Drawn Together

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “What do you want?” demanded Yamane.

  “Well, you know, I really don’t know yet.” She seemed to be considering her options. “That’s why I’ve come here today; to give you fair warning. Time to play, Yamane.”

  Yamane walked to the table and sat down. As Rory watched, he seemed to shrug. He took an orange out of the fruit basket and began peeling it. “Go ahead and warn me then; I’m listening.” Rory could see Yamane’s hands still trembled faintly. He remained standing by, watching the drama unfold with an uneasy prickle of apprehension.

  “Did you think you were rid of me forever?” She spoke quietly, but for all that gave the impression that she shrieked. “Look at you, in your pretty Chinese dress like some doll.”

  “Hey.” Rory stepped forward, but Yamane held up his hand.

  “Let her finish,” he said, casually eating his fruit.

  “The game begins now, Yamane.” She motioned with a flick of her head toward Rory. “Get rid of your pet. It would be such a shame to have to harm him. I remember that dog you were so fond of -- Daiki, right?”

  “Yamane?” Rory tried again. He wanted to know who the hell this woman was. He was feeling threatened and he didn’t like it.

  “Daiki,” said Yamane, ignoring him. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “He was loyal too, wasn’t he?” She leaned over the table and grabbed his left wrist. “Such a shame about Daiki.” Yamane couldn’t move the hand she held in a white-knuckled grip, even though he tried. Rory saw what she intended a second too late, and as he lunged for her, she struck, stabbing a fork through the meaty muscle between the thumb and forefinger of Yamane’s left hand all the way to the laminated wood tabletop.

  Rory intended to make a grab for the crazy woman, but hearing Yamane’s agonized scream, he rushed to his friend’s aid instead. He caught Yamane as he tried to rise to his feet then stumbled.

  “Well, bye now,” the woman said, walking to door, sauntering, as Rory frantically tried to stop the bleeding with the paper napkins on the table. When this failed, he yanked off his T-shirt and wrapped it around Yamane’s hand, dragging the anguished man with him to the phone so he could call the hotel lobby for help.

  The woman turned back one final time. “Come on, you big baby, it was only the left hand.” She opened the door to the hallway, tilting her head like a bird. “Let’s do this again soon. I had fun.”

  6

  Numbness engulfed Rory and he acted without conscious thought. After phoning the front desk to apprise them of the emergency, Rory took care of Yamane. The terrible sound of his cries faded, and he steadily declined into a state of true medical shock.

  Rory touched Yamane’s face, which had grown clammy. He picked the smaller man up and easily carried him to the bed, covering him with a blanket after elevating his legs. He held Yamane’s good hand, chafing it between his own to warm it.

  “Look at me, Yamane,” he said, to keep the injured man from drifting into unconsciousness. “Look right at me, Yamane. I’m going to tell you all about what’s going to happen now, do you understand?” He squeezed Yamane’s uninjured hand.

  “Hm?” Yamane looked dazed.

  “I called the lobby, and they’re sending paramedics and the police,” he said. “Just focus on me now, okay? This is going to be a piece of cake. You probably won’t even need any stitches, and you’ll have a dashing four-pronged scar.” Rory tried to make his voice authoritative, to keep it from shaking or breaking.

  “Stop crying,” Yamane ordered.

  “I’m not crying,” he said, even though his tears were dripping all over Yamane’s arm. “Then you know what you should do? You should get a tattoo, right on the back of your hand, as part of the design.” Someone was knocking on the door, and Rory left Yamane to answer it.

  Rory opened the door and the paramedics rushed in. They went to work, taking Yamane’s vital signs and checking his wound. There was a tense moment when they were under the misconception that Rory stabbed him, but Yamane himself was able to set them straight. Rory put on a fresh shirt. After that, he hardly had a chance to think until an hour later when someone at the hospital brought him a cup of coffee.

  “I’m Detective Jenks,” the man said. “That was a pretty awful, wasn’t it? Yamane’s still in emergency, but he’ll probably be treated and released today.”

  “I see.” Rory took the offered coffee.

