"Absolutely right," agreed the older man.
"Is that your little girl down there?"
"My niece."
"Well, you must be very proud of her."
The two men exchanged a quick, enigmatic look. "I am," said the older man. "Very proud uncle indeed."
Text Message
In the parking lot she texted Mickey again and explained what she had lip-read. She watched as the girl and her uncle and the man in the white fedora came out of the Japanese Garden and stood talking for a while. Then the uncle and the man in the white fedora shook hands and bowed to each other before they went off in opposite directions. The girl took hold of her uncle's hand and swung it as she walked.
Mickey replied that the cell phone had already been traced to Butterfly Motion Pictures with an address on Boren Avenue in Seattle, Washington. "Ill put Det Nelson on it pronto." Holly wouldn't have known whatbukkakewas unless she hadn't been involved in another Japanese sex-abuse case last November, when more than 60bukkakevideos had been confiscated from a video rental store downtown. It was the latest rage in Japanese pornography, in which dozens of men climaxed over the upturned face of a single young girl until she looked as if she had been frosted, like a cake. Sometimes it was done with her eyes held wide open. Other times she was given pints of semen to drink, out of a flask, to see if she could manage to keep it all down. That was what the proud uncle on the Zig Zag Bridge had been offering for $2,000.
No Daisy
Holly drove home. The afternoon was growing overcast now. When she let herself in, Marcella was in the kitchen, rolling meatballs on a floured board.
"Hi, Marcella." She looked at the coatrack. "Daisy not back yet?"
Marcella shook her head. "Maybe she go to see her friend."
"She didn't say anything about it this morning. You couldn't give her a call for me, could you?"
"Sure thing." Marcella smacked the flour off her hands and picked up the phone from the kitchen wall. She dialed and waited, but after a while she shook her head. "Her phone is switch off."
"That's odd. She told me she'd be home by five for sure."
"Don't you worry, Ms. Summers. She forget what time it is, that's all."
Holly went to the window. "I don't want her out too late . It looks like there's a hell of a storm coming over."
When the kitchen clock crept to six-thirty and Daisy still hadn't come back, Holly had Marcella call Daisy's best friend, Tracey Hunter. The sky was the color of slate, and raindrops began to measle the window-panes. Tracey's mother said that Daisy had left their apartment shortly after four and that as far as she knew she was coming directly home.
"I'm worried now," said Holly as Marcella hung up the phone. The Hunters lived only three blocks away, over the Columbia Valley Travel Office. "Try calling the Williamsons."
Marcella phoned all of the friends that Daisy might have gone to visit, but none of them had seen her. She also called Tyrone, in case she had stopped by the gallery, but he hadn't seen her, either. "But call me as soon as you find her," he said.
Holly put on her raincoat and said, "Listen I'm going to go look for her. If she comes home just give me a buzz, okay?"
"Sure thing, Ms. Summers," said Marcella. "Don't forget your hat. It's a rain like drown rat."
When she stepped out into the street, the rain was cascading from the yellow-and-white-striped restaurant awning and flooding the gutters. People with umbrellas and newspapers over their heads were running for shelter. She turned up her collar, thrust her hands into her pockets, and stepped out quickly in the direction of the Hunters' home.
Halfway along Thirteenth Street she saw a small figure running toward her holding a pink cotton jacket over her head, and with relief she called out,"Daisy!"But the figure wasn't Daisy at all; it was a little Chinese girl, and she ran past her without even looking at Holly.
With the rain clinging to her eyelashes and dripping from the tip of her nose, she walked all the way to the Columbia Valley Travel Office. There were color photographs in the window of all the different river trips that tourists could take up the Columbia and the Willamette, to Multnomah Falls and Mount Hood and the International Rose Test Garden, a mass of yellow roses. She looked around for a few moments, but there was no sign of Daisy anywhere, and she began to walk back.
She called into several stores and restaurants, asking if anybody had seen a little girl of eight in a pink jacket and jeans, but all she got in reply was the solemn shaking of heads. In the doorway of the Portland Family Bakery she sent a text message to Mickey, telling him what had happened.
His reply came back almost at once: "Don't worry Ill get on it go home."
Mickey Brings Bad News
She sat at the dining table, still wearing her wet raincoat, while Marcella stayed with her.
"I can't believe that she would have gone anywhere without telling me."
"Ms. Summers, Daisy is a good girl always, you know that. But even good girls sometimes play a little mischief."
"She's been upset lately, you know, about not having a father. I think she's getting to the age when she really needs a man in her life."
"Hmmh! That depends ifyouneed a man in your life. You've been very good to Daisy, Ms. Summers, raised her good."
Holly tried to smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Marcella. I wish you'd call me Holly."
Marcella shook her head. "How many times you ask me this, hah? And each time what do I say? I work for you, I give you respect. In this times now, nobody give nobody no respect. Not husbands for wives, not parents for children. Every place you look is no respect."
