by Gerard Denza
Sean laughed at nothing in particular.
-That puts me in a tight spot. I hope these candles have a long life to them.
-You interrupted me, Sean.
-Sorry, Oshido. Keep talking, man.
-Our murderer did not kill Becky so much as silence Yolanda.
-Hey, Oshido, man, have you noticed that there’s no more noise outside? The hell voices stopped and those shadow figures are gone and it feels kind of warmer in here.
-Yes, Sean, I have noticed. As soon as the moon set-
Sean shoved his candle in Abraham’s face.
-Hey, Abraham, what have you got to say? You’ve been awfully quiet, man. You’re not holding out on us, are you?
-There are nine of us left. And, the light is once again natural. The candles dispel some of the darkness. Whatever you do, do not let them go out. And, look outside. The street lamps are lit and I see lights on in the building across the street. Perhaps, we should investigate?
-I’d hold off on that for awhile, pal. The lights may be back on, but I don’t see anyone walking around.
Rose spoke and couldn’t take her eyes off the window.
-I’d have to agree with Sean on that one, Abraham. We’d better stick together for now. Who knows what the hell is out there.
-But, there is a murderer in this bar. I shouldn’t stay here.
-No one should stay here, Abraham, pal. And, you can leave any old time you feel like it. No one’s stopping you. I’m not. Just don’t expect any company or help.
-You don’t like me, do you, Sean? You feel as Howard did.
-Maybe. You may just be right about that, Abraham.
-Poor Becky.
-Right! You sound real broken up about it, Irene.
-Don’t be impertinent, Sean.
Oshido addressed the group.
-We must be patient and pray for our friend to succeed. To kill Becky was easy for our murderer; but, perhaps, Howard will prove more difficult to stop.
Sean laughed.
-Start rooting for Howard. And, that murderer might still be here with us.
PART TWO:
EDWARD
CHAPTER SIX
YOLANDA
THE SPOTLIGHT BLINDED me. I tried to lift my head up, but couldn’t. I felt the cold seep through my buttocks as it caught the direct route to my insides. I tried to turn my head, but the thought of moving was painful. I saw another arc of light from the corner of my right eye and, then, a shadow of a figure jumped across me. This shadow narrowly missed me and caused ice chips to splash on to my face. For just a moment, there was silence and, then, the sound of blades scraped the ice.
-Are you crazy? Do you want to kill us both? How did you get there and who let you into the rink? If the custodian did it, I’ll see to it that he’s fired. Why don’t you answer me?
When I didn’t respond, a note of concern crept into her voice. It was a Spanish woman. A beautiful Spanish woman.
-Are you unable to get up? I can see that you’re having difficulty. I’ll call the custodian over.
-No. Don’t do that. I’m all right now.
I got to my feet as this beautiful woman watched. I slipped and caught myself by putting out an arm to brace my fall. She laughed and put her hand under my elbow.
-Slipping, no? Let me help you. We’d better get you off this ice or you’ll slip, again, for sure. Come on, let Yolanda help you.
We walked to the chairs just outside the rink. Yolanda sat next to me, still with her hand on my elbow. I looked down at myself and saw some of what I was wearing: a trench-coat, wing-tip shoes, and slacks.
Yolanda looked at me and smiled.
-Now, you must answer my questions. Whom am I speaking to?
-I don’t think that I know.
-Oh? Are you unwell? Take out your wallet and that should tell us something.
I reached into my suit jacket and took out the wallet. Yolanda took it from me and looked through it.
-I like your name. It’s a strong and masculine name.
She was pleased with the amount of money in the wallet, as well.
-Tell me my name, please?
-Edward Mendez. And, you’re a private investigator, Mr. Mendez. I like that. Are you investigating me? Have I done something wrong that I don’t know of?
-I don’t know. I don’t think so.
-I’ll give you back your wallet now. I suppose if you don’t remember your name, you don’t know how you got in here either?
-I don’t. Where exactly am I?
