The Girl in the Glass (11 page)

"Why should this instance be any different?" I said.

I managed to open the door and get out of the car before Antony could grab me. He let himself out and stretched. Then he looked over at where I stood and said, "If I catch you, kid, I'm gonna wrap that turban around your neck."

"Whatever moves in this moving world, abandon it and then enjoy," I said in my swami voice.

"Enough of that," he said. "It's gonna get dark in about fifteen minutes. Where's Miss Hush?"

"She's been gone a long time," I said.

"Too long," said Antony. "We better find her."

"I think she went this way," I said and pointed at a path that wound among the trees. We followed the path for a few minutes, looking all around, but saw no sign of our passenger.

"Miss Hush," I called out. There was no response.

We walked on a bit more until we came to a fork in the trail. "Lydia," he roared. We listened for her voice but heard only the sounds of crows in the treetops and a squirrel running through the brambles. Red leaves fell around us, joining others that littered the ground.

"Okay, kid, you go that way," he said, pointing to the right. "I'll go this way. Just keep calling her. If you don't see anything by the time it gets dark, get back to the car."

"All right," I said and took off down the path, calling her name. We yelled at intervals, and I heard Antony's voice for a good distance as I walked along. Darkness was falling quickly, and I wondered where she could have gone.

About fifteen minutes later, when I was just about ready to turn back, I thought I heard something. When I looked around, I saw a crow lift off a fallen tree and fly up between barren branches. That's when I caught sight of a small structure sitting amid a thicket of pines. It was a dilapidated old shack with a tar paper roof. There was a broken window to the left of the door, which hung crookedly from a leather strap-hinge at the top; the bottom one was torn. The place was small, and looked like it had once been a toolshed or woodshed.

I made my way over to it, and as I approached, I called Miss Hush's name, a little more quietly than before. I heard nothing but silence. I stepped up on the cracked, moss-covered concrete block at the entrance. Anxiety was building in my chest. I reached out and pulled the crooked door back, and the leather hinge just sort of crumbled and broke. The door fell away, almost clipping my shoulder, and hit the ground with a crash. What meager daylight was left, rushed in, lessening the gloom. As the light poured in, a smell came out—a horrid stench of mildew and bad meat. There was a buzz and flutter as flies and moths rose from something lying on the floor.

I knew it was her before I could even focus on the pale form at my feet. There was the Barnes child, maggots in her curly hair, naked, and white as Lydia, a small square of material with a bizarre circular design on it covering her from waist to midthigh. She was staring hard with rotting eyes, and the sight of her made my knees buckle. Suddenly, the smell registered with full force, and my stomach heaved. I turned away from the door, tripped on the concrete block, and hit the cold hard ground with hands outstretched. I vomited, supporting myself on all fours. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but all I could hear above the buzzing in my ears was the wind in the trees, the sound of the leaves blowing along the ground.

The next thing I knew, I was being lifted bodily onto my feet and it was night. Antony whispered to me,

"Take a deep breath, kid." He let go of me, and I knew he was going to look in the shack. From behind me, I heard him give a giant sigh, and then say, "Jesus fucking Christ." An instant later he was beside me, arm around my shoulders. "Let's get out of here," he said.

"What about Miss Hush?" I asked.

"Forget her. This could be a setup," he said. "Come on, kid, you've got to run." He gave me a push.

"Move your ass."

I did. Once I located the trail, I broke into a sprint, running as if to escape the vision of the girl's corpse. Behind me, I heard Antony lumbering along, wheezing with the exertion.

We made it back to the car in only a couple of minutes, got in, and Antony started it up. He pulled away, tires screeching, without turning on the headlights. Rain started to hit the windshield. About a mile down the road, once we'd caught our breath, he turned on the lights and slowed down.

"You okay, kid?" he asked.

"No," I said. I tore the turban off my head and flung it in the backseat. There were tears in my eyes.

"I know what you mean," he said. He drove on for a few more seconds and then added, "This shit just got about a mile deeper."

