He didn’t look up. He nodded slowly. I sometimes don’t know how I get myself into these situations. I sometimes wish I were less forthright. But I wanted to show this guy the true meaning of “all or nothing.” I knew if he wanted to he could snap me like a chop-stick between his thumb and fingers. If he was willing to stuff naked girls in a trunk and bop a drag queen in his own backyard, he’d think nothing of popping me. But that’s the way you have to live life: Here I am, shake my hand or kiss my butt, love me or leave me, give me a medal or strike me dead.
But all he did was sigh. “Cahoots. I love that word.” He nodded again. “I could see how you’d think that.”
“But I’m wrong.”
“Yeah. But I can see why you’d need more to go on. Um — what all did Lenny tell you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind. You ever meet Lenny?”
“Nope.”
“Well, he’s a fairly lovable dink. He’s nice all the time, likes everybody and his brother, and twice on Sundays. I didn’t know until just recently he was loaded. His father is…”
“…Cascade Art Imports.”
“Yeah. Which is where your sister comes in. Lenny’s just a lonely little guy with a big old nest egg, and I think your sister convinced him they were married and took him for as much money as she could get before she split. Now he misses her something awful and only wants her to come home, but he’s at a loss as to where she is. That’s where I come in. I can find people and things that are missing. All he wants is for her to come back. There’s lots more money in it for her. He doesn’t care about that. He’s just a big kid, really. He’s in love the only way he knows how, and he wants his wife at home. That’s all. No questions asked.”
Tony still hadn’t looked up, but he was sagging a little. “In your travels anybody ever tell you about Aggie’s problem?”
“Which one?”
That made him look. “I’m takin’ this crap from you because I know you’re only tryin’ to get at the truth, which, believe it or not, I hold sacred — but where my sister is concerned…”
“I assume you’re referring to her memory problems.”
He shook his head harshly. “It’s not memory problems. It’s a brain dysfunction as a result of what they call childhood trauma.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What’d you care?”
“I like to understand these things.”
“If you can understand this one you’re a better man than I am.” He focused his eyes on a place in the room where he could see the past, the long-ago. “When Aggie was a kid, like grammar school, she and her buds were walkin’ to school like they did every morning. Even though they weren’t supposed to they took a shortcut through a lumberyard sometimes. Aggie’s best friend — they were what you call inseparable — was foolin’ around on a big pile of uncut logs or whatever. She was dancing, Aggie’s pal was. She was queen of the hill. Aggie was yellin’ at her to come down and screaming and crying because she could see the logs startin’ to roll. Before anybody could do anything about it, the logs shifted big, and the kid got sucked into ’em. Took, like, fifteen minutes for the logs to settle, and everybody scattered. When it was all over they found the kid’s body, looked like a bloody carpet. Every bone in her body’d been crushed to powder, they said. Aggie saw the whole thing, and she couldn’t stop screaming. I guess they meant well, but the guys at the lumberyard just kept tellin’ her it wasn’t real, it didn’t really happen, that thing over there wasn’t her pal.” He looked at me again. “So, anyway, that’s the short version. The long version has to do with years of battin’ around one goofy doctor after another. They’re all quacks if you ask me. Anyway, what they tell me is that her troubles is the brain’s way of dealin’ with a problem. If it’s too much to handle your brain actually does you a favor and shuts down a little, so you can stop screamin’ and get through the day. And that’s how come she’s got a problem.”
I could tell he hadn’t told the story all that often. I tried my best to ease him out of it. “So now she can’t remember things right? Is that the deal?”
He nodded. “More like…she can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. She can’t tell the difference between something she’s read and something she’s done.”
I tried to be soft. “You can kinda see why.”
He shrugged, seemed to rally. “It’s got a Latin name I can’t pronounce, but it’s something like amnesia, only a whole lot weirder.”
I nodded. “Teeth said it was a reading problem. Kept her from medical school.”
“Oh, it kept her from a lot more than that. See, when she reads something she’s often not sure if it actually happened or not — just like she’s not quite sure if the things that really do happen to her might not be made up. You get a lot of that in schizophrenia, so I’m told. So she’s only supposed to read nonfiction, technical stuff. That’s okay, as you might imagine.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. We sent her to some big deal school in London for a long time; didn’t seem to do her any good as far as I could see.”
“That’s where she got the accent.”
“It’s all she got there, is what I think.”
“I can see how this would be something of a problem in school.”
“Yeah. So…but it’s even worse where Lenny comes in.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, she wanted to help the guy, and she has some pretty unorthodox ideas about how to do it.”
“I’ve heard.”
“It’s all legit — I read a book about it. This kundalini stuff, it’s supposed to give you power. Power to heal…to influence…to help with the problems and all. It says in the book that your body is, like, a battery — you store up energy. Especially sex-type energy, if you do these exercises right —”
“Look…whatever. So your sister is into curing the sick of mind in a way consistent with the philosophies of Marvin Gaye. Cool by me.”
“You don’t get it. She’s hoping to get herself fixed too.”
“Okay.”
“So along comes little Lenny, who’s not gonna hurt a fly, and he’s so sweet…”
“…and he’s very clean, have you noticed that?”