-You’re in my private ice skating rink.
-You own this place?
-No. But, I do rent it on an exclusive basis.
-What for?
-I’m a figure skater. I’m practicing for the next National Championships. Today, I was trying not to break a leg and land a double-axel.
-You didn’t break a leg. Did you land that double-axel, whatever that is?
-Almost. I was about to attempt another one, when I almost fell over you.
-Where is this rink?
-In New York City, of course.
-And, what year is this...the exact date?
-It’s March 31, 1947, of course. You don’t know this?
-I don’t or I wouldn’t ask.
-You don’t seem certain about what you don’t know. I’m almost done here, so why don’t we go for a drink? I’ll change. Stay here, I won’t be long.
I stared at the ice rink, but that wasn’t on my mind. I lifted my left hand and stared at my finger. It felt like someone’s finger were pressing against it. I ran my fingers through my hair which was short and slicked back. I closed my eyes and tried to get myself oriented but without too much success.
1947.
An ice rink.
An occupation, but no identity.
Christ!
I kept staring up at the clock above the exit door.
-I’m ready to go. Are you asleep, Mr. Mendez?
Yolanda was a beauty: dark hair that cascaded to her shoulders, almond shaped eyes and full, sensual lips. Her skin was flawless and her hands were ready to caress every part of a man. I was pretty sure of this.
-You might as well call me Edward. Why don’t you take me to your favorite place?
-I know of a good pub close by and, of course, I couldn’t go there by myself.
The ice skater took me by the arm and flirted with me.
-Thanks for helping me out like this.
-I see no reason not to help you. I’m hungry and you’ll escort me to dinner. I find you quite appealing, Edward.
The walk to the pub was only a few blocks. It was cold and windy and the sun was on the point of setting. It cast long shadows as we crossed the street. And, it was so funny...it was as if I could see the two of us from outside of my body: two figures in the oncoming dusk.
-Stop here for a second.
-Why, Edward? I’m cold and it’s starting to get dark.
-You’re wearing a coat. You won’t freeze. And, besides, you’re an ice skater so you should be used to a certain amount of cold.
-Why are we stopping here?
-There are people walking by. I like that. Look at the sun. It’s gorgeous. It should never have to set. It’s a thing of such ultimate beauty: a red ball of light against that beautiful blue sky.
I was close to tears.
-It is a beautiful sunset. You like beauty, Edward? That’s nice in a man. You’re sensitive.
-It’s late March, you say?
-Yes. The last day. Now, let’s go in, please.
We entered the pub. Yolanda led us to a corner table in the crowded and smoke-filled room.
-Good. I like this table and the owner keeps it reserved for me.
-You know the owner?
-Yes. Not that well, and not the way that you think.
-I wasn’t thinking of anything.
The place was crowded. According to Yolanda, it was a popular place for college students to drink beer, smoke, and discuss philo
sophy. We maneuvered through the students and found an empty back table. Yolanda and I took off our coats and waited to be served. It didn’t take long before the coffees were brought over. She asked me for a cigarette. I reached into my inside jacket pocket and took out a half-used pack of Chesterfields. I offered her one and reached into my pocket and brought out a lighter.
Yolanda smiled over at me and drew on her cigarette.
-I needed that. But, are you not smoking, Edward?
I lit up and this seemed to please her. I sipped at the hot coffee which tasted good and took another deep drag on my cigarette.
-Now, do you remember anything about yourself and how you came to be flat on your back in the middle of my ice rink? I don’t understand how I didn’t see you walk in.
-I don’t have any answers for you. It’s as if my life were beginning on borrowed time.
-Oh? On whose borrowed time? How interesting. I’m also interested in such things. I have friends-
-What about yourself? You must be wealthy to be renting an ice rink. Are your parents supporting you?
-I have no parents. Quite frankly, it’s none of your affair as to how I support myself. But, I’ll say this to you: I know the right people and I know how to get on their good side.
I took another drag on my cigarette and exhaled the smoke away from Yolanda and into the already smoke-filled room.
