The Golden Gates

by C. R. Kliewer

  His lips coiled back into a grin. “Can you blame them for trying. It’s a lot of money he’s asking.”

  “I thought your “Friends” had plenty of money. At least, that’s what they told me. In any case, you sir, are in a pretty precarious predicament. It would be a shame to lose another good bartender.”

  His hand flew to her throat and squeezed, just enough to make his point. “I don’t take kindly to threats.” He let a little of his homeland accent slip into his growl. “Where are they?”

  “You think he would tell me?” She gasped under the pressure he placed on her throat, but the kitten smile never left her lips.

  “No. He wouldn’t be able to trust a broad like you, would he? Still, you’re a clever girl. I’m sure you have some ideas.”

  “What makes you think they’re even on the yacht? You, my friend, have just made a trip for biscuits.”

  He eased the pressure on her throat, but his hand still pinned her to the door. “When do you think they’ll get here?”

  “When he gets here. And by that time, it will be too late. Anyway, I came here to make you a proposition not a threat. An extra fifty grand, cash, and Raven won’t ever have to know about your Friends’ little treasure hunt.”

  “Sounds like an offer and a threat. In any case, you don’t seem the type to need the extra dough.”

  “Everyone knows times aren’t what they were, and my husband hasn’t always kept a close enough eye on his bookkeepers.”

  “Even so, what you propose sounds a lot like another double-cross to me. Something, according to your own words, Raven won’t exactly appreciate. He’ll think you’ve been holding out on him.”

  Though she maintained her cool appearance, he detected a slight flinch in the neck muscles under his fingers. “Other than me, who’s going to tell him? You? And if he does find out, I think he’ll approve. It’s in his personal interest that my husband’s finances are, shall we say, set to right.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll see it that way. I’m not so sure those I work for will necessarily like your offer either.”

  “It’s in your best interest that they do.” She looked him straight in the eye. Her kitten smile vanished, replaced by the look of a full-grown-predator. He released his hand and stepped back. “Point taken, ma’am.” He resumed his Irish lilt, “Now kindly step away from the door. I need to finish my rounds.”

  “Impressive. Maybe I should tell him about you. He could use someone with your kind of skills.”

  He smiled revealing sharp canines, and the lioness caught a glimpse of the wolf. She hesitated, then slowly slid aside to let him pass.

  Without acknowledging her one step further, he walked out the door and down the corridor to the next stateroom. As he reached for the glass doorknob, he heard the clicking of typewriter keys coming from the other side. He paused, then turned the knob.

  *

  Anna was sitting at her desk in the corner of the stateroom-turned-office when Forster opened the door. She looked up at him through horn rimmed glasses, arched her brows, then looked back down and resumed typing.

  “Excuse me Miss Kelly. I’ll come back some other time.”

  “You’re of no bother to me. Please do your thing.”

  The problem was there was no “thing” that he was supposed to do in here, except what he had been planning to do, and he couldn’t very well search the place with her in it.

  He looked at her analytically. Her eyes remained on the page in front of her. Had she heard anything? She was right next to the connecting wall. If it wasn’t for the loud clacking of the keys, she could have heard something. Come to think of it, they would have heard the typewriter from the other room as well. It wasn’t exactly man’s quietest invention. In fact, it wasn’t until just before reaching the door that he noticed the metallic hammering of the teeth. He looked at her again, this time with renewed interest.

  His hesitation at the door prompted her to go further. Her fingers never suspending their relentless pace, “If you’re wondering where the gin is, it’s the second panel on the right. I believe Mr. Beltran is running low,”

  “Thanks.” He proceeded to the panel and clicked it open, glancing back at Anna still looking down at her page. His eyes went to Beltran’s desk, noting the number of drawers and the number of piles on top. He looked again out of the corner of his eye back to where Anna was sitting, still click-clacking away, before looking back into the recess behind the panel. Reaching in, he pulled out the bottle of gin, eyeing the label with disgust. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have taste. He noted that the glasses needed to be refreshed as well as the ice. With the necessary items collected, he closed the panel and walked back across the room to the door. Without another word or look, he slipped through, closing it softly behind him. Hopefully she would be gone by the time he got back.

