Skin Puppet

by Jeffery Craig

  “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Mrs. Escabar,” Toby began. “I know you’ve already been over this with the police, but we’d appreciate it if you could share anything you can think of with Ms. Reightman and me.”

  “As you say, I have spoken to the police—many times. One more time will not be wasted if there is any chance it will bring Lucy back home to us.”

  Melba noted the carefully articulated English. The slight accent and the precisely chosen words were hints that English was Maria Escabar’s second language. Maria walked them through the details she’d shared many times before. When she finished, they sat quietly and reviewed their notes.

  “I try so hard to keep my hope and faith strong,” the woman continued after a moment. “I leave a light on in the front window every night, with the hope my daughter will find some way back to us. In my heart, I know she is alive, and the light is my way of guiding her home. Still, even if she does manage to escape whoever has her, it may soon be too late for her to find us. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you mean, Mrs. Escabar?”

  She smoothed the hair back from her son’s forehead and kissed him on the brow. “Hector, be a good boy and go into the other room while I finish speaking to this nice lady and gentleman. Color me a beautiful picture while you wait. It has been a while since you made me a present.”

  Hector walked slowly to the only interior door in the apartment. “There’s only one bedroom,” Melba realized.

  When he reached the door, he looked back toward his mother uncertainly. “Go on, mijito. All will be well,” his mother assured him. “I promise.”

  She waited until the door closed and turned back to them. “I didn’t want to speak of this while my son could hear. The fact is, we will soon be forced to leave this place.”

  “Why?” Toby asked softly, carefully watching her face.

  “Because, three days ago, I lost my main job, Mr. Bailey. You see, with my worry for my daughter and my efforts to find her, I was not as regular in my hours as my boss required. With no job, we will soon have no money.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I do not know. I try not to worry Hector, but soon…” Her voice trailed off as she confronted the grim reality facing what remained of her family. Averting her face, she wiped away the tears threatening to escape her eyes. Her chin raised in a gesture of barely retained pride. “It will all work out,” she said defiantly. “It has to.”

  “I’m sure it will, Mrs. Escabar.” After going over all their questions, Melba rose from the sofa and motioned for Toby to do the same. She handed over a business card, which Maria Escabar placed onto the small, worn metal table. “Let us know where…where you move,” she finished awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

  They both shook her hand one last time before being shown out the door. They slowly descended the stairs, lost in thought. Once back in the car, they sat in silence and then looked at each other expectantly.

  Toby spoke first. “We could use someone to clean the offices.”

  Melba nodded her agreement. “We could.” She racked her brain for a second or two. “You call Zhou Li, Jon, and Moon, and I’ll call Bernice and Herman.”

  Twenty minutes later, they climbed back up the stairs and knocked on the door. Maria Escabar answered, and it was obvious she’d been crying. “Yes?” she asked. “Is there something else you wished to ask?”

  “No,” Melba answered. “But we have some news that might help make things a little better.”

  She explained the sudden need for the Reightman & Bailey Agency to engage cleaning staff, and a similar, suddenly determined need on the part of Zhou Li and Jon Chiang. Herman the Red had an opening for a morning shop assistant, so he could commune with his spirit guides late at night and not have to open the next morning. Moon fervently wished for someone to help iron, steam, and mend clothing, and Bernice was genuinely desperate to find additional catering staff for the upcoming party and future bookings.

  “I know it’s kind of cobbled together…” Toby apologized as the woman’s eyes widened with each addition to the list.

  Maria Escabar raised one slim, strong hand. “Why?” she asked. “Why would these people take a chance on me and offer this?”

  While Toby searched for the right words to explain, Melba provided the answer. “It’s kind of a Capital Street specialty. They’re just good people. They adopted me and helped me through a difficult time, and I didn’t even really know them. It’s just what we do.” As soon as she said the words, Melba knew she was part of the gang now. It was a pretty damn good feeling.

