Shadow Puppet

by Jeffrey Round

  “And the gagged girl. How does she say ‘ow’?”

  “She wriggles her toes. That’s my cue to remove the hood. None of it’s real.”

  “Yes, I saw your shoddy little rope video.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “My shoddy little video?”

  “Yes, the one with the burn marks. How did you fake those?”

  She stood and glared at him for a moment. Then slowly she turned her back, letting the fur slide to the floor. “Does that look fake to you?”

  The chief shook his head. “I deal with this shit all the time. Most of it doesn’t even make it into the news. ’Cause frankly, it’s not all that newsworthy. Weird yes, but not newsworthy.”

  “A little public pressure might help your cause,” Dan suggested.

  “The public is unpredictable. You have to be careful how you unleash it. Sometimes it works with you, other times against. It’s hard to gauge. But once you get the public involved you have to ride the ride where it takes you. They don’t soon forget when you disappoint them.”

  Edie had sat facing the mirror again, the fur lying on the floor between them.

  “You live in a free country. You have no idea what it’s like in a place where you have no rights at all, knowing someone can walk into your home at any moment and rape or kill you. You would do anything to escape. When I met these guys they asked if I minded a little pain. I said no, as long as I got my papers. I was stupid. I should have asked what they were talking about. I don’t even remember the end of the video.” She wiped lipstick off on a Kleenex, the red smearing across the white tissue. “They drugged me. The next day, when I woke up, there were burn marks all over my body. About half went away in a few weeks. The doctors say the rest will never heal completely. Some days it takes me an hour to make myself up so it doesn’t show on stage. I still don’t have the fucking papers.”

  “Did you try to do anything about it?”

  “You mean legally? No, I couldn’t. I signed a release in case anything went wrong. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ Mirovic said. ‘We’re careful.’ Yeah, very careful when it comes to covering his ass.”

  “The complaint could be anonymous. He wouldn’t have to know it was you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry about your friend, but I can’t make a complaint. I know Zoltan. He’d kill me. I have no doubt of that.”

  “A man was murdered,” Dan said. “Maybe more than one.”

  “I doubt he’s the first. And he won’t be the last.”

  Dan put his coffee cup down and stood up. “She needs papers,” he said, letting a twenty fall onto the tabletop. “Real papers. Anything you could do about that?”

  The chief looked up. His eyes looked sad and old. “I could try. No guarantees, though.”

  “I’ll get your complaint. Finish your breakfast. I’ve gotta go.”

  Two days later, Dan heard back from the chief. The judge had consented to conditions of anonymity and granted a search warrant on the basis of Edie’s complaints. They had done a thorough search of the basement, but turned up little.

  “Videos for all tastes and fetishes,” the chief told him. “Nothing new there, but we found your vampire film. It’s called Bite Me. We analyzed the blood we found on the props and in the locker. It was from pigs. Somebody’s butcher must have done them a favour. Now I’ve got a new problem. Mirovic is fighting back. He lodged a complaint, saying I violated his rights to go about his business in a fair and open manner. Like he’s some sort of missionary for the sexually advanced or some such.”

  “Is he going to get anywhere with it?”

  “I suspect he’s trying to kick up a smokescreen while he covers his tracks. We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, it occurs to me he might be looking for revenge. You should keep an eye on your source.”

  “We kept her anonymous. Apparently there were enough others with similar complaints that he won’t know for sure that it came from her.”

  “Still, there might be repercussions. Don’t underestimate these men. Better safe than sorry, is my call.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Buzzed

  IT WAS 2:58 A.M. THE PHONE was on the second ring when Dan rolled over and picked up the receiver.

  “Sharp.”

  “I told you not to go to the police.”

  The voice was male, accusatory, stinging. It sounded familiar. Then he placed it.

  “I had to, Reggie. You can’t withhold evidence of a potential crime.”

  “Right. In the meantime, you nearly got me killed.”

  Dan’s mind went on the alert. Too late, he recalled the chief’s warning. “What happened?”

  “Xavier. He cleared out his stuff earlier. I thought he was gone, but he came back. He knocked on my door. A guy named Sasha was with him. He works at Zipperz. He’s the tough guy.”

  “I know who Sasha is. Did you let them in?”

  “I wasn’t going to, but they made so much noise I was afraid they’d wake up the whole building.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They beat me up.” There was a pounding in the background. “Oh, shit. They’re back!”

  “Okay, try to calm down. Did you call the police?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call them for you.”

  “No! I don’t want their help! This is your fault for telling them about what I showed you in the basement!”

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  The pounding continued in the background.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m freaking out. I have no one else to call.”

  “Tell them you’re calling 911. You don’t have to call, but let them think you’re going to if they don’t leave.”

  Dan heard Reggie call out over the noise. “Xavier, if you guys don’t leave I’m going to call 911.”

  The pounding let up.

  “What do you hear?” Dan asked.

  “Footsteps. I think they’re leaving.” Reggie waited. “Now what? I’m afraid they’re going to come back.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll get dressed and come right over. If they show up again, call 911 for real.”