  As soon as she heard his footsteps dying away, Anna stopped typing and took off her glasses, placing one stem between her teeth. She looked at the door, then down at the nonsense she had produced on the page. She ripped the paper out of the typewriter and crumpled it.

  She would have to move quickly. He wouldn’t be gone for long.

  22

  Eva’s Blasphemy

  * * *

  Despite another masterpiece of a meal by Moreau, dinner that night was miserable. The only sound was that of the polished silver utensils occasionally scratching the surface of the silver monogrammed bone china. Hess and Una were the only ones who seemed to have appetite enough for the stuffed salmon rolls baked in white wine and butter sauce, and of the two, Hess was the only one who seemed to really enjoy it. Daniels had excused himself under the guise of needing to attend to the Allura, and he had pulled O’Connell with him. Beltran sat again at the head, sulphur still rising from his fissures. The seat to his left was empty.

  A quarter of an hour into the meal, Eva entered through the starboard entrance. She was exquisite. Having changed into a low-cut green gown, her neck glittered with strands of diamonds and onyx. Her hands and arms were covered in long black satin gloves. Anna wondered if this last choice was due to a frivolous fashion sense or for a more practical purpose: covering her bruises. Her kitten smile played again at her lips, and her eyes exuded her confidence and complete control. Beltran on the other hand looked more uncomfortable in his own skin than in his form-fitting wool suit. He did not look up when she walked in the door, nor did he acknowledge the verbal greeting she gave him, even when she laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder. Anna waited to see if Eva would further her cruel game by bending to kiss the top of his shiny head, but apparently, Eva decided that this was even too cruel for her. Instead, she took her usual place next to her husband and looked around at those gathered at the table and at the two empty seats.

  “Where are O’Connell and Daniels?” she asked innocently, her voice dripping with sweet simple syrup.

  Beltran’s fist came banging down on the table, making everyone but Eva jump. He got up, pushing his chair back so violently that he sent it crashing to the floor end over end before storming out the same door that Eva had entered.

  “You are truly evil Eva. You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days.” Hess cackled and went back to eating his dinner.

  Beltran reentered the saloon only a few minutes later, evidently cooled off sufficiently enough to eat in the company of others, but he did not apologize for his actions. He did, however, begin eating with a bit more vigor. Eva looked at him out the corner of her eye and then back to her food, taking in small bites with pleasure. Anna couldn’t read her expression. Is she actually enjoying this? Yes, Eva was smiling, but it wasn’t with her rehearsed feline grin. Her body had visibly relaxed after the last stolen glance. She looked happy, secure, even childlike. That’s odd. Anna, unable to account for the sudden shift in Eva’s character, finally chalked it up to bizarre Hollywood relationships.

  Dinner continued and concluded in silence. Una made a motion for drinks within the
hour, and it was generally agreed upon but without general enthusiasm. As soon as one person got up to leave, everyone else rose in unison and scattered, exiting through different doors. Anna chose the one leading to the cigar room. She saw that the bar inside had already been set up for the evening and wondered if Forster had been in here while they ate dinner. True, he mixed the drinks outside on the small freestanding bar that could be wheeled about and stowed away when not in use, but here was the main bar where his supplies were stored and the garnishes prepared.

  She walked through the tobacco scented room, and just before descending the stairs on the other side, looked out the windows portside.

  There was Eva. Her flaxen hair aloft in the wind. Her black and green jewels flashing. The satin jade of her dress shimmering in the low light of the setting sun. She looked like an enchanted empress of the water looking out across the seas and down onto her empire, but, as none of her subjects were in attendance at the moment to admire her fierce and awe-inspiring beauty, she could only lean against the rails in proud defiance of the gods.

