The Sixteen Burdens (13 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

E
LSIE
WASN
’
T
GETTING
anywhere with Police Chief Barry Stoker. It was difficult to get anywhere with a tree stump.

“I know who abducted those women,” she said. “You have to believe me.”

“I don’t
have
to do anything.”

The man leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk and turned up the radio. It was because of that stupid show,
Little Orphan Annie
.

Elsie sat down in a chair next to Lulu and resigned herself to waiting. This was her only night off at the casino, and she was supposed to be doing laundry with the taxi dancers and cleaning the dormitory.

Lulu twirled one of her auburn pigtails and leaned over to her big sister.

“This is fun!”

Elsie had only brought Lulu because the girl threatened to report her to Mrs. McGiverney otherwise. She had said it in a sing-song voice, with her thumbs tugging confidently on the straps of her overalls. That meant she’d do it. The little girl was ruthless.

The chief popped a piece of gum in his mouth, chewed it, and began blowing bubbles. Elsie sensed he was a simple man, emotionally. He went toward things that made him happy and avoided things that scared him.

He’s an eight-year-old boy in a grown man’s body.

Elsie felt at the puncture wound on her neck where the woman last night had held a knife against her. She remembered a fear so great it spilled out of her own body. Had she really instilled some kind of fear in the woman? Elsie closed her eyes tightly and focused her mind on the chief.

Fear, fear, fear.

“What are you doing?”

Elsie opened her eyes and found Chief Stoker staring at her.

“Nothing,” Elsie said.

Maybe that bloke, Gray, was playing a trick on her. He had the slick talk of a shyster and the kind of big, dark eyes a naive girl might trust. But Elsie noticed he was sizing up her coin purse in the taxi. And, after the incident at the circus, he was halfway home before he thought to help her.

Still, there was the anger he felt when he saw the slap mark against her face. People at the casino, even the dancers, were indifferent when Jack Siegel hit her.

There was something else she felt from Gray, too: A deep feeling that ran underneath those surface emotions, like a raging underground river far below a hot desert landscape. It was more vast than any feeling she had ever sensed from someone, and it frightened her. She didn’t want to be around if it ever broke to the surface.

Finally, Orphan Annie and her dog were rescued from a sinking boat by Punjab, and the gang landed safely on the shore of a South Pacific island, ready for their next adventure. Chief Stoker turned the radio off.

“Now, what makes you think you know who’s abducting these women?”

“I saw him. It’s Darko Atlas.”

“The circus strongman?”

“Yes! Come to the circus with me and search the grounds. You’ll find the women there!”

Stoker took his legs off the desk and blew another bubble.

“If you know so much, then how do you not know that the circus left town?”

“Has it?”

“You sure you haven’t dreamed this all up, little lady?”

“I am not little! I’m nearly sixteen!”

The chief pulled out a small notebook and pen.

“Where do you live?”

“Cherokee and Leland.”

“By the Bali Ballroom? You one of Jack Siegel’s girls? I don’t want any trouble with Jack.”

The chief picked up his phone.

“Sylvia, get me Jack Siegel on the phone. He needs to come pick up one of his girls.”

“No, wait!”

Elsie stepped up and put her hands on his desk. He stared at them.

“Sorry,” she said, removing them. “But think about the poor women. What a hero you would be if you saved them. Tara Winward. Nina Beauregard. Rebecca Santorini.”

Elsie sensed the chief’s heart leap when she mentioned Nina Beauregard. She ran with it.

“Think about what Nina Beauregard would do if you saved her. She’d want to take you to dinner. No, she’d want to throw a party in your honor. You’d be the man of the hour. The talk of the town.”

Chief Stoker smacked his gum; he seemed to like the idea of that.

“What do you get out of this?” he asked.

“The reward, of course! I get the reward, but you get all of the glory.”

He put his hands behind his head.

“Maybe. But like I said, the circus is gone.”

“I know someone who will know where they went.”

“Who?”

Behind him, the chief had a wall plastered with signed movie star photos. Elsie pointed at one.

“Him. Charlie Chaplin.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then turn me over to Jack Siegel. He’ll punish me worse than you would.”

The chief smiled and stood.

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

Chief Stoker was cursing under his breath as they drove up Charlie Chaplin’s long driveway. Having already buzzed them in, the actor was waiting for them in a robe on his doorstep.

“If you’re lying, little lady, I am going to make your life miserable. These Hollywood types don’t like to be bothered by us normal folk.”

Elsie’s palms were sweaty. She hoped Chaplin would support her version of the story; she couldn’t see why he wouldn’t.

Lulu’s nose was flattened against the window of the back seat.

“Is this a museum?”

“It’s some rich guy’s house,” Stoker said. “And get your schnoz off my window; you’re messing it up.”

