Shade of Pale (20 page)

“Do you know where he is?”

“Shit, if I knew that, I'd go get my money.”

“What's his name?”

“Just called him Red. But, you know, that's a big joke, too. Dig it. The hair's fake, man. The dude was always in disguise. Tell you the truth, I thought he was weird as shit.”

Jones and Panelli relaxed; Panelli lit a cigarette and Jones stoked up his cigar. Rain had fallen briefly, but now it was clear. The streets shimmered with an oily iridescence.

“You sure about that? He was wearing a wig?” George asked.

“That's the word, man. Gave me the creeps, too, but I never let on that I noticed. You know? He had such sweet shit, I didn't really care. None of my business. But I swear to God, he was wearing a fuckin' wig and makeup. I got some friends who are TVs, you know, and I can tell that shit a mile off.”

George said, “You sound like a real interesting guy, Tony. I tell you what—I'll make you a deal, You find this guy for us, we'll let you go.”

George's face was earnest. He delivered the lines like Brando in
On the Waterfront
, only more believably.

Tony's relief was instant. “All right! Let me go, man. You won't regret it. I'll find that fuckin' fucker for ya. We'll nail that fuckin' fucker till he's fucked. He owes me money.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” George said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jukes walked in a daze, something he warned his patients never to do. The big city could be a dangerous place for a space cadet. After nearly getting run over by a taxi, he snapped back to reality.

Christ
, he thought.
I'm falling apart here. I've got to get ahold of myself
.

He needed a drink and a shower and sleep. He had a massive headache. He'd been thinking about Cathy, O'Connor, and the Banshee.

It was dusk in New York—the magic, sinister time of half day and night. The big city seemed somehow undecided on which side it should show.

Jukes's once-logical thought process spun its wheels. He mentally bounced back and forth between their faces, always returning to her face—the unforgettable face of the Banshee.

Dying light rays slanted through the skyscrapers, bending in the prismatic windows far above, then slanting down on him. Jukes was bathed in the unnatural colors only sunset through smog can bring.

He walked down the block, away from his building. A friendly supple hand grasped his shoulder.

He jumped.

Jukes spun around and looked into the face of Fiona Rice.

“I'm sorry, Jukes; I didn't mean to startle you.”

Jukes breathed a sigh of relief, glad it was a friendly face he had turned to greet. “Oh, Fiona, I had no idea … Sorry I jumped. I'm so tense these days.”

Fiona smiled. “After we talked, I felt so bad for you … Well, to tell you the truth, I was on my way over to see you. Will Howard gave me the address. I thought you might want to talk some more, or maybe just need a shoulder to lean on.” She paused. “Besides, I have some more information on the Banshee that I thought might interest you.”

“That's very kind of you,” Jukes stammered.

Fiona looked into Jukes's eyes, surprised at how bloodshot and sunken they'd become. His hair stood uncombed, and his tie was loosened. He needed a shave. He bore little resemblance to the man she'd met earlier. Yet the kindness in his face remained. His gentle way and sensitivity were unchanged; that much she could tell at a glance. “Why don't we go someplace? We could have a drink or something. Have you had dinner yet?”

“Well … I don't know. I'm not really in the mood right now,” Jukes replied.

Fiona showed concern. “Oh, Jukes.… You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. How about a cup of coffee?”

Jukes made a sour face. He said, “I'm not feeling all that sociable, and besides, I must look like hell.”

“You look fine. A man like you never looks all that bad.”

Jukes managed a weak smile; he wasn't used to compliments from pretty women, or any women. “All right. You win. I could use some nourishment. It's been a tough day.”

He let her lead him by the arm.

Any other time and Jukes would have been flattered that a woman would pay this much attention to him. Right now he just wanted to crawl into a hole. The accumulated stress showed on his face. He knew it and could do nothing.

Their relationship, still in its infancy, was at the first crucial turning point. He didn't want to show her his weak side, but there weren't that many sides left to Jukes Wahler.

