“No; Trish told me she already looked there once when she knew he was out. She said he’s gone completely mental and paranoid, so he’ll hide it in the last place anyone would think of looking.”
“Wonderful, that makes things a lot easier,” Danny groans.
“Trish said the one time she asked him where he stashed them, he smiled and told her it was all packed up and ready to go.”
The door for the backstage office slams shut with a loud BANG.
The booming sound causes my heart to skip a beat. We freeze. The three of us stare at the now closed door. Silence.
“Trish?” Danny asks quietly.
“No, I saw her drive off,” Jimmy whispers.
Silence again. We wait for we don’t know what. Then the door locks. We jump towards it, tearing at the doorknob which of course won’t open.
“Shit! That could be Brendan— What if that’s Brendan? Shit—” I interrupt Danny’s panic attack to ask if there’s an exit Brendan could escape through. Danny nods.
“Then that’s where he’s heading! Come on! Jimmy, you think you’ll be okay guarding the door by yourself?”
“Well, if I’m fending for myself alone, could I at least have the gun?”
I wince at the mention of the word and, avoiding Danny’s undoubtedly horrified expression, take the gun out and hand it to Jimmy.
“Les—” Danny says slowly, eyes glued to the gun.
“We’ll talk about it later, now let’s go! Jimmy, it’s loaded—”
“Les?!”
I grab my brother and we run out the side entrance of the theatre down into the dark alley. Behind the theatre is a small parking lot sandwiched between strips of buildings with little alleys between them. Danny and I get to the center of the parking lot and come to a stop, unsure which way to go.
“I don’t like this—”
“Calm down, Danny.”
“Maybe he already left?”
“Shut up, Danny.”
“Look around, Brendan’s not here!”
A shadow. It sprints across the white bricks of the building in front of us and races down the wall, made stronger as it passes under the flood of light from a streetlamp.
“Come on!” I shout behind me, racing after the shadow.
We seem to be just behind him. Weaving down the narrow alleyways, zigzagging between buildings, I can just catch a glimpse of him before he turns each corner. Danny’s falling behind, but I won’t let Brendan escape—although I have no idea what to do when I catch up with him or if that’s even a safe idea.
I’m beginning to have trouble breathing, but I know I’m catching up because I can hear Brendan’s wheezing. Finally I turn a corner and there he is before me, only a couple of yards ahead. I charge at him, giving it all the energy I have left, the only thought in my head, you did this to me. I will catch you.
“Got you,” I shout as I grab the back of his shirt. I fling him up against the wall and hold him there. I did it.…
“Les?!”
“Danny, over here! I got him!”
He’s not far away now. Now we’ll figure things out. Now we’ve finally got Brendan where we want him. At this point he’s too tired to run and just stares back at me angrily while trying to catch his breath.
“I got him,” I say again, more to myself. Then why doesn’t this feel right?
“What…huh…the hell, man?” Brendan gasps.
“‘What the hell?’” I repeat. I laugh.
Danny rounds the corner. I look at him, still laughing, then turn on Brendan.
“I know you killed that woman. Dr. Patricia? You thought you could pin that on me? It’s over,” I yell.
“Les—”
“Danny, I got this. We know you robbed her, and we know about the stolen jewelry -”
“Les!” Danny shouts. I ignore him and just keep talking, blowing off steam by screaming at Brendan’s puzzled face.
“I know everything, Brendan. And it’s over now. You’re going to tell us where those goddamn diamonds are, I’ll make sure of that -”
“LES!”
“WHAT?”
“There’s no one there!”
…
“What?”
Danny’s freaking out. He looks close to tears. “Shit! Les, this is bad, this is very bad—”
“What are you talking about?”
I don’t understand. What’s going on?
“There’s no one there!” He points to Brendan who looks just as confused as me. “You’re not holding anyone, you’re not yelling at anyone, and we haven’t been chasing anyone. Brendan is not real! There’s no one here!”
