Stealth Moves

by Sanna Hines

  Stealth swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. Pain shot up his leg. He sat down. “What happened to our ankle?”

  Strain or sprain. I broke a fence last night. Our hand might hurt a little, too. It’s scraped.

  Stealth inspected his raw left palm. He tapped the fingers of his right on the night table. Everything should have gone well today. The nurse’s aide was back, relieving Brandon of Momster duties, freeing Stealth to do his work with the collection. The boy was an inspiration, got his creative juices flowing.

  That’s not all he gets flowing, Brandon broke in.

  “What are we to do with you, Brandon?”

  You should ask what I’m going to do about you. I like getting out whenever I want.

  “But we have things to accomplish,” Stealth argued calmly, though his heart was pounding. “Stealth needs you to cooperate for a while—just a little while longer. Later, you can have all the time on your own you want.”

  Liar! You don’t mean it.

  Stealth sat in silence until he remembered, “This Friday, we’ll have the money Karina wants. She’ll be off our back.”

  If everything goes right. What if it doesn’t? We need a backup plan. What about Olivia? We could collect her.

  “Karina said she’s only worth money if her grandmother dies.”

  Old ladies have accidents.

  “No time for distractions. The suits paying for the weapons are impatient. They want a progress report today. Have to meet them at the café. They’re pushing for a test.”

  But I want Olivia, Brandon persisted. She has the day off school. I want to see her.

  “Are you getting hung up on this chick?” Stealth asked incredulously.

  Maybe.

  “Doesn’t sound like you. I mean you like girls, yeah, but one girl in particular? That’s different.”

  I want lots of things to be different, more grown up. Like this room. It’s a little kid’s room. I go to bars now. I don’t need comic book hero posters on the wall.

  Stealth looked around. “Everything’s just the way you left it.”

  I want some hot babes to look at.

  “The Momster would never allow it.”

  She can’t get out of bed! How’s she supposed to find out?

  Stealth sighed. “Brandon…”

  All right, all right. You pick your posters; I’ll pick mine, but I have to get out this afternoon. Have to! Make it quick with the weapons guys. Don’t take all day.

  “We’re so close to finishing. Forget about an outing.” Stealth shut the laptop.

  Silence. “Brandon?” More silence. “Okay, be that way!”

  Testing his leg, Stealth found he could put weight on the ankle if he limped. There was surgical tape in the Momster’s sitting room—where she never sat, he thought with a smirk. The space was half hospital supply, half aide lounge. Stealth avoided the entire third floor, and yet, he needed to go there. He had to risk it, but only when he was ready.

  Stealth unwrapped fresh bars of soap for his shower. He shaved neat edges around his goatee. In the closet, he unsealed a clean shirt and the plastic bag containing his ill-fitting business clothes: a jacket too big, trousers too short. He’d bought them online because he wouldn’t go to a clothing store where people tried on garments and then left them there for him to put near his skin. Shuddering, Stealth pulled his tie too tight, gasped, and released the knot.

  He wasn’t thinking clearly.

  He was afraid.

  The third floor awaited him.

  When he got there, the smell of human waste, chemicals and medicines seeping through the Momster’s closed door made him gag. Tiptoeing away from the servants’ stairs, he thought about bolting toward the master staircase—to be somewhere clean with fresh air—but he needed the tape to wrap his ankle before he walked to the café. A few steps more, just a few…

  “Mr. Tinsley!” the aide’s voice said, startling Stealth so he flinched, putting too much pressure on the sore ankle. Stifling a groan, he glowered at Marisol. She cringed, but she kept on talking. “Your mother, she say to find you. She want to talk.”

  “Tell her Brandon’s busy.”

  “She say no Mr. Brandon. She want Mr. Brent.” The aide looked puzzled. “There are two of you? How come I not know this?”

  Stealth peered into the sitting room. “Where’s the tape?” He pointed to his ankle. “This hurts.”

  “Ah, I get for you. You go see your mother now, yes?”

  “Things are going on in this house,” the Momster began. “Don’t think I’m oblivious. I want an explanation.”

