The Time Deceiver

by Gerard Denza

  -Is Marlena blackmailing Dolores?

  -I don’t know. I guess that she must be.

  -Don’t you and Dolores share things?

  -Maybe I do know and maybe I just can’t tell you, Edward. I won’t betray a trust.

  -Fair enough. Dolores has got herself a pretty decent friend. Let’s get back to Marlena.

  -Yes?

  I got up for a moment to go and look out the window. Yolanda’s place was in a corner building right near an intersection. Automobiles passed by often and people were still walking on the sidewalks. I noticed one man by the bus stop waiting for his transport to arrive. I walked back to the bed and plopped myself down. Was I asking too many questions?

  -Tell me more about Marlena’s blackmailing business.

  -I don’t really like to talk about it. I don’t know if I should say anymore to you.

  -Trust me.

  -Should I? I don’t know if I should. It could be unwise for me to be too trusting.

  -Think of my confidence as an investment: one day, you might want to draw from your Edward account.

  -I like how you put that. I’ll take the risk, but it gives me the creeps to talk about it in detail. Marlena is smart and resourceful and maybe more resourceful than anything else. But, I don’t understand her or why she robs things.

  -To blackmail, you have to steal.

  -The blackmail is only a part of it. She’s doing something else. It’s something that she’s obsessed about. And, she does bad things, too...evil things that she knows I disapprove of.

  I got up, again, to look out the window.

  -Why do you keep getting up for, Edward? You know, someone might see your beautiful, naked body. Come back to Yolanda, for I have need of you so much more than the world. Let me caress you.

  -Hmm.

  -What is it? What do you see?

  -A man who I thought was waiting for a bus.

  -I haven’t heard any buses go by. Maybe, he’s still waiting for one.

  -Maybe.

  I got back into bed and took a big bite of the hero sandwich while Yolanda poured the wine.

  -There, Edward, a bus. He’s gone now.

  -What does Marlena do that you disapprove of? You don’t seem to disapprove of her blackmailing business, or at least not that end of it.

  -I neither approve nor disapprove. People are blackmailed every day, so I can’t concern myself with that. No. That doesn’t disturb me. Marlena robs other things besides the documents.

  -Like what?

  -Her targets are places that you would never dream of robbing or searching for documents in. She robs from churches and synagogues and probably other holy places, as well. I don’t know how she selects them; but, I’m sure it’s with a purpose in mind.

  -What does she steal from churches and synagogues? That’s a pretty strange combination.

  -Is it? Maybe not. Marlena steals holy vestments and the sacred objects on the altar.

  -What does she do with them? She can’t possibly sell them.

  -I don’t think so. Some of them she keeps and others she discards. And, the church documents, I imagine, are for blackmail, no?

  -It depends on the documents: personal files could be used for blackmail. But, I’m not sure what kind of documents are kept in a church that would constitute a blackmailing scheme.

  -Dolores says that she doesn’t steal many documents: only a few, and most of those she ends up burning.

  -What about the sacred objects? Does she perform holy rituals with them?

  -You make me laugh, Edward.

  Yolanda drank her wine and nudged me to do the same. I did and took another bite of my sandwich.

  -She performs no rituals and forget about holy ones. There’s nothing holy about Marlena. Dolores says that she’s afraid of something.

  -Who?

  -No, my sweet, not “who,” for Marlena is afraid of no one: not any man or woman. Forget it. But, she’s afraid of something. I see it myself. Each day, she becomes more and more frantic and superstitious.

  -I’d like to know what she’s afraid of. She doesn’t look like the sensitive type.

  I got up to go to the window, again. Why did I keep doing this? The sublime movement of a man with a beautiful woman to watch him? Maybe. The cold air felt exquisite and decadent against my genitals. I sat on the window sill and looked out on to the intersection not caring if anyone saw me. The window sill felt cold. That man still waited for his bus. It was the same man. And, I knew that he wanted to look up.

