Disappearing Nightly (16 page)

“Why are you talking about this with your
mother?
” I demanded.

He said to me, “Because it’s so much less time-consuming than resisting. Believe me. I speak from experience.” Into the phone, he said, “Huh? Okay, good. Say hi to Pop for me. And Mom? Try not to call me again for a while, okay? It’s making a bad impression on this woman.” He grinned. “Well, even felons have their standards, Mom. Bye.”

I stared at him in mingled outrage and amazement after he hung up, too dumbfounded to come up with any of the scathing comments that he and his mother deserved.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, spreading cream cheese on the other half of his bagel. “You have no idea what a huge step it was for me to admit to my mom that, in a city of eleven million people, I’ve met a single, female person of childbearing age.” He added with a frown, “It was getting a little difficult to keep convincing her that there were no such people in New York.”

“If she’s so determined to marry you off,” I asked, “how have you stayed single this long?”

“Well, this is kind of a recent thing. She and my dad hit their sixties a few years ago and suddenl
y realized they didn’t have any grandchildren. Then my older brothers—there are two, I’m the youngest in the family—well, they screwed me over.”

“They did?”

“My eldest brother told Mom he’s gay.” Lopez scowled. “I could kill him.”

I blinked. “Er, you didn’t strike me as homophobic.”

“I’m not. And he’s not gay. He just said that to get her off his back about marrying and providing her with grandchildren. But it worked out so well, he intends to keep that story going unless he meets someone he wants to marry.”

“Oh.”

“And when my other brother saw how well that worked, he more or less did the same thing.”

“Told your parents he’s gay?” I said.

“No, that excuse was taken, and Tim—the eldest—wouldn’t let us use it. Said it might look suspicious if we
all
suddenly became gay. So Michael—my middle brother—told Mom he’s had a spiritual revelation and is planning to enter the priesthood.”

“
These
days?”

“Hey, the Church needs all the help it can get. Mom’s thrilled. Me, I think it was a tactical error. It’ll be years before she wonders why Tim never brings a man home for Christmas, but she’s bound to notice pretty soon that Mikey’s not in seminary.”

“I see,” I said. “So your brothers abandoned you. No cover, no camouflage.”

“It’s been rough,” Lopez said wearily. “The whole force of that woman’s grandmotherly instincts concentrated on me, and me alone. I ask you, what’s the point of putting up with siblings all through childhood if something like this is going to happen to you in adulthood?”

“You’re in a tight spot,” I observed.

“But not anymore.” He smiled at me. “Now I’ve got
you.
”

“Me?”

“A crazy felon who’s not Catholic. And I didn’t even tell her yet that you’re an actress. I’m saving that for an emergency.” He looked smug. “Could I have picked
anyone
better to turn my mother off the idea of my getting married?”

I propped my chin on my hand and stared into my coffee as the disappointment sank in. “Oh. So you don’t like me that much, after all. I’m just a convenient foil.”

“Actually, I like you a lot.” He kept his eyes on his bagel as he added, “And I think you’re pretty.” After a moment, he admitted, “Well, not so much right now…”

“I’m having a very difficult week!” I said defensively.

He smiled and reached over to brush some of the tangles away from my sleep-deprived face. “But I have to admit, it’s handy that you’re tailor-made for my mom to hate.”

“This is some sort of weird Catholic mother-son thing, isn’t it,” I said, pushing his hand away.

“Speaking of weird…”

“Here we go,” I muttered.

Cop-like, he caught me off guard with his next question: “Why does Barclay Preston-Cole think you’re with the Special Investigative Branch of Equity?”

“He thinks what?” My eyes widened. “Oh my God! That’s what I…Er…”

“Yes?”

“I may have allowed him to believe something along those lines when I first contacted him.” But it had never occurred to me that Barclay still believed it. Obviously, I needed to have a little talk with him.

Lopez looked amused. “Relax, Esther. It’s not even a misdemeanor to pretend to be a member of a fictional investigative unit that no sensible adult believes in.” After a moment, he added uneasily, “Um, as long as you didn’t fake an ID to go with your story?”

“No, of course not,” I said.