  Seeing her thus, Anna could not help playing the part of the oracle. It’s unwise to challenge the gods.

  She paused for a moment then turned to descend the stairs all the way down to the lower level. She wanted to freshen up and put on another layer under her thin sweater; for some reason it hadn’t occurred to her back in Oklahoma that she would need to pack a wool coat in the middle of July. On her way back up she would stop by the office and pick up a pad and paper, just in case.

  Mission accomplished, she took the forward stairs for a change and then made her way to the aft deck via portside. Ms. Lorraine was still leaning against the rails, but it was immediately apparent that Her Majesty was no longer assured of her dominance. Even in the fallen darkness, Anna could tell that Eva’s eyes were now hollow with thought while her shoulders cowed weakly forward. She resembled an abused mongrel at the bottom of the pack’s hierarchy, tail tucked in beneath her. A cigarette carelessly dangling from her fingertips was burning with neglect, and it was plain that if she waited much longer to draw it up to her lips, the slim Old Gold snipe would pass on without serving its purpose in life. She hadn’t been standing there for more than 30 minutes, but her fall from pinnacle to perdition was absolute.

  Cautiously, Anna approached the pearl effigy that had once been Eva Lorraine, and settling herself quietly in the space next to her, waited for Eva to shoo her away. When she didn’t, Anna ventured to speak.

  “Ms. Lorraine?”

  Ms. Lorraine’s fingers tightened reactively around the cigarette and drew it to her lips, inhaling deeply. “Miss Kelly,” she spat. “What do you want?” The hardness of her words could not conceal the tremor in her hand.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. But that’s none of your business.” She took another desperate drag from the snipe.

  “No. It’s not. But I find that sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than talking to someone close to you. If it helps, I’m a good listener.”

  “You’d have to be to be any good to my husband.” The edge of her lips curled as her eyes lost focus again. Her wrist drooped and again, the smoldering weed dangled carelessly over the rails.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Who? Daniels?”

  “No, your husband. Do you love him?”

  Eva’s eyes deepened. There was no fight left in her to be defensive now. “Yes, I love him. Oh, I know he doesn’t have looks going for him, or even brains, but he’s good to me. And not just to me. He’s the type of man who wants to see everybody happy, to a fault. It leaves him . . . susceptible to those who would take advantage of him.” A spark of anger lit the depths of those dead pools.

  Anna raised an eyebrow.

  “I know.” The embers of life disappeared again. “I treat him horribly. It’s just that sometimes, sometimes I want him to . . . you know, fight for me.” Forcing sarcasm, “If I don’t have the occasional fling, he’s liable to forget how desirable I am.”

  “I don’t think he can possibly forget.”

  Eva smiled at her. “Well, the film business being what it is, always a new actress wanting to be discovered, they throw themselves at him all the time.”

  It was evident to Anna that somehow the subject had been changed. Eva was now Ms. Lorraine, actress, film star, and Anna had missed a cue. Eva was again safely behind her screen. The only thing Anna could do was cede and try to bolster the shaky ground underneath, even if she now knew that it was not Beltran’s constancy that had caused Eva to quake earlier. “Even then, Ms. Lorraine. I see the way he looks at you. He’s smitten. It’s hard for me to imagine that anyone can hold a candle to you in his eyes.”

  Eva’s smile took a sardonic turn. “You’re a good kid, Anna, but not always right. You’ve got looks too, but don’t put your faith in them. They can bring you more trouble than good. Their powers are fickle, false, and . . . (with a sigh) fleeting.” She directed her gaze over to the aft deck where Anna could see the men starting to collect. Daniels and O’Connell were comfortably seated in the wicker loungers enjoying a couple of cigars and a game of cards with Stu and Hess. Smith and Toni were sitting a little off to the side, Toni talking, Smith listening. Beltran appeared, joining the men and accepting the cigar Daniels offered to him. A peace offering? Anna wondered. Beltran chanced to look in their direction. Immediately, his expression changed to that of an abandoned puppy. Eva swiftly turned her gaze back out to the dark seas. He was not yet forgiven. Recognizing her dismissal, Beltran had no choice but to turn back to his male guests and ask to be dealt in.