-Uh-huh. Are your friends interesting?
The young woman laughed at this.
-They think so. Sometimes, they can be. Perhaps, they’ll be here tonight? They often come here for drinks and dinner.
-Tell me about them. Will I like them?
-Well, there’s Marlena who is quite ugly and on the fat side. But, she’s fun and clever. I like hating her.
-Who else?
-Others. Dolores might be here later. Yes. I think she’ll be here tonight.
We drew on our cigarettes. I offered Yolanda another one. She refused.
-One is enough. I really shouldn’t be smoking at all. It’s not good for a figure skater.
-It’s probably not the best habit in the world.
-So, Edward, where do you plan on spending the night?
-I haven’t looked in my wallet just yet. Did you happen to see an address in it?
-Yes. But, it’s quite a distance, you know.
-Where?
-Staten Island. I’ve never been there. So, why don’t you spend the night with me? You might have trouble finding your way back to your place.
-Thank you. I think I’ll take you up on that. Do you have an extra towel for me?
-Of course, but unfortunately, no pajamas.
-We’ll manage without them.
With the tip of her finger, Yolanda traced a valentine on my palm. Her touch was sensual.
-You have masculine hands and you’re tall. I like tall men. Are you selfish in bed, my sweet? I like that. I like to be played rough with, but not too hard for pain must be quick and sweet and savored.
-I’ll try to remember all that.
-Look! Here come Marlena and Dolores: an odd pair, no? Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of them quickly enough. Dolores will know enough to go, but Marlena might not. She’s the pushy type.
Dolores, although not quite as beautiful as Yolanda, was still a beauty in her own right. Marlena, on the other hand, was stout and disheveled. Her shoulder length, salt-and-pepper hair was an uneven mess that had seen better days. Underneath her trench-coat, she wore a housedress.
The two of them sat down without being asked. Dolores sized me up. Marlena openly stared, but good-naturedly. She was pretty direct with her questions.
-Well, Yolanda, new boyfriend?
-Yes, Marlena. I just happened to meet him at the ice rink. Edward Mendez, please meet my good friends Marlena Lake and Dolores Sarney.
-Miss Lake? Miss Sarney? Pleased to meet you both.
-Well, Yolanda, your new boyfriend looks interesting and intelligent. I like him. I’ll get straight to the point.
-Do you ever miss it, Marlena?
That was Dolores who spoke with a cattiness in her voice.
-Never. But, sometimes you do, lady. Now, shut up.
-Don’t speak to me like that. Who do you think you’re talking to? your son?
-Watch it, lady. Never mention my son’s name. Never.
Yolanda interrupted this argument.
-Marlena, you were about to say something?
-Yes. Anyway, Edward, we belong to this...shall I say, encampment? Are you familiar with the term?
-Yes. I think so.
-You do know something. Good. Meet us here tomorrow night with Yolanda and we’ll talk further: make it early, say around five o’clock? You can get off from work, can’t you? You see, Edward, we need another man with us.
-For what, Miss Lake?
Marlena played with the glass ashtray and then remembered to ask for a cigarette.
-Edward, in a manner of speaking, I’m in the research business and I need to procure certain rare documents. Time is of the essence. Anyway, I must be going now and Dolores will come with me. I don’t mean to be abrupt, but I’ve an appointment to keep and it’s imperative that I not be late. Dolores, let’s go.
-Oh? Giving orders to me? I’m not your slave.
Marlena snapped at this.
-Such a bourgeois term; but, remember, my dear, you’ll do as you’re told or else.
Dolores’s eyes glared with hate; but, she kept silent.
Yolanda looked at her friend in sympathy, but she was glad that they were leaving. Marlena gulped down her coffee and asked me for a couple of cigarettes. Yolanda smiled and shook her head. Dolores followed Marlena out, but she turned around to look at me and Yolanda.
-What was that all about?
-Girl talk. Nothing to concern yourself with. Let’s order some food and, then, we can go back to my place. Of course, you’ll order for me.
