CoverBoys & Curses (31 page)

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Buon
Appetito

GABRI
PULLED A HUNK of veal from her simmering pot. She carved it masterfully,
reminding me she was the daughter of a gifted surgeon. She layered our two
plates with the stock vegetables and beef over a bed of mashed potatoes, then
poured a special sauce into a small carafe.

           
“
Buon
appetito
,” she said.

           
Taking my seat at her kitchen table
I said, “Gabri, I’m not sure why I am receiving the honors. You’re a very busy
woman and frankly I guess I need to make it clear that I’m not a prospect for
you. Not in the near future.”

           
“You think this is about money?”

Her
raised voice alarmed me. “I didn’t mean to imply that. I’m truly honored.”

“I don’t
like to eat alone and these days I’m not throwing many lavish dinner parties,”
she huffed as she passed me the warm sauce.

We sat
in a hush for a few moments with the fabulous sounds of an Italian aria playing
in the background.

“This is
delicious. No restaurant on this earth has a dish like this,” I said, spooning
up the rich broth I had poured over the main dish.

While
not a very good cook I couldn’t resist asking, “What have you done to make this
sauce so divine?”

“It’s
brain matter,” she answered.

“You
mean brain food. Mega nutrients,” I said.

“Both.”

We
laughed. I guess we laughed. We talked about the real estate market. We talked
about the magazine. Such small talk. I kept thinking she was going to hit me up
for some donation or something.

“Have
some more of my sauce, Lauren.”

I gladly
took a few more tablespoons of it.

“Good
girl,” Gabri said as I finished my last morsels of meat. “Seems like brain
matter agrees with you.”

I
laughed, but as odd as this sounds I
can not
remember
hearing any laughter.

I
cleared my throat. It didn’t work.

“Take a
sip of wine, my dear. You look pale,” Gabri said.

I
reached for the stemware. My hand trembled so fiercely the red wine sprinkled
across my white blouse.

Gabri
lifted the wine glass from my hand and then took me by my arm. Strong. She
pulled me from the chair and lifted me to her sofa. I remember she wrapped an
afghan over my trembling arms and legs.

“I think
I need a doctor,” I moaned.

“Yes, of
course you do. How about I call your good friend Dr. Coal?”

I shook
my head.

“All
good things must come to pass,” she said. “As for me and my cousin, boy, did we
ever have one helluva good ride.”

I tried
to reach for my face to wipe away tears that weren’t there. My arms didn’t
move.

“He’s
quite a talent, you know. A great therapist, a great artist”.

She
nodded toward the kitchen painting of her grotesque nude body. “If you look
closely at the painting Nathan’s signature is plain and clear. But he’s such a
trickster. I mean, he knew no one would dare look too closely.

“And
he’s an all around great cousin. Second cousin, to be honest.

“I
understand you’ve met Gramps. That can’t be good.”

Chapter Ninety

Friends

“COAL?”
 
I CROAKED the word. His name.

“Oh
darling. Yes. Harlan Coal, and before that something else and before that
something else. I can’t keep track anymore. I’ve always known him as my
Nathan.”

Nathan
Judd. Harlan Coal. All spinning words.

“Armand’s
the one who got us into trouble, you know. That idiot couldn’t keep his dick in
his pants. He was nothing but a
dogsbody
. Great
journalist that you are, do you know what that means?”

I tried
to shake my head but only shuddered.

“I
didn’t think so. Armand was the guy that did the dirty work. The grunge work. The
shit work, really. He did clean up some messes. Big ones. That girlfriend of
yours in Tucson. Smart cookie, that one. She found out what was going on and
Armand took over to—well—clean up the mess.

“And he
was a great toxicologist. I’ve borrowed some of his tricks, as you can see.”

That was
a great problem. I couldn’t see anything but a kaleidoscope of color. It
reminded me of the rainbow wrapping on the gift I thought Geoff had sent me.
The gift that proved to be a decoy to my attention.

Geoff. I
needed him. I needed his Obeah Voodoo grandmother and I called for her in my
mind. My eyes fell to the floor and then I did see clearly. I saw the tattoo on
Gabri’s left ankle. It was the same Chinese symbol of friendship Carly,
Sterling and I wore on our left ankles.

Gabri
caught my stare, I think. She continued with what was her soliloquy; her back
now turned to me. “I wanted to be your friend, Lauren. Your good friend. I was
so jealous of all you girls. You’re all so bubbly and pretty and smart. Well,
except Carly. I don’t think that one was so smart. You inspired me. I hated the
vermin of people you wrote about. Sometimes I think I hated them more than you.

