Color of Angels' Souls

by Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  “What exactly did my friend Clark here tell you?” she squeaked in a higher-pitched voice than normal, which made her seem even younger.

  “Nothing much,” answered one of the officers. “Just that you were a witness to Mr. Galveaux’s death. That he was decapitated right in front of your eyes. But apparently, you didn’t get a good look at the perpetrator.”

  The Mist rising from Allison showed that she was relieved. Clark had left her a way out.

  She did her best to fake her prettiest, most innocent smile, flashing her dimples at the two policemen. She struck what she thought was a fitting pose, as if she took herself for an aspiring actress.

  “Oooh!” she said excitedly, blinking her eyes and clapping her hands. “Am I going to be famous? Will I be on TV?”

  For once, Clark and Jeremy were on exactly the same wavelength. Both men gave her a disgruntled look: What the hell was she trying to pull?

  The two officers smiled at her, both clearly a bit perplexed.

  “That depends on what you actually saw, miss.”

  “Oh, well in that case there’s no use going up to my apartment,” Allison said breezily, “because I didn’t see anything at all! Just a shadow, a flash of light, and plop! I saw a head rolling on the sidewalk.”

  “Shit!” Jeremy cursed. “Now I’ve changed my mind. Go up to your apartment and say that to the cops again in front of the microphones!”

  But Allison, who was clearly determined to play herself off as a total airhead, had no intention of letting the police get anywhere near her apartment.

  “I could really kick myself, you know?” she said, as if she were confiding in them. “Cuz if I had stuck around a little bit longer, I could have seen the killer and then you can be sure I would have identified him for you!”

  “You didn’t see his face?”

  “No, nothing at all,” Allison pouted. “The streetlights were all broken; it was pitch dark.” She leaned in close. “You think they did it on purpose? Broke the lights so no one would see anything? Like in the movies, when the killer smashes all the lights in the staircase before murdering somebody?”

  The two men looked at each other. One pulled out his card.

  “In that case, we won’t need to take up any more of your time. If any details about the incident should come to mind, miss, here’s a telephone number where you can reach us at any time.”

  Allison looked very solemn as she thanked them for the card.

  “Is my questioning already done?” she asked disappointedly. “I hope I can think of something so that I can be interviewed … but I was so scared! Oh, it was so horrible; you have no idea! Don’t you think what happened was just horrible?”

  “We didn’t see the body, miss,” the overweight officer replied politely. “We weren’t at the scene of the crime. You’ll have to excuse us, miss, but we really must be going. Good day to the both of you.”

  The two officers were gone before Allison could add another word.

  Clark blew his top as soon as they were gone.

  “Goddammit, Allison! What the hell was that all about?”

  “He’s right, Allison!” Jeremy yelled. “You idiot! They could have protected you!”

  Allison’s pretty face clouded over. Sparks were shooting out of her blue eyes as she grabbed hold of Clark’s arm and dragged him into the front lobby of her apartment building.

  “And since when do you, someone I’ve always trusted, betray me and go see the cops? Didn’t I tell you to keep it all to yourself?!”

  “It’s too dangerous, Allison. You have to be protected!”

  “I can’t trust anybody!” Allison yelled. “Clark, I asked you to help me, not to make things even worse! They didn’t believe me! They think I know something. If not, they wouldn’t have let me off so easy!”

  “Well, I hope so!” Clark retorted as she shoved him into the elevator. “Those two officers want to figure out what’s going on. Just as much as you do!”

  “Oh thanks, and now, because of you, they have my name and address. If it really is the mafia that’s settling its scores with the Tachini family, as you seem to believe, those people have moles everywhere. It won’t take them long to find out that there was a witness. Even if the fact that I didn’t see anything is killing me—”

  “Ha ha ha! Very funny.”

  “Oh shut up! As I was saying, they’re going to think the same thing as the cops: that I’m lying because I was scared, and that I could change my mind at any time. And that makes me dangerous.”

