by Regina Doman
“You know what your problem is, Blanche? You never hang out. We would have gotten to know you better if you’d have given us the time of day.” Eileen sounded offended.
“I’m always doing something wrong, aren’t I?” Blanche heard herself say in a flat voice. “It’s three o’clock, if you want to know.”
Both girls laughed, and Eileen put a hand on Blanche’s shoulder. “Let’s talk for a minute.”
Traffic sped by over the crosswalk. It was just Lisa and Eileen, hungry for some gratuitous verbal torture. Blanche took a deep breath and forced herself to look up into Eileen’s tanned, thin face. “So what do you want to talk about?” she said in as strong a voice as she could. Eileen’s face wore a sweetened smile, but her eyes were nervous.
Eileen sucked her lip and looked at Lisa, who silently looked back at her with dark cold eyes. Blanche saw Lisa squeeze her eyes half-shut. Eileen smiled again and said, “Well, actually, Blanche, I wanted to ask you about this boyfriend of yours.”
“I just picked it up. Perfectly exquisite piece. I’d had my eye on it for years, and it just fell into my hands, yesterday. Isn’t it magnificent?”
The voice came from the vent as Rose stood on tiptoe beneath it.
“It’s lovely. So you got a good price,” the other man said in a tired voice, as though not really interested. Rose recognized the voice of the principal, Dr. Freet.
“A good price indeed. All that remains is for me to obtain the last piece. If I can get that, then I’ll have the entire set—chalice, ciborium, and paten.”
“I really don’t understand what you see in these old church artifacts,” Dr. Freet said. Rose heard the sound of a briefcase being snapped shut.
“That’s precisely the difference between us, isn’t it? To you, a mere museum piece. To me, a work of flawless craftsmanship and beauty. Perhaps that’s why I am the flourishing gallery owner and you are the washed-out idealist bureaucrat.” That disdainful voice undoubtedly belonged to Mr. Freet.
“That’s about all of your sarcasm I can handle just now,” Dr. Freet said shortly. “I have to get home.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be leaving very soon on that overseas vacation I’ve been planning,” the other Freet said. “I just have to finish negotiations on the last piece of the set.”
“Congratulations. Send me a postcard.”
Rose heard a door shut and the voices continued, but now muted so that she couldn’t make out what they said.
“Who?” Blanche said, blankly enough.
Eileen patted her shoulder consolingly. “You know, the one you went to the prom with. Cute guy. Quite a set of muscles on him, hmm?”
“Why do you want to know about him? He’s just a friend,” Blanche said woodenly.
“Just curious. How’d you meet him?”
“Through my mom,” Blanche said. Let them figure that out.
“You still seeing him?” Eileen asked, not missing a beat.
“Not lately.” Blanche looked around in the bright sunlight flashing off of the windshields of the passing cars. She wished they would stop their game, whatever it was, so she could go find Rose.
“Break up with him?”
“We weren’t dating. He’s just a friend.” Blanche tried to sound more irritated instead of pathetic.
“Yeah, right.” Eileen dug into her shoulder playfully. “That’s not what I heard.”
“I can’t help what you heard,” Blanche said.
“Heard you weren’t as ‘immaculate’ as we thought,” Lisa added, showing a shark’s smile.
A flash of white anger came over Blanche, followed by cold disgust. But her retort was cut off by seeing Eileen give her friend a warning look.
“Lisa has such a sick mind,” Eileen said, putting her arm around Blanche’s shoulder. “She can’t help it, really.” She was looking daggers at Lisa.
Now this was curious. Why was Eileen so anxious to be nice? Something was aroused in Blanche, and she began to study her interrogators surreptitiously as they studied her.
Rose’s fertile brain was whirling. Chalices. Ciboriums. Church vessels. It might not mean anything, but then again, it might mean a good deal. It might be worthwhile to follow him to see if she could find out anything more. She debated with herself. If Mr. Freet had been so enraged by them this morning, who knew what he might do if she spied on him? But if she were very careful, he might not even know she was there. It was certainly worth the risk, wasn’t it? After all, what could he do to her except call her names?
