The Queen of Diamonds Page 10

  * * * *

  Brendan had a notebook. I saw it. Did it look like the diary? I can’t remember. A new memory of a talk I had with him seems to be clearing up in my mind now, like a fog starting to lift. I can’t fit it in any specific period of time.… My timeline and sense of order of events is skewed. The film in my mind is scratched and tearing due to constant viewing and rewinding. I can’t remember where our conversation took place and can only assume we were at the theatre.

  “Is acting what you want to do for a living?”

  “Nah. This is temporary.… Maybe I’ll act on the side, but I have a different source of income.”

  I stared at him for a moment, then realized what was missing.

  “No 42nd Street today?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re usually wearing some 42nd Street clothing.”

  “Well, I’ve got a 42nd Street button in my car.”

  I laugh.

  “So, did you catch up with that girl?” he asks me.

  “What girl?”

  “The one you were asking me about. Black hair, goth—”

  “Oh, yeah, I found her.”

  “What did you want to talk to her about, anyway?”

  “I was just going to ask if she’d seen Molly.”

  “Molly’s gone? I mean, you can’t find her?” Brendan seemed nervous. I couldn’t understand why. He covered up his nervousness by changing the subject.

  “It’s been rainy, hasn’t it?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “I don’t live too far from here,” he continued. “Still a pain to walk in the rain, though.…”

  * * * *

  “…We’re in Danny’s car, just outside the restaurant, right now. We’re waiting until we see her walk in, then I’ll join her while Danny and Jimmy grab a table nearby,” I tell Jenny over the phone. I can imagine her on the edge of her seat, clinging to the phone like it’s a grenade.

  “Well, what about the gun?” she asks intensely. I glance at Danny sitting in the front. I know he can’t hear the conversation, but it still seems risky to talk about the gun while sitting in the same car.

  “I’m going to have it tucked in my jeans,” I whisper. “I plan to—”

  “You’re wearing jeans?”

  “W-what?”

  “You’re wearing jeans to a fancy date at an Italian restaurant? Yeah, you’re not going to stand out at all.”

  “Hey, first of all, it’s not a date. Second of all, I didn’t exactly pack any formal wear—”

  “You packed those black pants.”

  “They’re dance pants! They’re more like pajamas, that’s not formal—it doesn’t matter! Focus, all right? I plan to kind of flash her the gun as I sit down, without Danny seeing.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean ‘why’? So she knows I’m serious and that she shouldn’t try anything…If she helped kill Dr. Patricia she might be dangerous.”

  “What if she screams? After all, she did think you tried to kill her, now you’ll be showing up with a gun.”

  “She won’t scream. She’s not the type, and I don’t think she wants to risk making a scene. She just wants to talk to me…that’s why she chose a public place.”

  “Yet you’re bringing a gun.”

  “Just in case. Yes.”

  There’s a moment of silence and I know what Jenny’s thinking.

  “I’ll be fine, Jenny.”

  “You better be. I’ll be pissed at you if manage to get shot somehow.”

  I laugh.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “This is so crazy,” Jenny says nervously.

  “There she is!” Danny whispers, pointing out the window. The three of us watch the shadowy figure in a black, billowing dress swoop down the sidewalk and into the restaurant, stopping in the doorway to look around.

  “Okay…Jenny, I gotta go.”

  “Wait, just one more thing!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get rid of the diary.”

  “What?”

  “Burn it. Read through it, gather all the clues, then burn it.”

  “Why would I do that? That’s the only evidence I have proving Brendan killed Dr. Patricia—”

  “But it has your name on it, your fingerprints all over the pages, and the writing sounds enough like you that if you were to show it to the cops, they might just use it against you. That diary is only going to hurt you, get rid of it. I’m sure it’s just another prop planted to set you up.”

  I sit silently for a moment, unsure what to say. I hadn’t even considered that the diary could be a fake. It made sense, and Jenny could be right about it being part of a set-up. But the entries felt real, and how I found the diary open face-down on the floor.… It just didn’t seem like it was planted there.

