Jeffrey’s smile disappeared, and he continued walking to his car. The two of them moved step for step with him, blocking his way; the younger maintained eye contact the entire time.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something?”
“You can leave,” the younger one said. “Go back to New York where Jews are welcome.”
Jeffrey shook his head, raised his eyebrows, and continued, “It seems to me that Jews are welcome in this town as well, unlike ignorant anti-Semites.”
The younger man named Sean looked briefly confused by Jeffrey’s use of large words, and he looked to his companion for reassurance. The older one was still trying to figure out where Sean had seen the mysterious Jew.
“Does the sheriff know the two of you like going around harassing people for no reason?”
The older one started to chuckle, and Sean stared at Jeffrey with the kind of expression that one only sees in bad movies about life in Appalachia country. His brain was obviously still trying to figure out whether or not he had somehow been insulted.
“Say, Carl,” Sean continued, “don’t you drop off papers and such to this fella’s house?”
“Sure do,” the man named Carl answered. “When the spook ain’t around.”
“That’s right; Mr. City over here is living with a regular old ghost now, isn’t he?”
“He sure is, Sean.”
This was a bit troubling for Jeffrey to hear, because this obviously meant that word had somehow spread through the town that the cabin Jeffrey now owned and lived in was haunted, and the entire town seemed to know it.
It also made a lot of sense when he stopped to think about the odd behavior of the sheriff, the entire town seemingly wanting to ingratiate themselves to him in an attempt to make him want to stay, and that very strange encounter that he had had with Abby Tisch in the bookstore. Everywhere he went in the town, on the few occasions he had visited, had always been met with odd behavior from the residents, and even stranger still was that everyone seemed to know about Saul or something like Saul, and he was the last person to hear about it.
He knew he would have to pick his words very carefully, because he did not want to add any credence to this young man’s beliefs that Jeffrey was in some way in cahoots with a ghost. This was something Jeffrey needed to keep to himself until he at least had a chance to speak to Saul about it. Perhaps Saul was aware of the fact that the townsfolk were on to him, and he was staying put because of that. It was also quite possible, although highly unlikely, that he knew that he was the source of great interest to people like Abby Tisch, and he wanted to remain off of her radar for as long as he could.
“I’m sorry, did you say ghost?” Jeffrey deflected.
“Don’t play stupid with me, city man,” Sean answered harshly, taking a step closer. “The whole town knows that your place is haunted by some big faggot.”
“That’s right, a pansy like that Tinkerbelle, isn’t that right, Sean?”
“That’s right, Carl.” Sean moved even closer to Jeffrey and continued. “What’s been going on up there with the two of you? Getting all comfy and cozy like?”
Jeffrey swallowed hard against the smell of stale tobacco and alcohol permeating from Sean’s breath and answered, “I honestly have no idea where you heard such a ridiculous story, nor do I have the time to entertain such pointless gossip. Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I would like to get into my car.”
Carl took up position behind Jeffrey as Sean moved in even closer and said, “You just watch yourself, Jew. I’ve been watching you, the whole town has been. You and that faggot ghost of yours are going bye-bye real soon.”
Jeffrey felt an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and anger swell over him, and he actually thought he felt his fist clench; this was not like him. He stared at Sean directly in the eyes, holding his gaze with every bit of bravado that he could muster, and answered, “A Jew-hating homophobe with oedipal overtures says what?”
Sean and Carl shot confused looks at one another and in unison asked, “What?”
Jeffrey smiled and said, “Exactly. Two for one.” He walked past the two dumbfounded men and unlocked his car door, sliding into the driver’s side, and continued, “Good day, gentlemen. I’ll try not to pish or plotz on your lawn.”
Sean and Carl watched as Jeffrey drove away, and Carl asked, “Sean, do you think we were just insulted?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because he was saying all of those fancy—”
“Jesus Christ, Carl! I know what you meant.”
Sean spat as he watched the car disappear into the town and continued to steam over the first meeting with Jeffrey. This was a smug man who needed to be taken down a notch or two, and Sean Wagner was just the man for the job. He knew what his foster father, Sheriff Pitts, had told him about laying a hand on Jeffrey, but he had never said anything about touching the house or his car.
He smiled to himself as he thought of the prospect of watching that old haunted house burn to the ground with Jeffrey stuck inside. The city boy and the ghost would both be gone in one fell swoop, and it made Sean feel like he had just won the lottery or some other coveted prize. The knowledge that he was going to do something horrible to the obnoxious outsider was beyond anything else that he could think of, and delight filled him with a warm and pleasing feeling that he did not want to let go of.
It was just a matter of time.
* * *
He rarely left the house for more than a few minutes, and that was usually to just walk around the property and enjoy nature’s beauty, but from time to time he left to go into town, and when he did, he was certain to keep himself concealed and did not allow anyone to be aware of his presence; that is, except from Melissa Foreman.
Saul watched as Jeffrey spoke to those two schmendricks, Sean Wagner and Carl Thomas. He heard a bit of the back and forth and had to admit that Jeffrey’s comeback was priceless, but there was something more that he could not explain.