“Don’t
you see that’s why I did it? That’s why I had to do all of it. I took up your
causes. I got rid of the bad guys for you.”

I heard
new words as if they were coming from inside my throat. Since my lips could
barely mouth words any more I knew this not to be true.

“The potion is in you. You took
it. It lives in you. It resides in your heart. You will live, and tomorrow you
will awaken with a new dream that is forever yours.”

The imagined
voice faded. I felt it fade.

Gabri
whipped around holding a large knife. Large enough to be a sword, I thought.
The glare from its bright surface further blinded me.

“Armand
is gone. Nathan will disappear again, and that leaves just you and me. It’s
time for my fairytale to end and for your nightmare to begin. You see, the only
way to end this is to end you. By ending your life, I can put an end to my
madness.

 
“My name is Moon Blade. At least it is in my
beloved fairytale. Oh, to tell you more. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm weren’t even
close to penning a real
grim
fairytale.
I own that market, not that little children should read my fairytale.”

Moon
Blade? Grimm’s fairytales? My body collapsed to the floor, kneaded and knotted
like a pretzel yet to bake. A puddle of twisted dough.

Gabriella
used my weakness to her advantage. From her pocket she wielded a roll of duct
tape. She carved off a piece with the knife and secured it around my mouth.
Pulling more from the roll, she then bound my wrists together.

“I’d ask
you if you have any more questions because you deserve to know but I guess you
can’t ask,” she cackled.

“All
good things must come to an end. You, my dear, are a very good thing. Now don’t
mind me, if you have a mind left at all. I just want to start by whacking off
that pretty red hair of yours.”

Chapter Ninety-One

Fairytales

MY
LEGS REMAINED free, if only they could rise up and kick or even move. They
failed me. I saw the gleaming blade coming at me from all sides as Gabriella
yanked at my hair and slashed at the roots. She seemed to squeal a few times
when she took a chunk of scalp with her cuttings.

“Oh, and
don’t let’s forget that cute little belly piercing of yours,” Gabri said. “I
know. Real diamonds. That Sterling is some good friend of yours. Only in L.A.
would a woman hide four carats of diamonds under her clothes.

“I
suppose I could get one. My stomach has shrunk but the skin is folded over like
some kind of origami. Folds and folds of it…” Gabri’s voice fell into a hushing
lullaby.

And then
she screamed.

“It’s
ludicrous. Wasteful. Do you know how many starving children those diamonds in
your flat belly could feed? Why the hell didn’t you write about yourself and
your wastefulness? Your selfishness?”

She
pulled at my arms until I lay flat on my back. She yanked at my blouse, tearing
at the buttons, and then she yielded her weapon again, carving out the jewelry
with precision. Almost as if with care.

I
writhed in pain and only a muffled moan but this time I heard it. I heard me
dying.

“Come
on,” Gabri puffed. “I can’t leave you here to bloody up my beautiful living
room. No good home can sell with blood on the damn floor. Get to your feet,”
she yelled.

My raw
pretzel body didn’t obey.

“I told
you I was strong. I’ll fucking drag you by the stubs of hair you have left,”
she yelled. ‘We’re going to try the moat for you. I’ve let my beloved
Shubunkin
fish go to the new piranhas. An experiment that
worked beautifully. If my piranhas don’t take care of you in time, the acid
bath will.”

My hair
lay in puddles of color beside me. Red hair and red blood. And Gabri couldn’t
get a grip. She had nothing to drag me by until she finally grabbed my bound
arms.

Together
those arms had energy. I thrashed at her. I tried to knock her off balance.

She held
tight and brought me up to my wobbling knees.

“Stupid
bitch,” she said. “I’ll just have to clean up after you.”

The
doors burst open. Gabri’s sentry—her suit of armor—was no match for the fury in
Detective Wray’s eyes and no match for the
Glock
pointed at Gabri’s heart.

“Gabriella
Criscione. It’s over. Toss that knife to the ground or you’re a dead woman.”

Gabri
froze, not moving the knife now in carving position at my neck.

“You’ve
miscalculated me and my motives,” she said. “I think I’m good and gone and most
ready to die.”

She
looked down at me and said, “It’s the end of my fairytale, right, Lauren?”

Detective
Wray didn’t fire. He moved in, but not before the knife slashed at his face.

