by Lee Savino
“Ma’am, thank you for meeting me. I wasn’t sure my offer was well received.”
“You said that my aunt contacted you,” Cora’s voice wobbled. “I want to know how she is.”
“In a little bit,” the agent inclined his head as if to say, We’ll take this at my pace. “First I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
A waitress arrived for their order. “Two coffees, that’s all,” said the man across from Cora. He didn’t take his eyes from Cora’s face. But he didn’t ask any questions, not until the mugs were placed in front of them.
If he’s trying to make me nervous, he’s doing a good job, thought Cora, and then jumped when the agent said, “How long have you known Marcus Ubeli?”
Cora thought back to the night she had gone to the club with her friends, “About six months.”
“And you’ve been in a relationship that long?”
With a blush, Cora said, “Yes. About that long.” Her hands met under the table so she could play with her ring.
“How would you describe your relationship with…your boyfriend? Are you close?”
When I first saw you…I knew we would be together. Forever. “Yes, we’re close.”
The agent squinted at her, making her wonder if he needed glasses, “How well do you know Mr. Ubeli?”
Cora shrugged, “We spend time together, when he isn’t working. We eat dinner, go to restaurants or clubs his friends own.”
“You have dates mostly at night?”
“Or some mornings or afternoons he has off. He works long hours.” She had an image of herself waiting for Marcus at a restaurant table, a glass of sweet wine her only companion. Marcus would arrive only to be interrupted halfway through the appetizer course by a call from a business partner. “He always tries to make time for me.”
“Has he ever spoken of business or what he does at work?”
“No,” Cora said. “But I think he’s an investor.”
“Any particular idea of what he’s investing in?”
“Restaurants, maybe. Clubs—like his friends.” Memory rose to Cora’s mind: a marquis blotted out by brighter flashes from cameras.
“So you don’t know what he does for a living,” the agent stated.
“No.” Cora felt very small in her seat. “I never asked him. He…” she hesitated. The agent waited. “He sometimes seems upset about his business. So I don’t ask him to talk about it. I try to take his mind off of it.” She blushed again at the agent’s stare. “It’s just the way our relationship is.”
The agent stared. Cora could hear his question now: Are you telling me that you’ve dated this man six months and you don’t know his profession? If he asked her this, she would be forced to admit the truth: she didn’t know her would-be fiancé very well at all. He loved her; that was enough. At least, it had been enough, until lately.
But the agent said, “Let’s talk about your aunt.”
Cora sat up eagerly. “Do you know where she is?”
“You haven’t been in contact?”
“No, we haven’t been able to find her.” A raised eyebrow from the agent made
Cora explain, “Marcus and I have been looking for her ever since the morning after we first met. We went to her house; I thought I could stay with her. But she had moved. I don’t know where she could have gone.” The agent was frowning, and Cora trailed off,
“Marcus has been trying to find her.”
“I see,” The agent said after a pause.
“Do you know where she is? Where she’s been?”
“Cora, your aunt contacted us a few weeks ago. She told us that you’d disappeared a months ago. Said she would have tracked you down if she hadn’t felt she was in danger.”
“In danger?”
“She told us she was being followed. That a few men had showed up at her house one night and told her she would have to move—something about the landlord needing the place cleared for maintenance.”
“But…why didn’t she leave a forwarding address?” Something inside Cora was twisting, as if her gut knew the truth even if her mind refused to believe.
“Your aunt did leave one. It must have slipped the super’s mind when your boyfriend’s men came looking for it. Either that or…”
“Do you think Marcus hasn’t been looking?” Cora’s voice rose defensively, even as her stomach gave a lurch.
“Miss Cora, your aunt’s townhouse—where she lived until she was told to move—was one of Ubeli’s.”
A slight hiccup exploded in the back of Cora’s throat, threatening more to come. “Oh,” she said and half rose.
“Is everything okay?” The agent rose, hovered.
“I’m fine,” Cora was bent over the table, hand on her belly. “I just…need a moment.” She rushed from the table, taking sanctuary in the diner’s restroom. There, in front of a dusty mirror, she wiped sweat from her face and shuddered. The tension was too much—in her gut, in her head. What’s wrong with me? She asked her reflection, avoiding her eyes. Her face held a marble pallor, no longer a child’s face. Oh, Marcus, she thought, and her stomach near heaved. She was still trying to dupe herself, and her body was protesting.
Turning on the tap, she ran cold water over her hands. When she looked up at the mirror again, her face was cool and beautiful. A woman’s knowing look had surfaced, harder and more resolute.
When she walked back to the table, graceful with a model’s gait, she turned heads.
“Are you able to continue?” the agent asked.
Cora was composed. “Please, go on. It just…took me by surprise.”
The waitress chose that moment to interrupt. Cora kept her eyes down, using the pause to gather strength. The agent, annoyed, sent the waitress away all too soon with a wave of his hand.
“I understand that Mr. Ubeli must have hidden things from you,” the agent said. “I am sorry you have to hear about it this way.”
“Will you please tell my aunt that I am safe, and that I’d like to see her?”
