The Weeping Buddha

by Heather Dune Macadam

  “Take Boo with you, so I know you’re safe. Oh, by the way, Detective Freesia from Missing Persons is coming out tonight for a little RR. She’ll be thrilled to know we solved our case, but not hers.” Devon yawned. She wasn’t going to be much fun when Carol arrived; maybe they’d order carryout from Concha D’Oro’s.

  Aileen moved to the door and grabbed the spotted leash that matched his spotted color. “Come on, Boo! Let’s go for a ride in the car!”

  Another phrase in his vocabulary—the dalmatian jumped up and raced out the door with all the abandon and excitement of a puppy.

  Devon sat up, propped the pillows behind her back until they were in the perfect position for lounging, and sipped her tea. She inhaled the bergamot scent coming up from her mug. It was Prince of Wales Earl Grey, her favorite. The video had the time in the bottom right corner; it was 10:31 p.m. when she saw herself walk across the screen for the first time.

  The picture on the screen slowly became more and more frenetic as the loft got fuller and fuller and the party began to wind up like a gathering storm of people and music, a maelstrom in the making. Alex must have time-lapsed some of the earlier scenes; if Devon remembered correctly, sometimes she let the camera record unattended, other times she walked around and shot handheld. The first tape ran out just after everyone kissed each other, popped champagne corks, and blew up the small arsenal of firecrackers on the roof—the digital counter on the bottom of the screen turned to 12:00. Devon put in the second tape, on which Alex had written: “12:02 and Beyond.”

  She poured herself another cup of tea, grateful for the copper tea cozy that kept it hot despite the hour that had elapsed. Devon liked to sip hot drinks while they were still steaming. Even though she’d spent years as a street cop, she had never gotten used to drinking anything lukewarm and despised cold tea or coffee, unless it was iced in the summer. Iced. God had been literally iced; Beka and Gabe were in deep freeze—along with what was left of her faith in friends.

  She missed something on the screen and reached for the remote control, dropped it, picked it up, pressed search-rewind and watched Beka and Todd move backwards across the screen, then looked at her watch.

  Time was playing tricks on her again, slipping through her fingers like so many grains of sand. It was still early, six o’clock, but Aileen had been gone for over an hour. She wondered if she should worry, but reminded herself that Josh was the murderer—there wasn’t anyone running around loose anymore with a desire to kill the loftmates, or her friends. Her eyes teared spontaneously; she must be getting her period.

  She poured the last of the tea into her mug and leaned back to watch more closely what she had missed a few seconds, or was it minutes, ago? She looked at her watch again, six-thirty. She was losing time.

  What if something had happened to Aileen?

  She didn’t know what she’d do if she had to face the loss of another friend—have a nervous breakdown, probably. Another tear pressed out of the corner of her eye and dribbled down her cheek. Aileen was safe; Josh was the murderer. She was just walking Josh’s dog. Everything was fine.

  She felt a cold chill prickle across her scalp. They had picked up Katiti, hadn’t they? She reached for the phone and called Loch’s cell. “How you feeling?”

  “Exhausted.”

  “Have you guys picked up Katiti yet?”

  “They left a little while ago.”

  “How long?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “Shit! Aileen left over an hour ago and she’s not back yet.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “Loch, if something happens to Aileen …”

  “I’m calling for backup now.”

  Her heart raced as she stood up and swayed dizzily. That happened sometimes when she was tired—low blood-pressure or something, that’s what Beka used to tell her. She hung her head between her knees for a second and then looked at the TV. Something had happened that she wanted to see, but she had to go. Aileen might be in danger. She had to go.

  Then she heard the sound of car wheels crunching up the gravel drive. “Aileen?” Devon yelled. “I got so worried! They haven’t picked up Katiti yet.”

  There was no reply.

  “Aileen?” Her heart pounded heavily against her chest. Devon started to reach for her belt holster and hesitantly called out.

  “Katiti?”

  The doorknob began to twist. It opened lowly.

  Devon reached for the gun secured to her back.

