Sparkle

by Rudy Yuly

  Then he heard his name.

  Eddie took off one of his rubber gloves, reached out carefully, and touched the filmy, swirling dome.

  He got a chilling shock, saw a brilliant white flash, and the room changed.

  Eddie heard his name being called. It was clear now.

  “Eddie,” the voice said. “Eddie. Turn around.”

  Lucy hadn’t used his name before. She was standing there looking at him with that strangely accusatory look she had, and she was holding the hand of an elderly Asian man with blood all over his face and head.

  The man spoke. “You’re a good boy, Eddie. But you’re headstrong. You need to listen to your mother.”

  Mom? Eddie thought.

  “Yes. She sends a message for you.”

  Mom? Eddie felt dizzy. He sat on the floor to keep from falling down.

  “Remember your promise,” the old man said. As he said it, he jabbed his finger at Eddie’s chest three times, once for each word. “Just. Let. Go.”

  “Just let go.” With every word, the thumping in his chest became louder, harder to hold back. He rubbed his head nervously.

  “That’s right,” the man said. “You listen to your mom. She’s a good lady.”

  Things shifted again. There was a blast of pure light and Eddie saw the scene in shadows. It was night. The killer moved down the line of people on their knees—bang! The old man would be next, and he grabbed onto the killer’s long coat. The killer turned to shake the man off and hit him in the head with a gun and the man staggered but held on tighter. Eddie’s vision zoomed in and he saw the old man’s hand somehow go into the killer’s pocket and come out with something. The killer struggled to loose the old man’s grip. Bang! The old man fell. He was the last one. Bang! The killer pumped a second shot into the first victim, coming down the line again to make sure all the victims were really dead.

  The old man held a scrap of paper, and he reached out his hand and shoved it away from him and under the loose linoleum where two kinds of flooring came together. Then he died. Right there. Right where Eddie had not been able to clean.

  The lights seemed to come back on and the man was still there with Lucy. He faded into the ordinary sort of ghost Eddie was used to seeing. The pale wisp brushed against Eddie’s face with an electric blue spark, then wafted up and out of the room. Gone. Job done.

  But Lucy didn’t go. “Why haven’t you looked at what I gave you? You have to keep your promises. I have to know why. You have to make the catch.”

  Eddie felt the small lump of rubber glove grow hot in his pocket.

  Lucy pointed to the place Eddie had been circling with the machine. “It’s there. It’s something else you need. It will never stop unless you make the catch.”

  Lucy faded away and Eddie was hit by the smell. It was faint and passing and it triggered a memory. The same scent had wafted briefly in and out of his consciousness at the Silver house. It hadn’t held any meaning at the time and he had let it go. It was unforgettable though, sweet and harsh with a faint chemical-alcohol aftertang. It came and went in an instant and Eddie knew it was the smell of the killer, somehow more nauseating and persistent than the cloying, rotten stink of death itself.

  Eddie never thought about who did these deeds. It had never needed to be his business. He was a cleaner. He never wasted a thought on the wrong that had been done; merely concentrated every gift he had on the small but vital thing he could do to make things right. Now he was being forced to look at more, and felt a weight of responsibility that threatened to crush him if he let it in. He tried to reach into his pocket but he couldn’t. The small rubber lump against his leg burned hotter and hotter, but he could not force his hand inside that pocket. Instead, he looked down at the perfect circle of rusty crimson at his feet as his body vibrated like a guitar string plucked much too hard.

  Chapter 35

  Joe was in awe; LaVonne was giving him another chance. After he left the Ravenna, his feet barely touching the pavement, the flowers in the van looked almost welcoming. He’d done the right thing. He was glad he hadn’t given them to her. They were definitely not good enough for her. Grocery store flowers. What was I thinking? Joe promised himself he’d get LaVonne something worthy, soon. Some real flowers. Or a plant. Something alive.