  “Have you known him long” -- he looked at his notepad -- “Mr. Delaplaines?”

  “No, I just met him yesterday.” He took a drink of his coffee and made a terrible face.

  The detective laughed. “The coffee here is swill, isn’t it? He had your name written on his arm.”

  “Still? He just took a shower. Well…” He looked at his own arm. Besides Yamane’s room number written in Sharpie marker, it was spotted with blood. “I need a shower too.”

  “Son, I know this is hard, but do you think you could describe the person who did this?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll need me to do that. Yamane knows who it was. They spoke as if they knew one another. He said he thought she’d still be in Seattle. She talked like…as if they’d done this before.”

  “What, you mean like a prior relationship? Old love gone wrong?” the detective asked. “I doubt it. But she seemed to indicate that. She talked about borderline personality disorder. It all sounded so crazy and dark. When she stabbed him, I was just a second too late. I should have grabbed her. I could have knocked her unconscious or something, but Yamane was screaming. I’ve never heard anything like that…”

  The detective’s phone beeped. “Shoot, I have to find out what this is. I’m going to go outside. You’ll still be here?”

  “I’m going nowhere until I know Yamane is all right.”

  “Me neither, son.” Detective Jenks left Rory in the waiting room. Rory tried to read the outdated magazines. Just when he got interested in one, he found half the article he was reading had been torn out because of a coupon for Jell-O on the back. He was going crazy. He just wanted to see Yamane. How long were they going to keep him out here like this? He felt tears burn his eyes and put his head down.

  “Mr. Delaplaines? Mr. Yamane wants you in the ER. He’s quite agitated and is being…uncooperative. Are you his registered domestic partner?”

  “Yeah,” he lied, following her. “Sure I am. Registered. Domestic. Whatever. We live in Japan.” Yamane heard the last of this as Rory came around the corner and gave him a surprised look. “Now, cher, I hear you have your knickers in a twist again.” He took Yamane’s uninjured hand in his.

  “Rory,” Yamane warned. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can start by getting the hell away from me.”

  Rory looked back to the shocked nurse. “Could you give us a minute, please? Apparently Yamane getting stabbed has disturbed our connubial bliss.”

  “Um, well, I…” She hardly knew what to say.

  “It’s all right.” Yamane sighed. “I need to talk to him.”

  “Oh, well, okay.” She turned and left the room. Rory called after her. “If Detective Jenks looks for me, will you tell him where I am?”

  “I will,” she said.

  Yamane turned a tearstained face to him. “My hand hurts; you have no idea. Listen to me. Amelia is dangerous; we have to get you back to Louisiana. She probably already knows everything about you.”

  “So, we’re on a first-name basis with our stalker, are we?”

  “This is not the time for humor! That woman would think nothing of killing you. She killed my damned dog!”

  “Now, that is the third time you have compared me to your dog, Yamane, and I am starting to lose my patience.”

  “Don’t try your deep-fried, southern boy, lullaby voice with me. You aren’t safe. You have no clue how close we came to getting killed today.”

  Rory continued stroking Yamane’s uninjured hand. “My lullaby voice. So you like the way I talk…”

  “This isn�
�t funny.” Yamane squeezed Rory’s hand. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Damn, I’m fine, but I just can’t seem to stop…”

  “That’s natural when something like this happens. People’s emotions come to the surface. It’ll pass,” Rory said gently.

  Detective Jenks came in. “We just heard from the hotel,” he said grimly. “The waiter who was originally scheduled to deliver your breakfast was found tied up in a linen closet with a serious head injury. I understand the woman who stabbed you is someone you know?”

  “Yes,” Yamane answered. “Her family brought her to the States and placed her in a private institution in Seattle when she attacked me before. When I get my things back, I can give you the number of my agent, who has all the information you need, along with the names of police officers involved in the stalking case in Japan. I never thought they’d let her out this soon. My agent speaks limited English, but this is all in a file she can fax to you.”

  “Stalkers can be very determined and organized. What can you tell me about this woman?” he asked.

