Missing Marlene (15 page)

Jane decided not to pursue this conversation, which she’d already had with Daniel in the middle of St. Marks Place. “Well,” she said with a sigh, “let me know if the Harmons hear anything.”

“I will, Jane, but I won’t count on hearing from you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t care about Marlene. You don’t really care about me. Our friendship . . . well, I just don’t know what our friendship has been about. If you—” But Ivy’s voice broke, and Jane could hear her weeping. There was fumbling on the phone, then a loud sharp click.

Jane sat perfectly still, a coldness filling her. She saw now that their friendship all these years since college had been tenuous at best. It was not a friendship born of similar values and interests, or even of an abundance of mutual affection, but rather a friendship born of a shared experience. How often did one remain friends with someone for that reason alone?

Would Jane and Ivy have become friends if they were to meet today? Jane asked herself. No. Decidedly not. But weren’t many friendships like Jane and Ivy’s? Perhaps, but it seemed to Jane that for a friendship to continue to survive, there had to be more, an evolving of the friendship so that it was based on more.

Of one thing Jane was sure: When this mess was cleared up, when Marlene was found, Jane and Ivy’s friendship, whatever it had been about, would end.

In the meantime, Jane would do all she could to locate the poor misguided girl who might well have paid the ultimate price for her beauty, lust, and greed.

Jane left the office early, despite the backlog of work. Most pressing was Holly Griffin’s interest in Carol Freund’s novel, but Jane was in no mood to negotiate. She made it a policy never to work on a deal when she was sick, tired, or depressed, and she definitely fit the last two categories.

She arrived home around three. Florence and Nick weren’t home yet, but as she passed the living-room window she saw the Corolla pull into the driveway. Nick jumped out of the car, his green backpack still on, and ran up the path to the front door. Jane went to the foyer and opened it.

“Mom!” Nick cried in surprise.

She grabbed him and hugged him tight. To her delight, he returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.

“Have you forgiven me for making you late this morning?” she asked, letting him go.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “It was kind of cool walking into the classroom like that.”

“We still won’t let it happen again,” Jane said, remembering the horrid Mr. O’Rourke. “How was your day otherwise, darling?”

He shrugged. “Okay. Johnna Cartwright barfed in phys ed.”

“Oh!” Jane said, unsure of the correct response to this. “Poor Johnna.”

Winky had appeared in the foyer, and Nick had already picked her up and started for the dining room.

Florence, coming up the front path, smiled warmly. “Hello, missus. What are you doing home so early?”

“Oh, just catching up on some work here,” Jane said vaguely.

“You’re looking tired or something,” Florence said, studying her closely. “Maybe a nice nap.”

Jane managed a smile. “I’m fine. It’s been a difficult day.”

“Well, don’t you worry about us. Nick has his homework to do, and I am going to wash curtains.”

“Curtains?”

“Yes, in the kitchen. No offense, please, missus, but they are disgusting. The last girl, Marlene, she never cleaned them?”

Jane burst out laughing; it really was the funniest thing she’d heard in a long time. “Oh, Florence, if you’d only met her. The idea of Marlene washing curtains—well, it’s just priceless.”

She was still laughing as she took Nick’s backpack from him and helped him get set up at the dining-room table, his favorite working spot. He gave her the day’s notices and flyers. One was an appeal from the Home and School Association for volunteers for the school’s annual Holiday Craft Fair, to be held in early December. Another was a reminder that the school’s Halloween parade would take place on Halloween morning and that children were to come to school in costume.

“Hey,” Jane said, mustering enthusiasm, “we’ve got to decide what you’re going to be for Halloween! Any ideas?”

He was already at work on a math ditto, writing furiously, his face inches from the page, his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth. After a moment he looked up at her and frowned in thought. Before he could speak, Winky suddenly appeared as if from nowhere, jumping onto the table with a little rumbling sound of greeting. Nick started patting her hard and fast.

“Easy,” Jane said, “and put down the pencil or you’ll stab her.”

