by Jeffrey Ford
Antony sidled past Isabel and me. "Boss," he said in a harsh whisper, "we've gotta scram."
"Yeah," said Schell, and then the sound of Antony's voice registered, and he looked up at the big man's face. "What the hell happened to you?"
"We ran into the killer," I said. "I'll tell you in the car. Let's go."
Schell's gaze remained locked on Antony for a moment as he addressed Isabel. "Listen, the butler and the guard are already dead, are there any others still in the house?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "The other maids live in town. They go home at night." For the first time since she'd rescued Antony and me, there were tears in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled, and I put my arm around her.
"Go," said Schell. Finding our way by the light of the candles, we moved quickly toward the front of the mansion with Isabel leading the way and Antony bringing up the rear.
It was a great relief to finally stand outside in the cool night air where there were no dark corners to conceal murderous things. I took a few deep breaths while waiting for Antony to catch up. When we got to the car, the big man handed the keys to Schell and waited for Morgan, Isabel, and me to squeeze into the backseat. As soon as the Cord was running, Schell put it in gear and took off, driving as fast as he could bear, down the long driveway. We passed the dead guard, lying next to his booth, and two minutes later were out on the road, making for home.
Schell eased off the gas once we had escaped the grounds of the estate. "Talk to me," he said.
I filled him in on our meeting with the phantom, describing as best I could the look of it, the way it moved and its strength. When I was done, Antony, who'd been resting with his eyes closed, sat forward and said, still having trouble speaking in a normal tone, "Whatever he is, this guy's strong, like an animal. I hit him with shots that could crack stone, and he just kept coming. If it wasn't for Isabel here, me and junior would have been up shit creek."
"Can you tell us what happened?" Schell asked her.
"It had been dark outside for only a little while. Then, suddenly, all the lights went out. I left my room and went to find Mr. Parks to see if he needed my help. I found him in the parlor. He'd lit a candle and was sitting at his desk, looking at something. 'The phone line is dead too,' he said to me when I came into the room. I asked him if he wanted me to get Mr. Quigley, the butler, but he said not to worry about it, he'd find him in a few minutes.
"I was heading back to my room, when something passed me in the hallway-like a ghost. I ran back to warn Mr. Parks something was in the house. When I got to the parlor entrance, he was fighting the thing. It had his head in both its hands. Mr. Parks saw me at the doorway and yelled for me to run. As I ran, I heard him screaming for his mother, and I knew he was dying. I hid, and the fantasmo was trying to find me. Then I heard Diego's voice in the hall, came out, and saw them fighting with it. I went to help."
"The police are going to be looking for you," said Schell. "First they'll be looking for your body, and when they don't find it, they'll be looking for you. You and Morgan had both better stay at my place for the time being."
Schell's proposal was met with silence, and eventually he said, "Okay, that's settled."
"Did the killer leave anything behind in the parlor?" asked Antony.
"No," said Schell, "but I took a framed photo that was sitting in the middle of Parks's desk. His body was slumped on top of it. It may or may not be important."
"He was looking at that picture earlier," said Isabel. "I brought him tea in the late afternoon, y el sujataba esa foto, mientras charlaba por telйfono. Later, when I went to tell him dinner was ready, he was still on the phone, still looking at the picture."
"Here," said Morgan and held up the picture I hadn't been aware she'd been carrying. In the thick shadows of the backseat, I could barely make out the scene. It looked like a group of people standing in a black rain. Then a car passed us, and the fleeting illumination from its headlamps revealed the precipitation in the photo to actually be blood splattered on the glass of the frame.
"Who are they?" I asked Schell.
"Well," he said, "Parks is one of them. Who the rest are, I don't know. It could very well have nothing to do with the killing. What we can be relatively certain of is that the person who offed Parks is the same person responsible for the deaths of Charlotte Barnes and the other children."
"The same person who left me the notes," said Morgan.
"Yeah," said Schell. "There's something going on here, and it's got nothing to do with ghosts."
Schell's statement put a cap on the conversation, everyone no doubt mulling some piece of the puzzle or, as in my case, wondering what in God's name it was that Antony had done battle with. Ghosts may not have been a part of it, but this creature seemed far worse than any airy spirit. I was reminded of The Worm's definition of the dybbuk.
After a while, there came a sound from somewhere in the car. At first I thought it was Antony, moaning slightly from his wounds. Eventually, though, it became clear that someone was humming. The moment I realized it was Morgan Shaw, who was sitting to my right, she broke into song-a subdued, sleepy version of "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams."
I noticed Schell turn his attention from the road and give a quick glance into the backseat. His face was lined with consternation and his brow was furrowed. Antony turned profile then too, and I saw Schell flash a quick glimpse at him and give a brief elevation of the eyebrows, as if to say, What the hell is this? Antony gave a slight shrug, and his face broke into a smile. I'm not sure whether Morgan saw their reactions, but either way she continued unfazed, carrying on to the end with genuine feeling.
Isabel, who had rested her head on my left shoulder, put her lips to my ear and whipered, "La seсora blanca estб loca." Her hand was in mine, and I gave it a squeeze to indicate my agreement. When the last line of the song had come and gone, there was an awkward silence, which was eventually broken by Schell.