  The young woman’s face shifted, new hope replacing the worried, tense expression which had settled across her features. Still, she was cautious. “What hours would I work?” she asked, half-fearful of the answer. “I do not like to leave Hector when he is not in school. Since…”

  “I understand,” Melba assured her gently. “And it can all be worked out. I can understand if you need time to think it over.”

  “No,” Maria answered. “I accept, very gratefully. I am simply worried about the party on Sunday. I have no one to leave Hector with, and from what you say, it would not be appropriate for him to be there.”

  Melba had a flash of inspiration. “My granddaughters will be in town and a friend, another woman whose daughter is also missing, has offered to keep them for the evening. They will attend the party long enough to hear a little music and have a few treats, and there’s no reason your son can’t do the same. Then, they’ll spend the rest of the evening two doors down with my friend. She’s the one needing help with the clothes in her shop.”

  “And you trust this friend? She is a good woman?”

  Melba nodded. “The best kind of woman. She made the choice of who she was going to be a long time ago.” There would be a time for a more detailed explanation later, if needed. “I wouldn’t leave my granddaughters with her otherwise.”

  “You say her daughter is also one of those missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would like to meet her, please. Today, if possible. Perhaps…perhaps we can help each other.”

  “I’m sure she’d like that. Her name is Moon.”

  Maria considered the information for a moment, before offering a tentative smile. “It is a good name. A strong, magical name.”

  “Yes,” Toby agreed. “It is.”

  ***

  Jill lifted her head from the puppet she was repairing, hearing distant footsteps echo across the stage. Remembering that she hadn’t locked the front door after Melba Reightman’s visit, her shoulders tensed until she recognized the low, irritating whistle floating through the dark backstage area to make its way into the workroom.

  “Jilly? Where are you? Mother told me you were here. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  She put down the sharp craft knife she’d been using to slice and splice new wood into one of the marionette’s joints, and stood from her stool to face the doorway. She could try to ignore the unwelcomed visitor, but it was doubtful he’d let her get away with that kind of behavior.

  “Oh, here you are!” Jake Anthony craned his head around the partially opened workroom door. “Still slaving away to make this dump a showplace, sis? You might as well give up, you know. It’s bound to be a flop. Soon, you’ll be back to living in your rusty old van, limping from one tiny, fifth-rate school to another, trying to entertain a room full of dull-eyed kids.”

  “What do you want, Jake?”

  “We need to have a chat,” he answered. Even from where she stood, the fumes of alcohol and sickly sweet smell of weed nearly overwhelmed her. “Mother said you had a little friend drop by.” He continued, advancing across the room and leaning casually against the worktable. He eyed the partially disassembled marionette in front of her. “Hey, this looks like one of the old man’s,” he commented. He reached across and pulled it toward him, lifting it up to examine it more closely. “This is ready for the trash. Why do you was
te your time trying to fix this crap?”

  “Just put it down, Jake. Carefully, please. You know how delicate those old ones are.”

  “Yep. Nothing, but papier-mâché and balsa wood held together with bailing wire, glue, and paint.” Ignoring her request, he swung the puppet by one arm. “Seriously, sis, why do you keep these old things? Are you nostalgic for the old days?”

  “Jake! Put it down. It’s already broken, and you’re going to cause more damage!”

  He gave it a few more swings just to prove he was in control of the puppet’s fate, then laid it on the table in front of him, one hand caressing the painted face. He arranged the single remaining arm across the chest in a funeral pose. “Such a handsome prince,” he murmured before giving it a final pat. “Happy now, sis?” he asked, before letting out a loud belch. “Sorry! How rude-rude-rude of me!” He giggled in at the words. “Rude-rude-rude!”

  “Jake, just say what you have to say, then take your drunken, stoned ass out of here. I don’t have time for your games today.”

