Vienna (19 page)

Justine looked at her.

Emily gave a small shrug. “She seems to be doing okay. The police won't let anything happen.”

Justine saw two policemen flanking Vienna. It was hard to tell, but they seemed to be smiling. “You don't know her. She can find trouble in a second.”

“I know more than you might think about people who aren't right with the world.” She gave a barely perceptible nod to the van.

Justine gave her a surprised look.

Emily mouthed three letters. “OCD.”

Justine nodded in return. Obsessive compulsive disorder was easy enough to hide from casual acquaintances, but it could be murder on long-term relationships. If it was serious enough, it would explain why George ended up with his sister looking out for him.

“See what happens,” Emily said.

“The crowd will be all over her.”

“I don't think so. Have you ever heard of
volksgeist
?”

“No.”

“An old German psychiatric term, warped into heinous racism. It means the spirit-soul of a given people. No one much believes it anymore, the world is too flat from Starbucks and Walmart. But I swear I feel it as we travel.”

“And?”

She pointed to the dark sky. “The English are heavy weather people. A once great empire that understands hard times. Perhaps Vienna has a few issues—made one or two naive statements. Yonder Brits won't hold that against her.”

Justine glared toward the crowd and tried to think calming thoughts. It wasn't working.

“So things are that serious,” Emily said after a minute.

“Last night … well…” Justine's voice trailed off.

“Yes?” Emily's sky blue eyes opened a fraction wider in challenge.

“Too much information.”

“No fair starting and bailing.”

“It just worked is all. As much as it ever has. I mean, not any better, you know, but as good. I don't have to be anything for her.” A flash of upturned hands. “I don't know.”

“Have you told Vienna any of this?”

“Telling her would be the same as admitting it fully to myself. On some level I'm not ready.”

“Us Yanks tend to be inflexible.”

“Our
volksgeist
?”

“More so since 9/11.”

“I suppose.” Justine willed her muscles to relax. “How many other German words do you know?”

“Four years in school.
Ich bin ein schneller Student, mein Freund
.”

“Are you leaving London right away?”

“No.”

“Care to meet us for dinner?”

“Count George out. He won't pass as human until he has brooded over the pictures.”

Justine rubbed her hands together to ward off the damp chill. “I used to have a table at the River Café. Not so sure now, especially on short notice.”

“The natural arc of fame. You have my cell? I would just as soon get out of the hotel tonight.”

Justine nodded. “I better collect Vienna.
Volksgeist
or not, the rain will start again soon.”

The crowd grew louder as Justine approached. Fragments of commentary reached her. “Batting for the opposition,” was obvious enough. But what was an aviation blonde?

Vienna was speaking in her characteristic whisper, forcing a hush. Justine wasn't certain what she expected, but Shakespeare wasn't high on the list. “… but it's true. Romeo and Juliet deserved what they got. They had no faith in each other. It's an insipid story, below Shakespeare's skill.”

Justine braced for a riot, but the laughter seemed good-natured rather than derisive. How had she gotten away with mocking the country's greatest hero? Did being raised in England allow such criticism?

“What does the Yank think of that?” a younger member of the crowd asked. The question held a definite edge. Justine parried.

“The Yank is wondering why Lord Anson Davy is here.” She nodded to the rear of the crowd. Faces turned and Justine heard a cascade of whispers. Americans might provide simple amusement, but Anson Davy was part of the royal obsession.

Davy gave a thin smile, the scar below his temple pinching the skin. “I was passing by and was taken in by Miss Vienna's exposition upon the nature of love. Her feminine critique reminds one that it is always prudent to give an ear to the other side, however irrational the other side might be.”

This brought forth good-natured camaraderie from the men. “Hear, hear!”

How does he always have me on the defensive?
“And what have you learned?”