Rose went to the bathroom door and cracked it open. She saw Dr. Freet come out of his office with his briefcase and papers, followed by his brother, who was also carrying a briefcase and the brown paper package of this morning. Ah, thought Rose. That’s why he was so upset with Blanche for picking it up. He doesn’t want anyone else to touch his precious vessels. She marveled at the accuracy of her insight about Mr. Freet’s dwarvish habits.
The two men walked down the hallway towards the side entrance. After they disappeared through the door, Rose walked into the hallway as casually as she could and strolled to the window overlooking the faculty parking spots. She saw Dr. Freet get into his car, but Mr. Freet set off down the street on foot.
Quickly Rose scanned the parking lot and the surrounding streets. There was no sign of Blanche. Probably her sister was buried behind the sewing machine and had decided not to come.
Well, that was probably better anyway. Blanche wouldn’t like the idea of stalking an irritable old man. No doubt it was best for Rose to go on this adventure herself.
Rose raced down the steps to the door, then halted and walked outside casually. This whole thing might be a waste of her time and she could be worrying her sister unnecessarily. Still, there was always that chance…Feeling the drumbeat of a quest beginning in her mind, she began to walk after Mr. Freet as idly as she could, while pretending to look for something in her purse.
“So tell me more about this guy. Is he a nice boy?” Eileen was saying.
Blanche said, “Yes,” hesitantly, watching for Eileen’s reaction.
“Does he call you a lot?”
“Uh, no—” Blanche made herself sound scared and uncertain.
“Where’s he live?” Eileen asked nonchalantly. Lisa stared at Blanche intently.
So that was what they wanted to know.
“Why do you want to know?” Blanche looked from one to the other.
“Has he ever taken you to his home?” Eileen prodded.
“Why should I tell you?”
Eileen suddenly tightened her grip on Blanche’s shoulder, making her wince.
“Didn’t he tell you where he lives?” Eileen asked, as though nothing had happened.
Blanche struggled, but Lisa moved in on the other side and held her tightly at the elbow, jabbing her nails into Blanche’s skin. The pain hardened Blanche’s resolve to fight, but she played at becoming more frightened. Twisting, she complained, “Ouch! No. I have no idea. He always came to our house. What are you asking me all these questions for? Come on, let go!”
Eileen eased up. “So, where’d you go when you went out?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Oh, come on, Blanche—where did you go?”
“Different places,” Blanche said, stalling. Lisa was still digging into her.
“Like where?”
“We went to the Metropolitan opera once.”
“Rob told us that,” Lisa murmured.
Eileen ignored her. “Anywhere else?”
“Not really. Please, let me go!” Blanche had determined to say nothing about St. Lawrence church.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Lisa said.
“Shut up!” Eileen said to her abruptly, pinching Blanche harder.
“Please, let go of me!” Blanche made her voice more frightened than she actually felt, and Eileen released her. Lisa withdrew her claws, but still held onto Blanche’s arm tightly.
/> She couldn’t tackle Lisa in a fight: that was certain. Blanche looked up and down the street, wishing desperately that Rose would come by on her way home from school. But there was no sign of her sister. Oh, where was Rose when you needed her?
But before she could figure out what to do next, a car pulled to a stop right in front of her. Rob Tirsch was in the front passenger seat with two other guys, Tom and Carl Lester.
“What’s up, girls?” He leaned out the window at them, grinning. He looked handsome, wearing sunglasses and a sleeveless blue shirt that showed his tanned muscular arms.
“We’re just talking with Blanche here,” Eileen said.
“Want a ride?” Rob flashed a smile at Blanche.
Blanche ignored his charm. “Look, I have to go and meet my sister.”
Rob shrugged. “So we’ll give you a ride there—get in.”
“C’mon, Blanche, let’s go with them.” Eileen took Blanche’s arm. Rob threw the back door open, Lisa grabbed Blanche’s other arm, and the two girls pushed and pulled her into the car. Almost before Blanche realized what had happened, they were in the traffic and accelerating down the main road.
