Heinrich watched silently as she rambled off facts about Louis’s visit to his office and waited for her to finish. He had learned years earlier that it was never wise to interrupt her once she started speaking.
“All of that is true, but he was supposed to check in with me, and nobody has heard from him.”
“Many misguided people in the world. Many have lost the Way. Louis knows the Way.”
Heinrich was even more concerned at this point. For as long as he had known Cloris and Louis, he had heard them speak of the Way, their private code for teaching others their own special kind of indoctrination into their world of torture and torment, of pain and suffering, and of cleansing that could only come from submission. He had often wondered if it was something that she had learned in a prior life or from her training as a spy, but thought it better to not pry too deep. Whatever was happening, Louis was definitely not cooperating with what he had been hired to do, and that meant Heinrich no longer had any control over him.
“Is there any way we can get in touch with him?” Heinrich asked, concerned.
Cloris took a long sip from her gin and answered, “If the Way shows him home, he’ll come home.”
“I need to speak to him, Cloris. It’s very important.”
She looked up at Heinrich and continued, “Long is the journey for the soul that needs saving, and rocky is its road.” She smiled at Schultz. “Are you here to come down that road?”
* * *
Richard Kearney let himself into Rachel’s apartment with the key she gave him, and instantly knew something was wrong. There was an odd odor in the place that did not match the familiar smells he was used to when he visited. She had told him to meet her at the Tribeca Grill earlier in the day, and when she hadn’t showed up or answered any texts, he became concerned and took a gamble on coming here. He knew that her boyfriend Jeffrey, the same guy who had bought his cabin in Zion, New York, was out of town, and by now probably reaching a state of hysteria because of the ghost that haunted the place.
It was funny what a small world it was. Here he was, sleeping with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the two of them had tried so hard to keep their relationship a secret, and her boyfriend went and bought the cabin from the very man she was having an affair with.
She had told Richard to leak the information about the sale of the house to the local Zion gossip columnist in hopes that the story would get picked up by the Associated Press and force him to stay in New York, but whoever had been behind destroying the playwright’s career had been so thorough that no media outlet cared any longer about his whereabouts.
Now Richard walked from room to room looking for any sign that she was there, and found no evidence of her being anywhere near the apartment in the last forty-eight hours, which was when he had last spoken to her. The only sign of any presence was that her underwear drawer had been left open, and a picture of her and Jeffrey at a premier was turned face down on the shelf.
He was about to check her closet when he heard the door open and close behind him. Standing in the living room was a small man of Asian descent mixed with something else, and Richard immediately thought Rachel had another lover besides him, but he quickly brushed that thought aside when he saw what the man was wearing—a pink jacket, white pants, and pink shoes. This was not a man Rachel would have been sleeping with.
Richard also decided this man was not a risk for the secret he and Rachel were keeping, and he wanted to know what he was doing in her apartment.
“Can I help you?” Richard asked, startling the little man who held his hand to his chest and giggled.
“Oh, you little pisher,” the little man waved his finger. “You scared me so that I almost plotzed!”
“You should be so lucky,” Richard replied. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Mendel Fujikawa took off his jacket and placed it on the sofa. He walked over to her liquor cabinet and examined the contents. “Oy, no Galliano,” he said sadly.
Richard watched as the man ignored him and asked again, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Who I am is not important. What I am doing here is none of your business.” He walked across the room and admired some of the photos on the wall and asked, “What is that odd smell?”
“You have exactly three seconds to get the fuck out of here.”
“I always thought Ms. Benjamin would have paid a bit more attention to the qualities of aromatherapy, wouldn’t you?”
Richard quickly made his move to grab Mendel, but the little man was too quick; he immediately crouched to his knees, withdrew his butterfly knife, and stabbed Richard in the kneecap.
Kearney screamed out in pain, and Fujikawa was quick to shove his handkerchief in his mouth to muffle the sound so as to not alert the neighbors. He grabbed Richard by his hair and pulled his head close so that he could whisper in his face. “I don’t like what she has done with the place. Do you?”
Richard shook his head in agreement, and tears rolled down the sides of his face. Mendel twisted the knife and extracted it from the now free-flowing wound and continued, “Don’t ever touch me again.” He kissed Richard on the forehead and asked, “Where is Rachel Benjamin?”
* * *
Cloris Weiner sat on a stool in her kitchen and watched as Heinrich got dressed. It had been just like the old days with the two of them: her in the lead, directing him in the way of carnal knowledge, and Heinrich receptive to her instruction.
It was always a learning experience for the large man, much in the same way a student instructed a pupil or a mother did her son. Cloris found it to be a great source of pleasure for Schultz to pretend that he was with his own mother when the two of them made love, and Schultz had to admit that it excited him to play along.
Their relationship had lost nothing from absence over the years, and they wanted to rekindle where they had left off. Cloris had recorded all of their sessions together, so she knew what lesson needed to be taught next. She was pleased with the way he had responded to this lesson and felt that their next encounter would be even more productive.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked, “Is there any way I can reach Louis?”