He dropped the pencil and resumed patting. Then he took Winky’s face between both his hands and squished it tightly so that her features were almost lost in folds of fur. “I wouldn’t stab you, would I, Wink?” Terrified, she pulled herself from his grasp, scampered off the table, and dashed from the room.

“I think I want to be a mouse,” Nick declared.

“Oh, we have enough of mice where I come from in Trinidad,” Florence put in, passing through the dining room, her arms loaded with yellow-and-white-checked curtains that Jane could see were indeed filthy.

“A mouse is a great idea,” Jane said, suddenly bursting with enthusiasm. “We can make a really adorable costume. Now, let’s see ... I’ll buy some gray felt at the Fabric Barn for the ears, and we can make whiskers out of brush bristles . . .”

“Mom, I don’t want you to
make
me a costume. I want to
buy
one.”

“Buy one?” she said, crestfallen. “But we’ve always made your costumes. Remember last year you were a sandwich, and we used foam rubber to make cheese and ham and lettuce?”

He shook his head firmly. “Kids my age don’t make costumes. We have to go to that place in Boonton where they have the best costumes. It’s called Master of Disguises.”

Jane had heard of it. It was a serious costume shop where grown-ups rented Halloween and costume-party gear. “Well, I suppose we could look into renting something, if it’s not too expensive.”

“Renting?”
He looked at her askance. “I’m not wearing some old costume somebody else wore.”

“Listen, young man,” she said, anger building, “I am not made of money. We will do what we can afford. We may
have
to make a costume, and if
that’s
not good enough, you can go without one.”

She waited for him to slam down his pencil and storm from the room, but he only set his mouth firmly, squinted, and returned his attention to his math, continuing to work as though she weren’t there.

Fine,
she thought, and went to see Florence in the laundry room.

“Florence, I’ll be out for the rest of the afternoon and then I have my knitting-club meeting. Would you mind baby-sitting Nick?”

“Not at all,” Florence said, measuring detergent. “I will give you the coconut bread I made this afternoon to take to your meeting.”

Jane realized that it was her turn to bring something. She would have stopped at the bakery, but this was much nicer.

“That will be lovely,” Jane said. “Thank you, Florence. Very thoughtful.”

Florence gave her a huge smile. “You are very good to me. I appreciate that. Things like this are my way of saying thank you.”

How very sweet,
Jane thought as she walked away. Had she been especially good to Florence? She hadn’t noticed.

She should have made an
effort
to be good to Florence. From now on, Jane vowed, she would. No more ignoring of the nanny, the way she had ignored Marlene.

How selfish she had been, not even trying to see Marlene as a person, to take an interest in what she was doing, in her life in Shady Hills. If Jane had shown this interest, would things have turned out differently? Would Marlene not have felt a need to seek companionship at the Roadside Tavern, not met Gil Dapero, not entangled herself in sordid intrigues with Roger and Audrey?

Jane would never know.

She felt quite ashamed.

This time Jane found Vernon in Paint. At the end of the aisle stood a counter, behind which he concentrated on mixing a custom color for a young woman with a toddler in hand.

Jane stood off to one side, waiting for him to finish. When he had put the paint can into the mixing machine, he glanced up, noticed her, and did a double take. Then he seemed to make an effort to ignore her, puttering behind the counter, straightening color cards, handing the woman a few mixing sticks, and asking her how she was fixed for brushes.

Eventually, however, he was finished, and as the woman placed the paint can in her shopping cart and wandered away, Jane approached the counter. Reluctantly, he met her gaze.

“We need to talk,” she said softly.

“About what?” he asked, his gaze darting about.

“I don’t think this is the best place for our conversation. Will you be finished soon? Can you take a break?”

He looked around furtively. “I can take a few minutes. Follow me.”

He came out from behind the counter and led her all the way to the back of the store, through a set of swinging doors into a vast concrete-floored storage area. He walked to an empty corner and turned to face her, waiting.

Jane put her hands on her hips. “I know all about it,” she said flatly.

“About what?” He gave her a blank look.

“About the videotape. How you hid under the bedspread in the motel room and taped Marlene with—that woman. How you gave the tape to Marlene outside the Roadside Tavern.”

