Secrets of the Apple (33 page)

Lucas looked at the stern old lady, thought of the Tietê and felt his ears go red.

An hour later a parcel of boys’ clothes arrived addressed to Lucas, and Cecelia instructed him to change and set him to weeding with Nishimura. Alone in her small office she took off her glasses and held a folded dishtowel over her mouth so no one would hear her cry. When Lucas returned she wore her stern expression and the charade continued.

That evening Lucas heard the front door open. He peeked around the corner and saw the Senhor and Dona Kate stop to take off their shoes, line them up neatly side by side and step into house slippers. The minute they moved out of sight, a girl he’d never seen came along and snatched up the shoes. Worried he might be accused, he jumped from his hiding place and yelled
“Ladrão!”
to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t the thief. He made it halfway down when the girl looked calmly straight up into his face and doubled over laughing. A maid, of course it would be a maid. Lucas felt the heat in his ears first, then up his neck and over his face. The maid held up the shoes, dangling them on the tips of her fingers, only scurrying off when Dona Kate appeared, drawn by the commotion. She looked from the retreating maid to Lucas who stood frozen to the banister. Dona Kate smiled and came toward him, sitting on his stair and holding out a hand. He sat next to her, self-conscious and blushing.

“I’m Kate, do you remember me from last night?”

“Dona Cecelia told me to wait right here and I’m waiting, just like she said.”

“Have you already had dinner?”

Lucas nodded.

“What have you been up to today?”

“I pulled 226 weeds, Senhor Nishimura pulled 129. I’m sorry about the maid.”

“That’s a lot of weeds,” she said, moving closer and putting her arm around him. “I bet it was scary getting stuck here with all these strangers all day.”

He thought she was treating him like a baby, but her arm felt good, so he decided to let it stay.

“I think it was pretty brave of you to jump up and yell thief,” she said.

“It was a mistake,” he said quickly. “I won’t do it again. I don’t like to make mistakes twice.”

“That girl’s a lot bigger than you. Don’t you think that takes courage?”

Between the threat of poisoned water and the shoe-stealing girl, the choice was simple. Besides, if he got thrown out too early, he’d have no chance to contact Marco and prove his loyalty. The security men were still giving him the evil eye. Before any plan could work, he needed time to win them over, convince them to let their guard down.

Lucas looked at Dona Kate, wondering if he should play the scared boy, maybe tell her a good story. He’d already figured out that she was an American, and he’d once heard that Americans were the easiest marks for a sob story, the sadder the better, because they felt guilty for being so rich. Though why anyone would feel guilty for being rich was more than he could understand.

“Lucas, I spoke with Cecelia earlier today. Do you have any family besides the one uncle?” Her dark green eyes seemed to look right through him, the way his mother’s used to.

“No,” he said. He considered working up some tears. He’d done it before when he was hungry or thirsty or needed a distraction long enough for his partner to snatch a wallet, so they could make their quota. But there was no quota at the moment and her arm felt so good. He put off tears for another time.

“Where do you believe you belong?” she asked.

“Maybe I could stay here? I don’t take up much room.”

“This isn’t my house, and I’ll only be here until December,” she said.

“December’s a long time away. I can run errands and I’m good with numbers. Did Dona Cecelia tell you I’m good with numbers? Everybody says so.”

“You should be in school. I need to call the authorities so you can get someone more permanent to look after you.”

Lucas got cold all over. Forget the plan. He’d heard all about these “authorities” from Roberto, the bookie who’d once escaped from jail. Lucas tensed, ready to spring for the front door, but Dona Kate put her other arm around him and held him in a bear hug. “Tomorrow we should know what to do. In the meantime, don’t get in Senhor Tanaka’s way. This is his house and you and I are both guests here.”

Cecelia came back, muttering “those girls… I’m going to wring their necks, I swear.” She continued to mutter as she collected Lucas and took him off to take a bath.