“Just checking.” He added, “Barclay’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he? Maybe too many generations of upper-crust intermarriage?”

Remembering the brave way Barclay had charged up those stairs last night, I said, “You leave him alone.”

“Do I have a rival?”

“Barclay’s a good boy.”

“Damned with faint praise,” Lopez said.

“It wasn’t faint! It was…Never mind. You let Barclay and Max go,” I noted. “Does that mean you’re done with them? They’re not under suspicion for anything?”

“No, it just means that there’s no law against being nutty and naive.”

“Are you still investigating them? Us? Me?” I asked.

He lowered his lashes over his eyes. “You left the New View Venue in costume the night you ‘became ill’ during the performance. And you were still dressed as Virtue hours later, when you turned up at the Pony Expressive.”

“How do you know…Never mind.” He’d followed up, of course.

“So tell me, Esther. If I canvassed the neighborhood, would I find out that someone saw a woman in a glittery costume and an old man in a fedora and a duster lurking around the theater after hours that night?”

“No,” I said firmly, praying I was right. Then I realized what he’d said. “You haven’t canvassed the neighborhood?”

“Luckily for you, I suspect, I don’t have much time to devote to a vandalism case where no one got hurt and only one well-insured item got damaged.”

“It’s insured? All that bitching Matilda’s been doing about the cost of repairs, and it’s
insured?
”

“Since the crystal cage has been destroyed twice in one week, I’m guessing her premiums are about to skyrocket,” he said dryly.

“But you questioned Barclay and Max for hours,” I pointed out. “You
are
devoting a lot of time to this.”

“I’m looking for Golly Gee and Clarisse Staunton.”

“Oh. I see.” Then I said, “But so are Barclay and Max! You must realize that, after talking to them for so long?”

He sat back, folded his arms and studied me. “You’re in cahoots with them?”

“Yes. And they must have told you that. Though not in those exact words, I hope.”

“Esther…” He looked at a loss for words.

“You think Max is crazy,” I said.

“Don’t
you?
”

“But do you think he’s dangerous?” I prodded, worried about Lopez hounding Max.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem dangerous. Crazy, but not dangerous. But I’m no psychiatrist. And I can’t request he be evaluated by a psychiatrist unless I find evidence that he’s done something more than just talk a lot. And although his theories about Golly Gee and Clarisse Staunton make me want to stick my head in a bucket of cold water and keep it there until someone else solves this case—”

“I sometimes feel that way, too,” I admitted.

“—bizarre talk about involunta
ry mystical translocation, combined with a fervently expressed desire to protect people from the mysterious forces of Evil doesn’t qualify as evidence. Or even as probable cause.”

“Exactly! So you’ll leave him alone?”

“You know I can’t promise you that.”

“You have no right to harass him,” I insisted.

“Why are you so protective of him? You don’t—Oh my God.” He rubbed his forehead. “You
do
believe it, don’t you? All that bizarre crap he was spouting? He implied you believed it, but I hoped he was just deluding himself. I mean, sure, you’re a little off the wall, but mostly you seem pretty sane to me.”

“Go on,” I said sourly, “lay on the flattery with a trowel.”

“How can you possibly believe…Wait, no, never mind.” He held up his hand and seemed to be gathering his patience. “Okay. Let’s go back a step. The point I want to make—”

“Oh, there’s a point to this?”

“The point,” he said doggedly, “is that I’m not as convinced as you are, I gather, that Max Zadok isn’t dangerous. At least, to you.”

“To me?” I blurted, stunned.

“He convinced you to vandalize the crystal cage, didn’t he?”

Lopez had caught me off guard again. “You need to go now,” I said, my voice faint.

He pulled me back down into my chair when I tried to stand up. “Esther, what else has he got you involved in?”

“We had nothing to do with what happened to the crystal cage.”

“I know you’re lying,” he said. “I’m a cop, Esther. I’m good at this. I
know.
”

“I want you to go now.”

“What if someone gets hurt the next time Max talks you into some crazy act?” Lopez persisted.

“You’re way out of line, Detective!”

He took my hand between both of his. “Please, Esther, stay away from him. Please.”