  Rory lowered the guardrail on the hospital bed and sat down.

  “I can tell you that she’s extremely intelligent and has excellent resources. I’ve known her since childhood,” he murmured. “Someday I believe she’ll kill me.”

  “Yamane.”

  “You’re going to have to cooperate with us,” Jenks said. “Since you are just visiting our city, our job is to see if we can keep you safe while you’re here. I wish we’d been apprised of the situation beforehand.”

  “My agent just called me this morning. She told me Amelia had been released and that she’d made it as far as LAX and that’s all they knew. There was no way to know where she went after that. As I said, she has resources.”

  “That’s true, but this time, she openly attacked you. It’s a sad fact of life that stalkers rarely stop,” said Jenks.

  “But still,” said Yamane quietly. “It’s a fact of life.”

  “Cheer up, cher.” Rory continued stroking Yamane’s arm. “If worse comes to worst, we’ll go to my grandparents’ place back in Louisiana. Those folks are drunk and armed, and they learn in kindergarten where to hide a body so it’ll never be found.”

  “I didn’t hear that,” said Jenks. “They’re going to move you somewhere private, and an officer will be stationed in the hall outside.” He looked concerned about something.

  “What is it you’re not telling us?” Rory asked.

  “It’s been my experience that stalkers do their dirty work on their own. They will spend endless time setting up something, obsessing over every detail. They like to be up close and personal. Your girl couldn’t have been doing that from an institution in Washington. It strikes me…” He trailed off.

  “She had to have help here,” Yamane finished for him. “It’s the only way she could have been there for that one order to room service. I didn’t order breakfast yesterday. How the hell could she have set that up so fast?”

  Detective Jenks was silent, but he was looking at Rory. At some point, Yamane grew silent as well. His entire face became a mask of pain.

  Detective Jenks said, “Mr. Delaplaines, I’d like to have a word with you at my office.”

  Rory didn’t look up. He sat on the side of the hospital bed next to Yamane, willing his friend and idol to look at him. Yamane would not meet his eyes.

  “I see,” he said around the lump in his throat. “In the interest of keeping Yamane safe, I would be happy to do whatever I can.” He stood and raised the guardrail on the bed. There was little more to say if even Yamane thought him capable of such a betrayal. Rory felt desperate to say something, but no words came to him. He turned and left with Detective Jenks.

  “I hated to have to say that,” said Jenks. “I could see he cares for you.”

  “It’s all right. You wouldn’t be doing your job if you didn’t question me. I admit it does look suspicious. For all he knows, I’ve been with what’s-her-name all along.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get this straightened out. Things like this just need due diligence,” said Detective Jenks. “My car is in the parking structure. Come with me, and when we’re done, I’ll bring you back to the hospital or the hotel, whichever you choose.”

  “I wonder if I should just go home. He told me to leave anyway; he thinks she’ll come after me. Apparently she killed his dog.”

  “What kind of a person kills dogs?” Jenks muttered.

  “Can I tell you something strange?” asked Rory. “I noticed at the time, but it was all so shocking I hardly thought about it. She was really strong. Yamane’s small, but he’s not weak. She had him by the wrist and he couldn’t budge his arm. Then she stabbed all the way through his hand with a fork. I mean, it’s not like I have personal knowledge of that or anything, but I hunt. I’ve cleaned a big fish or two. That would take real muscle power. I thought it seemed odd.”

  “Drugs?” Jenks said thoughtfully. “Maybe. But crazy people can be pretty strong too. You really care for him too, don’t you?” He used his remote entry to open the door to a Honda Accord.

  “Oddly enough, I do.” Rory got in the passenger side. “We’ll make this quick.”

  Rory looked back at the hospital as they were driving away. They drove along the waterfront area that he saw when he was trying to find parking for the convention, and then headed out farther into what seemed to be shipyards. They went over the Vincent Thomas Bridge, after which Rory saw signs that said TERMINAL ISLAND. “Is this where the police station is?”

  “Yes,” said Jenks, looking straight ahead. “We’ll be there in just a minute.”