His face had gone deathly white. He drew a ragged breath. “If you know, then why do we need to talk?”

She poked her index finger in his face. “I want you to tell me exactly what happened, and I want you to tell me the truth. If you don’t, I’ll tell the police the exact extent of your interest in Marlene. I’m sure they’ll have a lot of questions to ask you.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, putting up his hands. “So I liked her. I thought she was really hot—the hottest girl I ever saw.” He hesitated, then continued. “Helen gave a party for Marlene’s birthday. I thought that would be a good excuse to take some video of her. So I took my camcorder to the party and started taping her, but she got all upset. So I stopped.”

He gave Jane an imploring look. “You gotta understand something. To Marlene, I was invisible. Dirt. Nothing. She made that real clear. I could understand that, beautiful chick like her, but I could still look, right? I didn’t mean no harm.”

He grew animated. “But then, a few weeks after the party, she started noticing me. She talked to me—and she
never
talked to me before. I thought I must be dreamin’, but she actually started, like, comin’ on to me. I couldn’t
believe
it. She said I was a nice guy, and she was sorry she didn’t see that before. Then she asked me to do something for her. We went out to her car and sat there, and she told me what she wanted.”

“What was it?” Jane asked, though she already knew.

“She told me she was gettin’ it on with another chick. She said she swung both ways, and that she was interested in me, too.”

“What about Gil?” Jane asked.

“That’s what I wanted to know! She said she was sick of him bossing her around. She said he was boring. She wanted me. She said she’d spend more time with me, go out with me, you know, if I’d do this certain kinky thing for her.”

“Kinky thing?” Jane repeated.

He nodded. “She wanted me to tape her makin’ it with her friend. She said it had to be done secretly so she could surprise her friend with the tape as a special present. I asked her how the hell I could tape them without the other chick knowin’ about it. Marlene said she had it all figured out. She told me to meet her on a certain night at the Sunrise Motel on Route Forty-six.”

“And you did,” Jane said.

“Yeah.” He laughed ruefully. “She had it figured out all right. In the motel room there was this big chair, and Marlene pushed it right up next to the bed. Then she took the bedspread off the bed and folded it and draped it over the back of the chair so it hung down to the floor. She told me to hide under there and just stick the camera lens out when it was time to tape. I asked her what if her friend noticed it, and she laughed and said not to worry—her friend would have her mind on other things. Then I asked her what if I made a noise or something, and she said don’t worry about it and turned on the radio next to the bed.”

He exhaled sharply, remembering. “So I hid under there, feeling like an idiot, and Marlene left the room. About ten minutes later she came in with her friend, this older chick. And they took off their clothes and started gettin’ it on right there on the bed, about a foot from where I was hidin’. It was
hot
under there, and I was getting pretty hot myself, these two chicks naked, Marlene going—”

Jane put up her hand to signify that she got the idea.

“Anyway,” he went on, “finally they finished, got dressed, and left the room. I waited about ten minutes; then I went home.”

He couldn’t suppress a smile. “The tape was unbelievable. I knew Marlene would love it and so would her friend. Marlene was like a real actress. She even winked at the camera, like it was our special secret....” His eyes unfocused as he remembered.

“What did you do with the tape?” Jane asked.

“Two nights later I took it to the Tavern to give it to Marlene. When I got there, Marlene and Helen were in the parking lot, about to leave. I said I needed to talk to Marlene, and when I had her alone I gave her the tape.”

His face darkened. “She was like a different person. She grabbed the tape and stuffed it into her bag. She got furious at me and said I was an idiot to give it to her there, right out in the open like that. I asked her when we could go out, like she said, and she
just walked away.
She just turned and walked away without saying anything.

“I followed her,” he went on, his eyes blazing with anger. “I reminded her about what she said about us going out if I did this special thing for her. But she still ignored me. She and Helen got in the car. I went up to Marlene’s window and told her she was a user, and she’d better at least talk to me or she’d be sorry. She rolled down her window and told me to leave her alone. Then she rolled it back up and just stared straight ahead, like I was air.”