“Lopez…
Don’t.
” This was not how I had wanted things to be, the first time he held my hand.

“Promise me,” he insisted.

“Okay!” I said. “I promise! I promise I’ll stay away from Max! Now just
stop,
would you?”

He let go of my hand, sighed and looked away. “You’re lying. You have no intention of staying away from him.”

“Of course I’m lying! Four people are missing—no, five! And I want to get them back. So does Max!”

Lopez rested his forehead on the table and mumbled, “
God,
I wish my transfer would come through. I wish I could just leave today. Dump this case. Dump the whole thing. Dump
you.
”

“Excuse me?”

“Just in a professional sense.”

“Oh, right. In the
personal
sense, I’m the woman you’re hoping to get your mother to hate.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And that can’t happen until you and I stop going round and round about this case.”

“Or until you stop suspecting me of being a criminal?”

“That would help, too.”

“Sit up.” I shoved at his shoulder.

He slowly sat up. His face looked tired now, the freshness of the morning already worn off. He picked up his coffee cup and peered into it. “You drank it all.”

“Sorry.”

“You could offer to make some,” he said hopefully.

“You won’t be staying that long.”

“Oh.”

Studying the slump of his shoulders, I asked something that probably should have occurred to me before now. “Why don’t you have a partner? Don’t cops usually work in pairs?”

“He quit last month. Now he’s making six figures a year in private security consulting and has weekends off. And I,” Lopez said morosely, “
I
am interviewing dim-witted society boys and nutty bookshop owners, looking for girls who reputedly vanished during magic acts, and trying—with less and less success every day—not to flirt with a woman I may have to arrest.
And
I’m doing all this despite understandable pressure from my increasingly exasperated lieutenant,” he added bitterly, “to devote all my attention to more concrete matters.”

“Well,” I said. “I guess that was some stuff you needed to get off your chest.”

“Yes, it was.”

He looked sulky. The same expression that usually made me want to wallop Hieronymus looked kind of cute on Lopez.

“It’s not easy being you,” I said.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “And, of course, you already know about my mother.”

“We should just call you Job.”

“Now you’re ridiculing me.”

“‘Now’?” I said. He smiled. But I suddenly realized with a sinking heart what he’d said earlier. “You’ve applied for a transfer?”

“Yes.”

“You’re leaving New York?” I asked plaintively.

He squinted at me. “No, of course not.”

“Oh!” I smiled with relief. I didn’t want him investigating me—let alone arresting me—but I’d be upset if he just
left.

“I’ve applied to join the Organized Crime Control Bureau.” He sighed. “But with my partner having left suddenly, the squad’s already short one guy, and I can’t go while I’d be leaving them short by two. So I’m working my cases alone, and also working my way through a mountain of paperwork on some cold cases the boss has suddenly decided we should reopen.”

“All that paperwork I saw on your desk, the first time I came to the squad room,” I said, remembering.

“Uh-huh.”

“When do you expect your transfer to come through?”

“Soon, I pray to God.” His tone was heartfelt. “But not until they get one or two guys transferred into the squad and bring them up to speed.” After a pause, he added, “But if you’re hoping I’ll leave and someone else will take over this case, Esther—”

“Wouldn’t that be for the best? I mean—”

“I know what you mean. But no one else will cut you the slack that I have.”

“But I haven’t done anything—”

“Stop. If you’re not going to tell me the truth, could you at least stop lying to me?” There was a long silence, since I didn’t know what to say in response to that. Then he surprised me by asking, “What did you mean, five?”

“Huh?”

“
Five
people are missing?”

Another instance where I’d said a little too much to him in the heat of the moment. “Um…”

“Golly Gee, Clarisse Staunton…and those other two names that Max was so careful to avoid mentioning in the station house yesterday.” He frowned. “The names are in my notes…they sounded like strippers, I remember that.”

“They’re not strippers!”

He lifted his brows.

I sighed. “Sexy Samson and Dolly the Dancing Cowgirl.”

“Ah. Yeah. Those were the names.”

“They vanished, too. Onstage. During their acts.”

“Just to clarify…We’re talking about real human beings now?”

“Yes! But, um, come to think of it, I don’t know what their legal names are.”