Third Half (13 page)

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Authors: P. R. Garlick

BOOK: Third Half
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"I chose to become a bride, rather than a star," the woman
pushed a long ebony strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, as
golden lights entered her dark brown eyes.  "I've never regretted the
choice.  Though I do often wonder what it would have been like
becoming an actress."

             
"It takes a lot of hard work," Liane said remembering her
struggles in the theater.  "You give up much of your personal life."

             
"You speak as though you have first hand experience," Carla
said with surprise.  "Could it be that you did some acting before you
joined the Order."

             
"Ah . . .it's my sister who's the actress." Liane felt her cheeks
grow warm as she quickly covered her slip.  "There were three of us. 
Triplets.  My sister Liane, my brother Jack, and me.  We were
orphaned in our early teens and raised in a Catholic children's home. 
When we grew up, I chose what I wanted to do with my life, and
Liane chose acting for her career.  I think everyone always knew we'd
do something as different as night and day."

             
"And your brother?"

             
Liane bit her lip, her expression somber, remembering why
she was here. "Jack was in the middle.  He used to jokingly refer to
himself as the third half.  For a long time he studied for the
Priesthood.  Later, he gave that up for a career in show business."

             
"Is that what Luke meant when he said that tomorrow evening
he is going to take you to see your brother?  Is your brother in Lima?"

             
"I hope so," Liane replied, hesitating a moment before going
on.  This woman was very nice, but she wasn't certain she should
reveal too much to anyone.  "We seem to have lost contact.  Since he's
scheduled to do his nightclub act down here at a place called the
Conquistador
. I thought I would look him up and surprise him."

             
"It is quite a coincidence that you come all the way down here
to work in the mission school, and he also should be here."

             
"Not entirely.  You see it was some of what my brother told
me

about the need for teachers in the outer regions

  that made me
think about coming here."  She repeated the true story of Mary
Catherine's reason for wanting to come to Peru.  "I inquired about
what our church was doing, and found out about the school."

             
The woman's dark eyes showed her surprise.  "Has your
brother been there?  Or near there?"

             
"I suppose he could have been, but I don't know for sure.
Why?"

             
"It seems . . .as you Americans say, a bit far off the beaten
trail.  I didn't think a busy entertainer would be visiting there.  I could see possibly tourist attractions like Machu Picchu, or any of the other,
more well known, ruins.  We have much to see in our country."

             
"So I've heard.  Then again, I've heard there's much to see in
Lima alone.  Luke has plans of showing me quite a bit of it
tomorrow."

             
"Then, I shouldn't be keeping you from getting your rest."

             
"And you should be going to bed also," Liane was contrite.  "I
had a nap on the plane.  I hope you and your husband didn't stay
awake waiting for us."

             
Carla smiled.  "We're night owls, as Paul calls us.  But we did
sleep a little earlier.  Paul is on holiday, so we can always have a
siesta tomorrow.  It won't be so easy for you.  I'm sure Luke will be
wanting to get an early start in the morning."

             
"He did say something to about that."

             
"Then, when you return for our evening meal, we will talk
some more about this brother of yours.  Something about what you've
said . . ." The woman shook her head, her dark mane flowing loosely
across her shoulders.  "I have to think some more about it."

             
Was it possible that Carla had met Jack?  Liane knew that it
was.  Luke had mentioned that the Smith's enjoyed the night life of
Lima.  They may even know of the club where her brother worked. 
Tomorrow she would ask Carla more.

 
    

I

 

             
Luke had not exaggerated about the many things to see in this
city.  She knew that in the short span of one day they had only touched
on the surface of what there was to see in Lima.  There were churches,
museums, and Palatial Government buildings.  So many of the
buildings retaining the history of the old city. 

             
There were also many new, modern facilities to be seen, each
standing proof of the growth and progress the city had been making in
more recent decades.

             
There was so much to see, it was late when they finally
returned to the Smith's home.  "I hope they didn't hold dinner for us,"
Liane said as they approached the front door.

             
Luke laughed, looking down at her.  "I see you have a lot to
learn about the customs of this country." He stepped aside for her to
enter before him.  "We're early."

             
"Early!" She looked at her watch, "But . . ."

             
"By most standards we are," Luke explained.  "You see, in the
Smith household they do things a bit differently.  It's kind of a compromise.  Paul was always used to an early dinner, like the ones
we'd be accustomed to having.  Carla, of course, having grown up in
this country, followed their customs."

             
"So when they married they found a happy medium."

             
"Right," Luke said as Carla came down the long hallway
toward them.  Her smile was wide as she greeted them.

             
"You won't believe this!" She said. "I called a very good friend
of mine and mentioned your brother.  She works at the
Conquistador
,
where you said your brother works.  It seems she may know him . . .
Very well in fact."  She paused, cheeks flaming as she looked down at
Liane, as if uncertain she should say any more about the man who
may be the brother of a nun. 

             
"If it is the same man," she continued. "The man Maria speaks
of is named Spence Jackson."

             
"Oh, I see.  It could be a stage name," Liane said anxiously,
stepping closer to the other woman.  "Please tell me, has she seen this
man lately?"

