The Future Scrolls

by Fern Michaels

  “Christ, am I glad to see you.” It was Stash. Dani had never seen him in such an agitated state before. He was blithering like an idiot.

  “What are you mumbling about?”

  Stash told his story. “So you see, when the kid said you were sick, I thought I was doing you a favor by taking her off your hands for the day. Say, you don’t look very sick to me,” he said suspiciously.

  “That’s because I’m not sick. I have no idea why Maria would tell you a thing like that. You might have left me a note, for God’s sake. I was worried sick. Where is she?”

  “I did leave you a note, and I don’t know where she is. She’s gone; she flew the coop.”

  “What do you mean, she’s gone? Why didn’t you watch her? I feel sorry for the woman you marry,” Dani said nastily. “How did you lose her? How could you?” she wailed.

  “Well, I guess it was inevitable. After four bottles of Pepsi-Cola and three hot dogs and two cotton candies, she said she had to go the bathroom. I offered to take her and she gave me such a look that I didn’t offer a second time. I didn’t start to worry till she was gone for half an hour. Then I asked the people who were standing next to me to watch out for her while I went off to search. After all, Dani, she is ten years old and she can read the ‘his’ and ‘her’ signs,” he said defensively in response to his friend’s severe look.

  Dani nodded wearily. “I know it’s not your fault. Just tell me one thing. Do you remember the time? Was it around four-fifteen or fourthirty?”

  “Yeah. How did you know? It was almost over and I figured I better let her go, so we could beat the rush getting out. Christ, I’m sorry, Dani. I’ve been combing this damn station ever since. In fact, I was just about to get the police when I spotted you.”

  “Come here, Stash,” Dani said, directing him to the bench she had just vacated. “I guess it was to be expected. Valerie waiting downstairs by the information booth, Maria upstairs in Madison Square Garden. I can just see Maria looking over the railing at the same time Valerie is gazing around. Maria wouldn’t have been expecting her mother, but Valerie would be quick as a fox. The rest is simple,” Dani sighed.

  “Jesus, I really screwed it up for you, didn’t I?” Stash said remorsefully.

  Dani nodded wearily.

  “Do you know where the kid’s mother lives?”

  “No. How could I know?”

  “Well, think. Maybe her husband said something, or the kid. I mean, after all, if it were my ex-wife, I’d probably tell everyone where she was in the hopes she would remarry and let me off the hook.”

  “Oh, Stash, be sensible. The Mendenereses aren’t like that.”

  “Well, what are they like? Maybe we can get some kind of clue as to where she hangs her hat.”

  Dani recounted everything she could remember. “We’re right back where we started. I have no clue, Stash,” she sighed.

  “You’re right. The only thing left is to start calling all the big hotels and see if she’s registered. Sounds like she would only go first class and there aren’t that many big hotels left in the city anymore. Come on,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and heading for the nearest phone booth.

  They pooled their quarters. Dani looked up a number and dialed. Twenty minutes later, they struck pay dirt. “Aha! She’s registered at the Plaza.”

  Stash looked at Dani. “Do you want to call her or go unannounced? Just name it, I’m right behind you.”

  “We’ll go there,” Dani said, her heart taking on an extra beat. “I left the Jeep in the parking lot a couple of blocks away.”

  “We’ll take a cab. It’s faster.”

  “Wait a minute, Stash,” Dani said, laying a soft hand on his muscular arm. “This is something I have to do alone. I know you’ll understand.” She spoke quickly, stalling any comment Stash might be on the verge of making. Her eyes pleaded with the bearded giant to see her point.

  Stash looked into the murky, gray eyes and nodded. “Gotcha,” he grinned. “But,” he said, shaking a large hamlike fist, “if you have any inkling that there may be trouble, send up an alarm. I’m going back to the club. You can reach me there.”

  Dani nodded gratefully, tears in her eyes. She knew that Stash was chomping at the bit. It was just like him to give her her head and be around to pick up the pieces. Quickly, she kissed the bearded cheek and left without a backward glance. She walked blindly to the 34th Street exit and hailed the first cab she saw. “The Plaza Hotel,” she said, choking on her words. “Yes, ma’am,” the driver said in an exaggerated, polite tone.

