Broken Strings

by Nancy Means Wright

  “I don’t want you in there alone,” he said. She could see the flush on his vulnerable cheeks. There was a stubble of whiskery-white below his ears, the slightest scent of lotion. She found it endearing. Had he dabbed it on for her?

  She tramped through two small rooms into a larger one. Nothing there but dirt and warped floors and cobwebs. Spiders loved these old abandoned buildings; they could turn them into a webby paradise. She ploughed up the rickety stairs, into a small side room and a couple of stained mattresses. Food wrappers on the floor, cigarette butts. A ripped blue sweater hung by a sleeve from a wicker chair arm, and below it, something that looked like a hookah. For inhaling what? meth? opium? heroin? Kids had been staying here, it was obvious. In a corner of the room she found a white tee that said Recognize the Abenaki. And a half eaten macaroon – Chance’s favorite cookie. It was Chance’s tee, Fay was certain. She picked it up. It was stained greenish, as if it had been lying in the wet weeds. Or in the weedy bottom of a leaky boat?

  Willard was close behind. His hand dropped softly onto her shoulder, a welcome weight. “She’s been here,” he said. “She’ll come back. Remember when she ran off and stayed four days? I could go now to the police. Or stay here and wait.”

  “But you might have to wait half the night. And she was furious when we contacted the police the last time she took off! Look. I’ll leave a note. It’s jealousy over Billy, I bet, that’s keeping her here.”

  She fumbled in her purse for a pen, and wrote a note on the back of a shopping list:

  “CHANCE. THE GIRL YOU SAW WAS BILLY’S SISTER. HE’S UPSET. HE MIGHT PLAY THE PRINCE. DRESS REHEARSAL TONIGHT. COME HOME!

  “He said he might do the prince?” Willard said, surprised.

  “Not exactly. But I thought it might be a draw. I’ll have to tell him what we found. Get him to come to rehearsal. Of course he doesn’t know the first thing about operating a marionette – at least I doubt he does.”

  “I can teach him,” Willard said. “Ethan doesn’t want to do it anyway. And I don’t want to. I mean, I will, Fay, if no one else comes through. I always prefer, well…”

  “Backstage. Out of the limelight. I know.” She smiled at him. He was such a dear man. A partner, really. She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips, saw him blush. Then she propped up the note and ran out of the room.

  Outside, the trees were bursting with color: a red sugar maple down by the creek waved its flaming leaves at her. “We’ll definitely bypass the police for now,” she said. “I don’t want them barging in, arresting Chance. But if she’s not home by tonight, I’ll call Nova.”

  She heard him murmur something, a step behind her. His face was still in autumn bloom as they got into her pickup. She left a message for Billy on his cell phone, then drove too fast back to Branbury.

  * * *

  aunt Glenna began shouting messages the minute Fay walked in the door with bags of groceries – Chance would be hungry when she got home. There was Stormy Moon, needing to be reminded of the rehearsal time. The school principal, wanting to know the exact time they’d arrive at the school Saturday. Glenna said, “I told her ‘You see us, you’ll know we’re there’.”

  There was Sergeant Nova saying they’d located the skull artist Beets talked to, and then let him go for lack of evidence. “He called it a dead end,” Glenna said.

  Fay groaned. “So I’ll go up there myself and talk to him. Anything else?”

  “A lot of dribble from some hairdresser about a woman with a blue spot. Or a brown spot – some kind of spot, anyway. But she had some possible names for your lawyer.”

  “Ye gods,” Fay said, fixing herself a strong cup of coffee. “Got to narrow that down.”

  “So what woman?” Glenna asked, opening a box of cereal. “What lawyer? You told her you were working for a lawyer or something?”

  “I said whatever works,” Fay said. “That’s what you have to do when you want to find things out.”

  “Huh. ’Fore you know it you’ll be growing a nose like Pinocchio.” Glenna settled down at the kitchen table with a bowl of Cheerios. Fay told her about locating Chance, and Glenna said, “Well, good work. Sounds like a bit of déjà vu – I’d thought she’d outgrown that running away.”

  “It was because of a spat with Billy, I’m pretty sure. But foster kids carry a lot of baggage.”