SHARDS OF EVIL

U
pon arriving home, I went immediately to the couch in the living room and curled up in the corner, my head on a pillow and my knees pulled nearly to my chest. Only then did I realize I was trembling. I still felt faintly nauseated, and every time I'd focus on that indelible image of Charlotte Barnes in death, the sensation would intensify. Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel Schell's presence enter the room. Then I heard Antony address him.

"Boss, we found the Barnes kid," the big man said in a voice so weary it came out a whisper.

"Bad?" asked Schell, and I could hear him sitting down in the chair next to the couch.

"Real bad," said Antony. "She's dead."

Schell made no reply. I heard Antony slump into the chair directly across the coffee table from where I lay.

"Lydia Hush?" Schell finally asked.

"Sort of," said Antony.

"Tell me everything," said Schell, and Antony did, beginning with when we pulled over next to the woods late in the afternoon. I listened, reliving the entire scenario, and as I drew closer to the shack in the retelling, I began to sweat. When it was over, I breathed deeply and opened my eyes.

"She led you to the body," said Schell.

"Yeah, and then vanished," said Antony. "Once Diego found the girl, I thought it was best to run. I was afraid it might be a setup—the cops are tipped off and just happen to show when the two of us are standing over the body."

"It was good thinking," said Schell.

"One thing," I said. "Antony said the girl was naked. She was, mostly, but there was some kind of cloth draped over her lap."

"That's right," said Antony. "The kid's right."

"There was a design on it too."

"Of?" asked Schell.

"I didn't catch it," said Antony.

"A symbol," I said. "I've never seen it before and can't quite remember it. A circle was part of it and there were other things involved, but…"

"Well, not right now," said Schell. "But later on, try to remember the image." I nodded.

"What kind of shape was the body in?" asked Schell.

"I don't know, Boss," said Antony. "The poor kid was dead. I didn't look that closely. All I can tell you is the place stunk of death, and my guess was that she'd been there for a couple of days."

"Any marks? Wounds? Bruises?" asked Schell.

"Nothing," I said. "Just white, and her eyes, flies and moths, maggots…" I gagged, unable to finish. Schell reached across the arm of the couch and put his hand on the top of my head. "Okay," he said.

"I guess we just call the cops and let them take it from here, right?" said Antony. Schell lifted his hand off me and leaned back. "Wrong," he said.

"Tommy, forget it. It was a mistake to get hooked up in this to start with," said Antony.

"There was a point at which I could have backed out but not now. That little girl's come to life in my mind. Something stinks about the entire mess."

"Yeah, something stinks," said Antony. "A kid's been murdered, probably by some lunatic. Let the cops find him."

"What about Lydia Hush?" said Schell.

"What about her?" asked Antony.

"She obviously knew where the body was. What else do you think she knows?" asked Schell.

"Maybe she's really got the gift," said Antony.

"Bullshit," said Schell. "If you feel that way, then why did you suspect a setup?"

"Kid?" said Antony.

"I don't know," I said. "Her method of finding the girl seemed pretty suspicious. But she did lead us to Charlotte. There was something about her…"

"You two are wifty. I'm going to find her, then I'm going to find out what happened."

"All right," said Antony, "Whatever you say, Boss."

Schell looked over at me. I nodded. "I have to know," I said.

"Our first order of business is for me to anonymously tip off the police to where the body is. Then I'll call Barnes and tell him we found her. I'm going to beg him not to tell the cops that we were involved. That way we can hopefully avoid trouble and stay in his confidence. We're going to need to talk to him again, I'm sure." Schell stood up and took a deep breath. "This'll be rough," he said.

"Don't forget, you've only got a couple minutes before they can trace the call," said Antony.

"Yeah, I know," said Schell. "Come with me. I need you to give me the directions to the body." Antony stood and headed out of the room. He stopped midway to the hall entrance, turned, and said,

"Sorry you had to find her, kid."

"I'm better," I said.

After they left, I didn't want to be alone and thought of following, but a great weariness came over me. I thought, I'll just rest my eyes for a second and then go listen in. I woke hours later, surprised in a dream by the appearance of Charlotte Barnes. The room was dark. I heard a voice.

"Are you okay?" asked Schell.