  There was no sense crying over spilled milk. She would have to do the best she could—on her own. Just as she’d been doing for a long, long time, she thought bitterly. I wonder what it would be like to have someone wait on you hand and foot, make all your decisions for you, to coddle you and care for you, she mused to herself. She gave herself a mental shake and reached for her wallet as the cab glided to a stop in front of the hotel. She told the driver to keep the change and got a very large wink and an overly polite thank-you. Dani grinned at the expression on the cabbie’s face. He probably thinks I live here, she grimaced.

  Dani walked over to the desk and inquired about Valerie.

  “Room six-thirteen,” the clerk said politely, as he picked up the house phone to announce her.

  Seeing his intention, Dani smiled winningly. “Don’t bother to announce me. My sister is expecting me.”

  The clerk, only happy to oblige, smiled in return.

  Nonchalantly, Dani strolled to the bank of elevators to the left of the spacious lobby and carefully pressed the “up” button. Nervously, she resisted the impulse to look over her shoulder.

  The elevator arrived and Dani took a deep breath as she stepped into the small cubicle. “Six, please,” she said softly. Fortunately for her frame of mind, she and the elevator operator were the only occupants of the car.

  The elevator slid smoothly to a stop. Mustering all the courage she possessed, Dani marched out of the elevator and down the hall as though she knew just where she was going. She spotted room six-thirteen halfway down the corridor. She stood quietly and listened. There was no sound. Quickly, she knocked. There was no answer. She knocked a second time. I knew she wouldn’t come back here, Dani thought wildly. Why did I bother to come?

  Once more, she knocked and waited. As if her hand had a will of its own, she grasped the doorknob and turned. The door opened without a sound. Strange, she mused to herself. No one leaves their doors open. Well, this one was; she might as well go in. The worst that could happen would be a charge of breaking and entering!

  “Mrs. Mendeneres,” Dani called to the empty room. Stepping inside, she closed the door softly. It was a spacious suite of rooms. The very silence thundered in her ears. Dani called again, inching her way into the dim room. Nervously, she let her gaze travel the length and width of the room. Suddenly, she stumbled as she moved in front of a pale gold, brocaded sofa. Looking down, she gasped at the wide pool of blood that had already started to turn brown at the edges. It was the man from the airport! The one that had been arguing with Valerie Mendeneres.

  Taking a deep breath, Dani bent to her knees and felt for a pulse. She knew before she touched the body that there wouldn’t be one. “Oh, my God.” She backed away. “He’s dead.”

  Shocked, she collided into the small, ornate desk standing in the middle of the floor. At least, in Dani’s muddled state, it appeared to be in the middle of the floor. The trembling girl all but fell into the small gilt chair. Taking a deep breath, she willed her mind out of its chaotic state. She had to think. That’s it, think! “He’s dead. You can’t help him. Maria isn’t here. Go on from here, Dani,” she told herself. Lock the door.

  Stiffly, she got up from the decorative chair and raced to the door. She threw the bolt and sobbed to herself. Now you’ve locked yourself into a room with a dead man. “Oh, my God,” she wailed. Don’t think, Dani. Move. Look all around. Maybe Valerie left some clue. Suddenly i
t hit her. If this was Valerie’s room, what was that man doing here? And why was he dead? It was apparent that he didn’t die by his own hand. That must mean that Valerie, since this was her suite . . . She couldn’t have! Not Maria’s mother. Not Alex’s wife.

  “Where are you, Alex?” she moaned. “I need you. What should I do? Should I call the police like the good citizen I am?” And then what, Dani? She could just hear them and the inquisition they would put her through. Her job would go down the drain. She would become a household name. They would grill her, fingerprint her. Alex would be snuffed. And what of the child and her mother? It was just possible that Valerie knew nothing about the body. Maybe it was a burglar. She had to leave everything as it was. She had to leave the apartment and hope that somehow she wasn’t connected with the man. Who in their right mind would believe the incredible story she would have to tell? Oh what tangled webs we weave, she thought wryly.