  When Dan got to the Viking, there was no sign of Xavier or Sasha. He buzzed. Once, twice, three times. He was about to go bang on Reggie’s window when the lock clicked open. Reggie stuck his head out into the hallway and glanced warily around.

  “Did they come back?”

  “No.”

  Dan looked him over. He had a welt on the side of his face. Apart from that, he looked more unsettled than injured. Dan followed him into his apartment. Reggie sat at the kitchen table. He slipped a joint from his pocket and lit up.

  “Tell me what happened,” Dan said.

  Reggie’s hands trembled as he reached for the ashtray. He took a toke, exhaled, and sighed.

  “Around ten o’ clock Xavier came with some guys and took his things from the studio apartment upstairs. Sasha was with them. I heard them, but I didn’t come out. Then they left. Later, Xavier came back and pounded on my door. He said he needed to get something from his locker. I asked him did he know what time it was and he said yeah, he knew, but so what? When I let him in, Sasha was with him. He took a swing at me. Xavier started screaming that I called the cops on him. I said it wasn’t me, but he didn’t believe it.” He slumped against the wall and cradled his head. “I knew this would happen.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think they’d connect you with the search.”

  Reggie glared. “I told you we could’ve solved this together. We didn’t need the cops. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

  “Because time was running out. When I was here the other day —”

  “Zoltan told me you came by. The furnace inspector. You didn’t tell me about that either.” Reggie sounded stung. “There was no fucking white van. You made that up.”

  He took another toke and flicked the ash in the tray.

  “I’m sorry,” Dan said. “I di
dn’t want to involve you. And it gave you a perfect excuse not to be here so they wouldn’t suspect you. I brought along a friend to help me find out what was going on.”

  “Yeah, they showed me his tape.” Reggie giggled. “I thought maybe it was you, but it was only that Jameel dude. They asked me if I knew who it was. I said I never saw him before. Then they asked about you.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Just that you showed up one day and said you were there to inspect the furnace. How was I to know you were a fake inspector? ‘How come you didn’t notice he wasn’t wearing a uniform?’ they asked. I said I didn’t think about it. There were problems with the furnace and we were supposed to replace it, so it made sense when you came to the door. How could I know?”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Yeah, but I still got this.” He pointed to the welt on his face. He looked morose. “And now I’m gonna lose my job. And probably my apartment.”

  “If you do, I’ll help get you a recommendation to get you another one.”

  Reggie looked exasperated. “You don’t understand — I like living here! I don’t want to move.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The chief of police is putting the squeeze on your boss’s operations. That’s probably why Egeli moved his things. You may never see either of them again.”

  “That would be a big improvement.” He ground out the joint in the ashtray and shoved it aside.

  “What do you know about these guys?” Dan asked.

  “Nothing. Zoltan hired me to look after the building and maintain the premises if anyone had problems with their heat or anything like that. He’s not the owner, though. That’s some company overseas. Zoltan just runs the place for them. He and Xavier make the films together. I just stay out of their way.”

  “Reggie, these men are criminals.”

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  “When I was here the other day I overheard them talking about drugging one of the performers. Do you know if there was an overdose while they were filming?”

  Reggie nodded. He was looking a little buzzed. “Yeah, a couple months ago. Something happened and they took a girl out in a cab so they could drop her at the hospital instead of calling the ambulance to come here.”

  “Did she die?”

  “I didn’t ask. Are you crazy? I know these guys are dangerous! I just do what they tell me to do.”

  “The reason the police were able to get a search warrant was because one of the performers who worked for them put in a complaint that they’d been physically abusive. The police were looking for evidence to back that up.”

  Reggie stared at him. “Did they find anything?”

  “Nothing that would implicate them.”

  “Well, they should’ve looked harder. Cops aren’t very smart.”

  “Were you here when they came?”

  “Sure. I let them in and showed them which locker was Xavier’s. I had to call Zoltan to tell him what was going on. That’s when he freaked out and started asking about you. Where was I when the furnace inspector called? I couldn’t tell him I was out looking for a white van that didn’t even exist. That’s how I figured it came from you. I’ll be lucky if all I lose is my job.” He watched Dan. “Now what’s going to happen? Will they go to jail?”

  “I don’t know. The blood on the teeth and the knife turned out to be pig’s blood.”

  Reggie made a face. “Pig’s blood?”

  “The whole thing was faked. So as far as the police could ascertain, no one was hurt during the filming process.”

  He sneered. “I still say they didn’t look hard enough.”

  “Maybe, but they did what they could.” Dan checked his watch. It was nearly four. “I’ve got to go. Will you be okay? Is there someplace you can go for a night or two?”

  Reggie looked disgusted. “I’m the super. I’m supposed to be here.”

  “Not if you’re worried about your safety. Do you want me to call someone for you?”

  Reggie shook his head and looked at Dan. “You could stay the night.”

  “Sorry, I have to go. My son’s alone at home.”

  Disbelief came over Reggie’s face. “You have a son?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you straight?”

  “No, I told you. I’m gay.”

  Reggie nodded. “Accidents happen, eh?”