A few minutes after eight-thirty, with still no sign of Daisy, the red light over the doorbell flashed, and Marcella went to answer it. It was Mickey, looking as if he had swum from the other side of the Willamette River.
"What's happened? Have you found her?"
Mickey glanced at Marcella. "I need to talk to you in private."
"You can trust Marcella."
"I know, but this is kind of tricky, and it's important for Daisy's sake that nobody else knows about it."
"Well all right. Marcella, can you leave us alone for a while?"
"It's okay. I go downstairs and see Leo in the kitchen. You call me when you need me."
After Marcella had gone, Mickey said, "I had a call about twenty minutes ago from a snitch called Nicky Moranes. He said that Merlin Krauss had asked him to pass on a message."
"Merlin Krauss? A message? About what?"
Mickey took out a clean but fraying handkerchief and wiped his face and his neck. "It seems that Krauss has found out that you lip-read and that you're qualified to give evidence about what he was saying about knocking off Mrs. Rossabi. Don't ask me how he found out."
He took a deep breath, and then he said, "Holly, I'm afraid to say that he's taken Daisy and he's not going to give her back unless you guarantee that you won't testify against him in court."
Holly slowly sat down. She could actually feel her face turning to chalk. "He'stakenher? Did he say where she was? Oh God, he hasn't hurt her, has he?"
"He said she was safe and well. But he wants to meet you face-to-face and hear you promise that you're not going to help to convict him."
"Of course I will! Where is he?"
"Holly, it's not as easy as that. Merlin Krauss is wanted for conspiracy to commit homicide in the first degree-and now kidnapping. I don't have the authority to let you negotiate an amnesty for him. That's in addition to exposing a civilian to potentially mortal danger."
"But we're talking about Daisy's life! And you can't force me to testify against him, can you? And what kind of case will you have if I don't?"
"Holly, you're putting me in a real difficult position here."
"Difficult position?Difficult position?This is my little girl, Mickey! This is my dead husband's only child!"
"We're talking about a guy who arranges murders here, Holly! A guy who kills people for fun and profit! You thi
nk you can trust him to let Daisy go, and you too? If you go to see him, he'll probably whack you both!"
"I have to try, Mickey, and you have to let me. Tell me where he is."
Mickey shook his head. "This goes against any kind of kidnapping or hostage procedure."
"Who else knows about this? Your captain? Your commander?"
"So far nobody but me."
"Then if nobody else knows about it, you won't have to take the responsibility for it, will you? All you have to do is tell me where Krauss wants to meet me."
"I'm sorry, Holly, I can't. I'm going to have to call this in and see what a negotiating team can do to get Daisy free."
Holly reached across the table and gripped his hand. "I'm begging you, Mickey: Help me. If Daisy gets hurt, then I wouldn't want to go on living anyway."
Mickey looked at her intently for a very long time. She saw something in his eyes but she couldn't understand what it was. Tension? Anxiety? Or relief? The artist Goya, who was suddenly struck deaf, had once said that it gave him the ability to see what was really there, and not what he wastoldto see.
"Okay," said Mickey at last, dry-mouthed.
"So where? Tell me where he is."
"He's in a house about five miles south of Bonneville, about an hour along the valley."
"How am I going to find it?"
Mickey stood up. "I'll take you there. You're under too much stress to find it yourself. Besides, if I come with you, you stand at least a half-decent chance of getting out of there in one piece."
"You don't know how much I appreciate this."
"Hey, I have a very soft spot for Daisy. I'm Uncle Mickey, remember?"
"Yes, you're Uncle Mickey."
He checked his watch. "Let me go first . I'm parked around the corner by Kendrick's. It's very important that nobody knows that we left together."
"What shall I tell Marcella?"
"Tell her-I don't know-tell her that you called one of Daisy's friends and they think they know where she is. Tell her she can go home."
"Mickey thank you."
"Yeah," he said. "Right."
Surprise Surprise
It started to thunder as they drove eastward on Interstate 84, along the Columbia River Valley. Holly couldn't hear it, but whenever the lightning flashed, she could see that the clouds were purple.
Mickey drove as fast as he could, but the rain was hammering down so hard that he could hardly see anything in the darkness up ahead of them, and when another car came toward them, the windshield was filled with brilliant spangles of blinding light.
Because it was so dark, it was difficult for them to have a conversation, but as they neared the Bonneville turnoff, Holly touched Mickey's arm. "What shall I say?" she asked him. Mickey turned to her so that she could see his lips in the light from the instrument panel.
"Don't volunteer anything. Just ask Krauss what he wants and tell him you agree. Don't challenge him. Don't lose your temper. Don't call him any names."
"I'm okay, Mickey. I've had to deal with worse people than Merlin Krauss."