She smiled and lit one of the cigarettes he had brought for her. “The Way will lead him to you.”
He grimaced at the cryptic answer, but knew that if he pressed the issue she could see to it that Louis vanished deeper into the underworld where he was residing. Schultz was not naïve enough to believe that Cloris did not know exactly where her son was at any given moment, but he also knew that she was loyal above anything else, and when it came to Louis, she was also very protective. She would hide his whereabouts against anything, even death, and there was literally nothing Heinrich could do about it.
Heinrich flinched as he pulled on his shirt; the fresh burn marks caused him some discomfort. Cloris had decided that this lesson was to be a trial by fire, so they had had sex in the kitchen where she could turn on the burners and force the large man to lay across them as she straddled him. He had succeeded in learning this lesson, and he looked forward to the next one.
Schultz pulled out five hundred-dollar bills and left them on the table for her. Not for her services rendered, but because he knew that payment of some kind was necessary if he expected her to contact Louis in a timely manner, and he wanted that— he needed that. She accepted the money, hid it away under her robe, and smiled as he took his leave of her. She did not bother walking him to the door, she only watched as he left.
“Did you learn anything new today, my dear son?” she asked.
Louis came out from his hiding place in the pantry, which was shielded with nothing more than an old bed sheet, and answered, “Fire is the guide to the Way.”
She smiled at her son’s remarkable understanding of what he was watching and continued, “What else are you going to do now?”
Louis shuffled on his feet and looked down at the floor.
“What ar
e you going to do now, Louis?” she demanded.
Louis Grecko looked up and answered, “I will bring him to you first, and I’ll leave her alone.”
Cloris Weiner smiled at her son’s obedience and motioned for him to come closer. She held his hands close to her face and gently kissed his palms and added, “So strong, so ferocious, so mesmerizing.” She guided his hands under her robe and taught Louis a new lesson.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Love and Mishegas
Rachel was just what Jeffrey needed in regards to his work. With her at the cabin, he found a renewed vigor and zeal for writing that had been sorely missing. He was not, as of yet, writing the actual play that he hoped would perpetuate the fall of Heinrich Schultz and Mendel Fujikawa, but he was working diligently on outlines for new works that he hoped would one day breathe life on Broadway.
He was excited to have these feelings return and the insight into that part of his being that grew the productive imagination that spurned on so many works of brilliance. With her around he felt alive again, and it was wonderful. This was why he had asked her to join him in the first place, and this was what he had hoped for when he came to the small town of Zion.
His only problem was Saul.
Saul was showing himself to Jeffrey less and less, and Jeffrey was certain of the fact that the ghost was just not around as much as he was when he had first moved in. He believed that Saul was visiting with the young Foreman girl and helping her with her acting technique, choosing to stay away from Rachel if at all possible. For a ghost who was very outgoing and eager to make friends, Saul was proving to be a bit of a prude when it came to Jeffrey’s girlfriend, and he could not explain why. The only thing that Jeffrey was sure of was that he needed Saul’s help with certain particulars about the play once he started writing it, and this part-time relationship was not working for him.
Jeffrey smiled when he thought about that realization. The fact that he knew he needed help writing a play was something he would never have admitted in his past life. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about it at this point either, but it was not as foreign a feeling as he thought it would be, and he actually took some comfort in the knowledge that he had Saul to help when the time arrived.
But not knowing where Saul was each day at any given time was beginning to prove to be a problem, and Jeffrey was not sure how to handle it. He knew for a fact that he should not tell Rachel about the existence of the ghost, but at the same time he needed to get work done, and that meant speaking to Saul. If Rachel were around, it would prove to be uncomfortable, to say the least, if she were not allowed to see him.
He found Rachel on the back porch one early morning after she had arrived and told her that he needed to run into Zion for a few errands and that he needed to do it alone. He told her that it was regarding a source he was studying for the play and the subject in question was shy and standoffish; it was better for him to go alone.
She agreed without any question and said that she just wanted to hang around the cabin and do some reading and maybe prepare a surprise for him when he got home. He understood the inference and that pleased him, as they had not been intimate with each other in the three days she had been in the cabin. She appeared to be carrying a burden she did not want to talk about, and he felt it better to let it run its course, knowing she would share any concerns with him when the time was right.
Driving into Zion, he noticed the citizens were decorating the town in the blue and white colors of Israel for some kind of festival. It looked as if they were getting ready for a parade and other kinds of festivities that he could only imagine. The one thing that he had learned about his new neighbors thus far was that their zeal for all things Jewish was only surpassed by their complete and total lack of understanding of what each holiday was supposed to represent and how to conduct themselves in a manner befitting an orthodox Jew.