When Lucas was ready for bed, he sneaked off to the kitchen while Dona Cecelia was distracted, looking for the cookies promised him by the cook that afternoon when she came out to watch the weeding and talk Japanese with the old gardener. On the way from the kitchen, two cookies in his hand, he heard the faint sound of a piano. He should get back before Dona Cecelia discovered him missing, but Lucas loved music, almost any kind, and followed the sound until he got to the library doorway and saw Dona Kate’s fingers flying across the keys. He took a single step into the room when the music ended and he heard the Senhor’s voice floating from somewhere around the sofa, like he was lying down. Lucas stepped back. The Senhor wasn’t talking Japanese, he’d been hearing that all day. Must be talking American. When the Senhor stopped talking, Dona Kate laughed and began the same song again.

Lucas had forgotten about Dona Cecelia, who in any case was on a rampage looking for the missing maids. But he remembered he needed to stay out of the Senhor’s way. Luckily there was a large wing chair just to the side of the door and if he pushed it out slowly with his foot, he could hide behind it and nobody would ever know. He would stay just until the cookies were gone, he told himself as he stowed away behind the chair. Slowly he chewed small bites, drumming the notes with his left hand. He never felt his eyelids droop as he drifted to sleep on the floor, awakening the next morning in his strange bed with the feeling he had dreamed something very beautiful.

* * *

The morning after the break-in, Kate joined Ryoki for breakfast at the usual time. Ryoki watched her carefully, expecting her to bite his head off at least twice as she occasionally did when she got overtired. But this morning she didn’t. He watched her eat two bites, then try to hide a yawn behind her napkin. Five minutes later she dropped her napkin to yawn under the table. Seven minutes after that she tried to yawn with her mouth closed, making her eyes water, requiring more ministrations with the napkin.

“Napkins are invaluable in the morning,” he said.

Kate smiled cheerfully, making Ryoki all the more skeptical.

“You know, you could stay home for a while this morning. I’m fairly certain I remember how to do this by myself,” he said.

“I need to be there for your eight-thirty meeting. I’m just having a little trouble waking up today. I’ll be fine once the sugar kicks in,” she said as she picked up her juice. Ryoki didn’t know what she was up to, but he guessed it had to do with that boy. He wanted to tell her about the damaged security equipment they had discovered at first light, proof the boy had not acted alone. But she looked so tired this morning, he didn’t have the heart.

At noon Kate was gathering her things for a highly suspect trip outside the office when Ryoki came up behind her and touched her elbow. She jumped a mile straight up and whirled into his chest, letting out a squeally shriek that raised eyebrows clear to the elevators.

“That was a bonus,” Ryoki said.

“For heaven’s sake, Ryoki, make a little more noise when you sneak around.”

Ryoki looked at her with one eyebrow cocked, but decided against explaining the meaning of
sneak.
At least she was acting more like herself. All this determined cheeriness was grating on him.

“Just wondered where you were headed,” he said.

“I thought I’d do a little shopping,” she said, rummaging through her purse.

“Shopping for what?”

“Oh, a few things,” she said airily, that telltale note of unnatural cheer creeping back into her voice.

“A few things for a little boy?”

Kate looked at him, her lips pursed. He could see she was waiting for him to criticize her. He opened his mouth to deliver all the evidence, but she plowed forward without giving him the chance.

“I’ve already started checking around for the best orphanages. I should have an answer tomorrow or the day after. He needs a few things to wear, at least.

“The longer he stays in the house, the more opportunity he’ll have to rob us blind and disappear without a trace,” Ryoki said.

She leaned on the edge of her desk, studying her shoes. “I’ve been feeling guilty all morning. Last night I was selfish and put you at risk. You’re the only one with anything to lose. I don’t have anything he’d want to steal.” She clasped her hands, squeezing her palms together. “But I’ve been researching on the internet. I don’t know if it’s accurate, but I don’t want to throw him back on the street.” Her hands started to shake and she clasped them behind her. “I’ve been talking to Tanaka Charities and if we wait a bit they might be able to sponsor him into a good place. I read about one in Rio that might be right. I really think he and I should sleep out in my cottage. That would at least minimize everybody’s exposure.”

Ryoki looked at Kate. The smart thing would be to send the boy off at once with a basket of food and a little money, absolutely and truly the most intelligent course of action, the very thing he would advise a friend. It’s not smart to think with your heart in a situation where the whole field of good and good and evil has become torn and muddied by the daily combat for survival. He’d seen the beggars in India and learned how criminals organized bands of the desperate and wretched, exploiting others’ compassion to fill their own coffers as effectively as a lock pick or a gun. And yet, this way of thinking tugged at his conscience every time he drove by a
favela.
He wondered what twist of fate had decreed he be born in one place and not another.

