Lust, Loathing and a Little Lip Gloss (23 page)

There was something very disturbing about that statement and I tried to gauge Maria’s expression to see if she was aware of it.

“Yes,” she acknowledged, “it’s very sexist and condescending. But what I saw was a man who was willing to open his heart to a woman in need. In less than forty-eight hours he told me he loved me, and in less than three weeks we were married and off to America. He was my savior. How could I not love him?”

“Uh-huh.” I took another sip of my orange juice. “What happened when you stopped being so needy?”

Maria cocked her head to the side. “You’re rather clever, aren’t you? What happened is my marriage began to unravel. It took a while. I was so desperately grateful to him that I was willing to play the wallflower for a while. But people started making a fuss. They praised the ease in which I mastered American colloquialisms and accents and my ability to adapt to a new culture…Enrico didn’t like that. He grumbled when I started up my business, and when it began to succeed he hated it.”

“So he thought there was only room for one star in the family?”

“Yes. He said that a husband is like an entrée and his wife like a fine wine. Wine is meant to complement the meal, not overpower it.”

“Wow, that’s just…wow.”

The food came and Maria and I were quiet for a few minutes as we tasted our dishes. She didn’t seem to have much of an appetite, but I had no problem devouring what was in front of me.

“People think our marriage ended because I’ll eat things like this,” Maria tapped her eggs and cheese, “and not something like that.” At this she waved her fork at the decadent pile of carbohydrates on my plate. “It’s not true.”

“Obviously,” I mumbled, my mouth full of roasted pears. “Your marriage was chock-full of more serious problems from the start.”

“But I owed Enrico everything…possibly my life. I would have found a way to make it work. But then Lorna came to see me.”

The pear stuck in my throat. “What did Lorna have to say?”

Maria toyed with her unused spoon, turning it around and around so that it lightly clicked against the wood of the table. “She told me that when her daughter, Deb, killed herself she had been pregnant. That would have been when I was first starting up my business. Enrico had been giving Deb cooking lessons as a favor to her father who was working for him at the time. I was rarely at home. Lorna told me that…she told me…” Maria shook her head fiercely. “It’s not true,” she whispered. “When I confronted Enrico he was so offended and…and shocked!”

“You think Lorna was lying?” I asked incredulously. “Why would she do that?”

“Not a lie, but a misplacement of blame,” Maria corrected. “She needs someone to blame for her daughter’s death. She needs for there to be a reason. I know it’s not true. But for a moment I
didn’t
know that and if I could believe something so horrible about my husband for even a second then the problems with my marriage were no longer surmountable. Enrico kicked me out. It was the right thing to do.”

I placed both my hands flat on the table. “Maria,” I said slowly, “has it ever occurred to you that Lorna is the one who killed Enrico?”

“I’ve considered it. But when she told me…when I believed her…well, I took out my gun.”

“You have a—wait a minute—you were going to
shoot
him?”

“I thought it was true, Sophie. I thought he had hurt that innocent little girl and then dared to come to my bed at night, dared to play the role of the hero and the protector. How could I not have at least considered it?”

I wanted to say that I wouldn’t have considered it, but that was a stretch.

“But Lorna had other ideas,” Maria said. She took a large bite of her eggs, her appetite apparently returning. “She said that the greatest punishment is not death, but to live to see the people you love leave you over and over again. I think that’s Lorna’s life. She dreams about her daughter and then in the morning…” Maria held up her empty hands to show me exactly what Lorna had when she woke up. “She was afraid Enrico would find peace in death. She wanted him to live and suffer. She talked me out of shooting him.”

“That was probably a good move on her part.”

“Yes, particularly because Enrico didn’t do those things,” Maria said stubbornly. Too stubbornly. We were the only people at the table and she was trying to convince both of us. “So I doubt it was Lorna. Besides, she didn’t know about the bird.”

“What bird, you mean the parrot? What does he have to do with any of this?”

“I told you Enrico had trained that bird to do some amazing things. Did you notice the perch built into the wall, right next to the door frame? Perhaps you thought it was a hook.”