  With a hollow chill, Eva spoke again. “Make my apologies to the rest of the party for me will you Anna. I don’t think I will be joining them tonight.” And taking one long last draw from the limp cigarette, she flicked the butt over the side, the small orange glow extinguishing itself with a hiss in the waters below.

  “Yes Ms. Lorraine.”

  “Call me Eva.” She turned to walk away, “Or Evil if you’re listening to Hess.” And in a final act of defiance in the face of the celestial deities above, she shook her fist at the firmaments. But as she walked down the corridor, Anna noted that it was not with the litheness that had been her signature, but with a rigidness that belonged to an age far beyond her years, even those she covered with make-up.

  The gods had responded to Eva’s blasphemy with swift rebuke, and if Anna’s premonitions were correct, they were not finished with her yet.

  23

  The Sound of Silence

  * * *

  12:02 AM.

  The Allura, having returned from its 12 mile-limit debauchery, was now anchored safely inside the bay, dark and driftless. Most of the party had taken to their beds. Some in their usual berths, others not so much. Anna crawled into her own bed a full half hour before anyone else, fairly certain that Beltran would not need her services for the rest of the night, unless, of course, he had a sudden urge to film a modern version of Othello. Or perhaps Cleopatra? Help us all! But it wasn’t sleep that drove her to her berth so early. What she needed was solitude. Space to think. Or at least asylum from the possibility of even more riddles to help further muddle the spirits of an already muddled mind. It didn’t help that O’Connell continued to be his charming self after dinner, and though she had to admit she usually enjoyed his attentions, tonight she could have done without them. Despite the grand size of the yacht, her tiny cabin (which she had the rare fortune of occupying alone) was the only place on board that could provide her with any sort of intellectual seclusion. One was not secure five minutes of privacy without the possibility of being run over by another passenger, or one of the crew. Speaking of crewmembers, one in particular had been especially aggravating that day. Forster. Or is it Finn? Finnegan? She wasn’t sure anymore. What did Brown call him?

  The many names of the bartender and the recent blowup between the Tsar and Tsarina of the film industry (not to mention the frequent changes in Tsari
na’s moods) tossed about in her head. Whatever it was she sensed hovering over the Allura the night before, now felt like it was coming to its climax like a train approaching in dense Tule fog. You know it’s there. You can hear it coming. But you can never judge how close it is or just how fast it’s coming until it is bearing down on top of you. By then it is too late.

  This wasn’t what she signed up for. She was supposed to be here for clerical work. Numbers. Letters. But who could help getting involved? Not Anna. The Allura was its own live opera with a plot thicker than Verdi could write, without the music of course. And she had a part in it, maybe a minor part, but even the humble Anna Kelly had her solo to sing.

  She toiled under these heavy burdens in the dark; the minutes trudging by turning slowly into hours made even more intolerable by the constant lapping of the waves against the sides of the boat. She tossed herself over yet again when the sound of the lapping changed, or more accurately, was added to. A low hum, the same as the night before, began to mingle with the sloshing waters. The hum grew in strength until reaching a dull throb, then was suddenly cut. For a few brief moments the lapping of the water was again the only sound. Anna sat up and looked out of the round porthole into the blackness beyond. Light. A single shaft of brightness hit the water revealing the tip of a prow then disappeared, returning her prospect to a dark void. Soft footsteps shuffled in the corridor behind her. She looked towards the door. No light there. Barely audible rustling, creaking, and scraping ensued for a short time. Stopped. The footsteps returned and faded. The dull throb sputtered to life again and decrescendoed back into silence, leaving only the sound of the waves softly beating against the hull.

  Great, one more shot to add to the shaker!