Blue Twilight (16 page)

I
planted myself at a café within view of the tattoo shop, purposely choosing a window seat. If I’d felt uneasy while speaking to Big Daddy before, a five-alarm fire was now raging inside my head.

Charles Manson had lived in the Haight back in sixty-seven, during the “Summer of Love.” In fact, his house was only a few blocks away. The Haight had proven to be the perfect spot from which to recruit his notorious “Family”—a ragtag bunch of naïve runaways. Either I was beginning to imagine things, or the parallels between Manson and Big Daddy were becoming frighteningly similar. Even so, how did the Lotis blue butterfly fit into it all?

I waited until Spencer left Big Daddy’s Body Shop and then quickly walked out and followed him. I caught up just as he was about to get into his vehicle. The car was as clean and understated as its owner—a navy blue Ford Galaxy.

“Excuse me. Could I speak to you for a minute?”

Spencer turned and flashed a bright smile as he caught sight of me.

“Why, hello. Weren’t you in Carl’s tattoo shop a short while ago?”

I nodded and returned his smile with one of my own.

“This is so strange, because I was just thinking of you. I wondered who you were and was sorry that you’d left. Since
then, I’ve been trying to imagine what it is that you do. It’s a game I like to play sometimes.”

I found myself both flustered and flattered by his sweet, open candor.

“I’ll be more than happy to tell you. My name is Rachel Porter, and I’m a special agent with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rachel. I’m Spencer Barnes.”

We shook hands, and I became acutely aware of the fine network of veins just below the surface of his skin.

“Wow. A Fish and Wildlife agent, huh? I used to think about doing something like that.”

“Really? Why didn’t you?”

“I eventually decided to become an artist, instead. I like to imagine that the subjects I draw live on forever in some way. I don’t believe you can say the same thing about those animals that you come across. But then, I probably have some sort of Ponce de Leon complex,” he remarked, with an easy laugh.

“Don’t we all?” I genially responded, thinking of the facial moisturizer on which I’d just spent fifty bucks.

“Then I guess we have something in common,” Spencer jovially responded.

“Listen, I caught a glimpse of your drawings back at the tattoo shop and thought they were wonderful. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” I offered.

Spencer checked his watch. “Sure. Why not? I’d like that,” he pleasantly agreed.

I purposely led the way to a café on the next block, not wanting Big Daddy to see us together, going so far as to sit at a table in the back of the room.

“I hate to seem pushy, but would you mind showing me your drawings? I’d love to get a better look at them,” I said, after our coffee had been served.

Gee, I’m sorry. But I gave all the sketches to Carl. Those pieces were specifically commissioned for tattoos.”

Damn. I tried my best to hide my disappointment.

“I couldn’t help but notice that some of them were of butterflies,” I casually remarked.

“Oh sure. It’s a very popular design among women. I do those all the time,” he offered.

“Yes, but there was something unusual that struck me about them. They seemed to be of one butterfly in particular.”

“What are you saying? That they looked exactly alike?” Spencer asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“No, of course not,” I hastily added, not wanting to insult him. “What I meant is they appeared to be all the same
variety
of butterfly. One that I believe is called the Lotis blue.”

“It sounds as if you think that butterfly is pretty special,” Spencer observed.

“The Lotis blue is extremely rare. In fact, a lot of people would love to get hold of one.”

“You mean there’s actually a market for that sort of thing?” Spencer asked in surprise.

“Damn straight. You’d be amazed at the prices some people are willing to pay for a butterfly that’s so collectible.”

Spencer blushed and became oddly quiet.

“Did I say something to upset you?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.

He wrinkled his nose and made a grimace. “You’ll probably think I’m just being silly, but I don’t understand why people have to swear so much. Especially an attractive woman like yourself. I find it very unbecoming. Besides, you seem much too nice a person for that sort of thing.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” I said taken aback, and not sure how else to respond.

“That’s all right. People slip up sometimes. But we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” I agreed, wondering if perhaps I did curse too much.