"Nicely done, Miss Shaw," he said.
"Thank you, Mr. Schell," she said and then leaned back and closed her eyes.
When we got within a half mile of the house, Schell turned off the headlamps and slowed down to see if we were being followed. We hadn't seen another car for quite a while. He pulled into the drive and around the back, hiding the car from the road.
CHANGE
Once we were in the house, Schell drew me aside and said, "You let Isabel have your room, and I'll give mine to Morgan. I'll sleep in the living room, and you can take the couch in the Bugatorium. When the girl gets situated, come and see me."
I nodded and took Isabel down the hall to my room.
"Are you tired?" I asked her. From the look on her face I could tell she was exhausted.
"Yes, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep," she said. "Everything is too strange."
"You'll be safe here," I said, pushing open the door to my room. "No one knows where you are."
She swept the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid out of her eyes and nodded. I realized that she had nothing to wear to bed, so I went to my closet and took out one of my undershirts and my first pair of swami trousers, which I'd recently outgrown. She thanked me and laid the clothes on the end of the bed. As I turned to go, she put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me back. We kissed, briefly.
"Come see me later," she said.
"If I can," I said.
"Promise," she said.
I nodded and closed the door behind me as I left.
Antony, Morgan, and Schell were in the Bugatorium, sitting around the coffee table. In the lighted room, it was easy to now see the bruises on the big man's neck and a welt on his left cheek. Schell must have been feeling badly for him, since Antony, in addition to drinking whiskey from a beer glass filled to the brim, was also smoking a cigarette. He had his jacket off and his shirt open halfway.
Schell was holding a glass of wine, and Morgan had a teacup on a saucer in front of her. They'd been discussing something when I came in, and as soon as th
ey saw me enter, the conversation died. The butterflies were in a turmoil that night, swirling and swarming, a frantic storm of movement that was a metaphor for what was going on behind my eyes. Schell waved me over.
"Diego, take a seat," he said.
I did, opposite him.
"We have to talk about Isabel. I'm afraid she's in quite a bad situation. I started to mention it in the car, but I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed, and I thought I'd run it by you first to see if there was something you could add or that I was missing. The main thing is, the police are going to want to know what happened to her."
My mind wasn't working too well, what with everything we'd been through. "Should we take her to them tomorrow?" I asked.
"I wouldn't," said Antony.
"If we take her in, that implicates us, which isn't good for any of us, because if they start digging, they're going to find that we were all working for Barnes," said Schell. "Honestly, if I thought it would help her, I might be persuaded to do that. But if she shows up, she's going to be a suspect. Now, I don't think the D.A. could possibly make a case that she did to those men what happened to them."
"She's not strong enough," said Antony.
"She's an illegal, though. And it wouldn't surprise me, if they can't come up with an answer that they might try to pin the rap for all three of tonight's murders on her. Possible or not, given the right circumstances, it might not matter whether she's strong enough."
I shook my head, barely able to take it all in.
"Even if they treat her as just a witness, when they're done with her, they'll deport her for sure. If she wants to stay, she's got to go underground for a while and leave the area. You see? No good solutions."
"What can I do?" I asked him.
"Well, you can start by explaining this all to her. After that, I guess it's up to her what she wants to do. I hate to say it, but I think her best bet is to go back to Mexico for a while, on her own. Does she have family there?"
"Her mother's dead," I said. "Her father's been sent back, but she doesn't know where."
"That's a bum deal," said Antony.
"I'll talk to her," I said. "Not tonight, though. She's too upset."
"Okay," said Schell. "She can stay here as long as she likes."
"Thanks," I said.
Morgan Shaw reached over and put her hand on my forearm. "Things will work out," she said, and I cringed, hoping she wasn't going to sing again.
Antony reached for a second cigarette, but Schell held up his hand and said, "My sympathies have been exhausted."
Antony laughed and put the pack away. He tilted his head back and drained off the sizable portion left in his glass. "Okay, Boss," he said, looking a little bleary but nearly back to his usual self. "I'm going to bed. I have to rest up. If I get another chance at that fucking…you know, that thing, I know exactly what I'm going to do."
"Run?" asked Schell.
"Oh, don't say that," said Morgan. "Henry was very brave."
Antony shook his head. "I'm getting old, Tommy."
"Yeah, I know. We all are. It beats the alternative, though. Just ask Parks," said Schell.
"Have you ever been beaten in a fight before?" I asked.
"Who says I was beaten?" he asked, laughing. He stood up, weaving slightly. "Once when I was younger, I was in a bar in San Francisco. I was shooting my mouth off, being a real jerk. Anyway, I got in a fight and this little Chinese guy, no bigger than Miss Shaw, kicked the crap out of me. That was the last time until tonight."
"That's a good record," I said.
"No," he said. "Next time I meet this thing, I'm going to give him my secret punch. It'll stop his heart and he'll shit blood."
"In that order?" asked Schell.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The Stunner," Antony said.
"You're a stunner," said Schell. "Go get some rest. I'm glad you're in one piece."
