The Ghost Locket

by D. Allen Wright

  "I told that Doctor years ago that there wasn't anything wrong with you, that you just didn't have a good enough reason to cry. I'm sorry that I had to be the one to prove my point."

  Kit knew the story. Growing up, her mother never tired of telling it. Here was the remarkable child who never cried! She was such a good baby!

  "Now there'll be none of that," her mother said. "This is no time for tears! I was having a hard time with the cancer. I could find no meaning in dying that way. I don't mind going, knowing that I gave up some of the time I had, to protect you. You'll know what I'm talking about some day, when you have children of your own."

  "Are you in pain?" Kit asked her, fearful of the answer.

  "No, Kit," Celeste replied, pointing at her I.V. "The morphine's doing a pretty good job! Just like falling on a cloud!"

  "How's Julia holding up?"

  "Uh, she's doing okay," Kit said, almost whisper soft. She didn't want to tell her that she had spoken angrily at Julia, had nearly bitten her head off.

  "That's good. I knew I could count on her!" Kit's mother said. "I'm so grateful to her for keeping my secret... so you could have this last summer, and for agreeing to take you after I'm gone. Yes, she took a great load off my mind, and allowed me the gift of enjoying the last days of my life, watching you become a woman. And what a woman you've become; I couldn't be prouder!"

  "Oh Mom," Kit cried, and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. She had to be careful of all the tubes and wires.

  Kit stayed that way for a while, locked in her mother's arms. After a moment, she stood up, and saw her mother's expression change. A look of peace, with no pain, shown on her face

  "Good-bye, my love. Be good!" were her final words, and then she closed her eyes one last time.

  The heart monitor alarm sounded, and a nurse came in, quickly assessed the scene, and recorded the time of death in her chart. Kit seemed almost not to notice; her thoughts were of the times she and her mother had shared, and of the bond of love that would forever exist between them, in this world, and the next.

  Kit walked from her mother's side, out of her room, and down the hallway. She briskly ran past the waiting area as Julia called after her. David ran to catch up, but after exiting the hospital, he looked left, then right, and saw no sign of her.

  Julia found the poorly hidden key, in the fake moss, in the bottom of the fake ficus tree, and entered the apartment that Kit and her mother shared. She looked in Kit's room and saw no sign of her, then found her curled up in a fetal position on her mother's bed.

  "I thought you might come here," Julia said, "You okay?"

  Kit said nothing.

  "You know; I don't blame you for being angry with me. I did lie to you, and I am sorry. I promise I'll never lie to you again."

  Kit still lay, motionless.

  "I understand; you need some time by yourself. Even so, you know where to find me. I'll always be there for you; I promise!"

  Julia turned to leave, and nearly got to the door, when she heard the sound of Kit's footsteps running after her. She turned and dropped to the floor as Kit fell into her arms.

  "It's going to be alright," Julia said, trying to reassure her. A mother's hands softly stroked Kit's hair, "Everything's going to be alright!"

  Kit's mother wanted her body to be cremated. She mentioned it to Julia on more than one occasion. She even spelled it out in her will. She wanted her ashes spread in the Atlantic Ocean.

  So on one of the last nice, waning days of summer, Kit and Julia, with all of their, and her mother's friends, met at the seashore, for what Celeste called, A Celebration of Life Party. In keeping with Celeste's wishes, there were no tears, only joy, and laughter, and music. "Celebrate my life and do not mourn my death," she had said. A beach barbecue was held, and a boom box played Celeste's favorite Cat Stevens and Carly Simon songs. At sunset, Kit and Julia waded out, knee high in the ocean, and scattered her mother's ashes. Everyone in attendance said that it was quite beautiful, some even said, inspiring!

  With Julia's help, Kit worked through her feelings of loss, and came to terms with her mother's death. She was grateful everyday for Julia's love and support. She could only imagine how difficult it had been for her, dealing with her husband and daughter's death, all alone, in those dark days and weeks before they had met and become friends.