They were harmless enough, but Jeffrey often wondered what would happen to their small community if the tabloids ever caught wind of them. In this politically correct society that he lived in, he suspected that their choice of lifestyle would be met with scorn and accusations of anti-Semitism and race baiting. He hoped the town would somehow remain in anonymity, as he was growing quite fond of this quaint little place and really appreciated that they were not interested in anything else other than living life to the fullest and making each other as happy as they wished to be.
He knew this had to be the reason why Saul had chosen Zion to live in when he obviously could have gone anywhere in his capacity as a ghost. But it must have been the charms of Zion that kept him there.
Jeffrey thought about where Saul and Melissa could be while driving into town and settled on the old community theater that Saul had told him about. It made the most sense, after all. Melissa was an aspiring actress, Saul was only too eager to help those with the craft who were hungry for stardom, and at this time of the day the theater would most likely be empty.
He passed Sheriff Pitts as he drove down a street that had been renamed Gribenes, and waved politely. He saw the sheriff stop in the middle of the street and watch as he kept driving. He spied out Abby Tisch speaking with the odd Sean Wagner fellow who had accosted him only a couple of weeks earlier, and remarked to himself at what a fitting couple they were.
The more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to think that the way he was going about things regarding the play was all wrong. Perhaps he should be looking no further than his own neighbors, who provided a wealth of material without even trying to. He watched as the mayor, a very nice man by the name of Baker, tipped his yarmulke to him, and he had to laugh at the innocence and cluelessness that every person in the town showed. They were harmless, and even more important, they were hilarious.
Jeffrey was getting that feeling in the pit of his stomach that came whenever he knew he was on to something, and that excited him. This town was what he had needed, and it was telling him what he needed to hear. He did not need to seek his revenge by being malicious; he only needed to rely on his talents to do the job for him. The hard part, the part that called for creativity, was being handed to him on a platter, and he knew he had to seize this gift before it evaporated into nothingness.
He pulled into an empty spot in front of the theater and could tell by the ten-speed bicycle parked along the side of the building that the young Foreman girl was here, which meant Saul must not be too far off. The sessions the two of them must have shared alone would be enough material for three plays, Jeffrey thought. The image he painted in his head of the drag queen ghost and the innocent, orthodox Jewish girl made him laugh out loud, and he momentarily worried that someone would hear him and think he was going insane.
Inside, the theater was exactly what he expected it to be. A trip down nostalgia’s road with posters of classic films, Broadway shows, and acting royalty decorated its modest hall. There was an antique vending counter with an old-fashioned popcorn machine, and the railings and counters were all polished mahogany. It was quaint and charming, and Jeffrey fell in love with it almost immediately. He thought back to his early days as a playwright and thought that this was the kind of place he had forgotten about, the kind of place where he had gotten his start, and the same place where he had planted his roots. He had forgotten what it was like to be back in a theater like this.
He heard voices coming from the main auditorium, and proceeded in quietly so as not to disturb Saul and the young Melissa as they worked. The two of them were on the stage, and they had turned the spotlight on for effect. Saul was obviously teaching her about the value of the dramatic entrance in this session, because he was wearing an elegant evening gown and had his hair done up in a manner not unlike a woman of the roaring twenties. He kept stepping in and out from the shadows and was telling her each time that the key was to look as if you had been there before and that it was the audience’s job to take notice of her grandeur. It was good advice, and Jeffrey found himself wishing that he had had Saul to help give lessons
to some of his actors. He could just picture Saul and Yvonne working together.
Melissa mimicked Saul’s movements perfectly, and Jeffrey began applauding to alert them to his presence in the theater. She smiled, but Saul scowled as he approached.
“That was wonderful, Melissa,” Jeffrey said. “Saul is a very good teacher.”
Melissa smiled ear to ear and asked, “Do you really think so? Was I good?”
“Lauren Bacall would have been jealous,” Jeffrey answered.
“Blasphemy!” Saul spat. “She was good, but she’s not there yet.”
“Oh, bologna. Don’t listen to him, Melissa; you were sensational.”
Saul bent over and adjusted a stocking when he continued, “To what do we owe this pleasure? I trust that your lady friend did not join you?”
Jeffrey could hear the contempt in Saul’s voice and ignored it; he did not need to be dragged into the middle of another argument between Rachel and someone in his life. “I wanted to stop by to tell you that I need you back at the cabin, because I think I’ve figured out what we’re going to write about.”
Saul looked at him suspiciously while Melissa looked at Saul with unbridled excitement at the prospect of her friend getting to work on an actual script for a Broadway play. “Is it still that dreck about revenge and burying your enemies?”
Jeffrey smiled and said, “Not at all. It was inspired by you and young Melissa here and the entire town of Zion.”
The ghost and the girl exchanged glances and looked back at Jeffrey.
He smiled at their confusion and continued, “I’m going to write about Zion. I’m going to use this town as my muse, and the two of you are going to have major roles to play in the process.”
Melissa’s eyes went wide and she turned to Saul, who was equally stunned by this announcement, and she asked Jeffrey, “Does that mean you want me to be in your play?”
The Queen and I Page 20