  “You could put it that way.”

  Dan stood and headed for the door.

  “When will I see you again?” Reggie asked.

  Dan turned. “We’ll have that date one of these days.”

  “You’re always too busy.”

  “I’ll make time,” Dan said. “Call me if those guys show up again. You sure you don’t want me to contact the police for you?”

  Reggie glowered. “Forget it. The police are fucking idiots.”

  “Don’t answer the phone or buzz them in if they come back.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Reggie said. “It won’t happen again.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Disappearance

  THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, DAN sat in his office looking at the skyline across the Don River. Winter had arrived for real. Temperatures plummeted. The snow fell heavily all day, transforming the city into a wonderland of fantastical white castles.

  Ked called to say he and Elizabeth were going to catch an early movie. “You’re on your own, Dad,” he said.

  “No worries. I’ll manage.”

  Five o’clock came. The sky was already midnight-dark. Dan shut his office and locked everything down. The city glittered with pre-Christmas lights and decorations. Instead of going home, he found himself walking the snow-covered streets, trekking up Parliament Street and across Wellesley to the University of Toronto.

  The Soldiers’ Tower was lit up with floodlights, all the dearly departed war dead eulogized in script on its walls, their names remembered by few among the living, time’s wearying tide rolling on without them. The windows of Hart House threw a cheerful glow onto the whitened grounds. Inside, students shrugged into overcoats, shouldering knapsacks full of books, preparing to defy the cold that threatened to seep into their bones.

  Ked had been conceived not far from where Dan stood, after a drunken night out with Kendra. She had already suspected Dan was gay, but was not above having a good time with her brother’s dormitory mate. It turned out to be one of the most decisive dates Dan ever had. No doubt about it, Fate was inscrutable.

  He stood under the pink aureole of the street lamps, reviving old memories. Then, feeling the cold, he turned and headed back across Yonge Street and on to Church Street. Instead of heading south toward home, however, he went north, dodging the Christmas shoppers and office workers released from their daily conscript.

  Without quite knowing why, he turned on Gloucester and stopped in front of the Viking’s funereal facade. He’d felt it drawing him from a distance, dogging his footsteps and pulling him onward. With the slant of the street lights and the falling snow, it appeared isolated from its fellow buildings, a solitary ghost ship manned by an invisible crew afloat on a sea of white.

  From down the long alleyway between the buildings, a glow lit up the final window. Sam’s window.

  Dan’s heart pounded as he tromped through the snow past Reggie’s window, dark as the grave, and all the way down to Sam’s. When he got there, however, he saw it was only a light from the building opposite reflected in the glass, making it look as though it was lit from within. Phantom glimmers. A shadow play of appearance versus reality.

  He stood there, listening to the wind, thinking of men who disappeared without a trace.

  Ked was still out when he got home. Ralph was asleep on his bed in the kitchen. Dan left the lights off downstairs and went up to his office. He turned Nabil’s computer on and reread everything in his diary. S had referred to Nabil as his toy, his plaything. Nabil had called him his string-puller. S was in fact his master. A puppet master tugging on the st
rings of destiny from within the realm of shadow.

  The killer is cruel and arrogant, Domingo had said. He’d met plenty of men like that in the past month, with Zoltan Mirovic topping the list. But he could certainly see similar traits in Xavier Egeli, his thug Sasha, and even Hanani Sheikh.

  Men who thought they were smarter than others. Men who believed they were beyond the law and could get away with what they did because of it. The accounts of history were full of men like that, the ledgers of the ones who took always outweighing the ones who gave.

  He put his head down on the desk, exhaustion taking over. The days had been long and the news cheerless. The weight of Nabil’s death had stayed with him. He was letting it get to him.

  When he looked up, it was an hour later. His cell showed three missed calls from Prabin. A text followed. Dan felt a chill as he read the words: I’ve got a date with S. Will keep you posted.

  His call went straight to voicemail. Where are you? he texted, praying Prabin would text back with details, saying everything was all right. After fifteen minutes, when there was still no response, he called Donny.

  “Is Prabin with you?”

  “No. He’s at the gym.”

  Dan took a breath. “He’s not at the gym. I’m coming over.”

  Dan got in his car and headed to Jarvis Street, cursing the slow-changing lights and the cars overly cautious of slipping on the snow-covered pavement.

  He was at the condo by 10:30. It had been a little over an hour since Prabin’s text. Dan sat at the table while Donny stared him down.

  “Are you saying you asked him to play Muslim For A Day to help find this killer? No, wait!” He held up a hand. “He asked you to help him. Am I right?”

  “He didn’t ask. He said he was going to do it with or without me. I always went with him before. This time he went without telling me.”

  “That doesn’t absolve you.”

  “I know.”

  Donny looked off to the skyline view from his balcony, the night hard and clear, the cold just a thin windowpane away.

  “What happens when even your friends turn out to be your enemies?” he asked Dan’s reflection. Dan said nothing. Donny turned back to him. “I’ll tell you what happens. You think you’ve found just a little bit of happiness, but when you sit back for a minute it’s gone.”