The blow
came from behind me. I saw the knife careen to the floor, but Gabri had told me
my nightmare would only begin. I saw the black leather gloves.

The man
at my front porch with the wolf-dog! He had come to finish me off.

Gabri
slumped to the floor, her head cracking as it hit the top of her
nautiloid
cocktail table.

Detective
Wray, now with only a whisper, “I should have known you’d be stupid enough to
show up here.”

The
gloved hand reached for my mouth, pulling my body into his wrath.

“
Shhhh
. It’s over. It’s all over,” Brock said as he gently
removed the duct tape from my mouth and hands, and then cradled me forever.

I
collapsed in his arms, and I slept.

Chapter
Ninety-Two

Priorities

BUZZING
AND BELLS and even voices tried to enter my dream, but they were not allowed.

           
I am running through a jungle. The
hungry Tiger is chasing me. I scream. I cry. I run faster. I pray and scream
aloud to God to spare my life but God doesn’t answer me.

After
grueling hours of pain and loss of limbs and vision, I asked of God, “Where
were you? I needed you. You almost let me die!”

The
Higher Power, or whatever it was, cast hurt eyes upon me and spoke.

“You were
looking for me to be somewhere out there in front of you. You were calling for
me from outside of your being. If you’d only come looking for me where I reside
inside your heart, think how much faster I could have arrived for I was with
you all the time.”

The
nurse gently pulled at my arm. “You’re awake, Ms. Visconti.”

Brock
stirred from the nearby chair where he was sleeping. His old injured shoulder
and now his arm, bandaged.

“Is
everything okay?” I asked.

The
nurse responded to me. “You’re in the hospital. We admitted you overnight for
observation. You took some good gashes to the head but you’ll be fine. There’s
no sign of any concussion. As soon as we can get the paperwork ready you can
leave this joint.”

DETECTIVE
WRAY HAD his cops all over LAX and all flights going to Wichita, direct or
indirect. He even advised the authorities to cover John Wayne International,
just in case. All highway patrolmen had a headshot and a make and model of a
car. A name was useless, Wray deduced. He could be anyone today and someone new
tomorrow.

           
The call came in at four o’clock
that afternoon. Nathan Judd, a.k.a. Dr. Harlan Coal, had been apprehended at
the bus station.

           
Still hooked up to machines in the
E.R., Wray began his own discharge by pulling out the I.V. and shimmying into
his khaki pants.

           
Brock and I pulled the curtains
surrounding his bed in time to see him zipping up his privates.

           
“Where do you think you’re going?” I
asked.

           
“Well, look at you and your new do,”
Wray said, responding to the sight of my now shaved head wrapped in bandages.

           
“Lauren’s going to bring the turban
look back into style,” Brock said as he held his own bandaged shoulder near to
his chest.

           
“Seriously,” I said. “You can’t just
leave here.”

           
“The hell I can’t,” Wray retorted.
“I only took two slashes to the face, right next to the old ones. The nurses
tell me if I can get me one more I could have myself a W branded on my face in
keloid scars.”

           
“Will that stand for Wray or
wrangler or just weird?” I joked.

           
Detective Wray laughed and reached
for his shirt. “I
gotta
get myself down to the
station. Seems I have a half-assed would-be psycho-shrink taking a room there
courtesy of us tax payers. The fucking bus station. Clever little bastard
thought he could slip his royal ass out in a bus.”

“We’ve
heard. It’s all over the news,” Brock said. “I can’t talk Lauren out of going
down and seeing the schmuck for herself.”

           
“Well, damn it! I sure can!” Wray
said. “She has something far bigger and better to do.”

           
“What’s that?” I asked.

           
Wray gestured to the bed table as he
tucked his shirt in and fiddled with his belt. “Grab that yellow note pad. Take
a look at the second page.”

           
I found a name and an address.
Anthony S. Find of Mount Laguna, California.

           
“It’s about an hour or so east of
San Diego. Last time I knew anything the population was at about sixty people,”
Wray said.

           
“I don’t understand,” I said. I
handed the notepad to Brock who shrugged with his one good shoulder.

“Your
old Hollywood producer buddy, Jack Helms, came through for you. That’s the name
and address of Payton Doukas’s missing brother. The kid got away from the
fucking cult, changed his identity, and lives down there with his wife and
three kids,” Wray said.

           
“He must have wanted to be found,” I
said.

           
Brock said, “Let’s go find Mr. Find.
It is a bigger and better thing to do than go visit a jail cell.”