"Just had a dream," I said.

My eyes adjusted, and I saw him sitting by my feet at the end of the couch. I wondered how long he'd been there.

"Did you talk to Barnes?" I asked.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"He wept," said Schell and patted my shin. "Go back to sleep. It's late. Everything's fine." The next morning I woke to find the nausea gone, replaced by a subtle sense of dread. I took a bath and changed my clothes, and got ready to lie low. That was the directive from Schell. We had to wait a few days for the furor to die down before we could dive back into the investigation. Antony had gone out early and picked up the newspaper. Pictures of the shack and partial shots of the body were all over the front page. "Barnes Girl Found Dead" was the headline. I passed on reading it, wanting to keep my breakfast down. It wasn't that the newspaper photos were so explicit, but I was afraid they'd awaken the image of her that, for the time being, slept in my memory.

I returned to my studies. Mrs. Hendrickson would be arriving in two days to discuss Chaucer's
Parliament of Fowls
, and it would get pretty unpleasant if I didn't know what I was talking about. Since we'd begun looking for Charlotte Barnes, I'd done no book work. I went to my room to get my notes and the huge copy of Chaucer. In the bookcase I saw another book I hadn't opened in years. I took it, instead, off the shelf and opened it. Very old and somewhat tattered, it was one of the first books that Schell had read to me from—
Fabulous Tales from Around the World
. On the title page, a previous owner, one Luciere Londell, had inscribed her name. I paged through until I found the illustration for "The Snow Queen," a woman who, in her paleness, could have passed for Miss Hush. I turned back to the beginning of the tale and read the first few paragraphs. It had been many years since I'd read about the demon who had created a mirror, the special nature of which reflected all of the true and good things in the world so that they seemed distorted, absurd, frightening. When the demon tried to take his mirror to heaven to show the angels their warped reflections, he dropped it and it fell back to earth, shattering into a million tiny particles. The wind blew these infinitesimal shards of evil into the eyes of two children who loved each other, and their views of the world and each other turned dark and disturbing. The image in my mind's eye of Charlotte's corpse was a shard from that demonic mirror.

BLESSING THE MANSION

T
he more I tried not to think of Charlotte Barnes, and the more I thought of Lydia Hush, the more desperate I became to again see Isabel. I had no means of contacting her to set up another rendezvous on the beach or to even let her know I was thinking of her. I lived in hope that she might call, but when the phone rang and I'd go to answer it with a feeling of nervousness in my stomach I'd be met by the voice of Sal, or the fake signature bark of Hal Izzle, or Vonda, the Rubber Lady, calling for Antony. It was frustrating, to say the least, and I began to plot, which was a perfect diversion from recent events. As Schell had taught me, "a con starts when there is something you want and you are blocked from attaining it by certain obstacles. The good con artist elicits the assistance of those who mean to stand in the way of one's attainment by appealing to their vanity, pride, jealousy, ignorance, or fear. One must first throw into a pile the expected rules of engagement, morality, society, and thought, set them on fire, and then proceed. Think big, have confidence." I did just that.

I knew Schell had the list of all the visitors to the Barnes estate in the months leading up to the disappearance of the girl. I was also aware that Parks was on that list. Schell wanted very much for us to pay another visit to Katie at the newspaper office to research the biographies and associations of the people in question. He was prevented from doing this by his own cautionary rule that we should lie low for a period, have nothing to do with our investigation until the hubbub died down and the reporters and police had somewhat withdrawn from the scene. With this in mind, I went to see him in the Bugatorium. He'd been doing some reading about one of his blue butterflies and wanted to tell me about what he'd read. "Were you aware of the fact that when this specimen is in its caterpillar state, it's protected from predatory wasps and generally tended to by ants?"

Of course I didn't know that, but I sat and heard the whole lecture out, nodding in the appropriate places, affecting a look of great interest. I learned that these servile ants perform their duties to the exclusion of just about all else because the caterpillar exudes a chemical known as "honeydew," which the ants are mad for. Schell went on for nearly twenty minutes, and when his enthusiasm had finally run its course, I tried to change the subject.