  “I suppose. Anyway, cereal’s all I want for supper. My stomach’s in an uproar after all those calls. I wish you’d give those people your cell number.”

  “That one’s only for the privileged. Family and police at this point.”

  “Oh, I forgot. That Higgins cop, too. He called here.”

  “He has my cell, he shouldn’t be bothering you.” Fay gulped the coffee. Lordy, but she needed the caffeine! “He give you a message?”

  Glenna squinted at a scrap of paper. “He found out about Dominick Valentini’s will. On Gloria’s death, the money goes to Puss and Marion – well, both dead – and then to um, number three.”

  “He say exactly who number three is?”

  “The cop didn’t know. The lawyer won’t let it out.”

  “I assumed Cedric, but it might be some obscure cousin. Did he remind the lawyer we have a couple of murders here?”

  “The cop just said for you to call him back. Oh yeah, one more message. It was Grand Central Station here all day. An old lady can’t even take a nap!”

  “Tell me later. I can’t take any more news. Unless it’s from Chance, of course!”

  “It was Cedric.”

  “Tell me now then.” Fay gave up, and sank into a chair with her coffee. She heard Willard rustling grocery bags, unpacking.

  “It was actually for me, not you. He lowered the sale of Valentini’s from fifteen thou to ten if he can get ten percent each month of the profits.”

  “Oh?”

  “I told him no monthly fee. We want the devil off our backs – no strings. I’ll pay him the full fifteen. Monday morning. I got an IRA sitting in a bank, doing nothing.”

  “I can’t let you do that, Glenna. I told you that.”

  “Well, I’m telling you I’ll do what I damn please, so give up.”

  A half hour later the phone rang again. This time, it was her cell. Fay snatched it up.

  “Ms. Hubbard?” She knew the voice and went into the bathroom with the phone. She had to tell it straight to Billy and she didn’t want anyone overhearing.

  “I know, I know,” he said. “That’s why I called. She saw your note. She was in the building when you came, just didn’t want – well, you know. Anyway, I’ve got her back.”

  “Well, thank God for that!” Her heart soared. “How is she? Can you put her on the phone?”

  “No, she’s not…”

  “Not what? Where is she?” Now Fay’s heart was thumping so loud she was filling the room with its noise.

  “Hang on there,” Billy said. “She’s on her way home. On her bike. She told me she needed to ride. I just thought I’d give you a warning. She’s pretty, well, done in.”

  “Why didn’t you drive her? You could’ve put the bike in your pickup.” Now Fay was upset. “What if those guys tried to get her to come back? The ones she was with in that place?”

  “Only two guys and a girl. They were still wasted, she said. So was she, you better realize that. They hauled her out of the creek, you know. She might of drowned if they hadn’t. She was swimming, for Christ’s sake. Bloody fool.”

  Fay said, “Oh,” trying to put it all together. Chance was swimming and got tired and some rowdy kids hauled her out and then gave her alcohol or drugs. With or without her knowing. “Spiked a drink or something?” she asked.

  “I guess. She was tired. Just coming out of it.” Billy sounded tired himself. She supposed he’d been worried. That he really cared for Chance. She had to keep her mind open.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “She has something to tell you. For your ears alone.”

  “Ah. Follow her, will
you? See she gets here safely? Oh, and look, you want to be a prince in our show? Just a few lines. We can show you how to operate a marionette.”

  “I know how,” he said.

  That stopped her. “Really? Then come. We can use you. Chance is handling the Beauty puppet.”

  “Not tonight she isn’t. I guarantee.”

  “Well, come anyway.” She softened her voice. “Please? We’ll be at Willard’s house. A small yellow cape on Meadow Lane. Chance can tell you where.”

  “Fay?” Apple was banging on the bathroom door.

  “I’m coming, sweetie. Hold your water.” She ushered the child into the bathroom.

  Outdoors there was a commotion. Gandalf and Chance’s mutt were barking. The Maine Coon was racing for a tree. The cat wasn’t supposed to go outside, but Apple let it. The red Vespa was spinning into the driveway, someone clinging to Stormy’s back.

  “Found her in a ditch!” Stormy shouted. “She fell off her bike on Ridge Road – you’ll have to go back and get it.”