             
The other woman's dark eyes clouded.  "That's just it, she is
also worried about him.  He has not shown up for his last show.  I
don't know everything," Carla continued in a rush.  "But Maria
sounded worried.  She promised to explain what she can when we go
to the club tonight.  I hope you don't mind if we join you.  You see,
Maria can be difficult sometimes.  She's impulsive and excitable."

             
"It must have something to do with her Latin blood," Luke
teased, winking at Liane.  "I seem to recall Paul using those same
words to describe you."

             
"We were going to have cheeseburgers and french fried
potatoes tonight.  In honor of your visit Luke.  But if you are going to
begin making fun with me, I can always change that to
Ceviche."

             
"Uck!"  Luke pulled a face.  "Carla, you have one of the most
pleasant, mild-mannered personalities I have ever had the pleasure of
knowing."  He continued with his tongue in his cheek.

             
"That is much more like it," Carla said as they both burst into
laughter.

             
"I better fill you in on the joke." Luke turned to face Liane. 
"You see . . .when I first arrived in Lima, I was anxious to learn all the
traditions and experience all the native dishes.  So when Paul and I
renewed our old friendship he invited me here for dinner, to meet his
lovely wife. 

             
"He had suggested a simple American meal, but I wouldn't
hear of it.  No, I wanted a traditional Peruvian dish.  I suggested they
have Carla's favorite."

 

 

Third Half  

    P.R. Garlick

 

             
"Very noble of you," Carla teased, her dark eyes alight with
good humor.  "Especially since he had no idea of what my favorite
dish would be."

             
"And this Ce . . ."

             
"
Ceviche," Carla continued. "It's delicious."

             
"You may think so," Luke replied, looking suddenly ill.  "It's
raw fish. I
hate raw fish!  It was like eating in a Sushi bar."

             
Liane joined their laughter, her bright smile coming naturally
as she relaxed among these new friends, momentarily forgetting her
problems.

             
"But even so, he did eat quite a bit," Carla explained.  "He
didn't want to hurt my feelings."

             
"It was Paul who finally rescued me."

             
"Only because he thought he noticed a slight green tinge to
your complexion."  The woman laughed again at the memory.

             
"I'm so glad we're having cheeseburgers tonight,"  Liane
confessed.  "I like them best, next to hot dogs."

             
"We must eat soon if we want to go to the club and see
Maria," Carla reminded them, breaking Liane's momentary reprieve
from worry.

 

I

 

             
Carla, looking stunning in her black evening dress, waved as
the young waitress headed toward their table.  "Hello, Maria."

             
Liane took a moment to look at the girl.  She did seem young,
but her eyes belied a hard life.  She was obviously troubled and
feeling awkward, as she fidgeted by their table.

             
"This is Sister Mary Catherine," Carla introduced. "I told you
about her on the telephone."

             
"Hello Sister," the girl said in English, looking as though she
was about to say more, then thought twice about it.  She turned to
Carla and said something in Spanish.

             
"Excuse me for a moment," Carla said after the girl wrote
down their orders and abruptly left their table.  "I'm going to the
powder room."

             
"Not a very talkative girl, is she?" commented Luke after
Carla, too, had gone.

             
"There will be more," Paul told them as he casually sipped his
drink.  "She wouldn't talk out here.  That's why Carla has gone to the
ladies room."

 

 

Third Half  

    P.R. Garlick

 

             
"But I'd really like to know what's going on,"  Liane said as
she attempted to get up from her chair.

             
"Wait," Luke said softly, gently taking hold of her arm to stop
her.  "You can trust Carla."

             
She forced a smile and waited.

             
"Maria is very worried about your brother," Carla told Liane
when she returned.  "She said he was not originally scheduled to do
the show Saturday evening.  It came about very suddenly.  Then, when
he didn't show up, the manager became very angry."  Carla looked
around the room.  "Over there in the corner.  He is the manager."

             
Liane looked to where Carla motioned, seeing a tall,
expensively clad man deep in conversation with his female
companion.

             
"Maria said she's afraid for your brother's job.  But I've known
her a long time.  There is more to it than that.  I believe she cares very
much for your brother, Mary Catherine.  I believe the girl has fallen in
love with him and she is afraid if he loses his job, she will never see
him again."

             
Liane was beginning to wonder if anyone would ever see Jack
again.  His actions seemed such a puzzle. "Maybe if I spoke to the
Manager . . ."

             
"Maybe . . .but expect to hear a tirade of expletives, unfit for a
woman of the church.  She also said he possesses a sharp tongue when
he is angry."

             
"Words can't hurt," Liane said boldly as she got up from her
chair.

             
"Liane, there is more . . ." Carla said, but her words went
unheard as Liane set out in the direction of the man in the corner. 
Chin up and determined, she would confront him and see if he knew
anything about her brother. 

 

I

 

             
"You would what?" the tall man asked after hearing her
request.
             

             
"I'd like to speak to you alone," Liane repeated her initial
request.  "I have a few questions to ask you, and I'd prefer asking them
in private."