  Kit now had her own room at Julia's place. "No!" Julia would tell her. "It's not just my place anymore; it's our place!" she insisted. Kit had the choice of Emily's former room, or the guest bedroom, and chose the latter. It still didn't feel right to sleep in Emily's room, especially in view of their vision meetings. Besides, the guest bedroom was slightly larger and had a bigger bathroom and closet. However, the best part was that it was right next to the studio, that beautiful studio, that Julia now told her, was hers too!

  Over the next few weeks, Kit's belongings migrated from her former apartment, and most of the furnishings were given away to charity. Kit packed up all her mother's clothing and personal items, intending to donate them as well, but she just could not part with them. Especially dear to her, was the blue suit that Kit had given her a hard time about wearing too often. There were also some pieces of cheap costume jewelry and her mother's favorite string of real pearls. They were one of the few things that Kit's father had ever given her; besides heartache, she was fond of saying.

  Kit now stood in the bare and empty apartment where she had spent the last several years of her life. A feeling of melancholy came over her as she reveled in those memories. She sensed that she was at a crossroad, and her life would never be the same again. She placed her key on the kitchen counter, walked out the door, and this time, did not look back!

  Chapter 28 - Laying Low

  Manuel was now a hunted man. He was wanted for murdering his wild-eyed henchman, Felix Sweet, better known as, "Sweetie Pie", on the streets. Darren "Dutch" Matthews was the detective in charge of the case. He had covered all of Manuel's known hangouts, the bar he had previously frequented and played pool at, had been a second home, his chop shop for stolen cars, also came up clean, and he now decided to have a little talk with Manuel's parents.

  Jorge Vargas opened the door slightly but left the chain in place. When Dutch Matthews flashed his badge, Manuel's father responded with a curt, "Haven't seen him!" Jorge had no love for cops himself. His own youth was filled with indiscretions. Even so, he was now quick to disown Manuel in light of his well-publicized actions at Sybil's art gallery. It made all the papers. After all, many of the guests that night were the cream of New York society. You might get away with shooting someone like Felix out on the streets, but holding sixty rich, fat cats at gunpoint, drew all kinds of condemnation. Almost everyone at the gallery witnessed Manuel shooting Felix. That many eyewitnesses would almost guarantee a conviction, for at least, second-degree murder, if and when, Manuel ever went to trial. Add the fact that an aspiring artist's mother was gunned down, during the commission of a felony, and he likely was chargeable as an accessory to murder, as well.

  Dutch didn't have a warrant, but he knew that Jorge Vargas had led a straight life for many years. He was the survivor of numerous gang wars and had tired of the violence, and a life of always looking over his shoulder. He was one of the few who ever made it out of the gang life. Jorge's disapproval of his son's life choices weren't exactly a secret either.

  "Look Jorge, you can either help me find Manuel, or you can help bury him. If I find him first, it won't go down easy," Dutch said loud enough to be heard through the now-closed door. Jorge already returned to his bedroom to watch the game.

  The chain came off the door, and Manuel's mother stepped out into the hallway.

  "It wasn't Manny's fault," Maria said, excitedly. "He shot that crazy mad dog, Sweetie Pie, before he could shoot someone else."

  "I'm sorry Mrs. Vargas, but the courts may, or may not, make that distinction. That, combined with the fact that he held the, who's who, of Wall Street, at gunpoint, while trying
to kill, or at least terrorize, a fifteen year-old girl. Well, you can see my point."

  "What will happen if he gives himself up? Can you guarantee his safety?"

  "You have my word, Mrs. Vargas!"

  "He calls me every few days. I'll try to get him to turn himself in."

  "Here, take my card. Hell, take two. Give one to Manuel if you see him, if he wants to talk with me directly.”

  Manuel had used some of his, ill gotten gains, to purchase an old warehouse that served as his new home and base of operations. Immediately, after the gallery shootings, the police set up roadblocks and staked out the airports, trains and bus stations, in an all-out manhunt! With all the attention on Manuel and his men, he had to be careful that no one followed his men back to him. Intermediaries were set up to bring in the furnishings, food, and even toiletry items. It was a major operation to get him a big-screen TV, and a satellite receiver.