Silence. I look at Brendan. He looks at me. We’re silent for a moment and I’m just trying to understand…Then he smiles. A smug little grin. He starts to laugh. My own figment is laughing at me.
I start to beat the crap out of him. At this point I don’t care if he’s real or not. My blood is hot. I’m punching something hard and yelling. Danny’s shouting something at me but I don’t hear him. I’m out of control, I know, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
It’s not fair, I keep thinking. Everything finally made sense. But now…it’s just not fair.
Danny finally rips me away from the wall and gets me to sit and calm down. I feel bad; he’s never had to really look out for me before now and I can tell he’s not used to it. Plus no one has ever seen me this crazy before. He’s telling me to breathe; just stop and breathe. I’m starting to feel a sharp pain in my right hand. Slowly everything becomes clear.
My fists are bleeding. Brendan’s gone, having disappeared into thin air. My right hand is obviously broken.… A stupid move on my part. My ankle only just healed, too.
Danny’s taken control of the situation. He calls an ambulance and sits with me, wrapping my hand up with his jacket. We don’t talk. I can tell he’s terrified with what just happened, and I can’t blame him. I am crazy. I see things, and I just broke my hand because of it. Maybe all of this is my fault? I don’t know anymore. Shit, my hand hurts.
We sit in silence for about ten minutes. The ambulance comes and Danny calls Jimmy to let him know where we’re heading. My hand must be pretty bad because the ambulance workers are giving me some kind of meds…I hate meds.…
Things fade to black. I’m beginning to think we’ll never get Molly back, even if she is just hiding out in Hawaii.
* * * *
“So, tell me what happened last night.”
“I got confused, that’s all.”
“You broke your hand. How?”
“I punched a wall. A few times.”
“Why?”
“I was upset. I’m okay now.”
“And the hand?”
“It’ll heal. Doesn’t hurt now.”
“Les, is there something you want to tell me?”
I sigh. “I’m sure you’ve already heard about this new mess I’m in, having to do with some robbery?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“The police think I robbed and killed a psychiatrist I had when I was a kid. I’m being framed…I think…I don’t know.” I lower my head in my not broken hand and pull at my hair. I’m still a little light-headed from the meds. The hospital put me on all sorts of numbing medications and pain killers. Plus I had to take my schizophrenia medication right after the hospital released me. The doctor at the hospital said my painkillers wouldn’t interfere with the schizophrenia medication.… I think he’s wrong.
“Who do you think is trying to frame you?”
“Brendan Adams.… If he exists. I thought he did, but who I thought he was turned out to be imaginary—I think he stills exists, just not the ‘he’ I thought he was.… That didn’t make any sense, I’m sorry.”
“Have you been taking your medication?”
I sigh again and nod. The psychologist grins and scribbles something down.
“I didn’t kill anyone. Someone told me Brendan did and has been setting me up to take the fall for
his crimes.”
“But this Brendan turned out to be imaginary?”
I nod.
“Who told you Brendan was setting you—”
“Ah, I see, I know where you’re going with this. Trish told me—Trish, a real person. You can ask Danny and Jimmy, Derek, Molly—they’ve all seen her. She’s the non-existing woman…or existing woman…The Queen of Diamonds chick I’ve been talking about.”
My doctor nods at me, trying to hide her shocked expression.
“The Queen of Diamonds?” she asks. I nod. “The woman whose house burned down?”
“Brendan blew up that house; I had nothing to do with it. That is, if there is a Brendan.”
“You told me just now that Brendan didn’t exist.”
“A person named Brendan Adams, the name might or might not be real. I heard the name for the first time from Trish. Then my mind came up with an imaginary character who I thought Brendan was. My version of Brendan isn’t real, but there may be a real Brendan Adams…I just need Trish to tell me who he is, who he really is. More than the name.”