             
The man's dark eyebrows raised.  "I hardly have time just now. 
If you are looking for a contribution, you will have to speak to the
owner.  I am only the manager.  Unfortunately for you, he rarely
comes into the city." 

             
There was a note of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke, then
returned his attentions to his female companion.

             
"I'm not here for a donation.  I'm here for some answers,"
Liane said boldly.

             
A slow smile spread across the manager's lips. "You are lucky
I am a curious man.  I believe I will give you a few moments to ask
your questions.  My office is right through there."  He pointed to a
doorway.  Not waiting for her to leave he again turned to the woman
beside him. 

             
"Now Cara Mia, I must handle the Sister's problem.  I will be
as prompt as I can, and return to you."  He gently kissed his
companion's brow before turning and nearly running into Liane who
was still standing there waiting.

             
"Could you not find your way alone?" he snapped, looking
down at her with irritation.  "Or were you that absorbed in what you
were watching?"
             

             
"I thought you were joining me!"  Her temper flared as her
cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

             
"And I am."  He laughed deeply, but to Liane it had an
artificial sound.  "I couldn't leave Barbara without a farewell.  She is
one of your countrymen, and you do seem to expect good manners
from us Latins."

             
"I'm sure manners aren't what interests your friend Barbara,"
Liane mumbled as she thought of the bright red, leather, mini skirt
and halter top the woman was wearing. 

             
"What was that?"  He asked as he opened the door for her to
enter the office.

             
"I said, I'm sure you're never lacking in manners."

             
As the man slowly closed the door Liane glanced around the
room, noting the casual, non-businesslike atmosphere. One full wall
was covered with shelves containing many volumes of expensively
bound books.  A large collection of CDs and DVDs covered the top of
a huge walnut cabinet which Liane noted held a big screen TV and
other entertainment equipment.

             
Suddenly her attention was drawn to a collection of statues,
and her thoughts returned to her brother's secret room and the similar
artifacts she had found there.
             

             
"I see you are a patron of the arts," she said as she stepped
forward for a closer inspection of the shelf's contents.  "Beauty for the
eye, music and movies for your entertainment and fine literature for
the mind." 

             
"Ah, those . . ." The manager smiled down at her.  "I am afraid
they belong to the owner of this club."

             
"You said he rarely comes here."  She turned again and walked
toward the man.  "These things seem rather extravagant for mere
room decorations."

             
"I make good use of the room," the man said motioning to the
sofa situated beneath a velvet-draped window.  "We did not come in
here to discuss this room's decor."

             
Liane hesitated a moment before choosing to sit in the chair,
avoiding the sofa where he now stood waiting for her to join him.
When she did not, he smiled sardonically and took the chair across
from her, leaning leisurely back against the soft cushions.

             
"I've come to ask if you know anything about my brother Jack
. . .I mean, Spence Jackson," she added, remembering Jack's stage
name.  "I was told he does a show in this club."
             

             
"HA! 
Did a show!"  The man straightened stiffly, his dark
eyes narrowed.  "He was engaged to do a special show and never
showed up.  If I have my way, he will never work here again."

             
Liane bit her lip.  This man was angry, as Maria had warned. 
"Are you saying he never contacted you or anything?"

             
"Never!"

             
"But there could have been a problem.  Are you sure he knew
about the show?  You did say it was a special show."  She thought
again about the death of Jack's agent.  If booked through him, it was
entirely possible he never had a chance to give Jack the message.

             
"His agent confirmed that he would be here."  The manager
continued, as if reading her thoughts.  "Spence Jackson was in Mr.
Devereaux's office when I spoke to him."

             
"When was that?"

             
"Saturday morning."

             
"And you are certain he said he'd be down to do a show that
same night?  It's a long flight.  Could he have arranged one that
quickly?"

             
"He must have made arrangements.  His agent promised he'd
be here in time for the show."

             
"Can't you tell me more?"

             
"There is no more.  Except that he did not show up."

             
"Something could have happened.  Maybe his plane crashed . .
. Anything!"  Liane jerked to her feet and with a catlike grace began
nervously pacing around the room. "You think he didn't show up
because he didn't care.  I know Ja . . .Spence, and he wouldn't do that. 
Couldn't you give him the benefit of a doubt?"

             
"He'll have another chance this weekend."

             
"This weekend." She looked up, a gleam of hope in her eyes. 
"Do you mean he's going to do a show?"

             
"That remains to be seen."  The manager got up from his seat
and crossed the room to the door.  "Now, if you do not mind, I would
like to get back to . . .to my work."  His look was grim as he spoke.  "I
do not believe there is anything else I can tell you."

             
Liane's green eyes were troubled as she returned to her
companions.  Her problems weighed heavily on her, and it seemed
they multiplied with each new fact she unfolded. 

             
"Why don't we make it an early evening," Luke suggested,
with concern in his voice.  "We have only tomorrow before going on
to Pucallpa, and I still want to show you more of the city. I also hope
you'll join me on my visit to the orphanage."

             
"Yes, I would like that," she said wearily.  "And I am tired,"
she admitted, wondering whether she should tell him now that she had
made up her mind to stay in Lima until the weekend.  She had to see if
Jack showed up to do his act.

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