Traces

by Paul Jr. Logan

  Ethan Burns was happy.

  Amber's long fingers gently closed around his wrists. He lifted his eyes to her face; she was smiling. The girl gently pulled Burns’ hands away from her and began to unbutton the blouse.

  Burns threw both hands over his shoulders and began to pull his shirt over the head. Rowan would never do that...

  When Ethan's head emerged from the tight embrace of the collar, Amber's blouse was already unbuttoned. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled off the shirt.

  The girl's fingers rested on his chest and began a leisurely examination of it. Burns unbuttoned the clasp on her skirt. Amber swung her hips slightly, and the skirt fell down like the petals of a black rose.

  Her hands went lower and lower until she began to rub his zipper. Burns’ palms laid on her breasts, and a gasp escaped her throat.

  - Hit me, Ethan, she said wheezingly, hit me.

  His right hand broke away from the pink flesh draped in the orangish net of the bra, and rose into the air. A languor melted in Amber's eyes. He lightly swung his arm and struck her on the right cheek.

  The girl's head swung to the side, her eyes closed, her strong white teeth bit her lower lip.

  His left hand reached for the clasp of her bra and gently undid it. This time it was quick.

  - Hit me, Amber's voice was husky and so excited. Hit me, Ethan. Rape me.

  She stood in front of him, almost completely naked, and two nipples rested against his chest like the parking lights of an expensive car. He pushed her on her shoulders, and she collapsed.

  Burns slowly pulled of his pants. He himself couldn't remember when he took his shoes off. The girl's inviting body stretched out before him, the black stripe of her panties commanded him to tear them off.

  - Rape me, Ethan, she repeated. Hurry up.

  8

  In the middle of the day, the president of the largest bank on the West Coast should be sitting in a huge chair in the center of his office, giving orders, but Warren Vaughn met us at the front door. If I had a hat or coat, it would have been interesting to hand them to him and see what he would do with them, but unfortunately I had nothing like that with me.

  - Is there anything you could find out? the banker asked sharply instead of any greeting.

  Of course, we had already said hello to him this morning, but it would have been nicer for him to ask if it was too hot for a midday trip.

  - All our people are on the case at the moment, Heidi replied.

  She always baffles me with answers like that. On the one hand, it looks as if we're bowing to our clients. On the other hand, if I always answer them the way I think of it, I don't think we'd have any clients at all. I haven't figured it out yet, but I'll be sure to put it on the agenda.

  - How will your bank manage without you today? -- I asked, as I followed Vaughn in. His house was much larger than Craig Ruell's, and richer furnished. But my new extortionist friend had much more taste.

  - My children are there, Vaughn answered laconically. I can rely on them completely.

  I was tempted to insert that the last person who had told me the same thing about his kids, was found dead a couple of days later, and a few weeks later, the district attorney's office charged two of his daughters with murder. But, mindful of the dilemma described above, I decided to remain silent.

  - How does your nephew feel? Heidi asked.

  - Terrible. My wife says we should call in a psychoanalyst for him, he pursed his lips, but I don't know if he can be trusted.

  Rowan Vaughn was sitting in a high and apparently very uncomfortable chair by the fireplace. He did not look at all like a murderer, but, on the other hand, he wasn't drunk.

  He must have been pretty tall, though I'd have trouble judging that, as long as he was in the chair. He did not see fit to stand up as we approached even though there was a lady in our midst. Somewhere in the depths of his dark eyes a twinkle flickered nervously.

  - Rowan, this is Heidi Moss and Michael Hammond, the banker said. This is my nephew, Rowan Vaughn.

  The head of the man sitting in the chair made a sharp throw toward his chest. I assumed it meant a greeting, but I can't vouch for it.

  - They've come to help you, Vaughn continued. And you're about to answer all of their questions. Okay, Rowan?

  He didn't call his nephew Rowan k or Rowan.

  - Thank you, Uncle, Vaughn Jr.'s head rose slowly, but don't. Really, don't.