Mr. Freet apparently walked a good deal, because he didn’t slacken his pace for at least ten blocks. By that time, Rose was winded, but she didn’t dare stop. She kept on, making certain she maintained a safe distance between him and herself. Goodness, in this blue and purple outfit, she would stand out a mile if he turned around toward her.
The neighborhoods they were passing were getting more and more upscale, which was some comfort. She supposed they were getting near his house.
The house. The house of a dwarf. What would it be like to enter the house of a dwarf?
Her quarry rounded a corner, and remembering how they had lost Bear this way before, she hurtled after him. Luckily, she had the sense to pause at the corner and look casually around it. Mr. Freet had climbed the steps of a tall old brownstone and was unlocking the door. Even as Rose watched, he disappeared inside.
She felt her adrenaline begin to pump in earnest now. What should she do? At last, crossing herself and murmuring a prayer, she walked slowly down the street, casting nonchalant glances at the houses on either side. Passing Mr. Freet’s house, she noted that all the curtains were drawn and that there were bars over all the windows. An alley ran down one side of the house, and she could see basement windows, barred as well.
Uncertain of what to do now, Rose went stealthily into the alleyway, edged around the trash cans and recycling bins standing there, and looked at the windows. The first floor windows were too high for her to see into, and besides, blinds covered them. At her feet, the basement windows were curtained in black cloth. She heard a noise coming from the basement. Quickly she knelt down and listened at the window. Someone was in the basement, talking, but the voice was too muffled to make out.
Remembering a trick she had read about prisoners using, she went to the recycling bin and selected a tin can that seemed mostly clean. Then she huddled by the window, noiselessly set the can’s closed end against the glass, and put her ear to the other end. The can smelled strongly of seafood, but at least it magnified the echoes so she could begin to make out more sounds.
Someone was speaking in a low, harsh voice. None of the words were clear, but Rose thought she caught “useless,” “priest” and “easily.” Then, a moment later, the words “Speak up!” There was the sound of a sharp thud, as though someone had hit a sack of grain with a stick. To her horror, Rose heard a response—a dull, inarticulate moan.
It sounded as though Mr. Freet was beating someone. Yes, that must be it. Rose heard his voice begin again, more insistently, angrily. Then, there was silence. More blows resounded through the can, and Rose heard again the indistinct, agonized groans beneath each one. Even though they were almost inaudible, each one resonated achingly in Rose’s ear.
“So, what were you talking about?” Rob lounged back in his seat, looking back at the three girls over his tanned arm. “Girl stuff?”
“Blanche has been telling us about her boyfriend, right, Blanche?” Eileen prodded her. Blanche’s heart was beating quickly, and she could find no words to say. Was she being kidnapped? How did one behave when one was kidnapped? She remembered too clearly what had happened to Rose after the prom.
“Yeah, I’m interested in this guy, too,” Rob said, lighting up a cigarette. He smiled at Blanche. “You guys dating?”
“What’s going on?” Blanche asked, finding her voice suddenly in a burst of panic. “I want you to drop me off right now.”
Rob toyed with his cigarette. “Calm down. I don’t think we can do that just yet.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? What’s going on?” she asked.
Rob leaned forward, an earnest look on his face. “Well, it’s very simple, Blanche. There’s this guy—I don’t know his name—who is paying cash for any information about an Arthur Denniston who calls himself Bear. The guy wants to get him a message or something. Now, we haven’t been able to find Bear, but we all know that you know him. So, we just want you to tell us where he is.”
“But I don’t know where he is,” Blanche insisted. They had to let her go—they would let her go, wouldn’t they?
Rob shrugged. “We’re perfectly willing to split the cash with you. It’s a lot of money—and it’s nothing illegal.”
Would it help if she pretended to cooperate? “What’s this message you’re supposed to give Bear?” Blanche asked thickly.