  He ripped the many pages he’d written off the pad, rolled them up, and stuck them in the middle of the cheap bouquet. Maybe if he got his nerve up, he’d copy the whole letter neatly, or maybe even type it up so LaVonne could actually read it. Normally, he’d toss something like that. But not today. Yeah, make the letter nice. Make the flowers real nice, from a real flower store.

  Joe propped the flowers up between the seats. These flowers and notes should stay right here. They’d make it so he wouldn’t forget. The next time LaVonne came over, he’d be ready.

  As he started the van and drove off, he realized the roses did have a little smell, after all. Weak, but it wasn’t bad. Maybe Eddie would like them.

  As Joe turned the corner, it occurred to him that the thought of LaVonne in his life was a lot less scary when she wasn’t actually around.

  He walked up to the Red Lotus card room door with a smile on his face. He checked his watch, put his head close to the door, and knocked.

  “Eddie, it’s five. You done? I’m coming in, okay?”

  “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  Joe opened the door. This was the only part of their work he enjoyed. He was always amazed by what Eddie could do.

  He wasn’t disappointed. The room glowed with a lovely, orangey, late-afternoon light. The curtains were open. Eddie was wearing his protective gear, but instead of standing by the door as usual, he was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, staring at the floor.

  “What’s going on, bro?” Joe walked over and saw that Eddie was entranced by a perfect circle of dried blood, bisected by two squares of linoleum. He had cleaned all around it.

  “What’s that?” Joe said.

  “Man-sized mess,” Eddie said.

  “That’s a first.” What the hell’s going on now? “You do that on purpose?”

  Eddie looked at Joe. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Okay.”

  Joe looked at Eddie, and down at the circle. He looked at Eddie again.

  The owner peeked through the door and walked in. “Good Lord,” he said, impressed. “This is amazing.”

  Then he saw the dirty circle. “What’s this?” He squatted down beside the brothers.

  “I don’t know,” Joe said, “but don’t touch it.”

  “Switzerland,” Eddie said.

  “Um…okay,” Joe hadn’t heard that one in a while. It meant Eddie wanted to see Joe’s Swiss army knife.

  Joe fished the tool out of his pocket and handed it to Eddie, who folded open the blade with exaggerated care and gently shimmied it under the loose square of linoleum. He pried and teased it gently until a bloody scrap became visible, stuck to the floor.

  It wasn’t much. Just a torn piece of paper soaked black with blood.

  “Do you think I should call Louis, Eddie?” Joe said.

  “Uh huh,” Eddie said. “Okay.”

  Chapter 36

  Maybe Eddie had found something and maybe he hadn’t.

  “Christ,” Louis said. “Did you do this because you thought it was important, Eddie?”

  “Uh huh. Okay.”

  “Why?”

  “Man-sized mess.”

  “What did you clean this area with?”

  “Shiny Gold.”

  “Right.”

  “And something made you leave this one circle uncleaned?”

  “Uh huh. Okay.”

  “Why?”

  Eddie just stood still, placid and calm.

  “Did you notice the loose linoleum?”

  “Man-sized mess.”

  The questioning went like that, with extremely minor variations, for 15 minutes. Finally Louis gave up with Eddie and started on Joe. But Joe knew even less.

  “Wh
y did you call me, Joe?”

  “I don’t know. Eddie found something.”

  “A piece of paper.”

  “Shit. I just drive the van. Take it or leave it. But I’m hungry and I need to get my brother home.”

  “Why shouldn’t I just have Eddie finish the job?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I don’t know why I called you. Eddie said he found something. He did find something. He hadn’t looked under that tile until I got here, and then he did, and there was something there. That’s all I know. Take it or leave it. I don’t give a shit. But make up your mind, Louis.”

  “Okay. Let me think about it.”

  “Can we go?”

  Louis hesitated and thought about it. “I guess,” He said, finally.

  “What about this little mess, here,” the owner interjected.

  Louis hesitated. “It’s evidence, sir.”