  Manuel might have waited out the heat on him. With a little patience, and careful planning, he could probably have bought a new identity, a fake passport, and altered his appearance sufficiently, to leave the country. He thought about going south to either Mexico or one of the other Spanish-speaking countries of Central America. Ironically, one of the deciding factors boiled down to the language barrier. In spite of his Latin heritage, he was born in New York. Even he had to admit that his Spanish sucked. It had consisted mostly of slang he had acquired growing up, and Spanish cable television programs.

  But all that, he decided, would have to wait. He did not intend to leave for the present; he had unfinished business in New York, and Manuel Vargas was getting restless!

  Manuel sat on the leather couch that Lupe delivered to the warehouse at 3:00 am. He watched the soccer game on satellite while he placed his feet up on the cheap coffee table in front of him.

  "Lupe," Manuel ordered, "Get me another beer."

  "Sure Boss," Lupe complied.

  "And make sure this one is cold."

  "So how long we gonna lay low Manuel?" Lupe asked.

  "As long as we have to," Manuel replied.

  "Have you decided where we're going when the heat’s off?"

  "I don't know yet," Manuel said, now getting annoyed, "And quit asking so many questions? I still have business to take care of here."

  "You ain't still going after the girl, are you, Boss?" Manuel shot Lupe a look of warning, "Ah Boss, why don't you forget about the girl? I mean, after all, her mother got killed, ain't that payback enough for Caesar?"

  "Not nearly enough!" Manuel replied, in a vengeful tone, "Besides; Felix was the one who killed her mother, not me. His screw-up cost me my revenge. I was just about to take care of her, when he went off the deep end. Damned if that girl doesn’t have more lives than a cat!"

  "Where have you been?" Kit asked David, as he stood in the doorway of her, and Julia's apartment. David leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  "That the best you can do?" Kit said, not attempting to hide her disappointment, "what am I, your grandmother?"

  David put his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and left no doubt that this, was the kiss that he had wanted to give her. It was long and passionate and made the hair on her arm's stand up.

  "That's more like it!" she said, a little light-headed. "You never answered my question; where have you been, and why haven't you called me lately?"

  "I've just been helping out my Dad with the horse training, you know, and I thought that you might need a little space after..."

  "It's okay, you can say it,” Kit said, “after my Mom died!"

  "Yes," he said, "I figured that Julia, being a woman, and having lost her family, might be able to help you through it better than I could."

  "You are such an idiot!"

  "What?" David questioned, a puzzled look on his face.

  "Think about it! I just lost my Mom. Sure, I'm going to have a rough time with that. Did it ever occur to you that I might need you more than ever? I miss you when you're not around. I miss your touch, your smile, your smell. I miss your kisses; I miss the sound of your voice. Is any of this getting through that thick head of yours, cowboy?"

  "So are you saying you love me?"

  "I didn't say that!" Kit said, and turned her back to him.

  "But you do love me, don't you?"

  David grabbed Kit, spun her around, and held her tight against him. "Admit it, you love me!" Kit struggled, trying to break free. David held her tight, and his mouth found hers. Her struggling stopped as they kissed, long and deep. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. Her expression softened.

  "Of course I love you, you big dope!" Kit said, softly.

  "That's great!" David said, "Because I love you too!"

  "Do you want to know when I knew that?" David asked her.

  "Yeah, when?"

  "You were knocked out on my couch, and I was putting a wet cloth on your forehead!"

  "But that was the first day we met," Kit replied.

  "I told my Dad that same night that I met the girl I was going to marry. He thought I was crazy too, but you can ask him yourself, if you don't believe me."

  "You didn't," Kit said, "You didn't really say that... did you? Wait a minute, did you just say, 'marry'?"

  "Sometimes you just know!" he said with a shrug.

  "Well, I can tell you that it's a good thing for you, that I do love you. Because seriously, you need someone to take care of you, because you are certifiable; and I'm talking the, coo coo for coco puffs, brand of crazy!"

  "Look at it this way," he added, "we'll have a great story to tell our grandchildren!"