How did a complete and total nudnik like Sean Wagner know about Saul, and what was Jeffrey doing in this part of the town? The only thing worth seeing was the library and that should not have served any purpose unless …
Saul stopped himself and came to the realization that his new friend had obviously come into town to do some research rather than ask any of his questions outright. It was a bit upsetting, but not that surprising given the nature of mortals. Saul knew how they felt about things that they could not understand. He had been one of them once and had felt the same way as they now do. If he had known for sure that there was an afterlife, he would not have been so quick to take his own life; by doing that, he was now doomed to spend eternity on earth living among humans and watching as they progressed, or more likely degenerated, from one generation to the next. There would be no heaven for him, and Jews did not believe in hell, so he just assumed that this was his place of eternal torment.
He would go back to the cabin this evening and carefully question Jeffrey about what he had been doing all day. He would gauge how far their friendship had grown in a short time and whether or not he could truly be trusted.
But first, he had things of his own to do while in town. The young Foreman girl, Melissa, was waiting for Saul for her acting lessons, and he never missed an appointment. Normally, she would come to the cabin, but Jeffrey did not know about her, and Saul wanted to keep it that way. She was showing a great deal of promise, and Saul was going to see to it that she was groomed into the diva he knew she could one day be. She would be his greatest achievement, and she would accomplish what he could never do during his life. She would conquer Broadway.
Between his work with Melissa and Jeffrey, his plans were now starting to take form, and he would soon know what true success and happiness were. It was all there for the taking; he just had to remain vigilant.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Love and Sushi
She felt guilty. She always did whenever she was unfaithful, whether it was in
her personal life or her professional life. Her honesty and no nonsense way of doing business was something that she took a great deal of pride in. But there was something about Richard Kearney, who was able to manipulate her in ways that she could not explain, that made her do things that she normally would not even consider.
Their evening together had been exactly like it was their first time all over again, full of exploration and awakening. She knew she did not belong with him, but she could not avoid his pull and was drawn to him the way a moth is drawn to the light.
She had seen to it that no one knew where she had been last night, and she had covered all of her tracks so that word would never get back to Jeffrey, but Rachel knew deep down that eventually she would slip up and someone that she did not want to know about her affair would find out and that person would be the first to tell her companion and lover of the last five years.
Rachel sat in her office checking e-mails and catching up with some work that she had neglected; she had a couple of deadlines on reviews she had not yet gotten to and that needed to be addressed immediately. As far as her other messages were concerned, they were mostly the obligatory type that she could put offfor a couple more days.
Her calendar was full, and she knew that work was the best way for her to escape from the guilt she was feeling over her infidelity and disloyalty. Loyalty had always been something she took very seriously and prided herself on, but here she was acting in the most treacherous of ways. Work was her answer. Bury yourself in your work, she told herself.
Her assistant, Cheryl, came into the office to go over her schedule for the day, and Rachel examined it to see if there was anything that she could put offfor a couple of days, if not weeks, and she came across the name for her next appointment and a lump formed in her throat, for it was Mendel Fujikawa.
This was the last person she wanted to see, and she wanted to know how he had wound up on her schedule without her knowledge. Cheryl told her that it was due to the fact that she was not able to be reached over the last twenty-four hours, and he had said that it was an urgent matter regarding a play that was coming to the theater soon.
“Is there any way that we can reschedule him or cancel?” Rachel asked, concerned.
Cheryl shook her head and said, “He’s outside right now.”
Mendel Fujikawa was the man who she knew was behind the destruction of Jeffrey’s career and personal life, and there was no one on earth whom she hated more than this man, with the possible exception of Jacob Stone. She swallowed hard against the feelings of anger and rage she was experiencing and told Cheryl to let the little man in. She was determined to make this a very short meeting.
Fujikawa entered her office like a conquering general and smiled broadly with that toothy grin that gave him an almost unnatural quality when you looked at him. He was decked out in a canary-yellow sports jacket, turquoise pants, and white slip-ons.
The man has flare, if nothing else, she thought.
He walked around her desk as she stood to greet him professionally, and he gave her two shadow kisses and stood back to look over her body and her outfit. He took a deep breath and put both hands to his mouth, and said, “Look at you, Ms. Benjamin! How do you do it? Do you ever eat?” He giggled and looked out her office window to Times Square below and continued, “This must be some gorgeous view at night when everything is lit up.”
She did not answer; she only watched as he made small talk, as if the two of them were the best of friends, and she made a motion with her head toward Cheryl to let her know that she was to come back in five minutes to get her out of this meeting.
“You won’t need her to come in and save you, Rachel,” Fujikawa said without turning, in a slightly menacing way. “I promise what I have to say won’t take more than five minutes.”
Rachel and Cheryl exchanged uncomfortable looks, and Cheryl took her leave of the office, closing the door behind her. Rachel motioned for Fujikawa to take a seat and took her place in her own. Mendel sat across from her and crossed his legs.