  It didn’t take more than five minutes for Joe and Eddie to get out the door, and Louis stood still and pondered the situation for a long time before he called Pinky. He wanted a second opinion.

  Ten minutes after Joe and Eddie left, Pinky arrived at the scene. The owner had gone back to work, and Louis was alone, just standing there.

  “Whatchya got?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” Louis said, his deep baritone even slower and more measured than usual. “Eddie thought it was important. Scrap of paper under the linoleum.”

  Louis and Pinky squatted down at the circle of blood. Pinky looked hard. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply.

  “That? That’s what he found? That little fucking piece of paper?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “So Eddie’s a detective now?”

  “It is soaked with blood,” Louis said.

  “Well, duh,” Pinky said. “The floor all around it was soaked with blood until Eddie cleaned it up. And now the entire area’s been contaminated with bleach or whatever they use to clean.”

  “I know,” Louis said. “It’s probably nothing, but it’s one more thing than the nothing we got now. I’m going to have forensics come in and scrape it off the floor and run it.”

  “Jesus, George,” Pinky shook her head in disgust. “You’re going to make those guys come down for this? This is ridiculous.”

  “I don’t know. You’re right that there’s not much there. What is there looks pretty soaked. But figuring it out is not my job, Pinky.”

  Pinky stood up.

  “Jesus. Don’t do this, George.”

  “Why the hell not? It’s overtime for them, anyway.”

  Pinky tried hard to compose herself. For a minute she looked like she was going to haul off and kick her squatting partner upside the head.

  “Ohhhhhh,” Louis said, finally. “Right. Listen, Pinky, I can understand you being a little touchy about bugging forensics right now. Just take off. Just go. If there’s any heat to take on this call, I’ll take it. You were never here.”

  “Yeah? Well, I was here earlier. I was in charge, in case you forgot. And we didn’t find shit. How’s that going to look? The janitor comes up with something? Even worse—the janitor comes up with nothing, and you get the whole forensics team down here? Jesus, George—let’s just get out of here and let Eddie finish the last ten minutes of his job tomorrow.”

  Louis, still squatting over the circle of blood like a big cowboy by a fire, peered down at the blood-black scrap. “I guess it is pretty bizarre.”

  “Do you realize the kind of grief you are going to take for this? Look, George, if there was the slightest chance this could help us get the bastard that did this off the street, I’d say call in the fire department, the mayor’s office, and a big fuckin’ brass band. But this is shit.”

  “It looks like some kind of store receipt,” Louis said, quietly.

  “Don’t do this,” Pinky said. Her voice sounded genuinely pleading this time.

  “I’m doing it,” Louis said.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ on a crutch,” Pinky said. She took a knife and plastic bag out of her pocket. “We don’t need fucking forensics for this.”

  She squatted down again, and before Louis could stop her, she had deftly peeled up the scrap of paper and flipped it into the bag. She was about to put it in her pocket. Louis took it from her.

  “It’s all yours,” she said. Then she got up and left.

  Eddie didn’t even notice the flowers in the van. Or if he did, he didn’t mention them. He stared out the window, counting cars and rubbing his hair. Joe had wanted to share with him, in some way, the great thing that had happened to him today, but it seemed suddenly out of the question. So he kept quiet, too, trying to force his thoughts in the direction of LaVonne and as far away from Eddie as possible. Something wasn’t right with his brother, and Joe did not want to have to deal with it one bit.

  An hour later, Eddie was sitting on the couch in his basement as usual, but everything else was seriously off. For some reason, Joe had decided to sit in the basement, too. He was wearing headphones, trying to watch the Mariners on his little TV, which he had perched precariously on Eddie’s coffee table. He occasionally scribbled something in his notebook.

  Eddie had paused the Shiny Gold commercial at the moment the family was together and happy. He stared through the screen. He held the remote on his lap and bounced it gently up and down, up and down. What happened today?