“Well, now, I don’t know if I should tell you that unless you’re willing to tell me where I can find Bear. I sort of have an interest in this deal, myself, you know.” Rob smirked.
What could she tell him and get off safely? If she told them anything, how much would she be harming Bear?
“Why does this guy want to know about Bear?” she asked, trying to think.
Rob shrugged. “I really don’t know, but I doubt it’s anything bad. You don’t need to be afraid you’re betraying him or anything.” He waved his cigarette in the air, then tossed it out the window.
“Now, really, Blanche, can’t we work out some sort of deal?” He took off his sunglasses and looked at her with serious blue eyes, their black lashes and dark brows a compelling contrast. He had never looked so handsome and earnest before to Blanche.
Thoughts flitted across her mind like butterflies. The deeper reality. What was really going on here?
Finally she said, “You’re an evil prince.”
“What?” Rob gaped at her incredulously.
“You’re an evil prince,” Blanche said, shaking her hair back from her face. “And I’m not going to tell you anything.”
Everyone in the car laughed at her. Rob’s good looking face hardened into an unpleasant mask. “You’re a real weirdo, you know that, Blanche?”
“She’s always been weird,” Lisa said contemptuously. Eileen was coughing and laughing at the same time.
For some reason, their jeers no longer bothered Blanche. She realized that she had ceased to care what they thought of her.
Rob kept staring out of the front of the car. Finally, he turned around and said to Blanche in a warning tone, “Look, Brier, we’ll give you one more chance to come in with us on this deal. Otherwise, things aren’t going to be so nice.”
She already knew that, but there was nothing else she could do. When she merely gazed back at him, he cursed and turned around. “Okay,” he said to the driver, Tom. “Let’s go meet the guy.”
“What about her?” Eileen said.
Rob leaned back and surveyed Blanche with a shrewd smile. “We’ll just take her with us,” he said. “Maybe he can make her talk.”
Rose hunched down closer to the ground, continuing her secret eavesdropping. After an unbearable length of time, the beating stopped and there was silence for a while. Then the low menacing voice said something about “ways of finding out.” There was the sound of feet pounding up steps, getting softer and softer. After that, t
here was silence.
The front door of the house banged open, and Rose started, caught herself, and froze. She heard someone come down the steps and caught a glimpse of Mr. Freet passing by the alleyway, a hard, merciless look on his face.
Breathing softly, she crept out of the alley and peered down the street after Mr. Freet. He turned the corner and vanished.
She waited only a moment before she went to see if there was a door in the brick wall surrounding the back yard of the house. There was a high, ornate iron gate, but of course, it was locked. Inside the gate, she could see a small garden. Feeling fey, reckless, but strangely calm, she narrowed her eyes and gauged the height of the wall. It wasn’t any higher than the wire fence around the town tennis court she had occasionally shinnied over back at their former home in New Jersey.
Why am I doing this? she thought fleetingly as she hiked up her skirt, and put a foot in a small opening in the iron scrollwork. She didn’t answer the question, because, being Rose, she was comfortable with letting those questions be. With practiced skill, she grasped the side of the doorpost, and pulled herself up onto the wall.
After a few unsuccessful tries, she got a leg over the brick wall and scrambled down inside the garden, landing in a patch of thyme. As she got to her feet, she was startled to see a grotesque statue looking directly at her. In the center of the cultivated little garden, an apparent mixture of English and Oriental influences, there stood a little pedestal, where a speckled, many-headed creature crouched. Its leonine heads glowered in every direction, and one was facing her, as though it had expected an intruder to appear in exactly that spot.
Spooked, she made her way towards the back door, edging around its pillar. As she passed it, she couldn’t help taking a closer look at the monstrosity, which was apparently an original. It was made of oxidized metal, probably bronze, which had turned greenish-brown in the City weather. It had a round speckled body with hairy thick-clawed feet, and each of its seven heads sprouted twisted horns. The horns were strange – they appeared to be decorated with carved runes and bumps. The expressions on the blotched faces were varied, but uniformly malicious.