He paused, clearly trying to collect himself. “I lost it. Before she could start the car, I pulled at the door handle. I didn’t expect it to be open—I figured she’d locked it—but it opened. She was scared—she looked at me with her eyes huge. She screamed at me to get away from her. She said she would never be interested in somebody like me. I grabbed her arm. I didn’t mean to pull her out of the car, but she fell out onto the ground. Then she started screaming.

“People came runnin’ out of the Tavern.” His hand went to the scar on his face. “Gil hit me with a beer bottle. Then he dragged me behind the building. . . .” He shut his eyes as if feeling the pain all over again.

“An ambulance came and took me to the hospital. I was there for twelve days. I needed a lot of stitches from the broken glass, and my jaw was dislocated. I still can’t open my mouth all the way.” He carefully lowered his jaw to demonstrate.

“Did you press charges against Gil?” Jane asked.

He looked at her as if she were crazy. “No, no way. You do something like that to Gil, and you’re history. Everybody knows Gil offed some guy in Newark about some money Gil owed the guy. I was already half-dead; I didn’t need the other half. The cops tried to get me to tell them what happened, but I said it was an accident. They didn’t believe me, but they couldn’t get me to say anything.”

“What about all the people at the bar who saw what happened? You wouldn’t have had to press charges for Gil to be charged.”

Vernon shrugged. “Nobody else wants to make Gil mad either. And I guess the cops knew they had no way to prove Gil did it.”

“But you got back at Gil in your own way, didn’t you, Vernon?”

A sly smile curved his lips. “Sure did. I’d made myself a copy of that tape—you know, for my own personal use. Soon as I got out of St. Clare’s, I wrapped that sucker up and mailed it to Gil. I thought, ‘Let’s see how interested he is in Marlene when he finds out she’s doing chicks.’”

“And you were right. He didn’t like it, did he?”

“Nope, not one bit,” Vernon said triumphantly. “Somebody at the Tavern told me he screamed at her right out there in the parking lot, called her a whore and a porn star.” He giggled. “He was right—she coulda been!”

“So that fixed Marlene, too, didn’t it?”

“Sure did. She screws with me, uses me like some—cameraman—that’s what she gets. She begged Gil to take her back, but I knew he never would. Gil’s never gone for that kind of stuff.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve known Gil since the second grade. We all grew up together in Shady Hills. Gil, Helen, Steve—he’s the bartender at the Tavern. Peter Mann is older, but he grew up there, too. We’re a tight crowd.”

“Yet you let Marlene in.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, paused a moment before speaking. “You know, she never really fit in. She and Helen got to be friends, but Marlene was still an outsider. Gil was hot for her, but I never really thought they’d stay together. She was different, not like us.”

“Different how?”

“Well, being so great-looking, for one thing. Always dressed up and . . .”—he searched for the word—“... glamorous, like some kind of actress. We’re not like that. And she acted different. Like she always had a secret. You never knew what she was really thinking; she always seemed to be after something she wouldn’t tell you about. I guess she got it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard through the grapevine she’s in New York, living it up.”

“What do you mean by ‘the grapevine’?” Jane asked.

He shrugged. “Somebody I know who still hangs out at the Tavern told me. But it’s no secret. She’s with some old friend of hers from wherever she used to live—Denver?”

“Detroit.”

“Right, Detroit. Some old friend. Zara, Zelda . . .”

“Zena.”

“Yeah, that’s it, Zena. She and Marlene are shopping and partying and having a great time.”

“It’s certainly a good story,” Jane said.

He frowned, puzzled. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe
you.
It’s the New York jet-set stuff I’m not sure about.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Vernon, it does,” she said, her tone ominous. She stepped closer to him, her face only inches from his. “Where Marlene is now matters a lot. And if there’s anything you haven’t told me, if you have harmed Marlene in any way, you’re going to be one very sorry young man.”

He licked his lips nervously and swallowed, his gaze fixed on her face.

Jane regarded him a moment longer, then turned and found her way out.