“This young lady has the nerve to question Shakespeare. Parliament shall take action. Heaven knows the bloody sods have nothing better to do with their time.” Davy again scored with the crowd, most of whom didn't expect informal language from the peerage. “Furthermore, she's in love with a denizen of one of our trans-Atlantic colonies. The name escapes me—such a trivial place after all.” More cheering. “As a knight of the British Empire, I must ask Justine Am as to her intentions.”

Justine didn't hesitate. “I was thinking of plundering away.”

This brought a wild roar from the crowd.
Take that.

“Yes, well, you Americans have a reputation for disposable romance.”

“It's a colonial thing. It's why we left you in the first place.”

Whatever else, the crowd was having a fine day.

“I see.” Davy was silent for longer than Justine thought he needed. When he spoke, the banter was out of his voice. “I received word that you went to Heathrow yesterday. I want to know why.”

“Knight of the realm or not, it's none of your business.”

“Granted, my lady. Just the same.”

She had to be careful. Davy was popular and he had all the cards, Justine's battered reputation would sink under the softest murmur of bad press. “Miss Vienna drives me to distraction. Her presence is a constant annoyance. She destroys my plans, she wrecks my morning workout, she spoils my alone time. She cries too much. She is in all ways the most infuriating creature I have ever met. She gets angry when I tease her. She misses my best jokes. She's hell on my career. There's only one reason I'm still here.”

Davy played along. “What would that be?”

“I had a ticket home. I think you know the answer.”

Davy gave her an accepting nod, and then turned to face Vienna. “Miss Vienna?”

“Yes?” Confusion in her wavering voice.

“Causing misery to Americans is God's work. Carry on.”

Another ovation from the crowd. Davy turned, and the crowd parted before him.

“Lord Davy?”

He stopped and turned back to Justine.

People with real power will find out!

Her mouth suddenly dry. “It's … nothing.”

He gave her a questioning look before stepping away.

Justine leaned to Vienna. “The rain is coming again. It's time to go.”

Back in the Savoy, Justine called the River Café. “We never pay any attention to the press,” she was told. She reserved a table for three at seven. Two hours until the limo picked them up.

“Vienna, off to the shower. We have to get ready.”

“For dinner?”

“Yes. Casual, but formally so, if you know what I mean.”

“No.”

Justine caught the tone of her voice. “You were hurt by what I said to Davy.”

“You had no right to say such horrible things. And thank you for saying them in public. I hate it when you're smarmy.”

Justine stepped to her. “I know sometimes we don't connect. And I know some of it is because of the way you are, and the way I am as well.”

“I don't understand, except you're saying I'm not right in the head and trying to be nice about it and failing.”

Justine shook her head. “I'll make a deal with you.”

“What?”

“Lord Davy is a man of considerable popularity. My guess is our exchange will garner some society press. I want you to hold off judgment until you see what they say.”

“But you can't stand them.”

“Do it for me anyway, okay?”

She sighed. “My period is coming.”

“Has this been happening since we met?”

“Justine!”

“Shh. A bad joke. It's okay. You'll likely miss it, so be ready.”

“How can you know that?”

“I'm psychic.”

Vienna blinked twice in quick succession, but plowed ahead. “I want to stay home.”

“You saw yesterday's pictures of the manikin. Was she the same today?”

“She was smaller, just like the others. I don't think it was a good job. It really didn't feel like wood, though the colors were good and the wig was the same.”

“I agree. Had the Holts been open to the idea of a copy, they surely would have spotted it. At least we know why the quality dropped.”

“We do?”

“Julian Dardonelle's body in that river near Antwerp. They had to get someone new to craft this replica. Someone not as skilled.” Justine's hand passed over the lizard on her hip. “I want you to come with me. We might learn something.”

“Why is it I always do what you say?”

“Because I'm a spoiled pain in the ass.”

“That must be it.”

“You need to get in the shower.”

Vienna kicked at the carpet and turned away.

“Wait a second, hun. Whose idea was it that you go out on the night we met?”

“Cecile's—a friend at work.”

“Who happened to know Grant.”