The chief parked in the center of the circular driveway and got out. Chaplin approached him.

“Good evening, Chief Stoker! What seems to be the problem?”

“Evening, Mr. Chaplin. We’ve, uh, got a young woman come to see us. She says she knows, uh, about those missing women.”

The chief stared at the ground as he spoke, turning red in embarrassment. He seemed to realize how foolish his story sounded.

“How strange,” Chaplin said. “I haven’t the foggiest notion. But who is this—Elsie!”

Chaplin spotted Elsie in the car and opened the back door. She and Lulu got out.

“Elsie, we’ve been looking all over for you! Oh, thank you Chief Stoker!”

The chief raised an eyebrow and looked at Elsie.

“We’ve been fostering these two for a while,” Chaplin said. “So many children in need. Elsie has a good heart but she tends to wander off and has the most active imagination of any young lady I know.”

Elsie looked up and saw Gray stare out of the second-story window.

“That fellow!” she cried. “He was there too!”

The chief looked up but by then the window was empty.

“I promise, he was there!”

Chaplin smiled in a way that was patient and sympathetic.

“Poor girl. Let’s get you inside. How would you two like a hot dinner and a movie to watch afterward?”

Lulu’s eyes brightened up at this. Elsie clenched her fists.

“He hasn’t been fostering us, Chief Stoker, you have to believe me! He’s lying!”

Chaplin gently grabbed Elsie’s arm.

“Come dear, let’s get you your Ovaltine.”

Elsie stopped. She put her hands on her hips and looked Chaplin in the eye.

“Her name. What’s my sister’s name?”

“Why, it’s Betsy,” Chaplin said without missing a beat.

Chief Stoker turned to Lulu.

“Is that your name? Betsy?”

Lulu nodded her head eagerly.

Chaplin pushed the girls through the front door before Elsie could protest further.

“Thank you again,” she heard Chaplin say to the police chief.

“I wouldn’t mind coming in for dinner and a movie too,” the chief said. “I’m off for the rest of the night.”

“Sorry,” Chaplin said.

“Maybe just a drink? I did drive all this way up the hill.”

“Gotta go,” Chaplin said. “Take care now.”

Elsie heard the man grumble as he walked away.

“…Uppity Hollywood types…”

Chaplin shut the door and the police car peeled down the driveway.

“How dare you!” Elsie said. “All of you! I’m the only one brave enough to go to the police and they don’t believe me.”

Chaplin frowned; at least he had the decency to look remorseful.

“It’s not as simple as that,” he said. “We can’t get the police involved in this.”

“In what?”

Gray appeared at the top of the stairs. Lulu stared unabashedly at the grandeur of the foyer. Elsie grabbed her ear.

“You’re the worst! I’m your sister! And you lied!”

Lulu twisted out of the grip.

“I wanted free dinner and a movie!”

“Now, now,” Chaplin said, gently taking her arm. “Let’s get some dinner for real and talk things through calmly.”

“Yeah,” Gray said. “Cool down, dollface.”

“DON’T CALL ME DOLLFACE!” Elsie yelled.

“DON’T YOU YELL IN MY HOUSE!” Chaplin roared back, his face bright red.

He let go of Elsie and stepped back. Everyone looked at Chaplin in surprise, but no one seemed more shocked than he was. He took a few deep breaths and shook off the feeling.

“Elsie, can you pass your emotions on to others?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe. I think so.”

“She was red,” Gray said to Chaplin. “Then you turned red.”

“What do you mean I was red?” Elsie said.

Elsie sat on the steps of the stairs and put her head in her lap. Everyone was focused on her, and she could feel their emotions pulsating around her. Curiosity. Fear. Excitement. She covered her face and began to sob. It was simply too much emotion to deal with. She felt overwhelmed.

“Back off,” Gray said to Chaplin. “It’s too much for her.”

He and Chaplin walked to the far end of the living room but stayed within eyesight.

Elsie felt a hand on her shoulder, tentative at first but then more firm. Comforting. A moment later, she heard the ragged breath of crying next to her. She looked up; it was Lulu. She was crying but her eyes were wide and confused, like she didn’t know why she was sad. It was the strangest expression.

Elsie suddenly laughed. Lulu laughed too in response.

“I’m sorry,” Lulu said.

They hugged and laughed-sobbed a couple of times before shaking it off.

Gray took a few tentative steps toward them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone laugh and cry in the same breath,” he said.

Elsie wiped the tears away.

“Yes, well, you’re not a woman.”

Chaplin approached and held out his hand, but this time he waited for Elsie to take it. She did.

“Come now, we have a lot to catch you up on. We’ve kept you in the dark for too long.”