  “But—”

  “And even if your two buddies aren’t informants, even if they’re just two honest cops trying to do their job, they’re going to make my life a living hell! They’ll try to break me to see if I really saw anything or not. They’re going to conduct a real investigation, start questioning the neighbors, measuring how much light there was at the scene of the crime, and who even knows what else! They’re going to put me in danger, all for nothing!”

  Clark looked up at the ceiling, exasperated by his friend’s obstinacy. Jeremy could only look on with dismay as they entered the bugged apartment, where Frankenstein welcomed them boisterously. Then Clark said exactly the thing Jeremy had been dreading: “I still say that when those two police officers come back—since you seem so convinced they will—that you absolutely have to tell them what happened, and that you need their protection!”

  “Noooo!” Jeremy groaned in despair. “Don’t say that in front of the microphones!”

  The two Angels following Clark looked at him with concern.

  “What microphones?”

  Jeremy quickly told them about what the killer had done in her apartment.

  “Oh my God!” yelped one of the Reds. “She’s done for, buddy.”

  “Well, look at the bright side,” added the Blue reassuringly. “She’ll be joining us very shortly.”

  Jeremy scowled at both of them.

  Suddenly Allison and Clark both jumped when a loud “clank!” rang out in the apartment. The two Angels were startled as well, as neither one had noticed the Poltergeist, who yelled out triumphantly from the kitchen and gave the pipe another tremendous whack.

  “A Poltergeist!” one of the Angels exclaimed. “You brought a Poltergeist to her apartment? Have you lost your mind?!”

  “What was that?” Clark asked worriedly.

  “I have no idea; the pipes never made any noise before,” replied Allison with a frown. “It’s really loud. Geez, that’s all I needed! Now the plumbing’s giving out on me!”

  “Way to go!” Jeremy yelled to incite the Poltergeist, who looked surprised by his encouragement. “Go on! Bang away!”

  The Poltergeist hooted joyfully and began furiously beating away at the pipes again. After about twenty quick, hard smacks, a second “clank!” just as loud as the first made itself heard in the world of the living.

  “Oh,” said the blue Angel. “You want to drive her out of the apartment! Very clever!”

  “Shit!” Allison cursed. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Yesss!” Jeremy yelled. “You’re doing great! Keep it up, buddy, it’s working just as planned!”

  Big No. 24’s face cracked into an awkward smile. He snatched up his bar and began beating on the pipe like a madman—which of course was exactly what he was—as the three Angels goaded him on.

  Although not all the clanking made it through, he made enough of a racket to start seriously worrying Allison. She and Clark looked all around her apartment before finally coming to a stop in front of the pipe where the red Angel was hammering away.

  “It’s the pipes,” Clark said. “Something must have happened to the water lines.”

  Allison closed her eyes for a second. The anguish was clear on her drawn, tired face.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Jeremy whispered. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t have a choice!”

  Both the Angels suddenly perked up at his words, like two sharks who’d smelled blood.

  �
��What did you call her, lover boy?” asked the Red.

  “Did he say sweetheart, or am I mistaken?” added the Blue, cupping his hand behind his ear as if he were hard of hearing.

  “Didn’t he tell us we were fools to think he was in love, and that he was only … what was the word he used again?”

  “Um, protecting her, I believe he said,” mocked his cohort.

  But Jeremy was hardly listening to their nonsense. He had been incapable of checking his emotions, just as he had been incapable of abandoning Allison to her fate.

  It was horrible.

  He was aghast when he suddenly realized that the two idiots were absolutely right: He had fallen in love. He loved everything about the girl. Her naïveté, but her inner strength as well; her courage and her obsessions, her dignity, her love for children and for people in general. He loved her gentleness, her long legs, and her big eyes, her stubborn forehead, and her aquiline nose. Everything!

  From where he was sitting, she was quite simply … perfect.

  “Oh shit,” he couldn’t help muttering.

  He was crushed. He couldn’t fall in love with a woman who would be inaccessible for at least another sixty years. The two sarcastic Angels only confirmed what he was thinking.

  “I know, your problem—THE problem—is that she’s down there and you’re up here. Separated, worlds apart, different, incompatible—one dead, one living,” enumerated the blue Angel, twisting the knife a little further into the wound.