“Good,” Spencer replied, and took a sip of his coffee. “You know, it’s funny you should mention butterflies. There’s a story about them that I loved as a boy. Would you like to hear it?”

I nodded, beginning to think that Spencer was still rather childlike in some ways.

“Okay. Two caterpillars were crawling through the grass when they spotted a butterfly flitting above them. One bug was fascinated, while the other was frightened, knowing he’d rather stay on the ground, where it was safe and he had plenty of food. But the first caterpillar didn’t care about such things. He yearned to have wings and fly. That bug wanted it so much that he finally changed into what he dreamt of becoming. However the second caterpillar stubbornly clung to what was familiar, never daring to imagine a better life. My mother said the lesson was that only those who know their true inner selves can soar like a butterfly. Isn’t that beautiful?”

He smiled and I realized what an angelic face Spencer had.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, finding him strangely fascinating. “By the way, there’s something I’m curious about. Carl mentioned that he takes in runaways. Do you happen to know how he got involved with that?”

“I’m not really certain, though I know there’s a story there somewhere. I’ve just never heard the whole thing.”

“Does he actually help them?”

“Oh yes,” Spencer responded, nodding eagerly. “He truly cares for the kids in every way. He gives them food and shelter, as well as ministering to their souls.”

His words struck a nerve. I was growing increasingly concerned that Manson was Big Daddy’s role model.

“But why does he do it?”

“You really need to ask Carl that yourself. It’s his story to tell.”

Maybe so. But I suspected Spencer knew more than he was willing to say.

“I’ll be honest. I went to see Carl because I’m searching for a young girl.”

“I wondered what you were doing at his shop. You don’t seem like the type to get a tattoo,” Spencer responded.

“Perhaps you’ve run into her during one of your visits. The girl’s name is Lily Holt,” I continued, refusing to let the subject drop.

Spencer gazed off into space, and then slowly shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t remember having ever met a Lily.”

“It’s possible she’s using an assumed name.”

“That’s true. Perhaps she created a whole new identity. Describe her to me,” Spencer suggested, beginning to sound intrigued.

Damn! This process would be so much easier if only I’d asked Eric for a photo.

“She’s fifteen years old, about five feet three inches tall, and has long brunette hair. But what sets her apart are the scars covering her throat and neck.”

He looked at me quizzically.

“She was in an accident as a child.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and my hopes began to soar. Could it be that he’d actually seen her? I held my breath, waiting for him to say the magic words.

Instead, he leaned in toward me and his fingers lightly touched my throat. They began to trace a jagged scar that ran across the width of my neck. It was a constant reminder of a case that had nearly cost me my life.

“You’re scarred too,” he murmured.

I surprised myself by not pulling away. Rather, I allowed
his fingers to continue along their path, finding his touch oddly soothing.

“Nobody gets out of this life unscathed,” I remarked as he reached its end.

He nodded, and it felt as if a bond had been established between us.

Only then did I notice the small scar etched into Spencer’s own temple. However, rather than mar his angelic looks, it made him all the more real and accessible. I decided to try and appeal to him once again.

“Listen, if you can’t tell me how Carl got involved with runaways, then at least explain why it is that your drawings were of the Lotis blue.”

Spencer’s sweet smile was as guileless as a cherub’s. “Honestly, I thought I was just drawing pretty blue butterflies. I must have seen a picture of them somewhere.”

I had little choice but to believe he was telling the truth. Photos of blue butterflies aren’t all that uncommon.

We finished our coffee and walked back to his car. Once there, Spencer pulled a scrap of paper from his briefcase and jotted down a note.

“Here. This is my phone number. Feel free to call me any time.”

I slipped the piece of paper into a pocket, and gave him my business card in return.

“Thanks,” Spencer said.

He placed his briefcase on the passenger seat next to some blue feathers that were trimmed and notched. Then he slid in behind the wheel.

“I really enjoyed our talk. We should do it again soon.”

I nodded in agreement and watched as he drove off. Then I went in search of my own vehicle.

Unlocking the door, I climbed inside the Explorer and
pulled out my cell phone. It was time to give Mitch Aikens a buzz.