The man nodded. “She would like that. She is living in a secure location where she feels safe.” He paused, looking at her frozen profile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll need to be back to the rescue soon.”
“One more item, then. There’s the matter of this man.” The agent slid a photograph across the table to her. Even with muscles tightened to hold her in calm, Cora jerked back a little in her seat. The picture was blurry, but the face could be recognized as the man who had drugged, near raped her, then followed her to her apartment and workplace.
“Why…why are you showing this to me?”
“He’s an average joe, does a bit of business on the street. He sells things like watches, purses, wallets—a mini outlet store right on the sidewalk. We picked him up once or twice, and he always tells us a few things we need to know. Turns out he was in Mr. Ubeli’s pay, at one point.”
“A lot of people work for Marcus.”
“True. They tend to have interesting jobs. Ask the bald strongman what he does when he’s not playing chauffeur to the boss’s girl.” The agent studied Cora, and she felt he could see, below her surface, the layers and layers of fear. “The man in this photograph was involved in an interesting plot, too. He was told to go to a club, pick up a certain girl, get her wasted or whatever—”
Cora gripped the table edge, holding on to its flat surface as her world tilted.
“And then bring her to his boss.” The agent cocked his head at Cora. “Do you know this man?”
“I need to go,” Cora mumbled. She looked around for her purse.
“Did this man ever approach you at a club?”
“I’m sorry…I…”
“Cora, how did you come to meet Mr. Ubeli?”
That night—she had been running, drugged, unable to see clearly. How long was the road beyond the club? Had she been driven down a street with no outlet, straight down the steps to the underworld?
Purse in hand, she pau
sed in her exit. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was so long ago, and I….” She hesitated. “I was drugged. He,” she pointed to the picture, “did it to me.”
“Do you think you’re the girl he was supposed to target?”
Cora shook her head. “I was new to the city, just a visitor, few friends. There’s no way he could have known me.” She didn’t know whether he was the man in the photograph or Marcus.
“He might have seen you, when you were staying with your aunt.”
Cora nodded. There was no doubt now which he the agent spoke of—Marcus. Marcus had done it all, arranged everything.
“Do you know what happened to this man?” The agent tapped the picture.
“No.”
“He’s been missing for some days. He was supposed to go into witness protection a week ago, but we haven’t seen him since.”
The memory of Marcus’s angry voice came to Cora. No one touches my girl. Breaking her poise, Cora put a hand to her head. Don’t worry, babe.
“Miss Cora? Do you know where he might be?”
“No…I…no.” She looked up, her eyes unfocused. “I should get going, though. Back to the rescue.” She groped for her purse and found its strap was already wound around her arm.
The agent rose when she did. “I know this has been hard, but your involvement will help us get down the truth. People’s lives are at stake. We need your help.”
“Oh, right,” Cora murmured anything that would move the agent from her path.
“Think about it. If you like, I’ll be here a week from now, same contact place and time.” the agent said.
“Okay,” Cora nodded. Apparently she said the right thing, for the man stepped to the side.
As he allowed her to pass, he spoke to reassure—or warn. “And don’t worry. We’ll be watching.”
*
That night, when Sharo picked Cora up from the shelter, silence sat like a wall between them. Cora’s gaze slid over the city streets, recognizing few of them. She was still a little country girl, lost and alone. But for Marcus. The car finally stopped in an alley way. Focusing, Cora finally recognized it. She sought Sharo’s face in the mirror.
“We’re not at the town house.”
“Mr. Ubeli asked that you meet him at his office. He has a project running that he’d like to attend to.”
“I’m not clean or dressed…” Cora fretted. Suddenly, her whole world seemed held together only by her beauty and clothes.
“There’s a shower here. Mr. Ubeli uses it some mornings after a night’s work. I also brought a change of clothes,” Sharo held up the shopping bags in the front seat.
Cora got out of the car. While Sharo was collecting things from the front seat, she walked a little ways down the alley.
She rounded the corner and stopped. There was the street with the marquis sign for the club her friends had brought her to the night she first met Marcus. Looking around, Cora did the calculations. If the car was parked there I would have run down here. The way was long, but unbroken by any exit besides a small alleyway blocked with trash cans. Anyone being chased would be driven straight down towards the intersection where she now stood. Moving to one corner, she entered the shadows of the brick building where she might have waited, heart pounding, for her pursuer to find her. I was drugged; he wouldn’t have expected me to get so far. He thought he would catch up before I came out onto the street. Then he could drag me to Marcus. Closing her eyes, Cora remembered the shout breaking the darkness. She had run across the street at an angle, and down the steps to the only haven she could find. The dark steps of the club, leading straight to Mr. Ubeli.
“Cora?” Sharo stood waiting for her, bags in hand.
“I’m coming,” she returned to the steps of the club, following Sharo down the way she had taken six months ago.