“Don’t you want to offer me anything?” he asked.
“How about a slap in the face?”
“Tsk, tsk. No need to stop being a lady on my account. Besides, you’re not my type.”
“It must’ve been hard on you when the Berlin Wall went down. No more East German men,” Rachel replied.
Mendel winked at her and said, “There’s always a good man around when one needs one.” He pulled a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and looked at the lenses for any dust and continued, “Where is Jeffrey?”
Rachel was not expecting such a blunt question about the whereabouts of her boyfriend; she was more inclined to believe Fujikawa would play a game of cat and mouse with her first.
“Did you check his apartment?”
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Fujikawa answered curtly. Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat due to his harsh tone and continued, “He’s out of town for a few days.”
Mendel smiled at her and looked at her ceiling. “You don’t say. That’s nice. And when will he be back exactly?”
“He didn’t say.”
“You wouldn’t be lying to me now, Ms. Benjamin, would you?”
Rachel was staring at her desk clock, wondering if Cheryl was going to come in looking for her any time soon. She felt as if she were in a jail cell, nude, and all of the eyes of the prison were staring at her; she was exposed and knew it, and what was worse was that Fujikawa knew it. He knew she was lying, and she also knew that he was losing any patience that he had for her.
“I told you what I know, he’s out of—”
“Shut up!” he screamed. “You know what I am talking about. I want to know where he is, and I want to know right now!”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden outburst by this odd little man, her office door immediately opened, and a stunned and frightened Cheryl looked in, not knowing what to expect.
Mendel leaned over her desk and stretched as close to her as he could and whispered, “It would be in everyone’s best interest if you would tell me where he is.”
She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure and answered, “He didn’t say.”
Fujikawa held her gaze for a few moments and slowly turned to leave her office. He stopped next to Cheryl, quickly grabbed her by the throat, and in one motion withdrew a butterfly knife and held it to her cheek. Rachel reached for the phone and Fujikawa yelled at her, “Stop! Put it down.” He smelled Cheryl’s neck and gently blew on her ear, “It would be such a shame for you to have her blood on your hands. Besides, I don’t like the police.”
Rachel was breathing heavily, and Cheryl was fighting back tears as Mendel pointed the blade at Rachel and continued, “I think you know where Jeffrey is, and I think you are going to tell me in the next forty-eight hours.”
Cheryl was now trembling so hard that Mendel’s hand was shaking, and he quickly swiped the blade across her cheek, breaking the skin, causing it to bleed freely. He allowed her to drop to the floor and said, “I know you will have some information for me by then. Believe me when I tell you that you want me to find him before some others do.”
He left her office and Rachel ran to Cheryl’s side. The two of them embraced and began crying loudly in each other’s arms.
For all of her sins and other forms of betrayal, Rachel knew that she had done the right thing; she had not sold out Jeffrey to this very dangerous and vindictive man. She had protected his whereabouts and also given herself time to get word to him that he was being hunted. She just had to be careful.
* * *
Abby Tisch sat watching as Sean Wagner approached her bookstore. She had never liked Sean’s stepfather, Sheriff Pitts, but there was something about Sean that she always found appealing. Maybe it was the simplicity of the man.
He was not exactly what you would call complicated. There was no pretense with Sean, no deception, and no bullshit; he was who he let you believe he was when you first spoke
to him, and you either took it or left it.
Abby was inclined to the former. She enjoyed being around people who left very little to the imagination. Even though she was a person who enjoyed playing mind games with others, she despised it when it was done to her. That was one of the things she had hated most about her encounter with Jeffrey David Rothstein a couple of weeks ago; the man was obviously hiding something from her, and she didn’t appreciate it.
With Sean, she knew what she was dealing with and knew that he could easily be manipulated to do things that she wanted, whether it was her carnal desires that he happily filled for her, or those jobs she sometimes needed done without the authorities being made aware of them.
One of the interesting jobs he had been doing lately had come to her when she realized there was a ghost living at the old cabin where that Richard Kearney fellow had lived. The brainstorm hit her that she could possibly bring the town to its knees by making everyone frightened of the prospect of a phantasm watching every move, and making them certain that it had brought friends. That was when she had conceived the notion of starting her own ghost hunter service, and Sean was the one to facilitate the need for business.
She would have him go around to some of the more out-of-the-way homes in the Zion area and give the homeowners the distinct impression that their homes were haunted. Thus, the needs for her services would grow exponentially.
The only problem was that nobody was calling on her, because Sean was not very good at what she had hired him to do, and the town was in such a state of excitement at having this pseudo-celebrity living among them that they refused to acknowledge anything was wrong.
The way most of the town’s residents saw it, it was better to live in a town with ghosts and have a celebrity in their midst than to expel these supernatural visitors and dwell in mediocrity.
Sean entered the store, and she could smell the stench of cheap whiskey on him almost immediately. Most people found this to be repulsive, but to her there was a certain masculinity that it evoked, making her want him all the more. The man excited her, and she was a slave to those urges and desires.
The Queen and I Page 17