There was no answer. Big surprise. The little weasel was probably dodging me.

That was all right. I didn’t really feel like driving out to Daly City today, anyway. Besides, it wasn’t as if Aikens was going to be able to hide all of his butterflies overnight. I began to head home, knowing that the matter could easily wait until tomorrow.

I parked in Mei Rose’s driveway and walked over to where Tony Baloney was snoozing up a storm. He must have been knocked out by the sun’s rays bouncing off all the mirrors across the street. I leaned down to make sure he was all right. The dog growled at me even in his sleep.

I sprinted upstairs and entered my apartment. Or maybe it really wasn’t, since nothing looked the least bit familiar. It took a moment before I realized why. Every piece of furniture had been carefully rearranged. Could Terri actually have been all that bored today? Then I knew what must have happened: Mei Rose had vowed to feng shui the place.

I walked over to the windows and closed the blinds in an attempt to block the glare from pouring in. However, Su Lin Fong’s battery of octagonal mirrors continued to do their job. It was difficult to tell which of the two women was ahead in the
chi
war at this point. Either way, I counted Tony Baloney and myself among their casualties.

I grabbed a soda and ran upstairs to check in with Terri. He greeted me by immediately plucking the can from my hand.

“Why are you drinking that crap? It’ll rot your teeth and it’s loaded with calories. Here. Have some of this, instead,” he insisted, and replaced my soda with a cup he held in his hand.

I took a sip and wondered if Terri was trying to poison me.

“My God, what is this stuff? It tastes perfectly awful.”

“It’s tea that Mei Rose gave me,” Terri revealed. “She said I should brew some every day and it would help keep me young and beautiful.”

“And you believed her? You’ve got to be kidding. Have you taken a good look at Mei Rose lately?” I asked him.

Terri stared at me for a moment, and then slowly nodded his head.

“I see your point,” he said, and dumped the tea into the sink.

Something looked different in his place as well. It must have been the huge stack of books that was piled on the floor. I bent down to see what Terri was reading.

The Quotable Vampire. I, Vampire. Vampire Ourselves.
Plus every book Anne Rice had ever written. Last, but not least, was that all time favorite classic,
Dracula
, by Bram Stoker.

I was beginning to think Terri was getting a little too wrapped up in his new job. My suspicions were confirmed as I followed him into the bedroom. Posed next to his bed was a life-sized cut-out of Elvira.

“Don’t you think this is carrying it a bit far?” I queried, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Not at all. She’s my new idol,” Terri responded.

Oy veh
. Maybe incorporating Christina Aguilera into his act hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. I decided to try and lead him in that direction.

“Listen, I found a great clothing store in the Haight that I know you’re going to love. They carry everything from sequined hot pants to Lurex metallic tights, and a full array of garter belts. There are even sunglasses with dancing flamingos on their frames.”

“Terrific. I’ve been trying to think of a quirky new gar
ment line that Sophie and I can have some fun with. Maybe the store has a Web site featuring their designs. I’ll get Sophie to log on and copy some of their patterns. God knows, I’m itching to get out of the doggy yarmulke business.”

“What are you trying to do? Get yourself embroiled in another lawsuit?” I questioned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rach. Companies do it all the time. What do you think goes on with those gowns the celebs wear to the Academy Awards? Some designer lends Gwyneth a six-thousand-dollar dress, and two days later Aunt Sadie can buy the same exact
schmatte
for a hundred twenty-five bucks at the local discount store. Besides, how else am I going to make the big bucks for my face-lift?”

Terri paused long enough to lick his finger and rub a smudge of dirt off my cheek.

“Don’t worry, Rach. There’s a face-lift in it for you too, once we hit the big time. Always remember: beauty may be only skin deep, but that’s what everyone sees.”

Lily Holt’s image wafted into my mind, and a flurry of shivers flew up my spine.

I actually made dinner for Santou that evening. Okay, at least I boiled spaghetti and threw a jar of sauce in a pot. Even better, Jake didn’t seem to mind.