“I didn’t notice,” I admitted, not adding that there had been more dramatic things to see at the time.

“Enrico had trained that bird to chain lock the door. He just picked the chain up with his beak and slid it in while sitting on that perch. He wasn’t as good at unlocking it, which proved to be a serious problem. One day Enrico and I sat outside that door for forty-five minutes with our faces pressed up against a sliver opening waiting for that silly bird to figure it out. But he did know how to lock it on command. Enrico and I were the only ones who knew the command. Lorna didn’t even know about the trick.”

“Did you tell the police about this?”

“Tell them what? That in addition to having motive and opportunity I also knew how to get the bird to chain lock the door behind me?” Maria asked with a cold smile. “No. Would you?”

20

Man cannot improve on God’s creations. When we try, we get things like hairless dogs and “cheese” that you squeeze out of a can.

—
The Lighter Side of Death

BY THE TIME I LEFT ZAZIE, I FELT CERTAIN THAT I HAD JUST DINED WITH A
murderer. Unless of course the killer was Lorna. The weird part was that I wasn’t at all sure if it mattered anymore. It was getting harder and harder to work up any sympathy for Enrico, and unless the person who killed him was Kane, finding out who did it wasn’t going to help me in my quest to hold on to my home.

I was walking back to that home now, and I kept my coat off so the cold weather could enhance the effects of the two cups of coffee I had already consumed. I had so much to figure out. How should I handle Kane? Was Venus a real threat? How could I repair things with Anatoly? It was all giving me a humongous headache. I needed help and maybe just a moment of peace.

I stopped short of the front door. Leaning against it was a large, bulky manila envelope with my name written across it in Leah’s hand. Leah was usually a very careful person. She wouldn’t have left a large envelope by my door in plain view from the sidewalk unless she had felt disoriented, upset or flustered.

I picked it up and tore at the seal. Inside was a small, rather outdated, minicassette player/recorder and inside that was a small tape labeled Andrea.

I put the recorder back in the envelope and pulled out a white piece of paper. It was a note from Leah. It read:

What’s going on? You’re never out this early! Anyway, Mama wanted me to drop this off. Be forewarned, it’s a little hard to listen to. I almost wish I hadn’t.

Love,
Leah

I put the note back and then, on a total whim, turned away from the door and went to my garage. I wasn’t sure where I was going when I stuck my keys into the ignition of my car. I just knew that I had the urge to escape. I put the manila envelope on the passenger seat. I would listen to the tape later. Not now. I couldn’t take it now.

I had only driven a block when I realized I was kidding myself. I simply had to know what was on the damned tape. I pulled over into the first parallel spot I could find and after several deep breaths pulled the recorder out of the envelope and pressed Play.

“You don’t love her,” a female voice said. It was small and distant as if the recording device had been placed far from her mouth. “I know you don’t. You can’t.”

“Andrea, I love my wife very much.”

I pressed my fingers against my lips to prevent myself from crying out. It had been so long since I had heard his voice!

“But we are fated to be together!” Andrea went on. “I went to a Tarot card reader yesterday. Do you know what she said?”

“Andrea, I’m telling you that we are never going to be a couple. You need to stop harassing us.”

“But even Kane knows we were meant to be. Kane, my own son! He understands! Why can’t you?”

“What has happened to you? You used to be more sophisticated than this! Now you take your advice from Tarot cards and eight-year-olds!” There was a muffled thump in the background and I knew it was the sound of my father’s fist hitting a table or some other solid surface. He always did that when he was struggling to make a point. “You broke the window of my car, Andrea!” he continued. “You’ve been stalking my family!”

“I’m sorry.” The tears were now audible in her voice. “About the car that is. But Martin, I had to do it. They told me to do it!”

“Who told you?”

“I love you so much, Martin!” she said as if she hadn’t heard his question. “I didn’t see it at first, but Oscar’s leaving me was a blessing! And when you get your divorce that will be a blessing, too! Your children can live with us. I’ll take care of Leah and Sophie. Sophie is such a special girl. I’ll watch out for her. You just have to believe in me!”