  I hang up with Jenny.

  Danny, Jimmy, and I enter the restaurant and approach the unimpressed host, disgusted with our casual garb.

  “You two…Leslie and Danny?” he asks, looking down his long nose at us. We must look baffled because he immediately answers our curiosity with “Your date for the evening informed me you two would probably be dressed.…”

  He looks us up and down again. “Casually,” he hisses.

  “Yes, well—”

  “Who is this?” The man’s now glaring at Jimmy in dirt coated sneakers, ripped jeans, a stained sports T-shirt, and a backwards baseball cap. Jimmy opens his mouth to talk but the man interrupts.

  “Out.”

  “Hey, now—”

  “OUT!”

  “Jimmy, it’s okay,” I say quietly. “We’ll meet up with you later?”

  Jimmy looks bewildered, groans, then stomps out. The host sighs and grabs two menus. Danny and I begin to follow his lead, but the man stops Danny.

  “The lady was very specific in her request. You,” he looks at me, “will be dining with her. You,” he looks at Danny. “You won’t. Stay.”

  Danny looks rather shocked but does as he’s told. I wave at him before being led to the back of the restaurant.

  “Ah, Les,” the sultry voice finds me before I spot her. “Take a seat.”

  She’s smiling her amused little grin. Her eyes stay glued to me as the host drops the menus on the table with a thud and marches away.

  As I pull up my chair, I lift up my shirt slightly, revealing the gun. I watch her eyes flicker from it back up at me. I sit. Her smile grows broader.

  “Well, well. Are you implying I’m dangerous to be around?”

  “Can’t take any chances.”

  “I’m not your enemy.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  She sighs. The smile fades slightly. “Your sister is safe.”

  “All right; tell me where she is.”

  Trish sighs again, unwilling to tell me. Finally she gives in.

  “She’s taking a much-needed vacation to Hawaii.”

  “She didn’t buy that ticket. Her card was stolen.”

  “Yes, I stole it. Yet, I’m not in Hawaii right now, am I? If I had it my way—and didn’t have a conscience—I’d be shooting the tropical breeze. That ticket was meant for me, but Molly caught on. Plus, your sister is just charming, I love her. She talks about you constantly; you know she adores you?”

  “You killed Dr. Patricia.”

  I shouldn’t have said that. That was a big accusation; she might not even be involved, and now I just—

  “I didn’t, Brendan did.”

  Scratch that.

  “I don’t know how you or Molly possibly found out—”

  “Molly knows?”

  Trish nods. “She understands the situation better than you do. Ah.…”

  The waiter has arrived. He introduces himself and Trish grabs up her menu. Her smile reappears.

  “Well, the penne with vodka sauce with a glass of red wine sounds simply divine. Oh, Les, you should look for something! Could you give us a few more minutes?”

  The waiter kind of bows and walk
s away. I’m about to say something but Trish’s hand shoots forward and covers my mouth.

  “Choose something to eat, then business.”

  “But—”

  “Mmmh! No!”

  My eyes narrow and I slowly lift up the menu. This place is expensive. I’m looking for a little while before Trish says, “Order what you want; your sister’s paying!”

  Trish drops a fold of money on the table. I open my mouth again but am interrupted, this time by the waiter.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  “Yes, I believe so!” Trish says overenthusiastically, bouncing in her seat. It’s obvious that neither of us are very used to fine dining.

  “I’ll take the penne in vodka sauce with shrimp. Extra shrimp. And a small side salad, some bread, and oh, a bottle of red wine! I know nothing about wine, so just choose one, surprise me—”

  “Hey, you want to order something.… I don’t know, more affordable?” I hiss at her.

  “What are you going to do, shoot me? Besides, it’s your sister’s money, not yours. Let her worry about it.”

  “And you sir?” the waiter looks at me.

  Trish speaks before I have a chance. “He’ll have the same.”