“But we need to get back. I’ll be in trouble with Mr. Siegel.”

“Nonsense,” Chaplin said. “We’ll make you some dinner and you two will stay the night. You’ve got worse problems than a lousy New York gangster. Believe me.”

Elsie felt a heavy ball of dread in her stomach.

What could be worse than Jack Siegel?

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

G
RAY
AWOKE
TO
the tweeting of songbird. It was different from the morning sounds he was used to—rattling coughs and the scrape of lame feet on the floor—but it interrupted his sleep all the same. The bird tweeted again.

Rich people alarm clocks.

Gray opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with Elsie’s little sister, the one with the big brown eyes that looked permanently caffeinated. He jolted backward.

“Don’t you ever blink?”

She was standing by his bed.

“Why do you have scars?”

She poked at his arm, which was dangling over the side like the pendulum of an unwound clock.

“’Cause I’m a real cutup,” Gray said. “Now make tracks, ya nudnik.”

“But I heard that—”

Gray shot up in bed. He looked at his arm. It was tingling strangely. How many days had it been—only three?

He jumped out of bed, past Lulu, and ran to the bathroom. Elsie was inside brushing her teeth.

“Excuse me!” she said.

“I gotta get in here,” he said.

He jostled her aside and opened the medicine cabinet. It was a jumble of toiletries: Dr. Lyon’s tooth powder, Rowland’s Macassar oil, and a canister of Indo Balm. He rummaged around and found a pack of new razor blades. He unwrapped one, then touched one corner of the blade over a vein on his forearm and pressed hard. Blood spilled out, streaming up his arm. He grabbed a white hand towel to soak it up.

Elsie dropped her toothbrush and stared, punch-drunk with disbelief.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“It’s OK. I gotta do it.”

“You have to
bleed
?”

He nodded.

She eyed him with fascination and disgust, like he was the Bearded Lady or a set of Siamese twins.

“But why?”

He shrugged.

“I dunno. They say it’s too thick, and if it builds up for too long it could clot.”

Elsie took a tentative step toward him and, as if on a dare, forced herself to look closer.

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah, it’s a hoot,” he said.

Elsie frowned and Gray wished he could take it back.

“It hurts,” he said. “But I barely feel it anymore. The thing about pain is that if it’s constant enough, you get used to it. It becomes normal. It’s life without the pain that would seem strange.”

She examined the unnaturally dark blood smeared on his arm.

“It’s revolting.”

“Well, you don’t gotta watch. If you’re looking for entertainment go see a Laurel and Hardy movie.”

He rinsed off his arm and found gauze to dress the wound. Elsie didn’t offer to help, but she continued to watch him, hugging herself like she was the one who needed consolation. Her stare made him uncomfortable.

“What’s the story with that dress, anyway?”

Elsie looked down at her outfit, the same one she had worn last night.

“What do you mean?”

The dress was made of blue-dyed wool, which was too heavy for California weather. It ended mid-shin, a few inches shorter than it should have. And it looked too girlish for someone her age with its long sleeves, tufted shoulders and buttons down the front.

“Let’s just say if anyone calls you ‘doll,’ they’re talking about the plastic kind.”

Elsie gave a kind of bouncing huff.

“This was a very expensive dress! And quite fashionable!”

“Maybe for a tea party with the Queen. Twenty years ago.”

Elsie looked at a sleeve of her dress as if seeing it for the first time. She rubbed the elbow, which was worn and faded, and touched a seam, which was coming loose. Then, without warning, she burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Gray shook his head.

There’s way too much crying when she’s around.

After showering and then bandaging up, he went back into his room where he found a stack of new duds on top of the dresser. Chaplin must have guessed his measurements and purchased them. Reluctantly, Gray changed into one of his new outfits—navy blue slacks and a lemon-colored button-down shirt with red suspenders, which he left hanging loose over his shoulders. His fedora lay on the nightstand and, although it didn’t match, he put it on too.

He found Elsie in the dining room, staring into a cup of tea, her plate empty despite the breakfast spread on the table. Lulu was there too, barreling her way through a stack of pancakes. Gray loaded up a plate for himself, then pushed a plate of bacon toward Elsie.

“Ain’t you going to eat?”

Elsie recoiled.

“I don’t eat meat.”

“Why not?”

“It tastes…sad and afraid.”

Gray shrugged and grabbed another piece for himself.

Paulette, Charlie’s wife, poked her head into the room. She was wearing a form-fitting dress with a colorful flower print and a hat with a brim the size of a pizza.

“My God, you’re multiplying.”

“Where’s Mr. Chaplin?” Elsie asked. “He needs to drive us back.”

“Charlie said he had urgent business. I think he just likes to sound important.”