  It was Chance. Fay raced out to help the girl off the Vespa before she could fall again. “Okay, I’m okay,” the girl mumbled all the way into the house and onto the living room sofa. “Okay,” where she lay back – asleep in moments.

  * * *

  This time Ethan seemed upset, and Fay wasn’t surprised. Here was Billy, pulling strings like he’d been doing it all his life. Where had he learned to do that? They’d switched the rehearsal to her own living room. She didn’t want to leave Chance alone in the house. A dozen dark scenarios played out in her aching head. What was it the girl wanted to tell her?

  “I could do it. I been practicing. Now you want him?” Ethan complained in Fay’s ear.

  “You can’t pull strings and do audio at the same time,” she said, trying to appease. “And audio’s important.” Ethan had taped Handel’s Water Ballet, then added his own quirky computer music for the scary parts. It was actually quite effective. Willard was fussing with the Act Two set, a wooded place with an overgrown castle on stage left.

  Billy’s prince was dancing with his vision of a beautiful woman, a prince wholly in love – Fay was astonished. Beauty was the “vision,” of course, operated, for now, by Stormy. The psychic’s big hip leaned into his thigh as she worked, but Billy was concentrating on the marionette, painted in Marion’s image. At least they’d gotten that puppet back after Puss’s demise.

  “Take me to her, I beg you. I must have her, only her,” the prince boomed in a voice that filled Fay down to her toes. She could feel them throb. “I shall return,” he said, and the prince spun about and out into the wings, taking the Beauty Vision puppet with him, that is, almost – her strings twisted in Stormy’s hands.

  “A two second blackout,” Fay ordered, and Willard doused the lights. Ethan gave a last squirt of mist and turned down the sound.

  “Give ’em here,” Billy told Stormy. Frowning, he untangled the strings – he obviously wasn’t used to working with an incompetent.

  The lights came up and Petunia led the prince to the castle that, a hundred years later, was tangled with leaves and vines. And there was Nightshade, in her guise as witch. Fay had given Glenna the copy of the witch with the skull earrings. Willard had made her over into a marionette.

  “Stand! On penalty of death! Ye shall not enter, fool!” Glenna’s cracked voice filled the living room. The controller trembled in her hands – a tremble that made the witch even more terrible. Glenna was perfect in the part. Who would’ve thought?

  Billy stared at the witch and missed his cue. “Billy?” Fay nudged him. But his hands had let go. “You all right?”

  “Fine.” He untangled the marionette strings and fell back into character. “Long night, I’m trashed. Let’s get on with it, okay?”

  “Right. So start the fight with the witch.”

  “I had a vision, too, it just came to me,” Stormy whispered in Fay’s ear. “Listen, will you? It came on strong.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fears, Fights, Sulks—and a Stunning Confrontation

  Saturday, October 6

  “I never got a chance to kiss you awake,” Billy said. Chance was sitting with him in the Co-op café Saturday morning, sucking up a smoothie. She was feeling wonky, but determined to go on with the three o’clock show. “That woman ran me out of the house,” Billy complained, “as soon as we finished.”

  “Her name is Fay.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then call her that.”

  “You’re being unreasonable, Chance. What’d they do to you anyhow, those guys?”

  “Nothing. Got me stoned, I told you, that’s all. Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” She could hardly remember the two nights, for one thing. They’d pulled her half-drowned into the boat and then took her back to that building. After that, a big fog. The girl was nice though, brought her food and water. Kept the big guy off when he tried to come on to her one time. She was used to that, though, knew how to handle him.

  Billy was nervous. She could hear his fingernails click on the metal table. “Where is she then, your darling half-sister?” she asked. If Sammy is a sister, she thought, she’d have introduced herself right off, wouldn’t she? Why the charade?

  “She’s due in by ten,” he said, and glanced at his watch. “Only nine minutes past. She was probably out late last night. Look, kid, I was worried about you. Then the foster woman – uh, Fay, got me into the puppet thing.”

  “I thought you didn’t like puppets. Too phony or something, that’s what you said.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Yes, you did. You scoffed at Marion’s work.” He was looking defensive, vulnerable, and for some reason she wanted to strike out at him. She was feeling cross – wanted to stay in bed till noon but he kept calling her cell, said he had to see her. She still had a headache.