  “Very good, Madam. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  Trish and I silently watch the waiter leave. I turn to her.

  “You’re a thief and you’re a murderer—”

  “I’m broke and I’m in danger. I wouldn’t have ever agreed to rob the place if I knew Brendan was going to kill someone—Thank you!” The waiter’s back. He sets down some waters, smiles oddly at us, and rushes away. We watch him leave silently. I turn to her again.

  “What does any of this have to do with my family?”

  “Well, things didn’t exactly go as planned. Like I said, I didn’t know Brendan was going to kill anyone, then he stole some files and I was freakin’ out and.… Everything went so quickly, we just ran out of there and realized that he forgot to erase the entry from the schedule on her computer—he had arranged some therapy session with her as a pretense. Anyway, we’d already left; it was too late to go back and search the place for her computer. It’s only a matter of time before the police find it.”

  They already have, I think. Trish continues.

  “So we’re taking off, we can hear the sirens, and I’m asking Brendan why the hell he grabbed those files, and he says— Ooh, that was quick!”

  “The salads,” the waiter says, setting one down in front of each of us. This time I don’t pay attention to him and just ask, annoyed, “What does any of this have to do with me and Molly?”

  “We needed a fall guy. Or girl. Person—”

  “Why us?”

  “Your name.”

  There’s a moment. Trish starts to eat her salad while I put things together.

  “Brendan’s last name is Adams, isn’t it?”

  “Yep,” Trish answers, her mouth full. “We know the doctor kept appointment schedules on her computer. Figured she probably wrote in ‘Adams’, and lucky for us, Brendan had grabbed you and your brother’s file along with his. Then we looked you two up…You know you’re on a Google search?”

  “Whoa, whoa, wait…my brother?”

  She stuffs more salad in her mouth, then continues. “Danny. According to his file he had some anxiety issues when he was little? Something like that—only met with the doctor once or twice. Anyway, Google told us that Danny works at the local theatre. Brendan joined the production, Danny introduced us to Molly—are you going to eat anything?”

  “I didn’t know Danny had anxiety issues.”

  “Seriously, this salad is actually super tasty,” Trish says muffled, her mouth completely full. “So the paper writes this big article about the robbery, and Brendan says we have to cover our asses. Told me to room with Molly to get access to her place—you know, to hide evidence and stuff eventually. He already stuck around Danny long enough to realize he couldn’t possibly pass as a murder suspect.”

  “So you chose Molly?”

  “Brendan thought we could make that work better than Danny.”

  “And she caught on?”

  “Not entire-gah,” Trish stops, choking on a tomato. She finally gets it down, gasps, and pushes her plate away from her.

  “Things weren’t looking too good. The papers kept writing about the investigation…I was freaked out because Brendan had gone all crazy on me…I bought the ticket to Hawaii, but then…your sister was nice to me. I don’t know; we really hit it off, and I don’t have a lot of girlfriends. I started feeling like crap spying on her and planning to ruin her life, and eventually I just told her everything, even gave her the ticket to Hawaii. It could’ve worked out, but Brendan found out Molly was missing before I could disappear, too. He also found out about your visit. He read in your file that you’re a scitzo, so you became the perfect scapegoat. Oooh! Pasta!”

  The waiter places the pastas in front of us. At this point I’ve lost all hope of getting a word in edgewise. Trish immediately starts to dig into her plate.

  “Would you like the wine now or—”

  “Yes, sure, just leave it on the table!” I snap. The waiter doesn’t seem to notice my rudeness—or chooses not to. He puts the bottle down, sort of bows again, then leaves, nose in the air.

  “And?!” I ask Trish. She looks up at me rather surprised.

  “And that’s it. Now Brendan knows I’ve been helping you guys and he’s trying to kill me. You really should eat, its soo good!”