  A gust of black and white energy swept through the door, as Boo raced into the kitchen and toward his mistress.

  “She wasn’t there.” Aileen shut the door behind her.

  “Shit. You scared me.” Devon leaned back and sighed.

  “Now that’s hard to do.”

  “Was Katiti there? Loch said they’re arresting her.”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  Devon settled back on the couch, pressed search-rewind again, the weeping buddha and watched as Beka walked backwards across the dance floor into the loft hallway. She must have danced all night long, but that was the point of a party to Beka—an excuse to do what she did all day long, with more abandon. Devon felt sadness creeping over her again as she watched her friend dance—so young and full of spirit.

  Boo licked her face. “Sit down, Boo! I can’t see.” He sat down but stared at her like the RCA dog. She bopped his head with a resounding pat.

  Onscreen, Gabe was talking to Todd and holding his hands up to the sparkling lights dripping down from the parachuted ceiling. Was he making a pass? She tried to imagine what he might say … Come on, Todd. Let’s slip down to my studio and I’ll make a cast of your hands for Beka. She loves to have mementos of her lovers—she’s a serial slut.

  It looked as if Todd nodded his head, but then Alex moved the camera and focused on Godwyn flirting with some girl with bushy brown hair—Katiti.

  The camera kept panning back and forth across the room in the most aggravating motions—too experimental for a surveillance tape—but Alex had been an experimental filmmaker back then. She had no idea that fifteen years later the video might provide a clue in an unsolved mystery. Todd was talking with someone else in the corner—Alex spun the camera back across the room and focused on Godwyn—then it was a close-up of Josh and Sam—then back to Todd. Devon pressed pause and stared hard at the frame. He was standing in the way of the camera’s point of view and she found herself trying to see around him by repositioning herself on the couch.Obviously, it did not work.

  She pressed zoom on the remote control, but it only zoomed in on Todd’s back. She zoomed it back out so the picture would include the entire room. There had to have been three hundred people at that party and fifty of them seemed to be onscreen. She pressed the button for the video to move frame by frame. She picked up a pencil to make a note of the meter setting, then dropped the pencil. Her wrist felt funny. She shook it in the air, picked up the pencil again, and wrote down the numbers in order to return to the frame later. Then she picked up the remote to press play, and dropped it to the floor. She reached to the floor and found herself reeling with dizziness from the sudden movement. “I’m whacked,” she complained.

  “You want some more tea?” Aileen picked up the pot, waving it back and forth in the air

  “I drank it all, sorry.”

  Aileen put the empty pot back down on the table.

  “Can you tell who Todd is talking to?”

  “It’s too grainy. How can you make out anybody on it?”

  “We can always digitize the images later. I should have watched it on Alex’s big-screen TV, but she was so upset by the memorial service and Godwyn that she headed back to the city for an emergency session with her therapist.”

  “Like therapy could ever help Alex.” Aileen smirked.

  “There. He’s moved. I think I need glasses.” She squinted. Her vision was definitely not what it used to be. “Who is that?”

  The phone rang. Ailee
n picked up the portable next to Devon but did not bother to answer. “Devon?” It was Loch. “Leenie isn’t there and Katiti’s unconscious. They’re rushing her to the ER …”

  “Oh my god! Leenie, what happened?” Devon tried to sit up. “Are you alright?”

  Aileen turned down the answering machine. “Fine. I’m around. Everything went fine.” She was studying the picture of Todd still hovering on the TV. “It looks like Gabe with Todd.”

  Devon looked back at the television. “But who’s next to him?” The picture was still advancing frame by frame.

  Aileen squinted her eyes. “I think it’s me.” She leaned toward the person in question. “Yes, it’s definitely me.” She smiled down at Devon. “You remember me, don’t you? The one who everyone hires to watch their dogs but forgets to ask to the reunion and dim sum.”

  “You wanted to go? You hate them.” Devon blinked hard at her friend, then at the TV.

  “You have no idea how much.”