“Stop it. Lenny’s a good little guy from all I can tell, so Aggie’s got it figured they can both get some good all over ’em, so they go for it…”
“…in the X-ray room.”
He nodded. “Ya gotta have the lead lining, see.”
“Right. Whatever.”
“So she actually gets to like Lenny, and he’s all in love with her and everything, and so it’s all fine until one night they go over to his place. Ever been there?”
“I like the lions on the banister.”
“She makes the mistake of snooping around while he’s out in the kitchen fixing tea or some crap, and she comes across his diary, which is, like, laying out, open, in the den.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So before she can stop herself, she’s reading these little sections — what’s the harm? It’s a diary, supposed to be all facts. I don’t know what’s really in ’em, but somehow she gets the idea that she’s the perfect match for Lenny. In fact…” He closed his eyes. For a second I didn’t know what was going on with him. He couldn’t talk.
“Tony?”
He opened his eyes again, but wouldn’t look at me. “She somehow got the idea that Lenny…made her up.”
The room was close, and the muffled noise of awful music and the crummy overhead fluorescent suddenly made me very, very cold. I didn’t remember exact quotes from the book I’d seen in Lenny’s den, but something like I invent my exact match, and there she is was fluttering around my own short-term memory.
Tony went on. “I know it’s wacked, but that’s the deal with Aggie. She gets this stuff in her head, and it’s there for good. All she could do was go with it.”
“So she thought Lenny made her up. So she thought she was his perfect ma
tch. Yin to his yang, pardon my language.”
He looked away. “I know it’s hard to believe. I di’n’ wanna believe it. Took me a while to work backward with her just figuring out it was a diary. But she was so happy. And so was Lenny. You know?”
And it looked to me like Tony the Boulder, crusher of unruly hooligans in a naked-dancer bar, was about to cry.
I shifted in my seat. “Okay. Let’s say for one second — and I’m tellin’ you this is gonna be a split second — that I believe you. Why does she leave? Why does she leave her perfect match, her inventor?”
He got ahold of himself. “She comes home to me one night, I mean, absolutely scared to death. All she could say was that somebody was trying to kill her, and that there was a monster loose — maybe she said in her head — and she needed to hide. I’m saying I hadn’t seen her that bad ever, and I’ve seen her in mental hospitals pumped fulla some hellfire tranquilizer, strapped down to a gurney, still thinking she could fly — and tryin’ to. And this was worse.”
“What did you do?”
“I took care of her. I got her into bed. I got her to sleep. She’s better now.” He shrugged. That was that. “Oh, and by the way, she didn’t take a dime from Lenny. Look it up. She’s got twenty-seven dollars and some change in her bank account.”
I sat back. “Okay. I got several choices: a) I believe you. b) You’re in this with your sister and you’re lying to me. c) Your sister is lying to you, hiding out until the coast is clear, and then skittering off to Europe where she has a ton of money in a bank account under the name of Serena Delgado.”
“Serena?”
“Or whatever.”
“I see your dilemma.” He stood up. I looked around quickly for a blunt object, just in case. But as luck would have it he opened the door of the tiny office and gestured me first through the door. Then as I was standing he patted my arm. “Would it help if I took you to talk to her?”
And there it was: the Holy Grail. The thing I sought was within my grasp. But I didn’t feel the tingle. I didn’t feel the puzzle pieces falling into place. There was something wrong. I was missing something.
Tony looked around. “See, I don’t like her to be by herself now, so I brought her here with me today. She’s in the back somewheres.”
I whirled around to face him. “You brought your wacky sister to the Tip Top?”
“She’s been here before. And she’s not wacky — she’s troubled.”
I just took in a breath and went with the river. That’s the Taoist in me again. “Okay. Let’s talk to her.”
We sauntered through the vacant tables and the cigarette smoke, past the curtain to backstage, into the bright lights and the mirrors. Tony was in front of me, so I didn’t see who he was pointing to when he looked over his shoulder at me. “Here she is.”
He stepped away, and I saw Augusta Donne for the first time in person. I’m telling you, I actually had to catch my breath. Her hair was the color of autumn leaves. Her skin looked like marble — beautiful, soft white marble. Her eyes were so dark you could hardly tell what color they were. I couldn’t take my own off her.
“Aggie, this is Flap Tucker. He’s been looking for you.”
She stood up. “Hey, Flap. You weren’t Neena’s husband, were you?”
“I was one of ’em.”
She smiled. “Now she’s in the clutches of the evil Dr. Schlag.”
I nodded. “Probably the other way around, don’t you think?”
She looked down. “They deserve each other, I guess.”
Tony went to her. It was like he was the most protective older brother in the universe. “Where’s your coat, sweetie? I thought we’d split and talk to the nice man.”
“Hmm? Oh…I lent it to what’s-her-name, the other redhead — the one that’s going to Florida. She wanted to get something out of her car, but she didn’t want to get dressed.”
Somebody else spoke up. “Plus, it’s raining.”
I looked. It was our girl Beano. I nodded.
I’m not certain she even recognized me. She said, “Hey, snappy dresser. What’s up?”
“Not much, Beano. How’s the world?”