Vienna said nothing.

“Grant gets one of your friends to meet you at Holler. He knew it was my favorite club in Brussels. He knew I would stop there.”

“Except Cecile hurt her ankle.”

“Maybe.”

“She was using crutches.”

“Which proves she knew where to get some. Either way, Grant paid your friends to dare me to sleep with you. They said exactly the right things to goad me into going along with it. They were perfectly coached. I should have realized that the second they started.”

“But why?”

“I don't know. I almost see it, like reflections in a mirror. Shift your position a single step, and you see something new. Grant was after something related to the manikins. He wanted to meet you.”

“He couldn't have known I would walk outside with you that morning in Brussels.”

“But he was there just in case. If that failed, he could have stopped by your gelato shop with me in tow. We would have exchanged greetings and he would have had a proper introduction. After we spent the night together, he had several options for meeting you through me.” So why hadn't he just seduced Vienna? There had to be more to it. “But things went wrong. He expected a one night stand, and instead he got you, all red in tooth and claw.”

“Lord Alfred Tennyson,” Vienna said. “‘In Memoriam of A.H.H.'” Vienna's eyes scanned over words. “Arthur Henry Hallam,” she continued. “He died in Vienna.” Her face took on a soft blush of delight at the connection to her name. But she quickly grew stormy. “Why did you say that? That I was red in tooth and claw?”

“You set Grant up and ran him over with dead elm trees. I saw the devil in your eyes. I know when a member of my sex has her fangs out, Vienna.”

“I didn't like him, and I was right not to.”

“You were, but you didn't like him the second you saw him. Why not?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Justine smiled. “Fair enough.”

“You aren't mad?”

“We both know the answer.” She stepped to Vienna and brushed her fingers through her hair. “For all his planning, my dear boyfriend never would have counted on anything happening between us.”
Or on having his handsome, scheming face blasted off.

“If he'd lived, you would be with him, and I would still be in Brussels.”

Justine remembered her dissatisfaction on that last day. “I don't think so.”

“That's a nice thing to say, but it's wrong to lie.” Vienna turned again to the bathroom.

“Vienna?”

“Yes?”

“Last night was perfect. I wanted you to know.”

Vienna considered this for several seconds. “Does it bother you that my breasts are so small?”

“They're perfect, too.”

Vienna's hands went to her chest, covering herself. After a minute, she ventured an uncertain smile. “The average bra size in Great Britain in the 1940s was 30B. So I would have been closer to normal.”

Vienna's deepest prayer lay bare. Closer to normal. But the window closed even as the words were spoken.

“Three hundred and sixty poppy seeds,” Vienna whispered. “Between the crosses, row on row.”

Justine had no idea what it meant.

 

16

Vienna had what she always wanted only now she didn't want it so much anymore. She was always making mistakes or getting lost in Justine's words. Worse, there was the endless geometry of so many new places. Shapes twisting inside the compulsive topology of her mind. She imagined the chain anchoring her to safe places fast playing out against the onslaught of Hurricane Justine.

There was no reason to put herself through this except that she couldn't help herself. But then, maybe that was what Justine told Lord Davy. That she couldn't help herself either. Vienna wanted to believe it, but she couldn't fool herself that much. Beautiful people didn't work that way.

Dinner was in a restaurant on the Thames, further east than the neighborhoods Vienna knew. White chairs and blue carpet. It was absent of the clutter of most public places. Vienna glanced at Justine.
For me, or coincidence?

But nothing hid the people pointing in their direction. Laughter over imagined bedroom scenes. Vienna knew she had been right about staying at the hotel.

Emily appeared in a dark green sweater against the chill that played through the rain. Her hair was still in a tail, which didn't seem right given how well-dressed other diners were. Emily didn't care. No one else did either. Just like no one cared that Emily's eyes were that blue color because of a genetic defect. No one made fun of her. “You appear to be the subject of many a dinner conversation,” Emily said as she sat.