraiser, though if you ask me, it was more of an excuse for a tax-deductible bash than to help anyone out.”

“And there was money missing afterwards?”

She nodded. “I happen to know something about that. The guests had paid so much money per ticket in order to come. Fundraiser, you know. I think it was three hundred dollars or something. The corporation who was hosting the banquet had their staff count up the tickets during the dinner, and then the CEO of the corporation matched the donation in
cash
.” She raised her eyebrows significantly.

“Cash,” Bear repeated. “That’s strange. Why would they do that? It’s difficult to get a tax deduction on a cash donation, especially a large one.”

“Fifteen thousand nine hundred dollars,” the lady said positively. “The CEO had it up there, in hundred-dollar bills during the presentation ceremony. Like some kind of gangster stash.”

“And how did it get stolen?”

Assunta rolled her eyes again. “They did the presentation halfway through the banquet, and the research foundation who was getting the donation wasn’t exactly ready to keep track of a huge pile of hundred dollar bills. So they asked us to put it in our safe. And we did.”

“And it was stolen from the safe?”

The woman nodded. “If it got there. Less than an hour afterwards the word went round that the cash was missing. The research corporation wants us to make up the difference now, and Mirror Corp. is being no help whatsoever.”

Bear paused. “So how did Blanche turn up as a suspect?”

Assunta shook her head. “Apparently the CEO asked her to take it to the back because she was the receptionist. So there was a window of time where Blanche had access to it. And Blanche left work early. I saw her before she left, when the money went missing, and she said she had handed off the bag to Scarlotti just as she was told. She was going home early because she had a headache. But I don’t believe she stole that money, not for a minute. Neither does most of the staff. But the management—the ones who have to come up with the lost sixteen thousand dollars to reimburse the research foundation—they’re not so sure.”

She looked over her shoulder as a short Italian man bustled into the room. Bear turned to meet him.

“Can I help you?” the manager asked, with a glance at Assunta that clearly implied privacy. Assunta turned away and looked out the doors of the hall.

“We’re friends of Blanche Brier,” Bear began.

“She was terminated on Saturday night,” the manager said, his small eyes cool.

“She’s also been missing since Saturday night,” Bear said with some warmth. “We’ve been trying to find out some trace of her whereabouts.”

“That’s not surprising she’s missing, since the police have been looking for her as well,” Scarlotti said a bit acidly. “But if you do find her, you can tell her that the search has been called off. They found the money yesterday.”

Bear stared. “They found the money?”

“The Mirror Corporation gave the serial numbers of the bills to the police. Apparently the bills turned up in the hands of two young punks. They were surprisingly inexperienced, and ended up trying to pass the money off to an undercover cop. The hoodlums got away, but the police recovered the money. Highly unusual, but pretty fortunate.”

“Does this mean that Blanche can get her job back?” Bear asked steadily.

The manager eyed him suspiciously and shrugged. “That will still have to be decided. It’s still not clear how the money left this hall and got into the hands of the punks.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a matter for the police to investigate. You should direct your questions to them. Have a nice day,” With a nod, he turned and opened the door for them, only to have a young man with long hair pop in from outside.

“Hi, I’m from the Clothesline Theatre,” he said brightly. “I’m here to pick up some costumes?”

“Oh, that’s right,” the manager looked about him, and Assunta stepped forward, indicating the rack.

“They’re right here,” she said.

“Fantastic! Listen, while I’m here, can I ask you to buy an ad in our upcoming winter program book?”

“That’s his department,” Assunta indicated Mr. Scarlotti, and she walked out the door into the parking lot. Bear and Fish followed her out, while the young man talked animatedly to the manager, thanking him profusely.

“Well!” she said, going around the shady side of the building and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “That’s good news! So maybe the police won’t be looking for Blanche after all.”

“Let’s hope not,” Bear said.

The woman shook her head as she lit her cigarette. “The research foundation won’t care. They’ve got their money back. And I’m sure the management will just want the whole thing to blow over. They’re probably just happy they don’t have to shell out sixteen thousand dollars.” She looked at the brothers. “Smoke?”

“No thanks. Listen, I heard that someone found drugs in Blanche’s backpack,” Bear said. “Do you know anything about that?”