Shade City (11 page)

Mr. Glickman looked at me, befuddled. "You don't know?" he asked. "I thought that's why you were here. Alexander McAllister is awake."

* * *

I sat in the metal patio chair with my back to the sun. The pocket watch was on the table, next to my soda. I was restless as the girl put my pastrami sandwich and fries down in front of me. I faked a smile, told her I didn't need any ketchup, and was relieved when she left me alone.

"So you have no idea who Mr. Glickman is?" I reiterated.

"He told me an interesting story." I wasn't sure how to broach the subject with Violet. The good news about her father was supposed to be a surprise. The only thing was, I didn't feel she was being forthcoming with me. As I dug deeper, I could feel the chasm between us widening. What was she hiding? From me?

I picked at my sandwich, but my attention was on the web browser on my phone. Eventually I stopped worrying about getting grease on the screen.

"Ever heard of Blue Bell or Blue Bonnet?" I asked.

More denials. Why was it that I got more information about her family from everyone else? Violet was supposed to be on my side. The words of the man in the Last Bookstore came to my thoughts: you can't trust shades.

Google didn't bring up promising results. It listed day-to-day news in spades, as well as information about notable historical events. Historical day-to-day trivialities? Not so much. Violet's great-grandfather had left a good deal of money to a company when he died. I had no idea why. And neither did the internet. Maybe I was focusing on the wrong facts.

"What?" I asked. "No. I'm waiting for the party on Friday night to deal with them. I was looking into something else."

I stuffed my mouth with the biggest bite of pastrami I could manage to stall my answer. I chewed the thick strips of meat as I bided my time. Maybe showing Violet was better than any explanation I could come up with.

"It's not important," I finally said. "It's probably nothing."

I took another bite of my sandwich.

I almost choked. What did the man in the bookstore say about Red Hat? That it started as a millinery, a hat shop? He'd said that the company went through various iterations, with Red Hat Events being the latest. I searched but didn't see anything about Blue Bonnet and uniforms.

But then it hit me. Blue. Blue was the wrong color. I scrolled back a page and saw the reference: Blush Bonnet. Blush is close enough to red, unless you're talking wine. I clicked through some pages before I found what I was looking for.

The Royal Ruby Millinery was founded in the nineteenth century. Nearing World War II, the frivolity of hats was wearing thin in the United States and Blush Bonnet Clothiers was born. They started out making dresses and women's wear, but transitioned to uniforms to assist the war effort. In fact, this was around the same time that Finlay's father had died. His life savings, instead of going to his family, served as a bastion for the millinery's young venture.

"How...?" I asked out loud but was unable to finish my question. I didn't even know what I was thinking. None of it made sense.

On one hand, I had tracked Soren and found out that he was involved with Red Hat. Sal, or the shade who possessed him, confessed his motivations to me. Red Hat emerged as an entity that I needed to watch. I got that much.

But then, in a completely unrelated thread, I had decided to look into Violet's family. I found out about Livia and Alexander and Finlay and Catriona. But Bedros was there. There was something suspicious about that.

Two paths to travel. Two completely separate tangents with different goals. How in the hell did they both end up tied to Red Hat?

I glanced hesitantly at the Hamilton pocket watch that rested on the table. It was the late afternoon, still within visiting hours. If I was going to figure this out, I needed to bring all the actors together on the same stage. I slipped Violet into my jeans and marched back to my car.

I didn't believe in coincidences.

* * *

"You have no idea why we're here?" I asked.

I advanced through the neurological ward, pretending I belonged. Thanks to the altercation with Bedros, I had to keep an eye out for him and the nurse that had threatened to call the police. If they were around, I had to see them before they saw me.

"Maybe not," I said, "but don't you know why I'm here? Can't you feel it?"

The hall was clear. There were no signs of obstacles or complications.

I stopped cold.

I hadn't really thought about how to bring the subject up yet. I knew Violet wasn't being truthful with me, and I wanted to set her straight, but it wasn't fair to ambush her. Not with news of her father.

"Violet," I started, taking a heavy breath and leaning against a white wall, "can we be honest with each other?"

She hesitated before she answered.

I nodded, looking down at the watch in my hand.

"We've known each other four years. We're friends, right?"

"Then why is it you never tell me anything about your life and your family?"

This time there was no response. I knew it was a sensitive subject. I had always trod lightly in the past but there was a clear need to press now. I waited in the hallway, still on the lookout for any trouble, for the girl to answer. She didn't.

"Violet—"

"Isn't he?" I asked coldly.

"I've been looking into it, Violet."

"Is it not my business to know what my friend's real name is?" I got a little heated, a little loud. A man walking down the hall eyed me strangely and I shrugged. I waited for him to pass in silence before resuming with a whisper. "Why are you keeping secrets from me?"

I could tell she was conflicted.

Her answer hit me like a brick. Sympathy replaced suspicion. I remembered that she was just a little girl, only twelve years old. She had been through a lot. Seen her father struck down. Murdered by her mother. Of course she was haunted: she was a shade.