  “You know what your problem is, Jilly-willy? You just don’t know how to have any fun. I remember when we used to have all sorts of fun together.” He burped again and gave her a little frown. “Oops! There I go again. Rude-rude-rude...” His fingers roamed across the table top, fiddling with the small brush, the tiny shavings of wood, and the bits of wire scattered across its surface. They stopped their curious quest for mischief, encountering the small, cream colored envelope, still sitting where Jill had laid it earlier. His long fingers picked it up, and he tilted his head to examine every edge. “What do we have here? Looks like something special, something fancy, something nice.”

  “It’s nothing. Put it down and just get to the point of your visit.”

  Jake gave her a wink, and opened the flap and slowly withdrew the invitation. “Oh! What fun!” he exclaimed. “Looks like someone’s having a party. Is this for me?”

  “No, it’s not. It’s mine. Melba Reightman gave it to me this afternoon.”

  He had to think for a minute to remember who she was referring to. “Oh, your nosy friend. Did she leave one for me?”

  “No.”

  “She didn’t?”

  “No, she didn’t leave one for you.”

  “That’s so very, very strange. Now, why would she give you an invitation, and not leave one for me? My famous, handsome face would add a little panache to her big party, don’t you think? Everyone wants a movie star to show up. It’s good press.” He ran one finger over the print, “Hmmm. Are you sure you don’t know why she didn’t invite me? Why, why, why? Maybe it was something you said. Mother told me you were spilling all my beans.” He cocked his head, considering her silence. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know you mustn’t do that, Jill. Never, never, never.”

  “I didn’t tell her anything important. She just asked me why you weren’t helping with this place, and I told her—”

  “That I’m broke, washed up, and…what was it? Ah, yes…‘His chickens have come home to roost.’ Mother shared all of the juicy details already. I just wanted to see if you’d admit it.”

  She forced herself to maintain eye contact, watching him cautiously while he continued to caress the paper.

  “Are you sure there’s no invitation for me?” he asked softly.

  She lifted her chin. “Positive.”

  His face flushed at the certainty of her response. She could see him trying to imagine any event where he wouldn’t be a welcomed and sought-after guest. To Jake Anthony, the possibility of exclusion was incomprehensible. His eyes widened with inspiration. “Maybe mine’s in the mail…that’s it! I just haven’t received it yet. I bet it’s waiting for me at home.”

  She shook her head, relishing his consternation. “I doubt it.”

  His breathing became heavier as he drew himself up, one hand clutching the envelope tightly, while the other held onto the edge of the table as he swayed, suddenly unsteady on his feet. “But, I deserve to be invited…I’m a star!” His voice increased in volume with each word. “Everyone wants Jake Anthony to come to their parties. Everyone knows how important I am. Everyone!”

  Jill simply smiled while his face purpled in outrage. He finally understood she was enjoying his reaction.

  “Why. Did. She. Invite. YOU?”

  She shrank back, trying to avoid the tiny drops of his flying spittle. “Because she likes me, Jake. She likes me and wants me to come to her party. She doesn’t want you there. Is that so impossible for you to believe?”

  He swayed again, and grabbed the edge of the table to stabilize his balance. “I don’t feel so good, Jilly. In fact…I feel…feel…very bad.” He burped again, and his eyes bulged in sudden panic. “Uh oh! Here we go!” He lurched forward and vomited onto the table. He viewed the suddenly expelled contents of his stomach with surprised wonder and began to laugh. Starting low and shaky, the laughter built in intensity until his sides heaved. He took a breath and abruptly leaned forward and added to the mess. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and tossed the envelope directly into the puddle of bile. “I feel all better now. Just had to let the bad stuff out.”

  He turned to leave, but then stopped. “And for your information, I wouldn’t have gone if she had invited me!” With snake-like speed, he whirled around and caught hold of one, ancient and fragile marionette leg. He jerked the puppet up and slammed it with all of his considerable strength into the slick, spreading vomit. The vile matter splashed as the delicate papier-mâché head flew apart on impact. He surveyed the mess with gleeful satisfaction before picking a piece of partially digested food off his shirt and flicking it onto the table. “Keep your mouth shut about my business, Jill. You don’t want to piss me off. I might tell someone our shared little secret one day.” He adjusted the broken marionette, dredging it through the liquid with the tips of his fingers until it was placed to his satisfaction. “Good night, sweet prince. Sorry about the headache. Don’t worry, Jilly will fix you right up.” Then, he turned and walked away.