  The banker walked up to him and squeezed his shoulder firmly. The gesture could have been

  as both a fatherly encouragement and a "Gotcha, thief." Obviously, in this case, it was the first one.

  - Calm down, Rowan, said the banker softly. Calm down. These people are going to help you. They will expose this rascal, this Ruell. And he's gonna go to jail. Do you hear me?

  - I'm the one who should go to jail, Rowan muffled. I'm the one who killed Amber.

  The banker gave his nephew a little shake.

  - Pull yourself together, Rowan, this time his voice was harder, and try to answer all the questions.

  Heidi carefully lowered herself into the chair next to the boy and gently took his hand. He did not pull it away; I threw my head back.

  - Listen to me, Rowan, said Heidi. You're in a lot of trouble, and you know it. But we can help you. There's a way out, you can find a way out of any situation.

  - No, I can't be helped, Rowan looked greedily into her eyes, searching for support. When I lowered my gaze, I saw that he was gripping her hand tightly. -because I killed Amber. How can I make it up to her?

  - Stop talking nonsense, the banker exclaimed. You were just set up. You didn't kill anybody.

  It was a promising start.

  - Amber died because the extortionists wanted your shares, Heidi said. The only thing you can do for her now is to help us to expose them.

  - Anyway, it's my fault she's dead, Vaughn Jr. said, I have to go to the police.

  - Rowan! Rowan! said the banker, sharply. Don't you dare even think about it.

  - Yes, I have to go to the police. Amber is dead because of me, and I loved her. I love you, too. But you'll lose your bank because of me. If I go in there and turn myself in, they can't blackmail me anymore. I'll give you my shares.

  He was in the kind of state where you easily make a confession. If Inspector Herrmann had been around, he could have taken the case to court.

  After uttering this last phrase, Rowan had to jump up, run out of the room, get in his car, and go to the police station. He felt it, and probably would have done so, but Heidi held his hand. He did not want to let her go, which prevented the logical continuation of the scene he was playing. So he had to go on speaking.

  - I've always been a failure, he mumbled, continuing to stare intently into Heidi's eyes. I've never been good at anything.

  - Don't say that, Rowan, said the banker. You know it's not true.

  - It's true," his nephew's voice quivered. I haven't been able to achieve anything in my life. I've caused nothing but trouble for everyone.

  - We all have moments when we think we're failures, Heidi said. And it's at times like these that we especially need the help of those who love us. Your uncle loves you, and he will help you.

  I had my doubts about how Warren Vaughn would behave when it came down to it bank or nephew. And both Vaughn’s, at that moment too.

  - I have to solve my own problems, Rowan said. I can't avoid responsibility. No one can help me. I have to do everything on my own.

  He finally gave up on going to the police. Our ward was comfortably sitting in an armchair, clutching Heidi's fingers, looking into her eyes and complaining about his fate. It was a kind of psychological release after a few days as a murderer. Although Heidi says I only read illustrated magazines, it was clear to me that at this point I had to gently wrap things up by leading Rowan once and for all out of the abyss of guilt. Otherwise, we'd have to assign him a bodyguard, whose job would have been to protect the poor man from himself.


  I was busy trying to figure out how to do that. An extremely difficult task, since Heidi and Warren Vaughn had already entrusted me with the important role of a pillar in the middle of the room, when Heidi turned her head to the banker and said:

  - We didn't want to tell you about it now, Mr. Vaughn, since the investigation is not over yet. But I see there's no other way. A few hours ago, we received conclusive evidence that Amber Davis was killed by Craig Ruell.

  Rowan's eyes flashed with joy, and the banker leaned forward and made a loud sound. I tried to remember what I'd been doing a few hours before. I think I was winking at Martin.

  - Damn it, why didn't you mention this before? The banker asked.

  - We wanted to keep it secret until we're ready to present all the evidence we have," Heidi replied. But I assure you, it's more than enough.