“Round and around and I can’t seem to stop it.” She did a hand motion to show me.
Tony looked around. “She went out to her car. When?”
Aggie squinted. “Actually, like about ten minutes ago. She does seem to be taking a while.” She lowered her voice. “But then, I thought she might be in business.”
I was wise. Sometimes a girl meets a nice fellow and that nice fellow has a little extra money he’d like to spend and the girl knows a nice car in the parking lot where they can go and he can enjoy himself for five minutes and the girl can have the money. That’s what Aggie thought was happening. Although if I’d been her, I wouldn’t have lent my coat to such an enterprise.
Beano shifted onto the counter in front of her. “Hey, it’s her time up.” She was looking down at her little cheat sheet like the other day. “I’m not goin’ back out there. It’s a tomb.”
Tony sighed big. “I gotta go get her.”
He didn’t want to. It could mean a confrontation with a drunken paramour and an angry young woman who stood to lose money.
I looked over at him. “Need a hand?”
“Actually, Flap — that would be swell. Sometimes this kinda thing can be delicate.”
He said it like it was a U.N. negotiation. I followed him. We motored down a dark hall toward a door that said, very clearly: NO EXIT. He shoved through it out into the rain.
The gravel underfoot was loud, and Tony wanted to make certain everyone heard us coming, so he was talking very loud and slow. “I guess we’ll check over by the red car first, Flap.” And he pointed to a hot Mercedes.
I helped. “Okay, Tony!”
But there was no movement of sudden discovery in any car. No flutter of wings, no shifting of gravel. Quiet as the grave — and twice as wet.
Tony was peeping in the several cars, and I went to check around the side of the building by the Dumpster, a lovely site for such an assignation. All I found was air, and not the high quality item either. You had to wonder if they’d ever emptied that Dumpster. I could hardly think, let alone breathe. Luckily, Tony called out.
“Uh…Flap?”
I came back around the corner. “What is it?”
He was squatting down between two cars, and for some reason I had it in mind that he’d found a wet stray cat that was in need of a dry place to stay and a little warm milk.
Instead, it was his sister’s raincoat crumpled on the ground. It was covering what was left of the redheaded dancer who was going to Florida where it was safe and warm — the one whose name I didn’t even know. She was just about as dead as you can get. Her eyes were still open, facing south.
Chapter 15: Augusta in the Rain
I looked over at Tony. “I can’t stay here. The cops already don’t like me today, and if they see me here with another dead body, they’re gonna start to get the idea I’m bad luck. Plus, you don’t want your sister around a scene like this. Let me get her outta here. I got a few things I have to talk with her about anyway.”
I could see he didn’t want to be there any more than I did, but this was his job, more or less, and I was his sister’s ride. He covered up the dancer’s face with his sister’s raincoat.
He straightened up. “All right. But you go where I say, and you stay there till I get there.”
“Sold.”
We trundled inside from the back parking lot. He went right to his sister. “You’re gonna go with Flap now. There’s been a little problem.”
She nodded. She didn’t ask. I’m guessing she thought there was some hassle with the dancer and her newfound boyfriend.
I smiled. “I get to be your escort.” I turned to Tony. “Where do you suppose we’ll be dining?”
He looked at me differently than he ever had in our acquaintanceship. “How do you know I was gonna send you to
a restaurant?”
“Makes sense. Public place; you probably know some of the staff; lots of people to keep an eye on me, still pleasant for your sister — shall I go on?”
“So I’m not the only one in the world who knows a little bit of everything.”
“I just hide my light under a bushel.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So what’s the place?”
“Do you know the Colonnade?”
“Sure. Great pork roast and dressing.” It was over closer to my side of town, a grand old South tradition on a street that was now beginning to fill up with clubs like the Tip Top.
He shrugged. “I like the chicken. As it happens I do have a few pals in the neighborhood. They’ll make sure you stay put till I join you. They’ll also make sure to tell anybody that asks: You’ve been there since an hour ago. So you’d better be…”
“…leaving.” I offered my arm to Augusta. “Shall we?”
She smiled sweetly. I could see she was used to doing what Tony told her to do.
Tony patted her shoulder. “Flap’s okay.”
She nodded.
He leaned over to me. “Do we have an understanding about what would happen to you if any — even the slightest — mishap should befall my baby sister?”
I was full of assurance. “It’s better than an understanding, Tony. I consider it a legally binding contract.”
That seemed good enough for him. “Okay. I’m callin’ the cops. You’re goin’ to eat.” And he spun around like a military guy, headed for his office.
Augusta and I made it through the club and out to the front parking lot without a word. The music was too loud for conversation anyway, and even the two goofy high-schoolers were gone. The place was completely empty. We just moved as fast as we could out into the rain.
As we slipped into my car I glanced over at her. I couldn’t help noticing how much she looked like the other redhead in the back lot with the rain all falling on her hair and her pale skin wet.
I started the engine; backed out slow. She finally broke the silence. “I forgot my raincoat.”
I didn’t look at her. I was busy pulling out into traffic. “You don’t want it now anyway.”
Easy (A Flap Tucker Mystery Book 1) Page 13