  -Yolanda? I think I’ll send our friend on his way. He’s still loitering out there. I don’t like his looks.

  -No! I will.

  Yolanda gathered up her robe from the floor and hurried over to the window. She wasted no time in flinging it open.

  -You! You out there! What do you want? Go away or I’ll send my boyfriend down to beat you up.

  I leaned out the window, pressing against Yolanda. I shouted down to the bastard.

  -You heard the lady, pal. Beat it!

  The man ran off down the street. His clothing was strange: a long, black great-coat and some type of bowler hat.

  Yolanda pulled me back into the room and got her arms around me.

  -Good to have a man. Now, come back to bed and comfort Yolanda.

  I pushed her back down on to the bed and stayed on top of her. Not too hard.

  -Now, baby, why do you think Marlena is frightened?

  -I don’t care why. Ask her when you see her tomorrow night. Maybe, she’ll confide in a man.

  -She lives alone? What’s so damned funny?

  -Marlena is never alone. She’s surrounded by people all the time. Her children-

  -Hold up.

  -Oh? Going too fast for you, Mr. Private Investigator? You ask an awful lot of questions, but I guess that’s part of your profession. Make love to me, again, please.

  -How many children does she have? Is there a husband to go along with this family portrait? I’d sure like to meet him.

  -She has two children: Gabriel and Susan. Susan is nice but plain looking; but, she’s smart and clever. I like her because she’s nice. And, there is no husband. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had him killed or did the deed herself. They say that he died of neglect. A good way to kill someone, no?

  -And, Gabriel?

  -I don’t think that he’ll ever marry. I don’t like him.

  I opened Yolanda’s robe and put my hand on her lovely pussy to warm myself.

  -What makes you say that? Doesn’t he like girls?

  -I’ve no idea. I don’t really care. You know, Edward, you don’t have to come tomorrow night if you don’t want to.

  -I’ll be there. If for no other reason, it’s something to do.

  -Marlena will take us all back to her place. She’s a good hostess who doesn’t hover over her guests all the time. She’ll probably take you aside at one point in the evening.

  -Tell me some more about yourself.

  -I bore myself.

  -Somehow, I think you’re vital to all of this.

  -You speak in riddles, you know that? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What am I vital to? I’ll bet that you can’t even tell me that, can you?

  -I can’t, baby. Wish I could. But, how the hell did I get into your ice skating rink tonight? Maybe...just maybe, I was headed there.

  -I don’t know. That was strange. I told you that I didn’t see you come in, that’s for sure.

  -Maybe Marlena can tell us.

  -Maybe. Edward, you smell nice. It’s almost a feminine scent, but on you it’s quite delicious and appealing.

  -So, you won’t tell me more about yourself? Give.

  -No. But, I’ll make a bargain with you: when you remember your past, I’ll come to you with my past.

  -Deal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EVIL MEN

  YOLANDA MADE ME BREAKFAST that morning. It was only seven o’clock, but we both wanted to get an early start.

  -I li
ke cooking for a man and waiting on him and pleasing him.

  -Sit on my lap for a minute.

  I kissed her and looked into her eyes and grew hard. Her hair was pulled back into a soft and silky ponytail fastened by a diamond clip.

  -What day is today?

  -Friday, darling Edward. Where will you be going? You may keep me company while I practice, you know. We can even go back to bed for a little while longer, if you like.

  -I’ll drop by later. I think that I’ll pay my own address a visit first and see if I can scrub off any memories.

  -You live on Staten Island, so it will take you the better part of the day. Do you know your way there?

  -I seem to. I think.

  -Don’t get lost...come back to Yolanda. I’ll be waiting for you at the ice rink, and try to be there at five, please.

  -I will. But-

  -What is it? Do you remember something of your past?

  -No. But, I’ve been thinking about how I came to be on that slab of ice at that particular time.

  -And?