  “You’ll have to find yourself a cute little Pink,” said the Red gravely.

  “Or a little Blue,” added the other Angel.

  “A girl you can have some fun with,” continued the Red, frowning over at the Blue. “There are millions of other fish in the sea, honey, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t start looking around in the afterlife, instead of falling for a living girl. It’s not very healthy. It can even drive you crazy.” He pointed at the Poltergeist, who continued to bang with all his might on the pipes, his mouth foaming.

  They were right. Jeremy knew that they were right. But there was something inside him that wouldn’t let him abandon Allison.

  “I’m going to keep helping her until the murderer has been neutralized,” he muttered in frustration. “And as soon as I’ve taken care of him, I … I … I’ll leave her.”

  He looked up at the two Angels.

  “I’m not going to end up like my father. I won’t let some pointless obsession take over my li—my death.”

  The two Angels agreed.

  “You know what, it’s kind of like giving up smoking,” lectured the blue Angel. “At first, you feel like it’s killing you inside because you want one so bad, and then, over time, it goes away. You’re in phase one. You’ve realized that you have an addiction. In phase two, you’ll try to free yourself of your addiction.”

  “So you’re saying you think that love is just an addiction?” Jeremy asked, shaking his head.

  “Of course!” The two Angels nodded in unison.

  They started laughing loudly. Jeremy suddenly realized that, whether you were a red Angel or a blue Angel wasn’t what really mattered. Friendship, love, all the human emotions that existed on Earth existed here as well. He was sure of it now.

  For some reason, their gaiety only made him feel worse. He still hadn’t found his place in this new world. He was still too attached to the living—or more precisely, to one living girl, even if he hadn’t forgotten about his family and the other mission he had to accomplish: to save his little sister from that Angel who was trying to drive her crazy.

  While the Angels were talking, Allison and Clark had called a plumber, who said he would do his best to stop by the next day.

  “You can’t sleep here tonight,” Clark said, as a tremendous “clank!” rang out in the small apartment. “And not just because of this noise: the cops, the mafia, the hit man. Come and stay at my place.”

  Allison stared at him, then gave him a sad smile.

  “I can’t spend the night at your place, Clark, you know that. We would do things that I would be sure to regret in the morning. I know you!”

  The young model puffed out his chest and declared: “My darling, you would certainly feel many things in the morning, but believe me, regret wouldn’t be one of them.”

  Allison’s jaw dropped. For a few moments, all she could do was stare at him.

  “I can’t even believe you would say something like that, you … you braggart!”

  Clark ran his fingers through his lustrous brown hair and flashed his green eyes toward Allison.

  “No, I’m a realist. I’m great in bed; trust me. And plus I’ll sleep better knowing that you’re at my place and not here, at anyone’s mercy. Your front door is a joke! With one kick a good-sized hit man could send it flying.”

  Allison only shrugged.

  “About the only risk right now is that I’ll go deaf with all this noise. If it doesn’t stop, I’ll go sleep at Misty’s tomorrow.”

  “Yesss!” Jeremy yelled, both surprised and thrilled. “It worked! She’s going to leave her apartment! Hey buddy, you’re the best!” He have the Poltergeist two thumbs up.

  The Angel, who in all likelihood was stunned to finally meet someone who was happy he made so much noise, began banging away even harder. No one had ever thanked him or encouraged him before.

  Clark pouted when he heard Misty’s name. Jeremy saw that the model was no more thrilled about the hyperactive lawyer than he was.

  “You would be much more comfortable at my pl—”

  But he didn’t even have the time to finish his sentence. Allison spun him around and began pushing him firmly toward the door.

  “That’s enough, mister. You can go somewhere else and show off your talent for … for flirting with some other girl besides me—and you can even try it on the men as well. I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? I’m exhausted, and killer or no killer, plumbing or no plumbing, life goes on and I have to give Frankenstein his bath.”

  The intelligent little dog’s head perked up: He had heard his name and the word “bath” in the same sentence. He knew that for at least a week the stinky perfumed shampoo would fill his nose and make his eyes water. There was only one thing to do: run away. He immediately dashed under the bed.

