The Grandfather Clock (27 page)

“
No. I came here to get
something that was stolen from me.”

“
Do you use any illegal
drugs?”

“
No. Is that a joke? You
have no idea. Do you know who Oskar Dietz is?”

“
Mr. Chance, when someone
is found beaten in the boot of a car, we need to be
thorough.”

“
Do you know Oskar
Dietz?”

He closed his pen and looked at
me.

“
How about Marco Rios?
Surely you know him. Soccer player? Fútbol?”

“
We can test you for
drugs.”

I gestured at the IVs. “Really?
Detective Amato, is it illegal to get beaten up and put in the
trunk of a car in Argentina?”

“
There’s no need to get
confrontational, Mr. Chance.”

“
Are you trying to find
the men who did this? Oskar Dietz and a short, stocky bald man.
There was a man with a ponytail. Marco Rios was with them, too. I
can take you to his sister or his father. Do you know Freda Dietz,
Oskar’s mother? She has a flower shop. She can tell you everything.
I told you who did this. The next step is usually to apprehend them
and question them.”

“
I’m not going to involve
good citizens in the dirty work of...”

“
Thank you, Detective
Amato. I will be calling my embassy. If you want to talk any
further, I will be finding a lawyer.”

“
Mr. Chance. Once you
refuse to cooperate, you make things very difficult for
yourself.”

“
Thank you.”

I filled Klara in on the conversation.
A few minutes later the nurse came to the door. This time she had a
serious look on her face. “Lo siento. I’m sorry. We will have to
ask the young lady to leave. Family only. Visitation is from noon
to four.”

“
Diez minutos, por favor,”
I said. Klara gave me a disappointed look as the nurse walked
out.

“
How far are we from the
hostel?”

“
Just a few streets over,”
she said. “But your foot.”

“
Is it broken?” I sized up
the soft boot on my foot.

“
No broken bones in your
foot. Bad sprain. Broken ribs.”

“
Is there a doctor around
here?” I asked.

“
He was here once
yesterday after they stitched you up.”

“
Stitches? Do you have a
mirror?”

She handed me a makeup mirror from her
bag. Klara pulled the tape off a bandage above my left eye. Black
thread lined a jagged wound, almost two inches long. My right eye
had a purple bruise under it and my upper lip was three times its
normal size on the same side. Blood crusted under my nose. Klara
went to the sink and wet a towel.

“
It’s not too bad,” she
said, dabbing my nose.

“
I need to get out of
here,” I said, trying to sit up. The pain in my chest caused me to
cough, which hurt even worse. My head spun as I righted myself. My
arms were sore from bruises where the IVs met my arms. I swung my
feet toward the floor.

“
Careful,” Klara said. “Go
slow.”

The nurse came in. “No, no. No need to
get up.”

“
El baño,” I said, and I
meant it. I felt like I hadn’t urinated in a day. I realized I was
wearing a lovely adult diaper. “Do you have my clothes?” I asked
the nurse.

“
Oh, no. They cut them off
of you, so that they don’t move you.”

“
I’ll call Celeste,” Klara
said. “She can bring your bag.”

“
Leaving?” the nurse
asked.

“
Yes. I need to check out.
Is there paperwork? A bill?”

“
Are you sure? You don’t
need to...” I eased on my good foot. The nurse unhooked the IVs,
leaving the needles in my arm. With Klara on my arm I put weight on
my left foot. Sharp pain shot up the side of my leg and I had no
strength. A second step and it was equally painful, slightly
stronger, but there was no way I was going to get around on
it.

A few minutes later the nurse returned
with a set of aluminum crutches and a small prescription bottle.
There were about eight generic Vicodin. Klara called Celeste while
the nurse had me sign a single sheet of paper, with a charge of 40
pesos for everything. I’ve had cups of coffee that cost
more.

“
Celeste will be here in a
few minutes.”

My heart sank. There was no good time
for this conversation.

“
Klara,” I said, wincing
as I sat back on the bed. “I need to tell you
something.”

She looked at me, uneasy.

I continued, “Something happened in
New Orleans. And I can’t keep it from you because... because I care
about you. You are all that matters in my life.”

A tear streaked down her cheek. She
shook her head.

“
I sorry, it was a
mistake. A massive mistake,” I spoke quicker. “I don’t know,
Claudette had died, we were drinking. Don’t blame Celeste, because
I...”

“
I know. I knew.” She
stopped me. “She told me. On the plane.”

“
She...”

“
She is sick with guilt,”
Klara paced the room. “She said that she... she said she’s been
trying to get you, she didn’t know why, and she wanted to hurt
Marco. It’s Celeste, it’s how she works.”

I hung my head.

“
Michael,” tears flooded
down her face, “I don’t know why. You and Celeste are the two most
important people in my life. I love Celeste, with all her faults.
And I love you. I know it. I thought you loved me, but that is my
fault, not yours.”

“
Klara, I do.”

“
Don’t. You wouldn’t have
done this to me.”

“
I know. I can’t explain.
I’m so stupid. I’m so sorry.” I had nothing in my defense. Here I
was, barely a week from cheating on her, and I was trying to get my
ass out of the fire by telling her that I loved her.

“
Michael. I’m glad you
told me,” she tried to compose herself. “And Celeste, at least she
didn’t lie, for what that’s worth. Truth is, it was something I
worried about.”

“
It’s my
fault.”

“
Michael, as upset as I
was when she told me, I think it is harder on her. And you... when
we got here and you were missing. And the feeling that I had when
they found you... I was so relieved.”

“
Klara, I’m so
sorry.”

“
Michael. I’m not happy
about it. But right now I can’t punish my best friend, and my
boyfriend, if you are still...”