-I was going to.
-I don’t like to take any chances. Although, I’m taking one now, perhaps.
-Let’s eat. We’ll talk about our “chances” later.
The food was good and the portions generous. I noticed that Yolanda wasn’t a big eater. She was content to pick at her food and sip her Jack Daniels.
I drank my scotch and soda and chain-smoked.
-Come back to bed, Edward. I miss you.
-I will, baby. Just give me a couple of seconds.
I was in Yolanda’s bathroom and stood there naked with a semi-erection. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t stop staring into her bathroom mirror. My face was clean shaven. My dark hair was cut shorter at the sides than at the top and my dark, brown eyes had an almost vacant look in them. It was my face. It had to be. I ran my hands along my naked body: firm and well-defined. My thoughts seemed new: well tempered, even-keeled and patiently awaiting questions and answers, but to what? The cold, tiled floor felt good against my bare feet. Every touch and every sense that I could feel felt so good.
My erection was complete. I wanted to have more sex with Yolanda...to please her and caress and burrow into that loveliness that so needed my attention. I got into bed with this beautiful creature, carefully slipping my rod in, but not too hard and not too fast.
-Mmm...my lovely Edward that feels so good. Now, talk to me and ask me anything.
-Who are you, baby?
-Me? Such a strange question to ask. What exactly do you want to know?
-Just who are you- uh! You’re real moist. I’ll go easy.
-Mmm...nice. I come from Spain- from Barcelona and my family migrated here just before the war. I have quite a large family, but I keep in contact with almost none of them. Why should I?
-I don’t know. Are you a professional figure skater?
-Of course not. I’m an amateur. I’m preparing to enter the competitions beginning next year. I’m almost ready for them.
-So, your parents aren’t supporting you?
-You got that out of me; that was clever of you. No
wonder you’re a private investigator. I appreciate cleverness in people. But, I’ll beat you to the next question: I have a sponsor who believes in my talents and that’s how I can afford to practice in the rink as often as I do.
-Is this sponsor a lover?
-I don’t have to answer all of your questions.
-Oh, God! Hold still...hold still, baby!
I came, but stayed on top of her, holding her and never wanting to pull out of that wet pussy.
-Edward? You’re crushing me.
-Sorry. That any better?
-Much better.
-Tell me about your friends, Yolanda. And, thank you.
-Oh? Which ones? Marlena or Dolores. Dolores is prettier and a little interesting, but Marlena is much more interesting and, in her strange way, talented. I like talented people, so I keep her as a friend.
I pulled my rod out and Yolanda handed me some tissues to wipe myself with.
-Tell me more about Marlena. You sure don’t miss her when she walks into a room.
-Marlena is strange and powerful. I must use that word: “powerful.” But, I’m not really sure that I’m able to describe her power to you.
-Try.
-She’s superstitious and this makes her act very strange at times.
Yolanda changed the subject.
-Are you hungry? Go and help yourself to some food in the kitchen. I’ve plenty of cold-cuts and there’s even a loaf of Italian bread. Make yourself a big sandwich so that I may pick from it without angering you. Do you want a robe, my love?
-No. It feels good being naked.
-Good. I prefer you that way, too.
I walked into the small, white kitchen and opened the refrigerator which was packed with food. The sight of it all made me hungry. But, I stuck to the makings of a large, hero sandwich and some wine.
-Yolanda?
-I’m still here waiting for you.
-Keep talking to me.
-Marlena runs an interesting business.
-Document research, she said?
-That’s how she chooses to phrase it.
I walked back into the bedroom with the food and wine on a serving tray. The wine glasses, I held in my other hand
-Mmm...yummy. I’ll pick at your sandwich.
-How would you phrase Marlena’s line of work?
-She’s in the blackmailing business, sort of. She collects documents and things and even people. Dolores is a part of her collection. I don’t know why Dolores allowed herself to be, but who can speak for other people’s motives?