Gray jumped up.

“Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know,” Paulette said. “He’ll be back in a few hours. I’m supposed to make sure you don’t leave. Ta-ta.”

She put her sunglasses on.

“Wait,” Gray said. “You’re leaving?”

“I also have urgent business. I’ll be damned if Joan Crawford gets her claws on the new Schiaparelli dress before I do. You’ll have to take care of yourselves.”

She pulled her sunglasses halfway down and gave Lulu a sharp stare.

“Clean your dishes when you’re done. The cook’s off until tonight. I won’t have ants.”

Lulu gulped. Paulette then looked at Gray.

“Don’t even think about stealing anything. I know where every hairpin and paper clip is in this house. Here, hold this.”

She thrust her blood-red purse into Gray’s hands, then clip-clopped down the marble hallway to the mirror by the front door. Gray scuttled behind her.

“And whatever you do,” she said, checking her makeup and primping her hair, “Don’t answer the door for anyone.”

“Because it could be dangerous?” he asked.

“No, because it’s the butler’s job. Were you raised in a barn?”

Paulette snatched her purse back and looked at the door, clearing her throat. Gray got the hint and opened it for her.

Panchito was standing outside, about to knock. Paulette threw up her arms.

“What is this, a halfway house?”

She pushed past him and out to her car.

“Don’t mind her,” Panchito said. “She’s always like that.”

Panchito looked at Gray’s lemon-colored shirt like it was sour in his mouth.

“Off to play golf at the country club?”

He brushed past Gray and headed straight for the dining room. Gray followed, and found Panchito loading a plate with enough sausage to recreate the pig it had come from.

Gray sat down and stared into his juice. They sat in silence a long while. Gray noticed the energy swirling around Elsie turn red.

“Well?” she finally said to Gray.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to make introductions?”

“Make ’em yourself.”

Elsie glared, then stood and held out her hand to Panchito.

“I’m Elsie Avery and this is my sister Lulu.”

Panchito wiped a greasy hand on his shirt and then shook hers.

“Chito,” he said with his mouth full.

“What are you here for?” Elsie asked.

Panchito nodded to Gray.

“He’s my damsel in distress.”

Gray gave him a sharp look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mr. Chaplin explained it all to me this morning. You’re valuable but helpless, so I have to watch out for you. Like a damsel in distress.”

Elsie laughed.

“So you’re like a princess, and he’s your knight in shining armor?”

Gray slammed his glass of juice on the table.

“Hold on now. I ain’t no damsel and I’m certainly not in need of any saving. I take care of myself. You wanna follow me around, fine. But you won’t stop me.”

Gray stood up and stormed toward the door as he struggled to latch his suspenders. Panchito and Elsie ran after him.

“Stop you from what?” Panchito asked.

“I’m gonna search Mrs. Pickford’s house. I need to find this Eye she talked about.”

Gray tried to figure out how to open the latch on his suspenders. He had never worn them before.

“I’m going with you,” Panchito said. “Chaplin only said I had to keep an eye on you. He didn’t say where.”

“I don’t need your help,” Gray said.

He fumbled with the suspenders until Elsie finally grabbed the latch out of his hand.

“Like this.”

She dug her nail in and unhinged for him. The latch teeth came unclenched. He grabbed it back.

“If you find the Eye, what will you do?” she asked.

“I’ll try to use it as collateral to get Mrs. Pickford back. And I’ll reveal Atlas as the Star Stalker.”

“Then I’m coming too,” she said. “I need that reward money.”

She put her hands on her hips, daring Gray to challenge her.

“No way, dollface,” he said. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“How are you going to get in?” she asked. “Break a window and hope no one hears? Surely there is still a house staff in that big mansion.”

“Bastienne, the housekeeper,” Panchito said. “She’s a real pill.”

“I can distract her,” Elsie said. “With my unique talents.”

She had a point. Gray hadn’t even planned how he was going to get inside, and trying to break in sounded like a bad idea if people were living there.

“Fine. You’ll distract the housekeeper and stay out of the way.”

Elsie clapped her hands together.

“I’m coming too!”

They turned to see Lulu standing behind them.

“Absolutely not,” Elsie said. “This could be dangerous.”

The girl grabbed Elsie’s hand.

“Of course you’ll let me go. I’m your favorite sister. And if you don’t, I’ll tell Mrs. McGiverney everything. She’ll ground you for months.”

Elsie ripped her hand away.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

The girl laughed uproariously, but then became very serious.

“
And
I’ll tell Charlie Chaplin you all left the house.”

“You’d rat us out?” Gray asked.

She stuck her thumbs in the straps of her overalls and stared Gray down. This was one tough little cookie. He shrugged.

“It’s settled then. She’s coming too.”