  Carefully, averting her eyes from the still form, she tiptoed daintily around the spacious suite. Dani opened drawers and closets. Nothing appeared to be hidden. Valerie certainly wouldn’t leave the scrolls lying around for a chance maid to spot. “I have to be sure,” she said aloud to the empty room.

  Once more, she sat down on the small gilt chair. She took a cigarette from her purse and lit it with trembling hands. Dani dropped the match into a shining crystal ashtray. Evidently, Valerie didn’t smoke. But the man did, whoever he was. His fingers were yellow with nicotine stains. She had noticed that when she’d taken his pulse. I wonder how long he’s been dead, she asked herself morbidly as she let her finger peck on the typewriter on the desk.

  “I really don’t want to know how long he’s been dead,” she said to herself. “Yes, you do,” she answered. Now get up and go over and feel his skin. You’ll get some kind of an idea. That way you’ll know whether or not it’s possible that Valerie is involved.

  Dani grasped the edges of the desk and stared at the small, cheap portable typewriter. Somehow it didn’t look like anything Valerie Mendeneres would own, and she probably didn’t even know how to type.

  Idly, Dani leafed through the sheaf of papers. It looked like someone was writing a pornographic novel. Dani felt herself flush as her eyes raked the pages on the top of the pile. It must belong to the man on the floor. He looked like the type that would write erotic fiction. “To each his own,” Dani sighed as she got to her feet. Slowly, she walked to the sofa. She looked at the grayish pallor of the man’s skin. He’s been dead for a while, she thought.

  Forcing herself to her knees, she rummaged through his pockets. Keys, cigarettes, matches. Nothing relevant. Dani gave a mighty heave and rolled the body on its side. The lifeless form emitted a low, gurgling groan. Petrified, Dani jumped to her feet and backed away, stumbling against the sofa. Her heart pounded rapidly, beating its tattoo heavily against her constricted chest. She raised a quivering hand to brush away a stray lock of her hair. Unable to contain herself any longer and suddenly realizing what had happened, she gave way to a tearful, trembling laugh, which threatened to build to mounting hysteria. Enough murder plots had passed her desk for her to realize that air trapped in the body’s lungs would escape if a corpse were to be moved.

  Dani took a deep breath and willed herself to be astute and analytical.

  He’s been dead three or four hours, she judged uneasily.

  The time element was right. Valerie could have done it before she left for the train station. Somehow, she couldn’t picture her coming back and whacking the guy over the head with Maria in attendance. And he wasn’t an intruder. Not if the typewriter and the manuscript pages were his. There had also been evidence of another occupant—in the bathroom, there were two toothbrushes and a set of military brushes.

  No, she decided, he had to be staying with Valerie, which would explain the typewriter.

  The hell with it. Dani looked around to be sure she left nothing of hers in sight. Carefully she picked up the stub of her cigarette and dropped it in her coat pocket. She looked at her hands encased in the black kid gloves and thanked God she had had the sense to wear them.

  I have to go home, she thought wildly. My God, what if Stash had been here? He would have called the police without a second thought. If there was one thing you could say about Stash, it was that he was civic-minded. Dani giggled hysterically as she once more let her gaze scan the room. Satisfied, she opened the door and peered out into the corridor. Empty. She picked up the “do not disturb” sign from the small table and hung it on the door. This way an overambitious maid wouldn’t come pussyfooting into the room and drop dead of a heart attack.

  She reset the latch and scurried down the hallway to the elevator. God, I hope that desk clerk has bad eyes, Dani thought suddenly. Too late now. And the elevator operator, would he remember? Possibly. She would take the stairs.

  Opening the side door of the spacious lobby, her eyes immediately sought for and found the nasally desk clerk. His back to her, he was having an earnest conversation with one of the bellboys. He didn’t appear to notice her. Swiftly, Dani walked across the immense lobby and out into the dark night. She walked away quickly from the huge hotel and hailed a cab as soon she was out of sight. The doorman might remember her. Her mind whirled.

  Dani directed the taxi to where she had left the Jeep and leaned back, exhausted, against the rough leather of the seat.