“Andrea, you just admitted to vandalizing my car. How can I possibly believe in you?” His words were only mildly biting, but his tone…I had never heard him use that tone before. It was acidic.

“Why are you being so cruel?” she asked, more softly this time. “Don’t you see? It’s not just the Tarot card readers. The voices of my ancestors speak to me. The dead know what’s important and they tell me. They tell me what I need to do to hold on to you. They care about
us,
Martin. You and me!”

“Andrea—”

“That’s why I follow you. I’ll always be there, watching, waiting for you to do what’s right.”

There was a long pause and then my father spoke again. “You are an incredibly tragic figure, and yet, I can’t find it in me to feel sorry for you. You’ve threatened my family. I love them Andrea. I’ll never love you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Andrea insisted. “You’re confused.”

“I’m tape recording this conversation.”

There was another long pause. “I…I don’t understand,” Andrea finally responded.

“If you don’t back off I’ll give the tape to Oscar. It’s all he needs to have you committed. You could lose custody of Kane, Andrea.”

“How dare you!” This time it was a screech and I found myself wondering where they were. Surely if Andrea had raised her volume to that degree in a public place she would have attracted attention.

“I won’t give it to him if you leave me and my family alone, although I probably should. You need help.”

“Martin—”

“Goodbye.”

“NO!”

“Get off of me!” My father yelled and then there was a crash…then a cry of a little boy.

“What did you do to Mommy!” the boy sobbed.

“Go back to your room, Kane,” my father said. “Call your dad to pick you up. Unless you’d like me to take you to him now. Maybe that would be best, Andrea.”

“NO!” Andrea screamed again.

Her voice was quickly followed by the young Kane’s. “Don’t worry, Mommy, I’ll stay with you! I won’t leave!”

But Andrea didn’t seem to be acknowledging him. “Martin! Martin, please come back to me! Don’t let him lock me up, Martin! Martin, please!” But now her voice was becoming fainter as she or the tape recorder moved farther into the distance. There was a sharp click. And then there was silence.

I rested my head against the steering wheel and closed my eyes. Now I knew why Leah had been unwilling to wait for me to get home before dropping off the tape. This was not the father she wanted to remember. She didn’t want to know that our dad had been capable of hate.

But there was another way to look at it. Our father had done what he had needed to. To protect us. He kept us safe. Now, when my family needed protection, they looked to me.

I started the ignition again, but this time I knew where I was going. Within ten minutes I was within sight of Sutro Heights.

I parked the Audi behind the high brush that partially hid the park from the Edwardians positioned across from it. There were hardly any cars on the street. A bus drove by, not bothering to slow as it passed the empty bus stop not ten feet in front of me. Across the street a commercial van pulled to a stop in front of one of those Edwardian houses ready to provide it with whatever services. To my right I could see a muddy path and a bit of the well-manicured lawns that we used to picnic on. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia washed over me, the kind that you feel when you see an old movie that was popular when you were a child, or hear a song that was played at your first rock concert. I took out the tape and put it in my coat pocket before getting out. I found my way to that path and as I walked it I started a conversation with my father. In whispers only I could hear, I asked him how he was, if he was happy, why he had left me. It was a one-sided conversation, but that didn’t bother me. What shocked me was that I had found the courage to ask the questions.

Ignoring the way the mud was sucking at the bottom of my boots, I followed the path up to the ruins of the Sutro mansion. When I climbed the stairs, I stopped to admire the spectacular view of the ocean. It was wild and unpredictable under the cloudy sky, hinting at another storm that hadn’t yet announced its arrival. My father loved the ocean when it was like this. I wanted to share this with him and there was a little part of me that wondered if I already was. “Can you see it?” I asked.

“Can I see what?”

I whirled around to find Kane staring at me. He held the leash of a hideous dog that was completely hairless save for a blond Mohawk streaked across its narrow skull. That styling detail only served to bring attention to the dog’s ears, which stuck straight up like exclamation marks.

“He’s a Peruvian breed,” Kane said. “The Inca believed they could help their masters find their way to the world of the dead.”

“Maybe that’s because they look like canine zombies,” I suggested.