  Stealth’s hands sweated inside his leather gloves. Even breathing through his mouth, the smells were getting to him. He couldn’t keep this up long; he had to escape.

  He focused on a spot between her eyebrows. If he concentrated on that spot, he wouldn’t think about what lay under the sheet. The Momster didn’t wear clothes because no clothes fit her. She lived naked as a walrus except for diapers. “What are you talking about?”

  “Noises at night. A female voice.” She wagged a sausage-sized finger at his face. “Brent, are you bringing women here for sex?”

  Appalled, he clapped a hand to his chest. “No!”

  “Is Brandon?”

  Staring into her eyes now, Stealth said, “Brandon’s dead.”

  The doughy folds of the Momster’s face swayed when she shook her head. “We both know he’s still with us. Why, I see Brandon nearly every day. Such a sweet, innocent boy, he’s far too young for women. You have to protect him, guard him—certainly better than you did on that awful day. You remember that day?” Her eyes shrank to slits. “I won’t be around forever, you know. It’s up to you to take care of Brandon.”

  Stealth nodded. “Brandon needs this house. Don’t sell it.” He looked above the oversized hospital bed to the frilly, pink half-tester canopy. How long had it been since that was cleaned? There was pink silk nearly everywhere. And gold. The Momster liked gilded furniture. “You need this house, too. We customized it for you. A hospital wouldn’t be nice.”

  “Karina says I have to go. She says I’ll die. She says—”

  “Karina’s only thinking of herself.”

  “Not true! She worries about me—unlike you. I hardly ever see you. What do you do with yourself all day?”

  “Study. Conduct research.”

  “On what?”

  “Physics, engineering, biology—different things.”

  “And that’s your excuse for not visiting me? Karina, who has an important job, spends more time with me than you do!”

  Stealth looked at the forehead again, wondering how much longer this would go on. His stomach was queasy.

  “And another thing,” the Momster said, “I don’t trust that Marisol. She steals.”

  This was news. “What does she steal?”

  “My dolls. I asked her to take James out for air, but she won’t bring him back. Who knows what she’s taken? I want you to look around the house, make sure nothing else is gone. If more things are missing, I want her fired.”

  “Brandon won’t be happy. He likes her.” Stealth stood so he would tower over the Momster. “And Brandon must have this house. He can’t live anywhere else. Tell Karina to back off on the sale.”

  The Momster swatted away his words like flies. “You have nothing to say about it. Karina’s in charge.” She turned her head toward the front window. “Tell Marisol to come in. It’s time for my mid-morning snack.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Day 10—Monday

  The gym at the base of Beacon Hill had an inviting staircase carpeted in red. As she climbed the steps, Holly took in the so-familiar smells of exercise—equipment, people, cleaning fluids. Last week left her yearning for a gym.

  Maddy stood by the reception desk on the second floor. “These are my guests,” she told the attendant. “They’re paid up.” To Liv, she confided, “We can get into a spin class because of holiday cancellations.
Hurry!” Tugging on Liv’s hand, Maddy pulled her toward the end of the long hallway before she stopped and turned toward Holly. “Oh. Sorry. Only two spots in the class.”

  “It’s all right,” Holly said. “Have fun.” Facing the desk clerk, she asked, “Do you have an empty room with carpet or padding on the floor?”

  “We do!” The clerk looked relieved. “Guests can’t operate the fitness exercise without instruction—insurance problems, you know—but you’re welcome to use the training space.”

  Finding the room, Holly shed her hoodie, purse, shoes and socks. Barefoot, wearing only a strappy top and dobok pants, she sat on the blue plastic mat to stretch her muscles. When she was done warming up, she went through forms including the new one she was learning—third-degree form. She stopped when she saw Ariel’s Aunt Zarah standing in the doorway.

  “Hello,” Holly said. “Glad you’re here. I talked to Dan Vogel about the guy we saw at the café. Turns out Dan knows him, and says he’s no threat. He lives in a big house on Beacon.”

  “So the officer told me.” Zarah entered, right hand making a dismissive sweep. “Do all your police think their friends are above crime—or is it only the rich who are innocent?”

