The Girl in the Glass (8 page)

"Parks is sending me back to Mexico in the spring," she said. "The only reason he's waiting is that he doesn't want to train someone new during the holidays."

"Why?" I asked, sitting forward and slipping my arm lightly around her shoulders.

"His friends have told him it's not right to have a Mexican working for him. You know, La Depresión, the repatriation…"

I wanted to say something to comfort her, but all I could offer was silence and a firmer grip.

"It's fine," she said. "I want to go back and find my father."

"In twenty-four they invited us to come, because they needed us. Now we're vermin."

"Un país desconocido," she said and shook her head.

We sat very still then, watching the water and the moonlight upon it. Eventually I remembered Antony and the promise I'd made to be back within an hour. Saying nothing, I turned, kissed Isabel on the cheek and got up. She took hold of my shirt before I could rise, though, and pulled me close to her, kissing me quickly on the lips. In that moment, I realized I had fallen in love.

When I stood, I nearly toppled off the boulder and had to scrabble for a moment to right myself. She laughed. "I want to stay, but I can't," I told her.

"I'll call you," she said.

"I'll come," I promised as I stepped down onto the beach. Filled with a new kind of energy, I sprinted for a distance. Then missing her already, I turned for one more glimpse. I scanned the dark beach but didn't see her. Finally, I caught sight of her white dress, glowing in the moonlight as she ascended, like a ghost, the long flight of steps. I waved to her with the hat, but she couldn't see me. I began to walk quickly, hoping I hadn't kept Antony waiting too long. A bank of clouds moved in, obscuring the light of the moon. My thoughts were still with Isabel, and memories of our street in Mexico City mingled with my image of her. I trudged along, awake but dreaming, until I heard a voice. I started and looked toward the water's edge. There, I saw a cigarette ash go red hot for an instant, and I realized I was not alone on the beach. I stopped walking and listened. There were four or five shadows moving, gathered around the larger shadow of what appeared to be a boat pulled up on the shore. The sound of voices came more clearly to me now. I stayed very still, hoping they hadn't seen me. Who they were, I had no idea, but I was certain I didn't want to be discovered. In a moment, my elation over having kissed Isabel gave way to fear. I thought if I stepped carefully, making as little noise on the rocks as possible, I could get past them without their noticing me. After no more than ten steps, though, the moonlight found a break in the cloud cover and bathed the beach in its glow. I panicked and began to run, and the moment they heard my shoes on the stones, I heard one of them whisper, "Over there, get him."

I broke into a full sprint, and above the sound of my own pounding heart, heavy breathing, and footfalls, I heard my pursuers close behind me. There was no time to turn and see who was following, but from the sound of it, I surmised there were at least two of them, maybe three. Now that I had been spotted, I hoped the moon would continue to shine, as I could not spare an instant trying to locate the stairway leading to my rendezvous with Antony.

I ran like a rabbit, spurred on by fear, for at least five full minutes before I began to weaken. My legs cramped, there was a pain in my side, and I gasped for air, but I pushed on as they closed the gap afforded by my head start. Then I saw ahead, along the shore, the outline of the white buoy I had noted earlier. With a quick cut, I turned in toward the cliffs, searching frantically for the stairway. For a few moments, I ran with no destination in sight, merely guided by faith that I would find my escape route. Another cloud covered the moon, and the beach was again plunged in darkness. Almost at the last moment, I saw the steps running up the cliff face and made for them. One of the pursuers had broken away from the others and was so close I could hear him panting behind me. I reached the stairs and took the first ten steps in three inspired bounds. I lingered on the tenth step, and when I heard the wood of the stairs creak behind me, I turned, sat, and lifted my legs, drawing them in toward my chest. He was a big man with wide shoulders, a knitted cap on his bald head, and grasping hands that appeared huge as they lunged for me out of the dark. That was all I saw of him, though, because when I released my legs, the soles of my shoes hit him square in the face, and he tumbled backward and away. I didn't wait to see where he landed but immediately rose and continued upward. In the meantime, another of them had gained on me and was already on the steps. The exertion of stopping the lead fellow had sapped my strength, and with every step in the ascent, I lost a measure of speed. I was literally gasping now, and I thought my heart would explode. There was no choice, I had to stop, if only for a moment to catch my breath. In doing so, I looked down and saw the second man just a dozen steps below me. Luckily, he was also winded and had paused briefly. During that respite I looked up and saw that I had only twenty steps to go. I knew I could make it. One more deep breath, and I plunged forward. I saw the trees of the woods above me, saw the final step of the stairway, and felt a new burst of energy. That's when I slipped, lost my footing, and fell forward, banging my shins and elbows on the hard wood. My stumble gave the man behind me just enough time to catch up.