Kane smiled, his eyes moving past me to the waves. The dog strained at his leash and yipped a greeting, or perhaps a warning.

“You’re following me, Kane.”

“Did Scott tell you what I want you to do?”

“You want me to contact a ghost. But I was thinking, maybe you should stop with all the insane demands and just sell me the house for the agreed-upon price. In return, I won’t have you arrested for stalking.”

“It’s a public park, Sophie.”

“And when I saw you across from Amelia’s flower shop?”

Kane shrugged. “We were on a public street. It’s a small city. You gotta assume that we’re going to bump into each other now and then.”

“I swear to God, Kane…”

“Why won’t you let them in?” he asked.

“Who?” The wind was picking up and the dog seemed to shiver at Kane’s side.

“I’m talking about the dead, Sophie. Why won’t you open your mind to the dead?”

“How can you be so sure I haven’t?”

“You won’t even acknowledge the spirit of your own father and he’s
trying
to contact you! What chance does my mother have of ever getting through to you? Why are you closing yourself off?”

He hadn’t raised his voice or even changed his tone, but his anger was projected by the stiffness of his posture and the narrow slits of his eyes. He was dangerous. The dog wagged his tail in anticipation.

“There have been signs,” I said, reaching for something to placate him with. “The lights in my room went on and off by themselves. My doorbell rang when no one was there to push it. There were footsteps in the hall and—”

“A bunch of meaningless shit!” Kane snapped. “Those are the kinds of signs that are supposed to spur you into action! You should have sat down immediately and tried to make contact! You should have spoken to her by now, but you are so determined not to see what you don’t understand! You have this extraordinary gift and yet you throw it away in favor of the mundane! Why? Why should I let you move into that house,
her
house! Why should I let another nonbeliever desecrate my mother’s home?”

“The other nonbeliever being your father?”

Kane didn’t seem to hear me. “They said she was schizophrenic, but she wasn’t. The voices she heard weren’t in her head—they were of the dead. She had a gift, but unlike you she embraced it. I have the gift, too. But I can’t hear
her!
You have to help me hear her. You
can
do that, but you
won’t!
”

“You hear voices?” I asked.

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I’m gifted! I’m fucking gifted!”

Right, gifted like Charles Manson. Aloud I said, “I have spoken to a spirit. I think it was your mother. Was her name Andrea?”

Kane didn’t say anything.

“She was in love with my father. She was going to sell him her house, but…”

“Your family told you about this.”

“Did not,” I lied.

“Don’t try to fool me, Sophie. I’m smarter than you. And for the record, the only reason my mother offered to sell the house to your dad was because at that time she didn’t know what a complete womanizing asshole he was.”

“You son of a bitch.” I advanced upon him, my fist raised, but the hound of hell growled and bared its teeth, doing its duty of protecting the Antichrist.

“You can talk to her,” he insisted again. “I know you can.”

“Yeah, and who told you this? The voices?”

“Don’t forget that I can still stop this deal anytime I want to. Maybe I can’t legally insist that you use your gift, but I can raise the price of that house to five million if I see fit.”

“It’s not a five-million-dollar house.”

“But I can try to sell it for that. I can put it all beyond your reach and throw you out on the street. And it won’t stop there. I can make you suffer every bit as much as your family made my mother suffer. You, Leah, and that hag you call Mama all owe me, and I’ll collect. It’s just a matter of how.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Kane smiled. “That would be illegal.” He leaned down and patted the dog on its lonely strip of hair. “Escrow is up in three days. You have ’til then to contact her. I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t try it.”

“It doesn’t matter if I lie to you or not,” I shouted. “No matter what I say you’re planning on throwing me out, aren’t you! This whole thing was a setup!”

But Kane was walking away now, tugging the dog along as he went. I watched him retreat down the stairs, the wind at his back, pushing him away from me.

“How do I negotiate with a crazy person?” I muttered. The fact that I was the one talking to myself didn’t faze me. At least
I
wasn’t hearing voices.

Except at the séance. But that hadn’t been madness…had it? I looked up at the sky and suppressed the urge to scream. I needed someone to point me in the right direction, or any direction for that matter.