  Holly drew back. “Wow. I don’t think that’s what Dan meant.”

  Zarah tossed her head. “I’m not so easily convinced. I remain interested in this man.” She smiled. “But now, will you spar with me?”

  Surprised, Holly asked, “You know Tae Kwon Do?”

  “I know some things.” Zarah bent to slip off her shoes, then bowed and went into ready stance. Hand cupped, she waggled her fingers, the gesture signaling ‘Come on’.

  Zarah was roughly twice Holly’s age and a full head shorter. Holly decided to go easy. A simple right-foot stomp would send Zarah leaping away, straight into Holly’s left turning kick. Just a touch with the top of her foot—not real contact—because they weren’t wearing pads, she’d—

  Holly’s next thought was wondering why she was on the floor. Then she remembered. “Hey! A leg sweep isn’t kosher.”

  “You’re telling me about kosher?” Zarah reached down to help Holly up. “In real combat, there are no rules. Once more?” Zarah took position.

  Holly grinned. All right, no more Ms. Nice Guy. She launched three fast kicks to distract Zarah from the hip throw and arm-twisting flipover. On her stomach, Zarah tapped out. Holly released her arm and watched Zarah turn over. Zarah’s right palm shot into Holly’s hip joint while the left pulled the back of her knee.

  Holly was down—again.

  “Trust no one, especially an enemy you think you’ve defeated,” Zarah advised. She helped Holly up, then went to her purse, pulled out her buzzing phone and said, “Ah, but now I must go. There is a meeting with Ariel’s father. My sister does not talk with the man. A bad husband, a careless father, still he is not stupid. Perhaps he will have something useful to say.” With a shrug, she leaned against the wall to put on her shoes.

  “This was fun,” Holly said. “Wish we could spar again.”

  “And why not?”

  “I’m just a guest here, not a member.”

  “My sister is a member. I’m her guest; you can be, too. I will call you.”

  Holly and Zarah traded numbers, and then Zarah made for the door, where she paused and reversed direction. She pulled a necklace over her head, and then handed it to Holly. “This is for the girl, for Ariel’s friend. Tell her to wear it always until the kidnapper is caught.”

  Holly inspected the silver Star of David pendant. “Well, thank you, but Liv isn’t Jewish.”

  “This does not matter. It will keep her safe.”

  Holly put the gift into a zipper pocket of her purse and thanked Zarah again. She received a warm, double handshake before the woman left.

  Less than a minute later, Liv popped in the doorway. “There you are! We have to go. Right away.”

  “Ariel’s aunt was here, and she gave me—”

  “Later,” Liv said. “Tell me later. I have to be at Chase’s house. Maddy’s gone ahead to get Rodrigo. Wish she didn’t always drag him along, but she says he’s cute when he’s confused, which is most of the time. C’mon!” Liv urged, waving. “Race you to the house.”

  It was an easy lope for Holly, harder for Liv, but she chugged up the hill without stopping. When they reached the Smallwood kitchen, Liv boasted, “I won!” Holly tried to look chagrined.

  Teddy lay in a playpen, head on paws, eyes mournful as a prisoner on Death Row. He shot up to his hind legs and clawed frantically at the top rail when he saw Liv. She picked him up for a cuddle, then set him down by the terrace doors, but he sat and stared at her. “Don’t need to go out? Okay, let’s get ready.” Girl and dog scrambled toward the stairs where Liv called over her shoulder, “Five minutes! I’ll be just five minutes.”

  Holly decided she needed a clean shirt. Above her room, she saw Jen sweeping the deck. “You home now?” Jen called down.

  “Not yet. Liv’s going to her friend’s house.”

  “Well, take the dog, will you? Poor mite keeps whining.”

  “Where did you get the playpen?”

  “Mrs. S. had it. Used to be Liv’s. She was here for a couple of months before her mother took her off to California.”

  Holly nodded. She remembered hearing that somewhere. “Do you know Liv’s mother?”

  “Uh huh.” Jen stood, dustpan in hand, ready to dump the lattice debris into a garbage bag. “Beautiful woman. Looking at her, you’d believe she’s the twenty-five she claims instead of the thirty-five she is.”