  “Shoot,” Allison muttered. “I forgot that my dog was so smart. I should have spelled out the word.”

  “You mean he understood that you want to give him a bath?” Clark asked dubiously.

  “Yep, he’s no dummy. It’s true that he’s been acting strange lately, though. It’s as if … something were bothering him.”

  “If only your dog could talk to you,” Jeremy sighed.

  “Your dog must be just as intelligent as I am then,” Clark quipped. “Because a lot of strange things have been bothering me lately too!”

  He finally let her accompany him to the landing, with his two Angels in tow. They gave Jeremy a knowing wave, and Allison closed the door, relieved to finally be alone.

  “What an idiot! Going to the police was the last thing he should have done! Maybe I’m being too paranoid, but what you see in the movies is based at least in part on reality. And it’s so true! The lure of money and power is—and always will be—what really makes men tick!”

  After being forced to play hide-and-seek in every room of the apartment, a cursing Allison finally managed to lure Frankenstein into her grasp by dangling a cold cut in front of his nose. When the bath was finally over, the dog was squeaky clean and had a shiny coat, but his owner sank to the floor in exhaustion, drenched with water and soap suds.

  Despite how worried Jeremy was, the whole spectacle had been a laugh riot. He had especially liked the part when Frankenstein jumped out of the bathtub all covered with shampoo and Allison had to chase him down like an oiled pig.

  “My goodness,” she grumbled, wiping at her wet brow with a trembling hand. “I think it would be easier to wash wild horses. Was Cerberus in your family line? For a minute ther
e I could’ve sworn you had three heads!”

  The dog, who kept yapping at her, was probably heaping a succession of canine insults on his owner. His eyes were still prickling from the shampoo, and he sneezed over and over. He was clearly furious with the whole affair, and, after turning a cold shoulder to Allison, walked with a dignified air over to his basket and lay down. He lowered his head onto his paws and closed his eyes. He was sulking.

  Satisfied with her work, Allison smiled and began cleaning up the small bathroom with her sponge. Soon the only remaining vestiges of their epic battle were a few traces of soap suds and spilled water. She wiped those up as well, cursing all along.

  “Oof!” she sighed, finally dropping tiredly onto her blue sofa. “Another six months of peace!”

  After turning on her computer, she clicked a file that was protected by a password.

  The file opened, showing a photograph of someone with a name written below. Jeremy immediately perked up when he read it.

  Ventousi. The same name as the little boy in her class whom she was so afraid of! Jeremy was at a loss to understand. But when she clicked another file in the directory, it all became clear.

  There were a series of photos: a well-dressed, distinguished-looking man in his fifties, with dark hair and slight graying at his temples. His brown eyes looked calmly into the camera, and he was holding the hand of a small boy. The caption said: “Arthur Ventousi, researcher and former CEO of the Ventousi Laboratories, with his son, Peter, at a preview of the latest Disney blockbuster.”

  Jeremy frowned. If the pharmaceutical company was named after its founder, why would he want to postpone releasing a new cure for cancer on the market? It didn’t make sense. And why was he the “former” CEO?

  Allison must have been thinking the same thing, because she clicked the link to the company’s website and started looking through the group’s financial data. Both of them were startled by what they read: Ventousi was no longer the owner of his own laboratories, which in fact had been created by his father. That must have been why the article had mistakenly referred to him as the “founder” of the company, since the two men had the same name. Arthur Ventousi’s father had sold his company to a large investment fund. But the business was starting to collapse. The Research and Development branch had been poorly managed. Several of their base products had fallen into the public domain and they hadn’t developed any new ones to replace them. Over time, all their top researchers had left the company. From the outside, it looked as if the Ventousi Laboratories were on the brink of bankruptcy, but the financial group that owned the company wasn’t ready to sell yet. They had replaced the CEO three different times, but it hadn’t helped. Arthur Ventousi was no longer even a senior partner. He had been forced to move further and further down the ladder, and was now only a junior member of a research team.