About Face (25 page)

Wes was alone in his beanbag now. I asked him to go on Kim duty, preferably from a place where he could watch the parking lot. Meanwhile, I caught Ellen as she was leaving.

She was warm as usual. She expressed concern about the purple shade of my jaw. I told her I was all right, just had a little space between my teeth that I'd have to fix someday. Then I asked if we could have another conversation about Eternaderm.

She glanced around the room. No one from Plush remained. “Connie doesn't like me to talk to you. But you know what? That's her problem. I've got to get home to my family, but come over tomorrow. Call me first and I'll let you in by the side door.”

I thanked her. The waiters who'd been attending the tables were starting to pack up. Outside, the Frisbee field was obscured in gloom. Darkness had descended over it and the rain was coming down with conviction now.

I kept thinking Mike would have to stop by the reception one last time. After five minutes passed, I decided his rendezvous with Kim was already under way. I hurried down the corridor to find Wes. He was standing by a stairwell window, hands in his pockets, squinting into the soggy dusk.

“Any sign of her?” I asked.

“Nope. Mike left a few minutes ago. And there's your friend Ellen getting into her car.”

“Thanks, Wes. You're off duty now.”

“Where are you going? I'll come.”

“Sorry,” I said, “it's kind of delicate.”

“You're spying on Mike and Kim, aren't you?”

I didn't answer. We descended the stairs and parted ways in the puddling parking lot. The Scout's small wipers did their best to clear the flat panel of windshield glass. I checked Mike's house first, in Redwood City. No cars were parked in front and the windows were dark. Still, I had a look around back. An umbrella would draw too much attention, so I went without it. By the time I'd jumped his back gate and returned, I was pretty well soaked.

There was one other place to try: Rod's house. It would be weird for them to choose it, I thought, and yet it might be exactly the place Kim wanted. Mike seemed to feel no compunction about lounging there.

His Ferrari was parked in the driveway. A white compact rental car was across the street. I parked the Scout two doors down and ran across the front lawn to the side of the house. A yellow flicker played on the living-room window. But the window was high and I'd have to chin myself up to see inside. That'd be too noisy. I wasn't feeling eager to play the voyeur, either. I went back around to the front and rang the doorbell.

After a second ring and then a third Mike answered. He was startled for a moment: not because I was dripping wet but because it was me. He recovered enough to invite me in. He felt guilty about something: the date, the venue, or maybe something more.

“I hope I'm not interrupting anything,” I murmured.

“Well, we can't leave you out in the rain, can we?” he said, hiding his annoyance.

Kim drew in a breath when she saw me. She'd been sitting near the center of the sofa and moved quickly to the end. But I could tell by the position of the drinks on the coffee table that she and Mike had been cozily close. She gave me a cool hello. The fire was roaring in the fireplace.

Mike made an effort at sounding hearty. “Have a drink, Bill. What'll it be?”

I shivered involuntarily and sat on the brick shelf in front of the hearth. The flames warmed me. “I thought the fireplace was broken,” I said.

“Kim got it going,” Mike called on his way into the kitchen. “Rum and Coke all right? That's what we're having.”

“Fine,” I called back, then looked at Kim. “Sorry, I didn't mean to break up the party.”

She averted her eyes. Her legs were crossed. She swung a foot nervously. Mike returned and stuck a glass into my hand. It was a small one.

“Here's to Rod,” I said.

Mike sat on the couch but kept a respectful distance from Kim. They raised their glasses. After taking a gulp, he said, “What brings you here, Bill? I'm sure you have other places to escape the rain.”

I fumbled for a moment. What was it exactly? Then I glanced at Kim and knew. “I don't recall if I told you, Mike. I got some big news today, good news. Alissa's still alive. The Arizona story was phony.”

Mike let out an impatient grunt. “Are you losing your mind? You said that to me in my office half an hour ago.”

But it wasn't Mike I was watching. It was Kim, and I saw the millisecond of panic traverse her face. She recrossed her legs and looked past me into the fire.