“
Yes.”

“
Then let’s get out of
this room,” she kissed my cheek, “and never speak of this
again.”

I offered a weak smile.

“
You’re lucky,” she said,
getting almost nose-to-nose with me. “If you hadn’t turned up
beaten to a pulp, I’d have done it to you.”

12

The air was cold and fresh compared to
the stuffy hospital room. There was no ritual of wheeling me to the
front door. Celeste had arrived with clothes and helped on one arm,
Klara was on the other. By the time we reached the door, I insisted
on going on my own power. I’d sprained enough ankles playing
volleyball and basketball that I knew how it felt, and I knew what
I could and couldn’t do. What I couldn’t do was walk without a
single crutch. I left one leaning against the wall near the
door.

A taxi was waiting. Celeste began to
tell the driver to take us to the hostel.

“
No,” I said. “Um.
Cuarenta. Forty? East. Est?”

“
Qu’est-ce?” Klara
asked.

I continued, “Y, um. Dos, tres, uno.
Norte. Two thirty-one. Comprende?

“
Que?” the driver asked.
“Cuarenta?” He pointed east.

“
Sí, y...”

“
Y dos, tres, uno,” he
held up fingers for each number.

“
Sí.”

“
Donde?”

“
Cerca de Inalco,” I said,
watching the driver’s eyes. “Sabes Inalco?”

“
Creo que sí,” he said,
with a little uncertainty.

I wanted to find my satchel. It had my
passport, my computer, and the phone that worked.

“
Your Spanish is
impressive,” Celeste said in English.

“
Yes, but can we go back
to française, s’il vous plait,” Klara said.

The conversation turned to what we
were going to do next. I asked Celeste if she thought she could
find Marco. My feeling was that while he was certainly with Oskar
and his thug, he wasn’t exactly part of their plan. It was good to
switch to French, so that the driver wouldn’t know what we were
saying.

“
Michael, this can wait?”
Celeste said. “Why not rest until tomorrow?”

I looked in the mirror behind the
sun-visor. Washing off the dried blood made a slight improvement.
“We need to act now, while they think I’m out of the
picture.”

“
But what can you do?”
Klara asked.

“
Celeste, I think you keep
trying to reach Marco. These guys are not his friends. Perhaps he
suspects that. I could see the doubt in his eyes.”

“
Marco hates me,” Celeste
said. “And he hates you.” Then she darted a look at Klara and then
at me. She didn’t know that I knew she had told Klara. “Just that,
he never liked you,” she added, attempting to cover her
remark.

“
It’s okay,” Klara said.
“He knows.”

Celeste blushed.

“
Just leave it,” Klara
said. “We move on. So you need to convince Marco that he’s made a
mistake. You made a mistake. We all made mistakes. Except me.” I
hoped she was smiling. She wasn’t. She looked tired.

“
We pretend to be a
buyer,” Celeste offered.

“
I tried that,” I said.
“They won’t buy it.”

“
They don’t need a buyer,”
Klara said. “They need someone to launder the gun.”

“
You’re right,” Celeste
said. “We need someone who knows about the gun. Who might know it
was stolen... but doesn’t care about Michael.”

“
Desjardins,” I said.
“What if he reaches out? Perhaps he could convince Marco that he
can help.”

“
They have the money to
offer,” Klara said. “They might be naïve enough to buy
it.”

“
Gullibility is often
driven by greed,” I said, summoning a lesson from the banking
world.

“
I could have my mother
tell Marco. She could implore him to talk to me, and not listen to
the Louvre. He’ll do the opposite.”

“
Your mother makes the
story real,” I said.

I had the driver slow down as we
reached the point in the road where I thought my car had been. The
ride had stiffened my ankle and it was hard to get going again. I
struggled up the smaller hill and looked down the side. The driver
waited in the cab.

Luck was on my side. I sent Klara down
the hill where everything was safe in my bag. The phone was dead. I
stood looking into the woods. Where was the gun now?

“
Michael, let’s get out of
here,” Klara said.

I hobbled and slid down the hill and
got back into the cab.

Having Klara and Celeste by my side
gave me new energy. My head pounded, and the looks on people’s
faces reminded me that I looked like I’d just lost a prizefight. It
was like a bad hangover combined with dental surgery. Several of my
teeth actually felt loose as I tried to eat a stack of pancakes at
a hotel restaurant.

Celeste tried once to reach Marco,
only to get his voicemail. She left him a message pleading with him
to call her.

“
Did you tell him that you
are here?” I asked.

“
No,” she said. “I was
trying to preserve the element of surprise.” “Can we at least
assume he’s getting his messages?”

“
I... can access his
voicemail,” Celeste said.

Klara’s head fell dramatically to the
table. “Now you tell us this?”

“
I didn’t think of
it.”

“
We need to use that
sparingly,” I said. “If you call his number a bunch of times
checking his voicemail, he’ll know. He may know the first time you
do it.”

“
Then I should check it
now, listen to his saved messages.”

“
No, wait a few minutes,”
Klara said. “If he’s played your message, we’ll know he’s got his
phone and is ignoring you. And then we can have Marianne call
him.”

Klara sounded like she’d done this
before. The pain meds were wearing off and I was beginning to feel
rough. I was hesitant to take a Vicodin.

“
Man, you look bad,”
Celeste laughed. “I’m sorry, not funny.”

“
He looks like a tough
guy,” Klara protested. “Did you at least get a shot at
them?”

“
Yeah. No,” I said. “I
sprained my ankle before they got to me, jumping off a balcony.”
They both giggled. “I’m glad you are enjoying this.”