  “I never said I didn’t. Oh hell, no use arguing. So one of my foster parents had marionettes. She taught me how to operate them, amuse the younger kids. That didn’t mean I liked doing it.”

  His voice was rising. He was sounding as irritable as she felt. She bet he was lying.

  She knew the body language, the twitch of facial muscles, the hot cheeks. “Okay,” she said. “Subject closed. Here she comes, your sister.” She pointed.

  Sammy hadn’t seen them, and she walked straight to the café bar, pinning on her SAMANTHA badge as she moved, When she began to blend up a smoothie, Chance stood up, ready to leave – not in the mood to see the sister today. Wanting to go home. She thought of that map on the floor, like they were both leaving for some far-off place. Recalled how close they were dancing when she walked in on them. It didn’t look like any sisterly dance to her. It was Sammy who was the smoothie here.

  “Hey,” Billy said, “lighten up.” He got up beside Chance and put his arm around her.

  “Sorry.” She let the arm stay. It seemed she was suspicious of everybody these days. It was living with Fay that did it. Fay rattling off all those probable killers: Cedric, the skull guy, the French teacher, that Rudolph – who else? But three women were dead. That was big. Somebody did it. Thinking of that gave her the shakes.

  “It’s why we came here,” Billy said. “To prove she’s my sister. Well, half-sister. We were separated early on, I told you that.”

  She let him drag her over to the café bar. Sammy gave him a knowing smile and a punch in the arm. Then she smiled at Chance and stuck out her hand. “Hi,” she said. It was disarming. She seemed pleasant enough, pretty, had Billy’s shiny eyes – were they green or brown? It was hard to tell with the sun shining in from the big window. Her dark brows frowned when the smoothie she was blending overflowed. “I see you’re back,” she said to Chance. “I’m sorry if I…”

  “Never mind,” Chance said. She didn’t want the woman apologizing. She didn’t need a scene, not in the Co-op while one of her classmates was standing over by the veggie section. Now she was embarrassed about the whole thing.
She was feeling sick to her stomach.

  “I have to go,” she told Billy. Her bike was outside. Willard had picked it up out of the ditch she’d fallen into. Her elbow was still bruised, and one of her knees had bled.

  She could hear Billy and Sammy talking quietly after she left. Talking about her, she supposed. She hated that, hated people talking about her. Oh God, but she’d made a fool of herself, jumping into the creek that way. Like she was a victim of some crime of passion. Only there was no crime, not on her part – just a jealous girl swimming out her anger.

  When Cedric waltzed through the Co-op door with Mademoiselle LaFleur, she ignored them both. Anyway, they were too intent on each other, on what they had to say. Like when she’d spotted them out the window in Vergennes. The two of them had been coming out of an antique shop down the road carrying a large painting of a skull. She’d thought of O’Keeffe. Her art teacher had shown slides of skulls and poppies. But this skull, she recalled, was different. It was all glittery, like it had been decorated with diamonds and rubies.

  She turned her back, and pretended to be reading the notices on the outdoor bulletin board. She heard the word “money” as Cedric brushed past. And then Mademoiselle saying, “Paris.”

  Fay would want to know that, too. Were they skipping town? And what was Chance – some little Mata Hari spy?

  It was a crisp October morning, and the smell of burning leaves filled the air. She wasn’t ready to go home yet. Needing to get the feathers out of her head, she rode through town, down Mill Street past the Alibi, down to Billy’s apartment by the creek. She’d lost a new jade earring in his place – pretty sure she’d had it on when she walked in on those two. She was always tweaking earrings, a bad habit. It could be in the creek she supposed, but maybe not. At least she’d saved the other one, along with her cell, although that wasn’t working too well since the swim – even with the Ziploc bag.

  She entered by the fire escape. The room was in shambles. She wasn’t a neat freak but she didn’t like big messes either. No maps in sight this time, but books, magazines and papers littered the floor. A scattering of Tarot cards, the puppet she’d seen that night – why would he have a fancy puppet here? Fay said he knew how to operate one. There were big chunks of Billy’s life she didn’t know about. For instance, the months and maybe years he’d spent in England. What was he doing all that time? He’d change the subject when she asked, or give a short answer.