“Really?” I said to Mike. “You're right, I must have holes in my brain. Too many facts to keep track of. Too many fake identities.”

Kim's other leg was swinging now.

“Yeah. Well, like I said, that's great news,” Mike replied. “Maybe you still can find her.”

“Yep, probably I can.”

Kim stood. “I'm so sorry, Mike, but I've got to go.” She looked at her watch. “I've got a yoga class tonight.”

“Oh Jeez, that's a shame, Kim,” he said, standing with her. “You can miss one class, can't you?”

She gathered her coat and bag from a chair. “No, it's important.”

Mike turned to give me a vicious scowl, then followed her down the hall. I didn't watch, but I knew what was happening: the peck on the cheek, maybe more; the promise to call, to see each other again; the door closing.

“You bastard!” Mike barked, returning. “You knew I had a date with her!”

I drank the rest of what was in my glass. “How did she start the fire?”

“I don't know! I don't care! I was in the kitchen.”

I rubbed my jaw. “I'm in pain right now, Mike. I better go, too.”

“You're a dirty player, Bill Damen. If you're interested in Kim for yourself, why don't you come out and say so?”

I opened the door and peered down the street. The taillights of the compact were disappearing. “I really am sorry, Mike. I'll see you later.”

I shut the door, raced to the Scout, and peeled out to catch the taillights.

“Odd face job, Alissa,”
I called out.

The front gate at the Granada apartments was swinging shut behind her. I caught it. She turned casually, as if I must be talking to someone else, then hurried up the walk.

I followed her to the door of the building. “Most people try to improve their looks,” I said. “Why'd you go the other way?”

“What do you want from me, Bill?” Her voice was both weary and irritated. She fumbled her key into the lock and opened the door. I put my foot in to keep it from closing.

“Just the truth, Kim. Or Alissa. Or whoever it is on her way to Alissa's apartment.”

She stopped at the bottom of the foyer stairs. “Please leave me alone. Otherwise I'll have to scream for the manager.”

“That would answer one of my questions. Rupert got you this apartment, and the manager's his friend. It would tell me you're on Rupert's side.”

She shook her head but she did not scream. She seemed paralyzed.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” I said. “Let's go on up. Apartment 304. Maybe you can also explain how you turned on the fireplace
in Rod's house. The manual switch was broken, but it could have been activated by voice. By Alissa's voice. The front door could be opened the same way.”

She hesitated, then trudged slowly up the stairs. She gave a small gasp when we reached the third floor and she saw the yellow tape marking the apartment.

“So this is your first time back,” I said. “You didn't know about the knife.”

“Quiet!” she commanded, putting the key in the door. We ducked under the tape. She closed the door and said, “Don't talk in public like that.”

I held her hand from the light switch. “People may be watching the place. Maybe the police, maybe someone else. I didn't see anything in front, but they could be in back.”

She took this in stride and glanced around the apartment. “What knife?” she said briskly.

I felt my way through the shadows to the sofa. She wriggled out of her raincoat and tossed it on a chair. “We'll get to the knife,” I said, sitting down. “Let's talk about some other things first. What did you use to change your appearance—Eternaderm?”

She sat cautiously at the other end of the sofa. Our eyes adjusted to the dimness and she gave me a curious look. “You're all wet,” she said, then burst out laughing and left the room.

I waited there, wondering. She returned with a towel, which she threw at my head. I gave my hair a quick rub, then wrapped the towel around my neck. The room was chilly.

“I wanted to try a new look,” she said, flipping her hair. “I thought Rod would like it.”

That made no sense, and neither did the new brightness in her manner, but I played along. “So what went wrong?”

“Nothing! It's just a new me.”

The girlish tone sounded odd. Then I realized she was using it to disarm me. She still hadn't admitted who she was. “I want to find the people who killed Rod,” I said in a slow and careful voice. “I want you to help me do that. Unless you start telling me the truth, I'm going to assume you're on their side. If you're on their side, I'm not going to be very nice to deal with.”