  Holly grinned. “She lies about her age.”

  “She’s a model. No one wants old ones. That’s why Liv’s here, you know.”

  “I’m not following you,” Holly said.

  “Well, it’s hard to pretend you’re a kid yourself with a teenage daughter at home. The numbers don’t add up.”

  “Oh…I see.”

  “And there’s the men, too, the kind who want trophy wives and no baggage. I’m guessing she’s looking to snag a rich guy before her modeling days are over. Just makes sense,” Jen said, swiping her hands together. “Well, I’m done here. Deck’s all tidy for the repairmen tomorrow. We’re getting a dog toilet, too—a proper one with a line to the sewer. They’ll have to tear up the terrace to lay the pipe, so watch your step. After that, it’ll be the security people.”

  “When’s all this happening?”

  “Tomorrow and the next day. Mrs. S. doesn’t like to waste time.”

  Liv stuck her head out the French doors. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  In five minutes, Liv had put on makeup, skinny jeans with artful holes, a suede jacket and boots to die for plus an ordinary Sidley pink Oxford shirt. The homely shirt surprised Holly. She asked about it.

  “I need to buy new tops for weekends,” Liv said. “My old ones are too small in here.” Liv drew an arc across her chest. Holly said that was a problem she’d never had. They laughed together as they left the house with Teddy, heading into the bright light of a perfect fall day.

  The walk to Chase’s building was more of a sprint, as Liv seemed determined to move at top speed. She passed Teddy’s leash to Holly when Chase came downstairs to the lobby. Holly reminded her again to call when she wanted to leave.

  “Don’t hang around,” Liv said. “It’ll take a while. Someone from Sidley—one of us—has to give a speech at the concert. We have to figure out what to say.”

  “Not you!”

  “Not me.” Liv shook her head vigorously. “Maddy’s good at it, and so is Chase.”

  Chase squared his shoulders, smiling at Liv. “Maddy and I could do it.”

  “Yeah, okay. And I was thinking…”

  Holly left before she heard the rest. They’d work it out.

  It was too nice to go back to her room. Teddy pulled on the leash, eager to go on, so Holly took him along Beacon and around the corner of Charles. She spotted Knit Cap—no, Brent. Brent Tinsley
—a block away in front of the café. Only he wasn’t wearing the cap today. He had on a jacket and trousers that looked like they came from someone else’s closet.

  The traffic light changed. Briefcase tucked under one arm, Brent limped across the street carrying two huge café take-out bags. Was he having a party?

  Puzzled, Holly remembered to turn away so he wouldn’t see her. Teddy took the opportunity to spray a lamp post. When she looked back in Brent’s direction, she saw him going into the alley behind Beacon. Holly followed, peeking around the corner, but seeing no sign of him.

  It wasn’t exactly an alley. There were garages, but there were house fronts, too, as though people wedged in living space wherever they could. Holly started to explore the area, but Teddy stopped before a set of double garage doors. He sat, stubbornly resisting her yank on his leash.

  “Holly!”

  She turned to see Dan rolling up in his cruiser. “That the owner of the mysterious, moving dog mat?”

  “This is the one and only Teddy.” Holly picked him up and walked round to the driver’s window. “Should be named Tuffy. He flat out refuses to walk past that garage.”

  “Cute little guy,” Dan said, “even if he’s got issues. Anything happen at the house today?”

  “No. Did you check out the neighborhood?”

  Dan nodded. “Someone came through—broken branches on a bush, a brick dislodged from a wall, a couple of trampled flowers.”

  “Footprints?”

  “Plants were in a rock garden. No prints.”

  “Just so we’re clear Mike really saw someone. Oh, and today, I talked with Zarah. She’s still suspicious about Brent Tinsley.”

  “Seems like the suspicious sort. I’ll bet she checks under her bed each night.”

  “But Zarah made a point: No one should be ruled out as a suspect just because he lives in a nice place.”

  “It’s not that,” Dan said. “The Hill’s a community. When you spend your life here, you know the people—which is more than I can say about this Israeli woman. I’m keeping my eye on her. What’s she doing in Boston?”