  -You didn’t see me come into the building, did you? If I’d walked on to the ice, I’d have fallen or at least slipped.

  -It’s possible that I didn’t notice you. When I’m practicing, I’m pretty focused on what I’m doing. But, maybe, you did fall on the ice and hurt yourself.

  -Makes no sense. Somehow, I was placed on that ice to meet you.

  -Who put you there? Do you know?

  -Interesting how you phrased that question. I don’t know “who” put me there, but...

  -Say it.

  -I think I know why. It was to meet you and your friends.

  -Why?

  -Somehow, you’re a key component to all of this.

  -To all of what?

  -That’s the question that just maybe your friend, Marlena, can answer.

  -Don’t trust her, Edward. I don’t. And, she’s nobody’s friend.

  -I’ll remember that, baby. Better get dressed now.

  I showered and got dressed. I needed to go back to my place for a change of clothes and a shave: having the tiny stubble on my face bothered me. I felt sloppy.

  Yolanda told me what bus to get for the ferry, and now I was waiting at that bus stop. It was the same bus stop that that man had been at last night.

  Yolanda walked back into the kitchen and cleaned up. She placed everything on the sink rack to dry, except for one cup and saucer. Another cup of coffee was necessary and, perhaps, that would erase her sudden feeling of disquiet.

  She placed the cup of coffee on to a tray and brought it into the living room. Yolanda enjoyed eating a late breakfast by herself when everyone else was scattering off to the work place and the like. She sat down and sipped the hot coffee. It was an excellent brew and not too strong.

  The phone rang.

  Yolanda almost dropped the coffee cup to the floor.

  The phone rang, again.

  Yolanda answered it.

  -Yes? Who is this?

  -You know perfectly well who this is. I have not called to identify myself.

  -What do you want of me?

  -You sound frightened. Have you done anything that you would prefer I not know of?

  -Why do you ask me such a question? I’ve done nothing.

  -Liar. But, we will address your lies on another occasion. I have called to give you instructions. Listen carefully for I will not repeat myself. Keep your new boyfriend close to you.

  -I have no boyfriend.

  -Keep Edward Mendez close to you. I trust that you are capable of that. Introduce him to Marlena’s circle of cronies. I look forward to having two enemies. I find it stimulating.

  -Marlena is your enemy?

  -An excellent question. Yes. We are enemies.

  -Does Marlena know this?

  -She is an intelligent woman who is capable and sharp. One day, I’ll have to kill her.

  -I don’t want to hear this.

  -You needn’t be told anything further for now.

  -Who is Edward? Can you tell me that much?

  -Another question, Yolanda? And of all the people to ask it! If you could only appreciate the sheer irony of your question. Edward Mendez is a man whom Marlena has had the intelligence and good sense to try and recruit into her fold. He is not a follower, for he has the determination of his soul.

  -He doesn’t even know who he is.

  -An identity is as useless an encumbrance as a name. Edward Mendez literally feels his life and knows his purpose. He searches for the answer to the question: “to what end?”

  -What’s that question? What’s Marlena so afraid of?

  -Your association with me has raised your intelligence. You have improved yourself, Yolanda. However, I will not directly answer your question. Marlena also feels the pulse beat of her life. Years ago, I allowed myself to tell her of a coming event in a cryptic form, of course. I laid out a few pieces of the puzzle for her. She has now spent the better part of her miserable life trying to connect the pieces and fill in the missing portions: a daunting task even for her.

  -What’s this coming event- no. Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know. It must be terrible.

  -For a moment the scales will meet and heaven and hell will merge.

  -What are you saying to me?

  -It is difficult to explain to a mortal.

  -What do you mean by that? Who are you?

  The receiver clicked on the other end of the line.

  It felt good to be aboard the boat and alone with my thoughts. The vista was endless and the arc of the sky disappeared over an infinite horizon. The water was choppy and the boat was rocking back and forth. With one hand, I held on to the railing and with my other, I held my container of coffee.