The smile slowly disappeared. Her hands clasped in her lap. “You only see this from your point of view,” she said. “Your life is hunky-dory. You probably have a family you can fall back on if things go bad. Or friends. A skill. A life.”

“That's all true,” I admitted, “except for the hunky-dory part. I've got a hole in my teeth and things could get a lot worse before they get better. So let's help each other. Let's start with simple stuff. Like our real names.”

She snorted. The gruff sound was a surprise after the girlish act. “Real names. It's easy for you to be Bill Damen. People give some respect to ‘Bill Damen.' What kind of respect does Kim with the bad skin get? You know what Mike was after. It was all I had to offer. I needed someone to be on my side. He likes playing the white knight.”

“Okay, then, who would
you
like to play—if people gave you respect?”

Her hand flew to her eyes. I didn't know why until she spoke. Then I realized she was crying. “Just a regular person, Bill. Not someone who's desperate, not someone who's indentured for four years to a sleazy agency. I'd take any decent job— administrative assistant, bookkeeper, anything. I just want fair pay without having to sell myself.”

“Everyone in the Valley is selling themselves, but . . . I get your point. You want to be able to be yourself in your work, not some created persona.”

“I don't know who ‘myself' is anymore. I'm no one right now. I'm starting from scratch and I've got nothing left. Not a thing.”

She was still holding back the specifics. I took a shot at filling them in myself. “Alissa went away. You didn't want to be recognized when you came back. That's why you changed your appearance. Alissa is finished. You're Kim now.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Never use that name again. Alissa. Just forget it, wipe it out. It wasn't my real name, anyway. Rod was in love with her. She's gone, and now he's gone, too.” The tears came harder. “It's my fault. What they did to him—I should have let him in on my plan. I should have thought of another way. I was trying to give us a new life.”

I moved closer, but she shrank away from me. She didn't want comfort. “Tell me if I've got it right,” I said. “You wanted to be with Rod. In order to do that, you had to escape Silicon Glamour and the three years left on your contract. You staged your disappearance. What were you planning to do when you came back?”

Kim wiped her face with her hands. I handed her the towel. She pressed it to her face and shook her head. “I don't know. I mean, I thought Rod and I could just be together. But I hadn't thought it out. What if he hated me the way I look now?”

“What were you going to do, just walk up and ring his doorbell?”

She laughed. “That's pretty much it. ‘Hi, Rod, remember me? Not the other me, this me. You can't have Alissa, but you can have Kim. So now let's get married!'” The laugh turned acrid. “What a fool.”

“No,” I said gently. “It might have worked. He did love you, Al—I mean, Kim. I think he loved you all the way through, not just on the outside. The biggest danger was that Rupert might have found you out. I hear he's got a good eye.”

“Yeah, but why would he ever need to see me? Rod and I could have our life together. He didn't need Silicon Glamour anymore.”

“That's not quite true.” She gave me a startled look, and I explained, “Silicon Glamour is hooked up with Sylvain Partners. In fact, Trisha seems to be calling the shots for both. With Sylvain as Rod's new backer, Trisha would always be lurking.”

Kim's eyes were wide. “She scares me, Bill. More than any of them. Rupert is a sweet man. Underneath it all I think he really cared for us. But his big sister . . . she's the one who'd skin me alive if she found me out.”

“I imagine she already had the evil eye on you because of Brendon,” I said. “Because he wanted you.”

She nodded. “I dreaded both of them. I was caught in between: If I didn't act nice to Brendon, he'd bad-mouth me to Trish. But if I was too nice, Trish would punish me. I had to get out of there. I mean, it was for Rod, that's the real reason I left, but . . .”

We looked at each other in the murky light. Finally I felt as though I was hearing the rock-bottom reality. “You needed something better than a simple disguise to pull this off. Someone at Plush came up with ways to change your face. They've been working on melanin, and they used that to modify your skin tone. I suppose they had compounds to make it rougher, too. Who was it—Ellen Quong?”