He looked at Fiona and realized how badly he didn't want to lose her. This time he would get it right, he vowed. Suddenly he wanted a shave and a change of clothes in the worst way.

I'm blowing it
.

But when he looked, she was smiling. Her face seemed encouraging and radiant. The more he basked in her warm glow, the better he felt.

I'll just be honest with her and take my chances.

“I'm afraid I'm not much of a conversationalist tonight,” he said.

“That's all right,” she said. “I'll do all the talking. Why don't you just relax. Where do you want to go?”

“There a place in the next block. They have great chicken noodle soup.”

“Ah, a traditionalist. Sounds perfect.”

They sipped their soups together and watched day dissolve into night. Fiona kept conversation to a minimum and let Jukes rest.

He spilled some soup on his tie and she immediately leaned across the table, dabbed her napkin in water, and swabbed at it. “Hold on; let me fix that for you.” When she was done with the tie, she smoothed his hair and adjusted his collar.

He felt her hands touching him, fussing over his appearance, and liked it. Another new experience. He wondered what it would be like to live with a woman like Fiona—to have that kind of attention all the time, to swim in it.
It must be intoxicating
, he thought.

“Uhm, thanks.…” He still felt a thousand light-years away.

Jukes had never been in love, and he wondered if that was what was happening to him now. The prospect of it warmed his soul. And scared him, too.

He found himself staring at her, wondering what she'd be like as a lover.

God
, he thought.
How can I be thinking about that? I must be a real cold and callous piece of crap to think about sex while Cathy is missing
.

Fiona batted her eyelashes.

Why does she like me?

Her enthusiasm for these little flirtations became infectious and Jukes found himself playing back, smiling and blushing like a schoolboy.

He found himself anxious to hear what she had to say, anxious merely to hear the sound of her voice.

And he was tempted to spill something else.

Fiona said, “If you'll recall our last conversation on the subject, I told you that the Banshee started turning up around the fifth century. Well, I was going through some recent Celtic translations, new discoveries from the Dublin Archives, and lo and behold! Banshee legends date back even earlier than that, a hundred years earlier as a matter of fact.

“Like the legend of the Vampire, the Banshee predates most of all the commonly held Christian beliefs about death and spirits. Of course, as with most ancient records, symbolism is the key.”

Jukes nodded.

Fiona's voice was musical. “Saint Patrick, you'll remember, drove the snakes out of Ireland.… Actually, there were never any real snakes; that was a metaphor. This was during Roman times. The political situation in what was then part of the Roman Empire was very unstable. Warlords controlled small areas and fought among themselves. Life was hard.

“Anyway, Saint Patrick returned to Rome while he was still young. He'd been held captive by one of the tribes roaming the countryside. Before he left, he became involved with the chieftain's daughter, not a very saintly thing to do under the circumstances, but these were lusty people, earthy and simple.

“You must remember that the kind of intellectual, religious posturing we associate with the church was still centuries away. Most of the world was still barbaric at that time, and people lived by their wits and muscles. Superstition was real.

“The chief's daughter got pregnant. There's no way of knowing whether it was Patrick's baby or not, but her father became extremely upset and beat her mercilessly. She died during childbirth. It was said that she had consorted with the devil.

“Later, when Patrick returned to drive the evil out of Ireland, she came back to him in the form of an avenging angel. She stood at the side of Saint Patty and battled her father's clan.

“Over the centuries, whenever a young girl was murdered or abused by a male descendant of one of the old families, she sought revenge.”

Jukes had become absorbed in Fiona's story. He'd momentarily forgotten all about Cathy. Incredibly, he also found he was losing his skepticism about the Banshee.

Fiona said, “She became the avenger of womanhood.”

Jukes wondered if he should tell Fiona he'd actually seen the Banshee.
There will never be a better time
, he thought.
But will she think I'm crazy?

He decided he was tired of keeping secrets.

Full disclosure. I have to come clean about this or it's going to drive me crazy
.

“Fiona?” He shifted in his seat.