  Devon was beginning to have one. She was aware that the numb feeling in her wrist had gradually moved up her arms and legs, and they were more anesthetized than after sitting an hour at the zendo.She began to wiggle her extremities, fingers first, then toes, slowly, so Aileen wouldn’t notice.

  “I was never as important to you as they were. I was your best friend before Beka.” Devon looked sadly at her friend—they had known each other since they were in kindergarten. How could she have missed this?

  Aileen cackled at her. “You should see your face! This is rich. I’m so glad I waited for this.” She leaned down and looked Devon squarely in the eye. “You don’t have the vaguest idea who I am anymore. You just think I’m Gabe’s sidekick, don’t you? Well, I was the mastermind! Me!” Aileen’s eyes gleamed at her.

  “What are you talking about?” Devon decided to play dumb.

  “We were a team, in the most avant-garde sense of the word.”

  “I thought Beka and Gabe were the team.”

  “Beka was his biggest mistake. Gabe and me understood each other, but he thought Beka would make him look good. What’d he think I’d do, keep pet-sitting for the rest of my goddamn life? I’m not trophy-wife enough? I hate the Hamptons!” Her voice became more irate.

  “You and Gabe?” Devon slumped into the couch. She was stunned.

  “Don’t play dumb blonde with me. I know all of your tricks, Devon Halsey, but you know none of mine.”

  “You’ve been five steps ahead of us all along,” Devon agreed.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  “You’ve committed the perfect crime.”

  “Crimes.” She enunciated the “s” with a hiss.

  “How many?”

  “More than you can count. It wasn’t just a New Year’s gig, you know. We had work to do. Of course, Gabe was looking for more. He got tired of getting away with it. He had to dump a few in the river just to see if anyone would notice. You cops are all so busy. You’d be amazed what someone can get away with if they’re patient and own a lot of land.” She had moved into the kitchen as if getting too near Devon were dangerous. “Gabe always liked being the center of attention, and now he is. He wanted people to know. I mean, how many body parts can one artist cast and exhibit before they want everyone to know how they got their models?” She laughed.

  “You cast Todd’s hands?” Devon asked.

  “We did more than that.” Aileen seemed to be smiling fondly over some memory. “Gabe was not a wannabe artist. He was a real one.No one really knows how dedicated he was, except me. He wanted to capture the true essence of life, and it was my technique that helped him achieve that. And Todd was our first. It was supposed to end up differently. It was my fault, really, but you know, I just couldn’t help myself. I mean, there they were, those two little breathing holes, and I just wondered what would happen if I plugged them. Nothing happened. I mean, he had passed out anyway. He didn’t even know he was dying. We cast him until rigor set, then dumped him. It was our little secret, and the rest of you were so distraught. Looking for Todd.Hoping he’d return. Gabe loved it—he hung out with them just to watch the demise of their little clique, and kept Beka around like a souvenir. The next year we found someone just like poor Todd, drunk and confused. It was so easy. We put them out of their misery and he had his models. Gabe liked having willing models.”

  There was nothing more willing than a corpse, Devon thought to herself. Her arms felt heavy and detached from her body. Norflex. She did not know how to fight the drug, but she knew how to fight the maniac in front of her. If only she could keep her body from betraying her.

  “No one even missed the 1985 kid. Poor Freesia—we could add a few more to her measly little list. It’s much longer. Much!”

  “Where’s Todd?”

  “You can die with the same question you’ve always had. He disappeared. That’s what happened to him!”

  A knife appeared in Aileen’s hand; Devon wasn’t sure where it had come from because she had blinked and the reflexes of her eyelids were taking longer than a split second. They were as heavy as one of Gabe’s sculptures—heavy as Having Hand. Her heart flip-flopped.All those people in the sculpture were dead? She had to work hard to force her eyelids open. She did not stare at the knife.She simply knew it was there and meant for her, and she found herself wondering what koan Aileen planned to carve on her body.

  “I told her not tomarry Gabe. She wanted to marry an artist, though—to be a famous couple. She had no idea what we were up to after hours.” the weeping buddha 352 Devon could almost hear Hans telling her to be mindful—stay in the moment. She began to count her breaths and focus on her lungs expanding as she inhaled and collapsing as she exhaled. The deeper she breathed the quicker it would appear she was going under from the Norflex, and the less defensive Aileen would become.