  Staten Island loomed large and bleak. Why the hell would I have picked such a place to live? I shook my head in bewilderment at that thought. Maybe when I reached my place, I’d have an answer to that question.

  People started coming out of the boat’s cabin and headed toward the accordion gate. I looked around and saw no one I recognized which wasn’t the biggest surprise. I finished my coffee, tossed the container into a garbage can, and took out a cigarette from the nearly empty pack. In a few minutes, the boat docked. I was one of the few people getting off.

  I asked for directions at the ticket booth. I bought my ticket and boarded the train. Several passengers were aboard so I wasn’t riding alone. I tried to take a look at my fellow passengers: businessmen. They sat close together, but didn’t speak to each other: dark suits huddled together and not even a whisper shared amongst them.

  I felt like reading a newspaper so I looked around for a stray one that someone might have left behind. I should have bought one at the terminal.

  The ride seemed tedious but, at last, the train pulled into my stop. The doors opened and then closed and the train pulled out. I heard movements from behind and jerked my head around. The businessmen had gotten off the train and followed me along the station platform. One of them tossed his newspaper into the trash. It was on this pretext that I stopped and turned about in order to get the paper. I stole a glance at them. The brims of their hats were turned down so that you could scarcely see their faces.

  I picked up the newspaper and followed them off the platform and down the steps. They turned right and vanished. I hurried down the stairs and almost lost my balance. When I reached the sidewalk, I looked in both directions, but they were gone. I stared about at the desolate landscape: trees that were barren and gnawed by the winter’s onslaught and the grey and dead silence of the air. For all I knew, I had stepped into another world that had never known life. There was nothing left to do but to try and find my way.

  I walked fast and with purpose allowing my gut instinct to carry me along. At the fourth block, there were a few stores with apartments on top of them. I took out my wallet and looked at the address printed on one of my business cards: Edward Mendez/New Dorp Lane/Staten Island, New York/Private Investigator. Funny...the..
.my business card had a Manhattan address on it, as well: 423 John St./Room 1007 and a Manhattan phone number. I should have gone there. Later. After I’d finished here, I’d go and take a look at my office.

  I found the address and went to a wooden door. It was locked. I took out my keys and fitted one of them in and the luck-of-the-draw was with me as it clicked open. I walked in and slammed the door shut behind me. There were no lights on the stairway. I took the steps two at a time and noticed that the staircase was narrow and rickety.

  At the top of the stairs, there was another door to be unlocked. I took my keys out and, once again, luck was with me. The door clicked open and a telephone began to ring: my telephone. I groped for the light switch, flipped it on, and started looking around. The room was small and looked as if it had recently been painted. The only furniture was a twin bed, a bureau with a mirror, and a night stand. The phone was on the night stand right next to the neatly made up bed. I grabbed a hold of the receiver.

  -Edward Mendez here.

  My name had a nice sound to it. Yolanda had been right about that. I fumbled in my pocket for a cigarette and glanced into the mirror. I needed a shave.

  -Mr. Mendez? You don’t know me.

  It was a woman’s voice with a German accent.

  -You’re right. So, tell me your name.

  -My name is Rosamund Spender. I was given your phone number by Marlena Lake. Of course, you know who I am speaking of.

  -I don’t think that there could be another one like her. She makes a pretty strong first impression.

  -Yes. That is true. Miss Lake is an extraordinary woman.

  -What can I do for you, Miss Spender? How did you know where to reach me?

  -Marlena gave me your phone number. I told you this, so why do you ask, again?

  -I felt like it. How did Marlena come by it?

  -I would imagine, since you apparently did not give it to her yourself, she looked it up in the telephone directory. Is that so strange?

  -Not at all. She doesn’t waste any time.

  -How odd that you should say that, Mr. Mendez. You are quite right in that time is sacred to Miss Lake. But, now I must get to the point of our conversation.