Antony smiled and bowed to us. As he moved toward the door, his bulk caused a disturbance in the atmosphere that rippled throughout the room, its current made evident by the motion of the insects.
Once the door was closed, I got up from my seat and went to the couch where Antony had been sitting and lay down, propping my head on the end pillow next to a perching, closed pipevine. I exhaled, and the specimen beat its wings and was gone.
"Will we disturb you if we sit for a few more minutes?" asked Morgan. "I'm still too wide awake to turn in."
"No," I said. "I'm almost asleep." I closed my eyes. There was silence for a little while, and then she and Schell continued speaking in whispers about the events of the night.
I dozed off for a little while, no more than a few minutes it seemed. They were still talking, but in even more hushed tones now. When I opened my eyes a sliver, wanting to see but not wanting to interrupt them, I noticed that someone had turned off the lights. Morgan Shaw, glowing like a full moon in the autumn sky, lifted a wineglass from off the table, and I realized that at some point when I was out she'd switched over from tea. I lay there with my eyes closed, breathing as shallowly as possible so I wouldn't give myself away.
"You have a very nice voice," Schell said, "but I never expected a song at quite that moment."
"You mean, in the car?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I sing to calm myself."
"I liked both your voice and that song," said Schell.
"'Wrap your troubles in dreams,'" she said. "It's a nice idea, but somehow they have a way of unwrapping themselves and escaping."
"I've noticed," said Schell.
"So I have my songs, and you, Thomas Schell, have butterflies. I'd never have suspected it. Why?"
"It's a hobby," he said. "Keeps me off the street at night."
"Collecting stamps is a hobby," she said. "This is something much more."
"I'm fascinated by a good trick when I see it," he said "Sleight of hand with a deck, a magician's illusion, a con's scheme. The butterfly has the best trick in the world. They wrap their naked selves in a blanket, taking nothing with them, you can check if you'd like. They work alone and never leave that cocoon while they perform their magic. Time passes and as it does they transform themselves with only what they have, which as I've said is nothing but themselves. And when they break out, they have become something entirely different. A flying enchantment."
"And what have you learned from them?" she asked.
"Simplicity and subtlety make for the best con. A distraction should lead the mark's attention upward, either toward the sky or to some better vision of himself. Color signals danger. Try to appear to have as many eyes as possible."
"Very good," she said.
"Almost," said Schell. "There's one thing I haven't gotten yet, though, and it keeps me studying them. It's the one thing that's the heart of their art, and it still escapes me."
"What's that?" asked Morgan.
"Change," he said. "They change, but I can never move beyond myself."
"That's the bitch," she said. "It'll make you want to sing to yourself."
I dozed again, and when I next woke, it was still dark, and they had left the Bugatorium. As quietly as possible, I got off the couch and moved across the room to the door. Down the hall I went on my toes, being careful not to bang into anything and give myself away. When I reached the kitchen, the light was still on, and I prayed Antony wasn't up, as he was sometimes, called from sleep by the need for a smoke. Luckily his seat was empty. Finally, I reached the door to my room, opened it slowly, and when there was just enough room, slipped into the darkness, closing it behind me.
"Who's there?" Isabel whispered.
"It's me," I said.
"I knew you would come back," she said.
"Haven't you slept at all?"
"A little, but the dreams keep waking me." I could make out her silhouette sitting up in the bed. She threw back the edge of the covers and patted the spot next to her, as she had on the boulder when we met by the sound. I climbed into bed, and she put
the cover up over my shoulder. Then we settled back, our arms around each other. I felt her pressing against me. My hand moved down her side to rest upon her hip. We lay like that for a long time, and though I meant to kiss her, instead I fell into a deep sleep.
THE BULLET'S IN THE CHAMBER
The next morning I was the last in the house to rise. Apparently, Isabel had gotten up early, dressed, and gone to the kitchen to make eggs, bacon, and coffee for everyone. When I finally pulled myself together and went out to join the others, they were all nearly done eating. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down. The first two things I noticed were Isabel's smile and Schell's stern countenance. He gave me an icy stare but said nothing. It was clear to me that he had discovered I had not spent the entire night on the couch in the Bugatorium and was not happy about it. I knew, though, that his sense of decorum would prevent him from making a scene over it. There would most definitely be a lecture coming later on.
At first, I was embarrassed by his look and wouldn't make eye contact with him. This only lasted for a short time and was circumvented by my seeing Isabel talking and laughing with the others. I knew I was in love, and I wasn't going to deny it. Schell will have to accept it, I thought to myself. After that, I became defiant, and when he looked at me, I stared back and smiled.
Antony had, as usual, risen early and gone to get the newspaper. There, just as we found the news about the discovery of Charlotte Barnes, we found the headlines announcing the shocking murders of Parks and his staff.
"I guess we're on the low profile here for even longer now," said Antony. "It's gonna get cozy."
"You're right. We have to continue to lie low for a while. Diego and I are going out this evening," said Schell. "It's probably not a good idea, but I need more information."
"Where?" asked Antony.
"We're going to see the coroner," said Schell.
"You going G-man?" asked Antony.
Schell nodded.
"What about me?"
"I want you to stay here and rest up," said Schell. "Practice the Stunner."