"I know your real name is Aster McAllister."

Stunned silence. I pictured the same little girl I saw in the dream with purple-white hair, staring at me aghast.

"That lawyer I met with works for your father."

"Yes, Violet. He told me about your family, about your grandfather Finlay and his sister, Catriona. They were stripped of their inheritance because all of it went to Blush Bonnet Clothiers, another incarnation of Red Hat."

"You see how it's all connected now, Violet? I need to understand how Red Hat operates. But there's more." I peeled myself away from the wall and headed down the hall. "I know why you've been alone. I know why you can't find your father."

"I know it must be bittersweet, Violet, but you need to be happy for him."

"Your father is still alive. Your mother didn't kill him."

"He's been in a coma this entire time. Here. And now he's awake."

I knew it was hard for her, but the girl had lived with this crutch for a long time. She needed to cast it away. Discover that she could continue without it. I kept approaching the hospital room doorway.

Not a nurse or a bodyguard in sight. I wouldn't be swayed.

I entered the brightly lit room, the same one with the crack in the window, and felt all the blood drain from my face. The bed was empty and all signs of personal possessions were cleaned out.

"What?" I asked, panicking. "He was here, Violet. I saw him on the weekend. I touched him and he was clear and—"

"Nothing. He was in a coma. But Mr. Glickman had said he had been in and out lately. He just told me that he was awake now."

"Your father."

"Yes," I repeated. "He was right here." I strained to think about what could have happened to him. "But there was another person here, a bodyguard. Do you know him?"

"Bedros. A large Armenian man. He was taken. In good control of his host. You didn't know him?"

"Well, he's dangerous, either way. I almost got it in with him last time."

A glimmer of sun caught in the cracked window. Maybe the man was still here. Moved to another room. I scrambled to the door. "Nurse!" I called out, flagging down a guy behind a desk. "What happened to this man? Where is Alexander McAllister?"

"He was discharged this morning."

"But he was in a coma on Sunday." I was incredulous that things could change so quickly.

"It was induced," he explained. "He had been in recovery for six weeks. After two days free of complications, he was released under the care of a private physician. It was against medical advice, but we couldn't stop him."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know, sir. Are you family?"

"A friend." I put my hand up as he started to explain patient privacy. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

I walked away, as I always did, before I made a big enough impression to be remembered.

* * *

I was almost back to the car when she worked up the courage to talk to me again.

"I'm sorry, Violet. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Don't start that with me. If I had told you what I was doing, you never would have gone along with it."

I arrived at my metallic gray coupe and paused outside. I remained silent. I wasn't going to get sucked into another argument.

"Every time I've asked you about your past, you've dodged the question. You never told me how you died. You avoid mentioning family. You even kept your true name from me. If you're gonna play the friend card, you have lots of explaining to do."

"I'm saying I don't believe you. I can't. Not after all the inconsistencies."

She didn't immediately say anything back to me. I unlocked the car door, threw the watch on the passenger seat, and pulled out my phone. Sitting down heavily, I released all my built-up pressure with a long exhale.

I watched the lowering sun and was relieved there was still plenty of time in the day. "Actually, no. I never considered that. If that's the case, Violet, then I truly apologize, but it's too late to back off."

I dialed Mr. Glickman, annoyed that I had just seen him in person but never got the address. "We're gonna visit him."

"Impossible," I said as I held my cell phone to my ear. "This isn't personal anymore. Red Hat's involved and the man may be in danger."

The woman from earlier answered. "Mr. Glickman's office. How can I help you?"

"Put your boss on."

"Whom may I ask is—"

"Tell him it's Dante. And unless he wants another visit from me, he's gonna pick up the phone."

* * *

The address I got was nearby. It was in the historic core of Downtown LA, amid a bustling series of storefronts ranging from jewelers to fine clothing stores. The air of class was apparent but forced on these dirty streets. Spending money didn't exclude one from the realities of the world. As such, designer shoes skirted homeless men, and the luster of beautiful facades was mired in the oppressive smog of the city.

The age of the buildings was apparent as well. Mostly brick and stone instead of metal and glass, these structures were from a different time. More care was put into the style and workmanship of the condo, even evident when I walked indoors. Having chosen this loft as his, I already knew something about Alexander McAllister.

The elevator rose to the top floor and I was left in a quiet hallway of carpeted elegance that only housed four front doors. My destination was the last one at the end. Ignoring Violet's repeated objections, I pounded my fist on the door.

"This should be fun," I muttered.

I heard the sound of shuffling but no immediate answer. The light from the peephole was momentarily covered and I heard some murmurs. Still, no one said anything. I knocked again. The talking stopped and heavy feet stomped closer to the door before it opened.

Bedros stood in front of me. He was wearing a similar track suit and was still as tall as ever.

"You," he said in his booming voice.

I took a reflexive step back. "Of course you would be here."

"What you want?"

"I'm just here to see Alexander."