  Chapter 29 - $178,500, less 10%

  Julia stood in the center of Gallery Nouveau, Sybil's gallery, and looked around at the resulting devastation of the shootings. The pool of blood from where Celeste fell, was absent from the polished marble floor, with no trace remaining. The same was true for the place where the man had been brutally shot in the head. A maintenance worker employed by Sybil, was finishing the removal of the tell-tale traces of blood and brain, that had left their mark on a wall.

  Gone also, was the yellow crime-scene tape, and the body outlines, where the two deceased had lain. Another worker was on a tall ladder, patching the holes, where the forensics team had retrieved the bullets; Manuel had fired into the ceiling. The events of that night still haunted Julia. She could not help replaying them in her mind, wondering, if there had been anything that she could have done differently, to change the outcome.

  She was so distracted that she, at first, hadn't noticed the small, "SOLD," banner across the corner of one of Kit's paintings. Looking around, she realized that the same was true for all of Kit's painting, save the two of David.

  Julia heard the distinctive sound of a woman's high-heels crossing the hard marble floor behind her, and turned to see Sybil.

  "Is this for real?" Julia asked, "You sold all of Kit's paintings?"

  "I started getting calls, and real offers, the day after that debacle," Sybil said, "I guess the old adage is true; there's no such thing as bad publicity. Even had a few bidding wars break out over two of her pieces. Your little protégé is a very rich girl!"

  "I guess it didn't take you long to take advantage of a bad situation, did it?" Julia said, a look of disgust on her face.

  "Julia, that's not fair."

  "Kit's mother died that night, tell me how that's fair!"

  "That's not my fault, and you know it."

  "Maybe not, but you could have at least had the respect... the human decency, to at least pretend to show some compassion. Have you even called Kit to see how she is? Called to offer your condolences?"

  "I wanted to, but you said you wanted me to go through you, for all my dealings with her."

  "Business dealings, Celeste, business dealings," Julia reiterated angrily.

  "Well, I'm sorry, Julia. I wasn't thinking straight. You know; I was just as terrified that night as everyone else was. I thought I was going to die too!"

&n
bsp; "But you didn't Celeste; you're here now, alive and well, and with the benefit of your fat commission check to keep you warm at night. By the way, since you're so interested in the bottom line, what did Kit's sales total?"

  "$178,500, less my fifteen percent," Sybil said, sipping at her glass of scotch, and stealing a glance up, to see if Julia had caught it.

  "Fifteen percent?" Julia questioned, outrage and anger cracked her voice.

  "Okay, okay, ten percent. Sorry, I misspoke there."

  "I'll expect a check, and the two remaining paintings, by messenger, by the end of business, today,” Julia stared angrily at Sybil; so much so, that Sybil had to look away, to avoid the daggers coming from her eyes. "Sybil, are we clear?"

  "Yes, yes, you'll have the check... and the paintings," she added, while guiltily fidgeting with her collar, and taking another draught of her scotch.

  "By-the-way, it's 10:30 in the morning... why don't you have another scotch?" Julia dug at her, as she turned and left.

  "You want to come up for a while, watch some TV with me?" Kit asked David. She stood a step above him, as her right hand traced her index finger across his lower lip.

  "You're getting too good at this,” David replied, conflicted.

  "Don't worry, Cowboy," Julia will be home soon to rescue you. I just said, watch TV with me."

  "Why, will I need to be rescued?"

  "Please, David," Kit pleaded, "I don't want to be by myself."

  "Alright, but I can't stay late," he insisted.

  David followed Kit into the entrance to the apartment. Kit was flagged down by the doorman as they passed his station.

  "Oh, Ms. Collins, you had a package delivery; two actually, and this envelope came with it. It has your name on it. I set the packages just inside your apartment."

  "Thank you, Eddie," she replied. "Wonder who this is from?"

  "Aren't you going to open it?" David asked, as curious as she was.

  "No, not yet, it has the gallery logo on it, and I already asked Julia to represent me for all the business stuff, besides, good or bad; I want to open it with Julia.