  “It was all about art for Gabe. Everything was art. Getting away with it, having you around—and Loch—that was part of the art form.” Her eyes narrowed. “And he leaves me out of his will!”

  “You saw his will?”

  “What am I, chopped liver in the chicken section?”

  “How’d you get the will?”

  “I walk Goldstein’s dog. Did you forget that, too? He was going to sell the land! He was going to dump me!” Aileen’s voice went up a notch. “I hate the Halseys! Osbornes! Daytons! Every stuck-up Puritan that ever settled this land! Not a Bonacker, not a whaler in the bunch! How do you think your perfect family is going to like losing both you and Beka? I just wish I could’ve gotten all of them. All of you ‘I used to be an artist but now I play the stock market’ types. You all deserve to die! Look at it out here! There’s no place to even live anymore!” She was talking so fast that spit sprayed from her mouth and her eyes bulged with hatred. “I can’t even afford a one-room apartment in my own hometown!”

  “I gave you a place—”

  “We used to be sisters!” Aileen snarled back at her. “Then you got that fancy-schmancy private-school roommate—hot twat, Beka. ‘This is my best friend, Beka!’” She imitated Devon’s voice.

  Devon felt sadness creeping into her heart. She had tried to include Aileen in her city life, but she was young and people change.Her girlhood pals were different than her young adult friends; even she and Beka had begun to outgrow each other as they matured—that’s what happened. That was life. Wasn’t it?

  “You think you’re so nice to let me live with you and care for your stupid dog? You don’t know how to be a friend, Devon, anymore than you would know how to be a wife. Beka told me what you two argued about. She called and talked to me, just like your mother called me, and Godwyn stopped by to chat … Everyone talks to Aileen.”

  “Godwyn?”

  “All he did was talk about Beka this, Beka that, and how he was under contract to shoot for Hamptons Magazine now. Mr. Big Society Photographer. He was going to be one of them! So I saved him from selling out. I just told him you needed him to stake out the back of the zendo and I’d brin
g him some tea. God, the English love their damn tea.”

  Boo nudged Devon’s hand impatiently with his nose; she couldn’t pat him, though. Her motor skills were failing just as Beka’s had failed in that last attempt to escape across the lawn of their estate. He licked her fingers and flipped her hand again so it landed on his head. She could feel the blood begin to flow into her fingers; he lowered his head to the couch and gazed up at her adoringly while supporting her hand completely by his head. Now, if she could just get her fingers to move. She began to wiggle them back and forth underneath her back toward her gun. Aileen knew she kept a gun on her at all times. Would she notice?

  “It was so easy to frame Beka. Freesia didn’t even come down to the lobby to meet her.” She waved the knife at Devon as if she were carving up the air. “And Edilio, why would Beka meet him in the city? Men are such idiots. Look at Gabe! He thought I’d just let him leave town. Everything else was perfect; except for the Tyvek suit, but stupid you told me years ago why you have to change them for every scene.” That wasn’t quite what Devon had told her, but she didn’t correct her. “You told me how to get away with it! Who knows better than a Crime Scene detective how to cover it up?”

  Devon felt like a fool. She knew better than to berate herself, though, what she needed to do was focus on the present. She breathed deeply, seeking the right words to stop the nightmare she was in. “What’s my koan, Aileen?”

  “I pet-sit for Barney, too. There you are trying to figure out who Barney barks at and it doesn’t even occur to you that he lets me pass him by without so much as a sniff.”

  “My koan?” Devon’s voice was falsely deep and steady. “I thought you’d ask about the hair. I wanted you to ask about the hair.”

  “You used a plastic bag.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “I just figured it out.”

  “That was good, wasn’t it? Put a bag around her hair and around. Spread the extra around the altar—you told me about that, too. If you fake a scene you have to fake the trace. I’m good, aren’t I?”