  Vaughn Jr. jumped up and down in his chair, and I thought he was about to hug her, but luckily he didn't.

  - Are... Are you really telling me that I didn't kill her? he asked.

  - Yes, Rowan, Heidi's voice still sounded lusciously sweet, but this time it was also firm. Now it's definitely established.

  - But I was there, I saw her...

  - Calm down, Rowan, the banker has again drawn up his part. I told you were set up. Are you saying Ruell did it?

  - He must have followed us, Vaughn Jr. glittered feverishly, as if a map of the treasure he intended to find had been revealed to him. However, there weren’t gold coins but fifteen per cent of the stock of a large bank is not a piece of paper, either. He waited for the lights to go off before he came in. I know he had a key. He got rid of it for sure.

  - Is it true? the banker asked demandingly.

  I cleared my throat and said:

  - As has been said, Mr. Vaughn, we are not yet ready to present the final results... Only extreme urgency has compelled us to tell you about it. We will strike at the most opportune moment. Isn't that right, Heidi?

  I tried to put as much reproach in my voice as I could but in a way that only she could feel it. It's not right to throw in that situation an old comrade-in-arms without telling him everything.

  - Exactly, I couldn't tell from Heidi's face if she understood my rebuke. You couldn't tell what was on her mind at the moment.

  - It is highly undesirable that anyone to know at this moment about the existence of such an evidence that is in our possession. But we couldn't leave you in that position either...

  She went silent, her audience at that moment was only me. Rowan sat beside, still holding her hand, but his eyes staring at the floor made it clear that his heart was not with us. As for the old banker, he was saying to someone in the next room, "Champagne, Gerald!"

  I remembered Amber's friend-if it was a real friend and not some hysterical woman hired by my buddy Ruell to brighten my way back. How would she feel if she knew that sleazy millionaires and their filthy henchmen are drinking champagne on her friend's grave? I would've poked around the subject some more, adding a few impressive details, but at that time something more important was bothering me... I was angry.

  Vaughn flew into the room, followed by the butler with the serving tray, and the old man's slightly trembling hand began to fill the glasses.

  Rowan, without looking, took his and sipped lightly. I sat down in the chair across him and prepared to count after which glass he would attack us. Heidi carefully withdrew the infernal drink from Vaughn Jr. and placed it on the table.

  - We need to ask you some questions, she said softly but insistently. Okay?

  - Craig... Rowan muttered. You bastard.

  I mentally congratulated him on his brilliant phrasing. If he hadn't added the first word to it, it might have been misunderstood by those present in the room.

  - He'll pay for his crimes, the banker said confidently.

  - Are you ready, Rowan? if my partner has any merit virtues, persistence is one of them.

  He nodded.

  -Yes. I'm sorry, he laughed nervously. I'm sorry. It's just that it's all so...

  It took a while before he finally accepted the idea that he hadn't killed anyone, and then the answers slowly began to flow out of him. It was all rather long and tedious or maybe it just seemed that way, because I couldn't wait to be alone with Heidi and give her a gentle scolding.

  The essence boiled down to the following: eleven months ago he met Craig Ruell at a party and quickly fell under the power of his charms. Unfortunately for him, Rowan Vaughn was nothing special, and his life between the hammer and the anvil -between a loser father and a millionaire uncle had shaken his already unstable nervous system. Ruell proved to be the person that helped Vaughn Jr. relieve the tension caused by thoughts related to his wealth and high social position.

  One word at a time, soon Craig became his best friend. This didn’t surprise me at all because I had the dubious pleasure of getting to know both of them that day. There were always a lot of people around Ruell, but he knew how to communicate with them, he did that in such a way that everyone felt chosen and special. Heidi especially pressed the question of whether there were among these people any who might have been Ruell's associates, but Rowan knew nothing about it.

  The new friend introduced him to Amber. She wasn't a bad girl, though she was a whore. Vaughn Jr. didn’t put it that way, but that was how he felt about her. The girl was most likely Ruell's accomplice, though she didn’t suspect that her role in the play would be very brief.