Later, dressing in the gorgeous bathroom, Cora recounted the rest of that first night. Marcus had seemed like a hero. He offered me a place to stay, she thought as she applied a soft layer of lipstick. He gave me something to drink. Cora frowned at the mirror, then smoothed her features. The clothes Sharo had purchased fit very well. The fabric of the skirt and blouse was silky and fine, if a bit light for colder weather. Marcus liked it when she was cold, though. He would see the prickles on her skin and offer her his coat. Such a move marked her as his own.
And as she walked down the hall to Marcus’ office, Cora remembered the night the fairy tale had begun. The next morning, he brought me clothes in my size. Standing in her new dress, light and grey as a cloud, Cora’s fingers froze on the doorknob. Then she pushed it open.
“There’s my girl,” Marcus said, looking up from his accounts. Without answering, she walked to him; his eyes devoured her form. “Come to me,” he begged and she did. She leant towards him only to kiss him, but, swiveling his chair to face her, he tugged her into his lap.
“It’s so good to see you,” he purred.
“You too, Marcus,” she whispered.
He captured her lips with his. She submitted, but sighed when the kiss was done. It was a sigh of fatigue, not passion, and he could tell. Instead of impatience, though, he leaned back in his seat with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Long day?”
“Mmmm,” she nodded. Her head sank down; her eyes felt heavy, as if the warmth of Marcus’ den was pulling her into sleep.
“Tired, too? You’re not getting sick, are you?” Marcus put a hand to her forehead. Finding no heat there, he stroked her hair instead. Cora’s heart beat faster. Marcus’ hands moved downward; Cora’s body rippled with another sigh, then straightened as the searching hands found her hips. There the hands cradled her gently, further trespass confined to a small area under his thumbs. Just the slight stroking of the skin stretched across her pelvic bones, however, was enough to madden her. She was awake, now. And Marcus was smiling with the knowledge that he had brought her quickly to life.
“You’re getting thin,” he said. His thumbs slipped across her skin, the fragile bones.
“Models usually are,” she said, alternately arching her back to escape, and leaning in to find his lips. He eluded her, but she felt his breath on her face as he gave a chuckle.
“It’s not right that you’re not eating enough…after all the restaurants I take you to.”
“Marcus,” was all she could say, feeble protest against the interminable movement of his thumbs. She wanted him. Despite everything, she wanted him to take her.
Marcus kept whispering. “You’ll have to promise to eat tonight. I’m taking you to 6th street—Santonio’s place. You remember old Santa?”
Memory and thought eluded Cora. Her body could not draw breath.
“Good dinner, good wine, a little chat with Santonio…then I’ll take you home.”
“Take me home,” Cora echoed. She was breathing again, all in a rush.
“That’s right.” Marcus leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. The movement of the thumbs abruptly stopped. Cora drooped, her head coming to rest on her lover’s shoulders. Under the new clothes Sharo had bought her, Cora was faintly damp with sweat. Marcus pulled her further too him, sliding his arms around her in ultimate embrace. He rocked her slightly, whispering, “Cora, my love. My own.”
She closed her eyes and wished that life was only this.
*
Cora met the agent at the diner again. This time, their booth was deep in the corner, and the waitress had strict instructions not to disturb them.
“Can you tell us of your boyfriend’s movements, Miss Cora?”
“I don’t know. He goes to work and then visits me, or calls to say he’s working late and will see me another day. Lately, he has worked late two days in a row. Is that what mean?”
The agent nodded. “Do you know where he has been?”
“No, he doesn’t tell me. What is this about?”
Instead of answering her, the agent countered with a question. “How were you selected to be in the fashion debut last we
ek?”
“Uh…Marcus told me about it. He set it up; he was friends with the designer.”
The agent’s eyes swept over her and Cora felt strangely bare. The man’s eyes rested on the jewel on her finger, the red tear. Cora knew that look. In this man’s eyes, she was as good as bought and paid for.
“What’s this about?” Cora asked again.
“We have reason to believe that Ubeli’s whole purpose in attending was to conduct business with Santonio.” The agent slid a picture of an older gentleman towards Cora. “Do you recognize this man?”
She almost laughed. “Papa Santa? He’s one of Marcus’ old friends. I think he and Marcus’ father went to school together.”
The agent was not laughing, his fingers still on the photograph. “You know him?”
“Every so often Marcus takes me to his restaurant. Santa always comes around and says hi.” The agent’s eyes bored into her, so she said, “Everybody calls him Santa. At least…” her voice died under the agent’s stare, “that’s what he said...”
For a moment the agent said nothing, studying Cora as if trying to see if she was real. Then, in an abrupt movement, the agent slid the picture away. “Miss, I’d like to take you in for more questioning.”
Panic rose. “Take me in? Like, to the station?”
“No, not the police. My partner is in a mobile operating station nearby. We can debrief you there and give you what you need to continue surveillance of Mr. Ubeli.”
“I don’t know….”
The agent leaned in towards her. “I think that you have information that could do a great deal of good towards our line of investigation. But that’s only if you want to help us.”
“But if Marcus found out…” Cora was still fretting. Part of her told her to run away from this man, and his empty promises to give her answers. But part of her had to know.