My doctor takes off her glasses and starts to message her eyebrows, obviously confused.… But maybe that’s a good sign. When she talks, she sounds concerned, making it seem as though she believes me.
“If, hypothetically, this was all true—that these two crimes you’ve been involved in are related and Brendan is behind everything, trying to frame you.… Then, aren’t you in danger?”
I look down at the rug, thinking. She goes on.
“This person may be mentally ill, and if he killed once.… I feel I should tell the police about this—”
“No, no, not yet!”
“Leslie, this is serious! You can get hurt—you have gotten hurt!”
“The police won’t listen if I have no proof a Brendan Adams even exists! We go to the police now, Brendan will disappear with the diamonds and the police will pin this all on me. I have Trish; she can tell me where Brendan lives, and then maybe we can find the stolen jewelry or some evidence to expose him—”
“And what if you get caught breaking and entering? Or if Brendan walks in on you searching his house, how are you supposed to get out of that…? Hypothetically?”
She believes me. I don’t know how I managed to convince her. “I’ll have to figure it out,” I say out loud.
My cell phone rings. Dr. Bandos flinches at the sound. I apologize before picking it up.
“Trish?”
“Where is she?”
“Derek! Hey, sorry, I was expecting—”
“Where’s Trish? Is she okay?”
“You know, now’s not a good time.” I mouth ‘I’m sorry’ to Dr. Bandos who sighs and scribbles some more on her notepad.
“Danny told me everything. I tried calling Trish, but she won’t pick up. Les, where is she?”
“Derek, calm down—”
“She’s my friend, Les!”
“Okay, okay, I know. I don’t know where she is, but she’s safe right now…I think. Can we talk later?”
“Fine. Find out where she is and call me.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t. Bye.”
He hangs up. I put the cell phone away, a little stunned. It’s true I haven’t known Derek very long, but I’ve never heard him so upset. All this time, Molly had been the center of Danny’s and my attention. Now Trish was in more danger than her.
“She needs to be protected,” I say aloud, adding “Trish, I mean,” in response to my doctor’s confused expression. It’s time to end this ordeal—even if that means taking a risk and handing the diary over to the police.
* * * *
I’m sitting in the theatre auditorium once again, wondering what the hell I should do next. The production Man with Bags has really come together—they’re already starting dress rehearsals. Unfortunately, this means Danny’s job is suddenly much more demanding. I can hear Danny running around backstage, trying to retrieve props, equip actors with spears and suitcases, and find replacements for props that have broken or disappeared.
Derek’s not on his game today, either. He’s obviously more concerned about Trish than giving a good performance.… I don’t blame him. I keep flipping my phone on, calling Trish’s number until the answering machine turns on, then hanging up and calling again. I’ve already left three messages telling her to meet me at the theatre.… Where is she?
In the meantime I should focus on who the real Brendan could be. How should I even go about finding him?
“Look at the clues,” a voice answers. I twist to look behind me, but the voice has no body.
“Why the hell am I having so much trouble with this?!” I wonder out loud. I took the medication just before we arrived at the theatre. It’s obviously not working. That, or I was right and the pain meds are interfering with the other medication somehow.
“Look at the clues!” the imaginary voice repeats.
“Shut up, there are no clues,” I whisper.
“Well, think of Brendan, the fake one.”
I don’t answer. I should just ignore this voice.
“Don’t you ignore me!” it answers to my thoughts. “Listen, the Brendan you knew wasn’t entirely fake. I’m trying to help you, so now listen and think. He said he was an actor.”
“He wasn’t real.”
“He said he lived nearby.”
“He wasn’t real.”
“He knew Trish and Molly, and he knows where your brother works.”
“He wasn’t.…” Wait…that’s true, Trish told me that. I think about this for a moment, then ask, “Are you saying…? Am I saying…? Do I know the real Brendan already?”
“Hey, how the hell should I know if you don’t? And stop talking to yourself; people will think you’re a crazy person.”