“Yes?”

“I don't know how to say this … without just coming right to the point. But I think I've seen it.”

Fiona just sat there and stared, saying nothing. Jukes wondered if she'd heard him and repeated his claim. “I think I've seen the Banshee.”

Fiona sipped from a glass of water and looked around the room distractedly. Worry lines creased her forehead.

Jukes said, “Did you hear me? I said I think I saw the Banshee. I've seen her on at least two different occasions.”

“I heard you.” Fiona's tone of voice had changed. She sounded concerned.

“I saw her right before I met Loomis for the first time; she was walking down the street in broad daylight. Later, that same day, I saw her again, from my office window. The same woman Loomis described, the Banshee. I got the strangest feeling when I saw her, almost like an anxiety attack, but different.”

Fiona let some time go by, a handful of ticks on the clock. She said nothing.

“You think I'm crazy, don't you?” Jukes asked, fearing he'd made the wrong decision telling her.

Finally, she spoke, her voice as quiet and soothing as she could muster, without being patronizing. “I believe you. I don't think you would lie.”

“So, you don't think I'm crazy?”

Fiona looked into his eyes. Jukes felt a warm rush of emotion, a thrill, as their eyes locked. “No, I don't think you're crazy. If you say you saw her, then I believe you.”

“Thank God. Fiona, I was afraid to tell you. Obviously I haven't told anyone else because …” His voice trailed off. “I can't believe I'm saying this.”

“You don't have to justify yourself with me.”

“Jesus, the Banshee was probably stalking me and I didn't even know it.”

Fiona sighed.

Jukes continued. “That's not all. I got a visit from an Irishman named O'Malley, who claims to be Loomis's cousin. He offered to find Cathy for me … if I lead him to the Banshee.”

Fiona said, “That's interesting. Then he knows about the Banshee, too. But why does he want to find her?”

Jukes shrugged. “If he brings Cathy back, I don't care.”

Fiona studied Jukes's face. He looked forlorn. “Why does he think you could lead him to the Banshee?”

“He said I'd already crossed her path, that I was already marked.”

“Can he really find Cathy?”

“He thought so. He said he would get clues, that they would appear to be a series of unlikely coincidences.”

Fiona nodded. “The lines of fate.”

Jukes tried to smooth the look of dread on his face. “The Banshee might've killed Loomis. What else could have done that to him? He was torn in half, right down the middle.”

Fiona looked into his eyes, her face and voice working in concert to make him understand. She'd already thought this out, using the symbolic key, and now she wanted to say it to him without making it sound absurd.

“That represents the dual nature of man, good and evil. One half is good; one half is bad. She merely separates the two,” she said softly. “Symbolism.”

“And Killian, he spontaneously exploded.”

“The true nature of man is within; the inner truth must come out. I guess you could say the Banshee brought it out.”

Jukes rubbed his eyes. “They said it was like he was turned inside out, like an overcoat. His internal organs were exposed.”

“Yes, the wrong side was on the outside. It symbolizes one man's inhumanity to women, his inner monster, so to speak. She reversed it, pulled the monster out.”

Jukes looked back into her green eyes and asked, “Are you telling me that they all died for their sins? That they had all committed crimes against women?”

She nodded. “They must have.”

Jukes leaned back in his chair. “Loomis maybe. I don't know about Killian. They said he had terrorist connections.… I suppose it's possible.”

“Cruelty to women activates the Banshee.”

They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes. Jukes's mouth was hinged open slightly. He blinked and swallowed.

“But I've seen her, too,” Jukes said with a razor voice. “Does that mean I'm next?”

Fiona shook her head. “You don't impress me as the kind of guy who does bad things to women. At least, as far as I know, and I'm a pretty good judge of character. In fact, you're the exact opposite of those guys.”

Jukes immediately thought of Cathy and his inability to help her. He thought of the boy at the boat dock, and he thought of all the chances he'd had to change the course of her life. Maybe that was it; maybe he'd failed to act, and that was his crime.