Yes, I made it to the top and onto the forest path before he caught me, but I wasn't too far in among the trees before I was hit from behind. He lunged and managed to wrap his arms around my ankles. The hat I'd carried through all of it flew out of my grasp, and the impact of the fall jarred me. Still I squirmed like an animal to escape his hold. Managing to roll over and free one of my legs, I began kicking him as hard and fast as I could.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch," he groaned.

On the last wild kick, my shoe flew off and hit him in the face, and that was the moment of distraction I needed to free my other leg and scrabble to my feet. I was off again, hobbling over sharp sticks and stones littering the path. Then a gunshot sounded from a few feet behind me and I froze. When the echo of the explosion died away I heard him say, "Move an inch and I'll drop you." I turned to face him, bent in half, trying to catch my breath. He was only a silhouette, but most definitely a silhouette with a gun. Resting a hand against a tree at the side of the path, he too was panting. "Over here, Bill," he called out, apparently signaling his position to his friend somewhere behind him. He lifted his gun arm and said the word "What…," but that was all he said. A shadowy figure darted out from behind the tree he leaned against. There was a heavy thud whose center was a quiet crunch of bone, and my captor went down fast without so much as a peep. The large shadow moved toward me.

"Let's get out of here, kid," it said.

"There's another one coming," I told Antony.

"No there isn't," he said.

DANCING IN THE DARK

B
ootleggers," he said as we took the road back to the house. He drove with the window open, flicking ashes into the night.

"What?" I asked.

"They're running booze in from Canada," he said. "Probably some lousy grain they mix with juniper berries and perfume."

"I think they wanted to kill me."

"I doubt it," said Antony. "They don't need bodies. They wanted to know who you were. If they thought you were a fed, then they might kill you."

"Thanks," I said.

"Hey, where's the hat?"

"Back on the trail. I dropped it when the guy jumped me."

"Well, at least Parks won't find it now. So, you saw the girl?"

"Yeah," I said, and there must have been something in the way I said it because Antony hummed and mumbled "Dancing in the Dark" the rest of the way home.

Schell was waiting for us in the living room when we came in. He eyed me up and down once, focusing on the dirt stains on my pants and shirt, my torn collar, my missing shoe. He didn't ask any questions but merely raised his right eyebrow.

I knew he was expecting an answer, and I was more than willing to tell him what had happened, but Antony had sworn me to secrecy. Stammering, "I've got to get changed," I quickly left the room and went down the hall, leaving it for the big man to sort out. Stopping short of my bedroom, I waited to hear the excuse he'd concoct.

"I thought you were going for cigarettes," said Schell.

"Well, Boss," said Antony, and there was a long pause in which I could almost hear the gears in that enormous head slowly turning. "I did get cigarettes, but the kid asked me to drop him off for an hour so he could meet up with that girl he'd met at the Parks place a couple weeks ago."

"What was it, a bare knuckle match?" asked Schell.

"You know," said Antony. "First date."

"It's against policy to socialize with the clients," said Schell.

"Boss, she's Mexican. I thought it'd be good for him."

"Why didn't he just tell me?"

"You're his old man. No kid tells their old man that kind of crap." Some time passed, and then Schell added, "She must be a tough customer."

"What could be better?" said Antony.