  Just let go. Had it really been a message from his mom? Eddie never doubted or questioned his experiences at jobs; they were what they were. But he couldn’t do that now. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t remember enough about his mom to make sense of the message that had come to him today.

  In certain ways, even though he didn’t know much about her, he felt that his mom was always with him. For one thing, there was the urgent, heart-thumping reminder of her that came upon him so strongly at the start of every job. Now it had been with him nonstop for days, and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything else.

  What did it mean?

  Even worse, all his worries about Jolie were back full force. Just let go. Was he supposed to let her go? He didn’t want to do that. But he’d made her a promise, too.

  The promise to Lucy, though, was the worst of all. He’d have to look in his pocket soon, but he simply could not force himself to do it. He’d been wearing the same pants for days, and that in itself was enough to drive him to distraction.

  For once, Eddie wasn’t looking forward to bedtime. His dreams had been leading him into stranger and stranger situations, and none of them seemed to be playing out well at all

  Things were twisting horribly out of shape. The blood-soaked receipt he had found today was deeply unsettling. The old man’s ghost had done more than give him a message from his mom; he’d pointed to his own killer. He’d given something to Eddie and he wanted something in return. The card was evidence. Just like Lucy. The old man wanted justice. Lucy wanted justice. They wanted their killer stopped. Eddie knew it for certain, and the weight of responsibility it threatened was agonizing.

  All this time he’d been content cleaning, doing his job. It had been enough. Eddie never cared about who did what, who got caught or didn’t. It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his gift. He could clean. He could help people. He had to; so he did.

  If you know somebody killed someone, can you not tell? He didn’t know if he could handle that.

  Just let go. What did it mean? Was he supposed to let go of cleaning? He could never do that. Why wasn’t his mom around to tell him more than a few puzzling words? Something happened to her. Eddie knew it. He’d learned about blood from dealing with hers.

  That thought forced Eddie to roughly snap his attention back to the silent, frozen screen. It was a big job, all he could handle, to keep his mind at least superficially focused on the eternally beaming, confident, pretty Mrs. Shiny.

  Joe, sitting on the other end of the couch, realized that he had no idea what the Mariners were doing. It was hopeless. All he wanted to
do was numb out.

  He looked over at Eddie, staring at the frozen image on the big TV. Eddie’s hand was bouncing up and down.

  Joe killed the game. He pulled off his headphones and rubbed his face. “Eddie?”

  Eddie didn’t respond.

  “Eddie? You’re not watching.”

  Eddie hit play.

  “Eddie, c’mon. I need to talk to you, man. Could you turn that thing off for a minute, please?”

  Eddie waited until the commercial was done, then clicked the TV off. “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  “What’s…going on with you, man? That thing today was weird. And catching that ball at the game, and taking off on me, not telling me where you went. You’re kind of… spooking me.”

  Eddie didn’t respond. He kept staring at the empty screen.

  “I’m worried about you, man.” Still no response. “You don’t have anything to say?”

  “Just let go, Joe,” Eddie said.

  “Excuse me?” Joe had never heard that one before.

  “Just let go,” Eddie repeated. He looked over at Joe’s knees.

  Joe stared at him.

  “Good night, Joe.”

  That was that. Joe got up. As usual, Eddie wasn’t going to be any help. “Yeah. Good night, Eddie. I guess I’ll just go to bed, then. You need anything?”

  No response. Joe sat back down.

  “Look, Eddie. Whatever it is…” There were a million thoughts swirling through Joe’s head, but they didn’t add up to anything. Eddie had done another amazing job today. Finding evidence at the scene was weird, but why not? As far as him taking off, he had only missed one day of work. No real harm done. And catching the ball—well, who the hell knew?

  It seemed, though, as if something big, something new, was brewing in Eddie. Maybe he was going through changes, too. Joe had a startling upsetting thought: Maybe Eddie’s going through the same thing I am. Maybe this is somehow about Jolie. He shoved it out of his mind.

  “You should get to sleep,” he said gruffly. “Can you handle getting ready on your own?”