  Suddenly, a phrase her mother used to say popped into her mind: God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world. Everything was not all right with the world. She had committed some kind of crime by not calling the police. Had she now become an accomplice? If she were caught, would she be put in jail? She had heard about the Tombs; did they put women there? Would Alex be able to get her out? Would Stash turn against her? For a moment, she felt terribly upset that Stash’s opinion of her would change. Good old, “straight arrow” Stash. He never compromised his ideals. There should be more people like him in the world, Dani thought sadly.

  Dani paid the driver, giving him a healthy tip. Once she had stepped into the waiting Jeep, she turned the key and started the engine. She pulled into the steady stream of early evening traffic. Her eyes on the other steadily moving cars, she fumbled for a knob and turned up the radio full blast to drown out her thoughts. As she swerved off the highway onto Route 31, the tension that had gripped her began to ease. Now she was in her home territory. Feeling safer than she had in hours, Dani listened with half an ear to Frank Sinatra as he sang about strangers in the night. Hell, she had been a stranger since this whole mess started. “Dooby dooby do,” she mimicked the singer.

  Snapping off the radio, she turned the wheel and swung onto Hollow Road. Five more minutes and she would be home. She parked the Jeep under a tulip tree and climbed out, with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  Wearily, the tired girl climbed the worn fieldstone steps to the front porch. She checked the mailbox. No mail. She entered the dark house.

  The note to Maria was still on the mantel. She eyed the squat, black phone. It almost looked obscene in its silence. Dani willed it to ring. It remained silent. Having tossed her bag and coat on the chair, she made herself a drink. On second thought, she needed a fire to calm her. Dani threw some small logs into the fireplace, wadded up yesterday’s paper, and struck a match.

  Once she had kicked off her shoes, she leaned back, drink in hand, into the softness of the old sofa.

  Dani watched the bright orange flames flicker and dance as she sipped her tart drink. Noticing the glass was nearly empty, she refilled it and again became absorbed by the wavering flames, letting her mind have its way as she relived the entire afternoon. If she could change things . . . She wasn’t sure she would have done anything differently.

  Suddenly, Bismarck jumped on her lap. “Hi, old buddy,” Dani crooned softly to the huge cat. “Did you miss me? Bet you’re hungry. Come on. I’ll feed you.” It dawned on her as she got to her feet and swayed dizzily that she hadn’t eaten all day. “Let’s face i
t, Bismarck; you can’t drink on an empty stomach. Let’s see what we have here. Leftover macaroni and cheese. That’s good enough for you. You need more variety in your diet anyway.” She spooned out the congealed glob into his dish and smirked to herself as she watched the finicky cat turn up his nose and walk away reproachfully.

  “Hmm. Things are tough all over, cat. If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat it.” Dani rummaged some more and fished out a wrinkled apple and two slices of prewrapped cheese that were dry around the edges. Quickly, she ate both and downed a glass of milk in two swallows.

  Once again, she seated herself comfortably before the fire. Something wasn’t gelling. What was it? Carefully, step by step, she let her mind go back over her recent activities. There was something wrong; she knew it, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. Then she went over her movements in the hotel suite. Whatever it was, it refused to surface. Dani flushed again as she recalled the phraseology of the pornographic novel.

  “That’s it!” she shouted to the empty room. “That’s it!” Those pages were nothing but smut. There didn’t appear to be any story line to what she had glanced through. She wasn’t a junior editor for nothing. Hadn’t she almost finished a cookbook? Besides, when she wrote, she smoked incessantly. She would light up, place the cigarette in the ashtray and let it burn out. The dead man’s hands had been heavily stained with nicotine. The papers appeared to be freshly typed, yet the ashtrays were sparkling clean. It didn’t add up. Unless it was all a decoy. Mentally, she pictured the size and weight of the small, portable typewriter. Not only that, but most people wouldn’t even bother to remove the typewriter from its case when it was so small. That was one of the advantages of a portable. Not to have to lift it in and out of its case. The case—where was it? Why not a laptop instead of an old-fashioned typewriter? It was under the small, spindly desk. She remembered kicking it with her foot. The desk! It was a woman’s desk, just a wobbly little table, actually. That’s it! Somehow she couldn’t picture the elegant Valerie bothering to write porno garbage. Was one or the other trying to outmaneuver the other? Probably so. It made sense.