Schell must have known I was eavesdropping from the hallway because he called for me to come into the living room. I hobbled in, one shoe still on my right foot. He pointed for me to take a seat in the chair opposite his. Antony was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded. Schell leaned forward and rested his wineglass on the coffee table. "Gentlemen, we're in business," he said. I thought a lecture would follow, but instead he told us that Barnes had called and was eager to meet us.

"When?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Ten sharp. I think we should appear in force. So Antony, you'll wear the chauffeur rig. Diego, you'll be in swami mode, but let me do all the talking on this venture."

"Have the police come up with anything?" I asked.

"As far as he said, nothing," said Schell. "Tomorrow, after he meets us, if he's convinced, he promised to fill us in on the details."

"I hate to say it," said Antony, "but the girl's probably dead."

"Why?" I asked.

"Unless Barnes tells us otherwise tomorrow, it's been too long a time without a ransom demand," said Schell. "If someone kidnapped her, there'd be a reason, and usually that's money, especially with a mark like Barnes."

"There could be another reason," I said, not wanting to think of the girl having been murdered.

"Slim," said Antony.

"And," said Schell, "the chances are it was someone who knows her. That's just the odds. So keep your eyes peeled when we get over there tomorrow. Watch the help, the wife, everybody's a suspect. Even Barnes himself."

"We'll figure it out," said Antony.

"I don't take kindly to being a patsy for the spirit world," said Schell. "The girl in the glass, when she looked at me, it was almost as if she was daring me to figure her out." Antony stood up and announced that he was turning in. As he left the living room, walking behind Schell's chair, he turned his head and winked at me, a smile on his face. He'd sold me down the river to hide the fact that we'd gone out to get the hat, and I was somewhat upset with the story he'd told, but I had to hand it to him, he wasn't a bad con man.

I also stood up then, but the moment my rear end left the seat, Schell said, "Sit down." I did.

"You went to see Isabel tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Does Parks know?"

"No, we met on the beach."

Schell sat quietly, as if weighing this information. When he finally spoke, his tone led me to believe he was overriding his better judgment. "Do what you have to do, but make sure he never hears of it."

"I understand."

"One mistake and we could be out of business," he said.

I nodded and then stood up to leave. As I passed by him, he reached out and grabbed my arm. "Do you like her?" he asked.

"I like her a lot," I said.

"Good," he whispered. He closed his eyes and sat there for a couple of seconds, holding my arm, before finally letting go.

HUSH

H
arold Barnes presented a more convincing Teddy Roosevelt then I did a Hindu swami: blunt mustache, squinting eyes behind round glasses, teeth like piano keys, stocky build draped in a black suit. He wasn't exactly a Rough Rider when it came to the personality though. It was easy to see how hard the loss of his daughter had been on him. His complexion was ashen, and he more dragged himself around than walked, as if he hadn't slept since she'd disappeared. Another man might have been frantic and filled with anger, but Barnes was mild as a lamb and spoke so low I often had a hard time hearing him. We wound up, after navigating the extensive hallways of his enormous mansion, in a solarium on the ground floor in the western wing. Barnes sat behind a desk and Schell and I on cushioned chairs facing him. Outside, the sun beat down on the last few rose blossoms in the garden his child had been snatched from.

Schell made the introductions. There was always a moment when he relayed my lineage to the clients during which I held my breath and waited for a sign that they'd bought our bill of goods. Many of them, I could tell, viewed me as some exotic but not very inviting necessity of Schell's occupation, sort of like Morty's snake, but Barnes was truly interested and seemed pleased to have the input of the exotic East in his corner.

"Mr. Barnes, we were devastated by the news of your daughter's disappearance and thought it only right to volunteer our services to help locate her," said Schell.

"You come with excellent credentials, Mr. Schell," he said. "George Parks, the widow Morrison, the Vincents, Mr. Goshen, have all vouched for your abilities and your professionalism. Your concern is appreciated."

"When a child's well-being is at stake…," said Schell.

"How did you become aware of our situation?" he asked.

"To tell you the truth, I was conducting a séance for Mr. Parks a week ago, and your daughter's image came through to me in the midst of it. This was before I'd even heard of her disappearance. When I read the newspaper and saw her photograph, I realized she'd been calling out to me for help."