Why were Kate’s hands shaking?

“Why were you so determined to come in today? It’s not as though staying home would have jeopardized your career.”

“I didn’t want you to hold it against Lucas,” she said, fiddling with her purse. “I need to go if I’m going to be back for your afternoon meeting.”

From the determined look on her face Ryoki could see she needed to do something for the boy, some kind of bizarre catharsis, or atonement, a way to leave her jacket for the youngest. The phone rang and Kate picked it up, purse in hand, ready to walk out the door. Ryoki thought about the boy. Maybe he was a thief, though probably no worse. Maybe he would cart off a truckload of stuff. That was a serious risk, a man must protect his possessions.

Of course, the theft might include that painting of the Fates in the dining room. Come to think of it there was a painting in the hall that made him think of dirty spaghetti, worth two million yen. Wouldn’t miss that. Lots of top-of-the-line electronics in the house, but all would be obsolete in a year or two. He did a quick review of every room he could remember and realized with a jolt that if he were to suddenly board a plane and leave his house forever, he wouldn’t mourn a single object, except possibly the sofa and piano in the library.

But what about the people in the house? What if the boy worked for José? That possibility alone should spur him to call the police. Evil did its best when lurking behind the innocent-looking face. Las Vegas had taught him that. Sometimes, alone in the dark, he could still feel Angelica’s hands on his chest, her mouth on his skin as he willingly surrendered himself to the most dangerous opponent he had ever faced.
“Women make the best assassins.”
That’s what Detective Gordon had told him. How much more easily could a child get under his guard? What does a man do when every choice seems wrong?

He remembered Kate that night in Las Vegas, a warrior queen putting herself in the path of the storm. She wouldn’t let go of this either, not until she was satisfied the boy was safe. Kate had saved his life, and what did he give her? A big bathtub. Two weeks earlier he’d overheard the maids say they hardly bothered to clean it because Dona Kate never had time to fill it. Perhaps he could risk taking on the boy for a day or two until satisfactory arrangements could be made. That way he would be giving her the gift of a clear conscience.

Kate put down the phone and stepped toward the door, waving vaguely as she went.

“Wait,” he said, putting his finger on her arm. “Buy the boy what he needs. Charge it to me.”

“Ryoki, I can do this.”

“I know, but this, situation is too much for one person. Kate, remember he isn’t our pet. He’s a little boy, and I want you to be careful.”

She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek, murmuring, “Thank you” in his ear. She pulled back, rubbing off the lipstick mark with her thumb. “Why don’t we split the bill?”

Ryoki’s stumbled backward, blinking and clearing his throat. When he looked up, she was gone.

Later that night, as he and Kate were leaving the library, he almost stepped on a small hand flung out from behind the large wing chair by the door, clutching a bit of chocolate chip cookie. He lifted the sleeping boy off the floor and Kate started to follow him from the library when her cell rang. She kissed the boy’s head with the receiver to her ear and Ryoki heard Montgomery’s booming voice. “How’s my girl—” the rest muffled as Kate put the phone to her shoulder, whispering goodnight to Ryoki as she turned back to the sofa.

My girl, my girlfriend, my honey
Ryoki shifted the boy on his shoulder and walked through the dim hallways, considering how he’d brought Kate halfway across the world to be with him. He paid for the clothes she wore, the bed she slept in, the food she ate, the books she read. In her purse she carried his checkbook, his credit cards and his house keys. Her family trusted him with her care. Who was this goldy-locked Matt to jump in with his possessive pronouns?

Ryoki shuddered as though a spider had skittered up his back. He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on more pressing concerns. The boy, he needed to think about this boy.

He tucked him into the crisp white sheets, pulling them all the way to his chin and stepping back for an appraising look. The child looked thin and defenseless in the big bed and Ryoki reached out to push a soft curl out of his small face, jerking his hand away at the last moment, the ragged ghost of Oliver Twist whispering in his ear,
“Please, sir, I want some more.”