  I try to ask a few more questions to clarify things, but Trish refuses to go any further until I eat. I look at my pasta. The heat of the dish warms my face and the light scent of fresh basil floats up to me. My stomach groans. I might as well…

  I eat for a little while and try to collect my thoughts. Molly’s safe…More than safe, she’s chillin’ in Hawaii. Thank god for that. But there’s still one thing unaccounted for. I place the fork down and ask quietly, “What about the diamonds?”

  Trish inspects my plate, making sure I’ve eaten something, then answers.

  “I don’t know where he hid them. The collection’s worth a ton, and it looks like Brendan’s gotten greedy. You help me out of this mess and help me find the diamonds, I’ll split it with you—”

  “Now you’re trying to frame me. The police find me with any diamonds and I’m screwed—”

  “Then I’ll sell them off. Once I find some buyers, I’ll give you half the profits. I care about living more than I care about money…slightly.…” She grabs the bottle and starts to unscrew the cork.

  “So, what do I do?” I ask eagerly. So far I still don’t see how I’m supposed to prove my siblings and I are innocent.

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to be creative. Now,” she pops off the cork and fills my glass. “How about we enjoy ourselves?”

  “I still have a million questions—”

  “You get one.”

  Shit. Now I can’t think of any. I blurt out the first thing I can think of.

  “What about the photos of me, the ones in your room? What were they for?”

  Trish just smiles. She fills up her glass and raises it. “To us, our survival, and our—or at least, your good health.”

  I look at my glass. I’ve never been one to turn down a drink. I sigh and toast.

  * * * *

  “So what’d she say? Where’s Molly? Is she okay? What’s going on?” Danny bombards me with questions later that night when we catch up with each other again.

  We’re in the theatre. Jimmy’s playing around with some props. Danny’s grabbing everything he picks up out of his hands and putting it back in its original place. I’m dancing around the stage. I’d prefer some music, but Danny refuses, busy trying to interrogate me and prevent Jimmy from braking anything at the same time.

  “Brendan is the guilty party. He murdered Dr. Patricia and is trying to frame me for it, using my schizophrenia and our last name to his advantage,” I explain
to Danny as I start doing pirouettes center-stage.

  “What does our last name have to do with anything?”

  “There’s only one thing connecting him to the murder; his last name appears on Dr. Patricia’s patient schedule in her computer. His last name, of course, is Adams.”

  “Of course,” Danny groans.

  “He has both our files. He used them to help track us down, might still plant them somewhere to set us up.”

  “Our files?” Danny asks.

  “Yeah, yours and mine.” I stop spinning for a moment to look at him. He avoids my gaze. Jimmy breaks the silence with “Sucks to be you two.” My brother glares at him. I continue my routine.

  “So we need to prove that we’re innocent and he’s guilty? How are we supposed to do that?”

  “No clue.”

  “You’re going to tell all this to your new psychologist, right? What’s her name, Doctor…?”

  “Dr. Bandos. Yeah, might as well tell my lawyer, too. At this point the more people that know, the better. I’m already in hot water for keeping quiet about Molly’s disappearance.”

  “Molly’s in Hawaii, right? Why not just fly her back here as a witness! She can vouch for you,” Jimmy offers.

  “That’s a great idea. Too bad the police think she’s in on it,” Danny snaps.

  “Well, as long as you all have witnesses to support your alibis, you should be fine, right?” Jimmy suggests.

  Danny rolls his eyes. “Anyone can get friends to lie about—”

  “We need to find the diamonds.” I interrupt.

  “Come again?”

  “We need to find those diamonds. Then we can use them against Brendan.”

  “How?”

  “Use them as leverage.”

  “Again, how?” Danny asks, annoyed. “You can’t bring the diamonds to the police because they’d just use them as evidence against you in court, and he’ll know that. He went through all this trouble to find a scapegoat; he’s not just going to take the diamonds and leave us alone.”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking. Okay, right now, he has more evidence pointing to us. What we need to do is get the police to catch him red-handed, with the diamonds and the stolen patient files. Then we have Molly and Trish and our parents and whoever else to back up our story.”

  “So what, we break into his apartment and search the place?”