“That would be an appropriate assumption.”
“Les, who are you talking to?”
I flinch, then turn around to see Danny.
“Uh.… Just, talking to myself.”
“You’re hearing things again, aren’t you?”
“The medication doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Obviously.”
“But I think it might help us solve this Brendan issue.”
“The voices?”
“And the delusions, yeah.”
“I think I need to take you back to the psychologist. We’ll try a different medication until we find one that works.”
“Danny, I’m fine—”
“You’re sporting a tracking bracelet and shattered the bones in your hand!”
“Okay, things look bad.”
“Look bad? Look—”
“Danny! This suitcase is too heavy, what’s the combination for the lock?” an actor screams from onstage. For a second it looks like Danny’s going to scream back at her, but he catches himself and takes a deep breath. Derek rushes to the girl onstage, saving Danny the trouble.
“Listen, you gotta go talk to Derek, he’s going nuts wanting to know where Trish is and if she’s okay.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Danny!” the actress screams again.
“I’M COMING! Jesus Christ, Les, I’m ready to kill myself. Okay,” Danny runs back to the stage, yelling “I can’t fix it because one of you lost the code, all right? That’s what happens when you people play around with props!”
My phone rings. It’s an unrecognizable number. I pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Whadya want?”
Trish.
“God, about time you called back. You know how many times I called you?”
“I’m busy with a guy from the insurance company. Of course, they’re trying to get out of paying me, which is ridiculous because why would I want to burn down my own place and almost kill myself in the process? But hey, if it’s arson, apparently, they don’t want to cover it! Can you believe that? I almost died, my house burned down—Jesus, my cat is dead, but do they care? It make
s me so angry—what do you want, why are you calling me?!”
“Who’s Brendan?”
“What? You mean the Queen of Diamonds, the one who blew up my house, the one framing you, that Brendan?”
“I thought you were the Queen of—doesn’t matter. Listen, I don’t know who the real Brendan is.”
“What? Well, ask Molly.”
“You’re kidding, right? You know I haven’t been able to get a hold of her since she disappeared to Hawaii—”
“Fine, ask Danny.”
“He doesn’t know, either.”
“But.… Danny’s boyfriend—”
“Derek knows who Brendan is?”
“Derek? No! I mean, yes—I can’t concentrate, okay? I’m at Molly’s, I’ll call you back after this insurance guy leaves.”
“Can you promise me that? Because I’ve been calling—”
“Yes, fine, promise, bye—”
“No, no, wait! Where does Brendan live?”
The line dies and she’s gone. Wow, how unhelpful. A hand suddenly grabs my shoulder and I flinch again. I turn around to find Detective Colly and Detective Emerson leaning over me.
“What are you two doing here?”
“How’s the hand?”
“Are you following me? If you have a question, then just ask and leave me alone.”
“Where’s Danny?” Colly asks, smiling at the fact that I’m annoyed.
“OH MY GOD, SHUT UP! IT’S NOT THAT HEAVY! Stop whining like a baby and get over it!” Danny screams from onstage, answering her question.
* * * *
An hour. I’m forced to sit around at the police station and wait an hour as the police question Danny. What the hell is taking so long?
Finally Danny appears, loathing in his eyes.
“So…how did it go?” I ask jokingly. Danny glares at me and opens his mouth to say something when his phone rings. He growls and picks it up.
“Hello?! Oh, hey, Derek.… No, I don’t think so.… Fine, calm down, I’ll ask—Hey, Les, any leads as to where Trish is?”
“Oh yeah, she called. She was at Molly’s, talking to some agent from the insurance company. She might still be there.”
“Yeah, she’s at Molly’s,” Danny says into the phone. “I’m glad you called; I’ve been having the worst—hello? Hello?”
Danny’s face turns red. He violently closes the phone and turns on me. I brace myself; Danny’s about to explode.
The Queen of Diamonds Page 11