  Jill stood rooted in place for a long time, her hair and face wet and glistening with the disgorged remains of her brother’s lunch.

  ***

  The eerie siren shrieked. Red and blue lights spun to life as the door at the top of the stairs opened with a screech.

  Lucy rubbed the sleep from her eyes and drew her legs up closer to her chest. She closed her eyes and counted the footsteps. “Only two,” she decided.

  The clop of Georgie’s heavy boots and the click of Dorrie’s heels stopped for a minute and then started again, each step bringing them closer to Lucy’s side of the room. “Not here,” Lucy prayed. “Please, oh please, don’t come here.” She scrambled to the back corner of the cot, away from the cage door.

  “Sweet, sweet little Lucy,” Georgie whispered. “Look what we’ve brought you.”

  Lucy couldn’t help herself. She turned her face toward the voice and squinted in the disorienting light.

  Georgie held a red bundle in his arms, stroking the blonde hair and cooing low and soft—too quiet for Lucy to make out the words.

  The child in his arms trembled and shook her head. “No. No, no, no. No-no-no-no…” the girl frantically whispered.

  “Aren’t you glad to be home, princess? Georgie Porgie was sure glad to see you. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come back.”

  Dorrie giggled and unlocked the door and stepped inside the cell. She carried Georgie’s electric wand and brandished it threateningly. “Stay away, mouse,” she warned.

  Georgie carried his burden to the cot and gently laid the trembling child on one end before covering her body with an edge of the thin, gray blanket. “Guess you have to share for tonight, sweet Lucy,” he chuckled. “Shouldn’t be a problem though, being as you’re friends and all. I’ll bring another cot tomorrow.” He hustled out of the cage with Dorrie close on his heels. He locked the door, and pressed his face between the bars. “Nighty-night, sleep tight,” he grinned
, before blowing her a kiss and turning away.

  “Don’t forget to take a swab, Georgie. Puppet wants all the girls to be—”

  “Dammit, Dorrie! I know! I already did it.”

  After their footsteps faded away and the door at the top of the stairs was closed and locked, Lucy unfolded herself from the corner and crept closer to the girl. She leaned down, looking into the tear-stained face with its tightly shut eyes.

  She was sure she must be wrong, but the face was very familiar. “Jessica?”

  The girl’s trembling increased, and Lucy laid a gentle hand on one thin arm. “Jessica, it’s me, Lucy.”

  The girl’s eyes opened and stared upward. Then, she opened her mouth, and screamed. On and on she shrieked, flailing her arms and legs. Lucy hopped off the cot and backed away.

  “What’s she screaming?” a voice from the nearest cell asked. Lucy turned and peered into the nearby cage, careful not to touch the bars. In the dim, spinning light, she could just make out the scared, sleepy faces of Andrea and her new cellmate.

  “Daddy,” Lucy told them, not sure who’d asked. “She’s screaming for her daddy.”

  Andrea shrugged in sad understanding. Diane Jefferson Jones slowly turned away, the white bandage on the back of her neck clearly visible. Lucy knew what it hid. She had one just like it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Toby Bailey, you clean up pretty good!”

  “Thanks, Grams. I’m not sure about the tie, though. Do you think it’s okay?”

  “I think it’s perfectly fine, although the knot doesn’t look quite right. Come over here, and I’ll see what I can do to fix it.”

  Toby crossed over to the couch where his grandmother was seated and waited patiently as she stood and reached up her strong, sure hands and fussed with the silken folds.

  “There, honey. I think that’s better. Now, you look just perfect.”

  “You look pretty snazzy yourself, Grams. Is that a new dress?”