"I don't think so. Not yet."
The road became a track and the forest all around them was as black as the forest in a fairy tale, where people wore dark cloaks and slippery shoes. Mickey's Aurora wasn't designed for off-road driving, and they jounced and jolted through puddles and potholes.
Mount Hood was so close now that Holly had to bend her head down to see it. Every now and then its snow-covered peak was lit up by oddly colored flashes of lightning.
"Ass end of noplace at all," said Mickey.
After nearly fifteen minutes, with branches and briers scraping at the car's paint, they turned up a sharp left-hand hairpin, and there stood a large cedar-built house on stone pillars with a wide deck outside. Eight or nine vehicles were parked outside, most of them luxury-edition Jeeps and Toyotas. The large windows of the house were all brightly lit, and as she climbed out of Mickey's car Holly could see people moving around inside.
"Merlin Krauss is holed up here? It looks more like a party than a hideout."
Mickey said nothing but took hold of her elbow and led her up the steps to the deck. As they approached the house, a patio door slid open and a young man appeared through the net curtains, holding a glass of sparkling wine in his hand. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and slacks, and at first Holly didn't realize who he was. But then he lifted his glass and said, "Mickey! You did it! You're a genius!"
He was the young lawyer whose lascivious conversation she had lip-read in the coffee shop in the courthouse, the one who had admired her "gazongas."
Holly frowned at Mickey and said, "What's going on? What'shedoing here?"
The young lawyer stepped back and gave her a mock bow, "Kenneth T. Mulgrew Junior, at your service, but just for tonight you can call me Kennie. Divorce settlements and prenuptial agreements a specialty, not necessarily in that order."
"Mickey, what the hell's going on? Where's Daisy? Where's Krauss?"
She tried to twist her elbow away but Mickey gripped it tightly. "Come on inside, Holly. There's some people who can't wait to meet you."
"Mickey-let go of me, you're hurting."
Mickey pulled her close to him. "Listen," he said, "this is not exactly what I said it was, but Daisy is still being held hostage, and if you don't behave yourself she's going to suffer, do you understand?"
"Mickey?" she said. "Mickey, what's going on here? Tell me!"
"It's a party, Holly, you were right. And you're the entertainment."
Kenneth T. Mulgrew took hold of her other arm, and between them they forced her through the patio doors and through the ghostly net curtains as if she were a bride appearing on her wedding day. She found herself in a large living room furnished with heavy leather-upholstered couches and chairs and with landscape paintings all around the walls. The room was crowded with at least a dozen men, almost all of whom she either knew or recognized. As she came through the curtains, they raised their glasses and cheered.
Over the racket, Holly turned to Mickey and said, "You have to tell me where Daisy is!"
"I'll tell you, don't you worry. But not just yet, okay?"
"Tell me where Daisy is!"she screamed, and the underwater sound of her voice momentarily silenced every man in the room.
Mickey gave her the smallest shake of his head. "She's safe, Holly, I promise you, and she's going to stay safe. But I had to think of some way to get you out here on a dark and stormy night, now, didn't I?"
Holly wrenched herself free of him and approached the assembly of men. They were all dressed in casual clothes, some of them in shiny Hugh Hefner-style bathrobes. Middle-aged, mostly, although there were one or two younger men. She looked from one to the other, and she simply couldn't believe that they were all here. Martin A. Brimmer, with his white cropped hair and his cleft chin, commander of the Central Precinct; Gerry Valdez, an Omar Sharif lookalike, deputy district attorney; Oliver Pearson, paunchy and perma-tanned, senior partner in one of the most respected law firms in Oregon, Pearson Greenbaum & Traske. Ranking police officers and court officials and even Randolph Bruckman, the charming and helpful legal adviser from the governor's office.
She looked from one to the other, but not one of them was at all abashed. Instead they smiled at her and lifted their wineglasses, and one or two of them winked. There was a heavy smell of aftershave in the room, Obsession and Hugo Boss, and an aromatic undertone of marijuana too.
"What's going on?" she said at last. "What's happening here? Gerry Randolph what are you all doing here? What have you done with my daughter?"
At that moment a white-haired man wearing a quilted black Japanese-style robe tied with a sash edged his way through from the back of the gathering. It was Judge Walter Boynton, who had always reminded her so much of Ray Walston inMy Favorite Martian.
"Ms. Summers! So pleased you could come! I'll tell you what we're doing here: We're having ourselves a party. A surprise party, as far as you're concern
ed."
"I want my daughter back and I want her back now, and I want to go home."
"So what are you going to do? Call the police?"
Holly looked desperately to Mickey, but Mickey did nothing but give her a shrug. Why didn't he say something? Why didn't hedosomething?
Judge Boynton came up to her and tried to put his arm around her, but she stepped away. "Don't touch me. Take me back to Portland now and give me back my daughter."
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