  Suddenly, something about the whole situation seemed wrong to Rory. Then he noticed the Enterprise Rental key ring dangling from the ignition.

  “You know” -- he closed his eyes -- “I should have known as soon as I saw your car, but it didn’t dawn on me until just now.”

  “Not as slow as I was hoping,” said Jenks. “But not a Nobel Prize winner either.”

  “Well, I’m a stranger here, so I’m at a disadvantage. On the other hand, I’m from New Orleans, and cops haven’t always been for real there.” He was silent for a minute. “But at least they were cops.”

  “Bingo. But to be fair, I actually was a cop at one time. In the future, remember, it’s always smart to ask for identification before you talk to the police,” he remarked casually. “Also, in your case I’d say you should be a little more discriminating about who you go to hotels with. What about the car gave it away?”

  “Back home, no self-respecting cop would drive a bitty foreign car like this. If it’s for work, you use the cruiser or an unmarked vehicle; if it’s personal, you take your truck. And you have a rental tag on your keys.”

  “Ah,” he said. “I actually own a truck.”

  “What do you plan to do with me?” asked Rory, his heart sinking.

  “I don’t plan anything. I’m just in charge of deliveries. Amelia wants to have a word. Here we are.”

  Jenks stopped the car at the end of a commercial boatyard, then got out his cell phone and made a call. He stepped out of the car and closed the door so Rory couldn’t hear what he was saying. A few minutes later, another car drove up. Two men got out of one of the cars. They walked toward where the man Rory knew as Jenks stood. The three engaged in a quiet discussion, nodding and agreeing. Jenks walked to the car they arrived in and drove off. Rory had been delivered. What can brown do for you?

  Finally, a small silver Audi pulled up, and Amelia got out of the driver’s side. She wore an attractive red business suit. Out of her room service uniform, Rory could see she was a woman about Yamane’s age, nice-looking but overweight. She exuded a vitality and power that were unmistakable. Rory noticed she had an inner light that she turned on and off at different times. As soon as she saw him, her eyes lit up like a cat with a new toy.

  “Here you are at last,” she said. “I was worried that Jenks would fail me.”

  The two men he’d seen Jenks
speaking with came over and yanked the door of the Honda open.

  One of the men clasped his arm and tugged. “Get out of the car.”

  Rory complied, but when he made to pull his arm back he found the man had it in an unbreakable hold. “I’ll admit I wasn’t too bright. I blame the vagaries of travel in a foreign city. Do you intend to kill me?”

  “No, of course not,” she said as though she was shocked. “I intend to have you beaten and thrown off the dock. I intend for the water to kill you.”

  “Why are you doing this?” He struggled to get free, but the man’s grip was punishing. “I can’t play with both of you. Two against one isn’t fair.”

  Rory looked at the men who awaited her signal. “No, I can see that.”

  “With Daiki, I just had to blind him with a table knife. I do some of my best work with silverware.” She looked into the distance as if she was seeing it her mind. “It was Yamane who had to do the killing. I can assure you it was a very sad affair. If I could think of a way that he’d have to kill you like that it would be ideal of course, but I’ll bet he wouldn’t do it. It’s not like they let you euthanize injured lovers. The authorities look the other way for dogs.”

  Rory couldn’t keep himself from laughing. Which was weird.

  The woman, Amelia, became very serious all of a sudden and it was as if the light went out behind her eyes. “What?” she demanded.

  “Don’t expect the same kind of reaction you got with Daiki. I’m not even his boy toy. I’m just a fan who slept on his floor last night.”

  “Sure you are.” She nodded to her men. “Well, buh-bye then.” She turned away. Rory saw her take the cell phone from her purse as she walked to her car. He could see she’d already completely moved on.

  A police detective followed the floor nurse into the room and quietly asked Yamane if he felt up to talking.

  Yamane answered, “Yes,” automatically polite, whether he felt like it or not. He guessed he had inherited some of the Japanese determination to view civic duty as a spiritual ideal. He smiled, thinking of Rory and his resolve to remove trash and cigarette butts from the street.