  At parties at Ruell's home, Rowan felt more and more free. One day he had a big fight with his father and drank his mind. He didn’t remember anything about that evening, but in Ruell's gallery remained vivid traces of some rather valuable vases. Craig was not angry, but merely laughed at the incident, and that was the end of it.

  But it began again when Rowan got drunk the second time. That day his father and his uncle had a fight, and it was over him. Warren Vaughn said that Donald wasn't raising his son right and pushing him too hard. Robert replied that it was none of his goddamn business, and he could choke on his millions, but he couldn't buy his son with money. At this point, which was not easy for Rowan, the banker rose from his chair and walked towards the window. His back was towards us, that’s why I couldn’t see the expression on his face, so perhaps he was smiling.

  The brothers could not see that the subject of their argument could hear them, and evidently were not shy of expressing their attitudes toward each other. Rowan ran out of the house and rode to Ruell's place, where he drank himself to death. The next morning, old Craig was very serious and said that he had made an ugly scene and had fought with the gardener and broke his arm.

  Rowan was horrified. Like the last time, he remembered nothing. Ruell reassured him that he had paid the gardener a good retainer, and that he would not write a complaint, but insisted for Rowan to see a doctor, and recommended one specialist. Vaughn Jr. followed his advice, and after a while the doctor delivered his opinion regarding Rowan's inability to tolerate large quantities of alcohol.

  To this point in our subject's story was given special attention. It was important to find out what kind of doctor examined him, to what extent his report could be trusted, and what dangers it posed. There was a possibility that he was not a doctor at all, but one of Ruell's associates.

  A far greater possibility was that the doctor might have been real, but bribed. We squeezed out everything Rowan could recall about the Hippocratic follower, but we didn't have much hope finding anything in that direction.

  It was getting dark outside the window when Vaughn, Jr. got to an end. The banker didn’t offer us even a sandwich, though it remained unclear whether he was so absorbed by the business of saving his nephew, or whether he was sparing some black caviar on us. Perhaps I should have hinted at it, but I didn't want to interrupt Rowan. When it became obvious that we couldn't get anything else out of Rowan. Warren Vaughn shook our hands vigorously, and once again thanked us enthusiastically, his nephew mumbled something, too. I decided that we
should include in the fee the cost of our uneaten dinner.

  As we walked out to the car, I was hungry, unhappy that I had lost so much time, and even more angry at Heidi for her silence. By that moment I was convinced that it was Martin who had brought her the decisive evidence while I was dealing with Craig Ruell, and the pair had decided to have a little fun at my expense. So I pretended everything was fine and started from afar.

  - I can't say that Rowan has behaved with dignity, he has no slightest idea what dignity is, I said, absent-mindedly, while Heidi was getting comfortable in the front seat. But the same moment, you can't say that he has behaved unworthily... What do you think?

  She nodded, steering at the main road.

  So there was no reaction. And she knew perfectly well that all these hours I was waiting to ask about this new goddamn evidence. Of course, I understand that sometimes she has to be a little tricky to impress me, but she overdid it this time.

  - You’ve been talking to Don for a long time while I was out? I threw a second hint.

  - No, she seemed completely lost in her own thoughts. She's a pretender.

  If the circumstances had been different, I would have tried to go in from the other end, but I had to hold back too long, and besides, I haven’t had dinner. So I asked:

  - So what evidence do we have there of Craig Ruell's guilt?

  - What?

  Her bottomless gray eyes turned to me in surprise. That was just too much. I barked:

  - Stop laughing, Heidi! What was that evidence you were talking about to Warren?

  The surprise in her eyes was mixed with a touch of fatigue.

  - Oh, that... I thought you understood. We don't have any evidence.

  - What?

  - We don't have any evidence, Michael. I had to do something to reassure him, and I told him we have proof that he is innocent. It seemed to me that you figured it out. You played me so well.