The Queen of Diamonds Read online

  Jimmy nervously glances at me before leaving the room. Brendan smiles and suddenly his demeanor is calm again. He becomes relaxed, his smile placid. He saunters towards me.

  “Poor little Leslie. I really feel bad about this. It’s a shame.… You and I have so much in common. We could’ve made a great couple.”

  “Okay, for the record, I have a girlfriend—sorry Trish,” I add in response to Trish’s disappointed expression. Brendan’s smile only grows.

  “But really, we’re quite similar, you and I. We both like theatre, we both dream of something bigger and better.… According to doctor records and police reports, we’re both insane—”

  “I’m not a murderer.”

  “The police don’t know that.”

  He circles me like an animal examining its prey.

  “If we had the time, I would pick your brain. I’d love to know what it’s like to be a schizophrenic.”

  My attention is seeping away from his words to the doorway behind him where Jimmy stands, trying to signal something to me.

  What? I mouth when Brendan can’t see. Jimmy continues to mime. It looks like he’s planning to sneak up on Brendan. I don’t know what he plans on doing next, but I’m sure it won’t end well and try to shake my head ‘no’. Jimmy ignores me and starts to approach Brendan from behind as Trish silently watches with wide eyes.

  “Tell me, Les.… What brings on a schizophrenic episode?”

  “Uh…stress, mainly,” I shake my head some more, trying to make my movements look as natural as possible. Jimmy continues to ignore me and inches closer.

  “How about now? You see anything?” Brendan asks. I glance from Jimmy back to the doorway from which he entered. Scott’s leaning there, watching Jimmy and shaking his head.

  “Yes,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.

  The sound of sirens can suddenly be heard in the distance.… The police are on their way. Brendan hears the sirens, too. His expression turns dark. Jimmy has stopped for a moment to hear the sound as well. In our moment of stillness Scott leaves the doorway and stands beside me.

  “Get ready,” he whispers in my ear.

  Brendan’s staring at me. His eyes move downwards and he sees my damaged tracking anklet…he’s putting it all together now.

  “Here it comes,” Scott whispers as Jimmy raises the gun he took from me, readying himself, planning to knock Brendan unconscious with the handle. I hold my breath. Jimmy takes one more step and.…

  CRACK!

  The pressure was too much for the floorboards to handle. I watch, shocked, as the floor crumbles out underneath Jimmy and he plummets through the floor completely. Brendan jumps at the sound and twirls around, surprised to see a great big hole in the floor behind him.

  I can hear Jimmy hit the basement floor with a thud, followed by a long moan of pain. Brendan bursts out laughing.

  “You thought you could sneak up on me, you backstabbing shit?” he yells into the hole. He points the gun down at Jimmy.

  “What the hell are you standing around for? Do something!” Scott yells at me. A surge of energy rushes through me and I jump at Brendan, grabbing at the gun and pulling it upward.

  BANG!

  The bullet flies off into a wall. I elbow Brendan in the stomach and wrestle him to the floor, trying to grab away the gun. I’ve never been an excellent fighter, but I seem to be better than Brendan, and that’s all I need.

  “Come on, Les! KICK HIS ASS!” Trish shouts at us, struggling in her ropes.

  Need the gun, must get the gun, need gun, must get it, must get it, must get it.… GOT IT! I manage to pry the revolver out of Brendan’s hands but hardly have time to celebrate when the floor starts to crack beneath us.

  “Uh oh,” Trish says, trying to point to the splintering wood. I look at Scott. He shrugs.

  “Shit.”

  CRACK! Suddenly Brendan and I are falling through nothingness, like a dream. My heart jumps into my throat. It’s probably just me, but the fall seems endless, like Alice floating down the rabbit hole. Then we hit the ground.

  I smash against the concrete basement floor and have the wind knocked out of me. Jimmy squeals—I landed on his leg. Brendan lands next to me. Pieces of splintered wood rain down on all three of us.

  I slowly peel myself off the floor, gasping for air. Jimmy continues to moan, and Brendan’s coughing, trying to get the dust out of his lungs. I sit up straight and crack my back.… Damn. Kenneth, the director at my dance company, is gonna be pissed with how beaten up I am when I get home.

  “Hey, the police are here…! Excellent response time,” Trish calls out to us.

  “Jimmy…ow… You okay?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine. You broke my freakin’ leg, but I’m fine.”

  I get off his leg and try to stand but my ankle kills. Then I realize I’ve dropped the gun. I look around frantically for it and notice it lying next to Brendan.

  I didn’t really have a chance. Brendan grabs the gun, cocks it, and points it at me. Because we’re only a few feet away from each other, he has the gun aimed at my forehead. Too close to miss.

  I lose my breath again. The world freezes and there’s silence. There’s no Scott. No thoughts of colors or cards. My life doesn’t flash before my eyes. I just see Brendan staring at me, his gun in my face, and I don’t blink.

  “Drop the weapon!” a voice echoes down to us, breaking the silence. Brendan and I continue to just stare at each other. Brendan keeps the gun on me.

  “I said, put down the weapon!” I can hear several cops scrambling above us, but Brendan still hasn’t moved.

  I search Brendan’s dark eyes. There’s a glint of light in his pupils, just large enough to peer inside and see past the rough exterior. I dig into his mind and see someone who’s disturbed. Someone who could’ve been different had he the parents and the help I had growing up. I see a dreamer, a screwed-up artist. I feel cold neglect and loneliness. I see silver, a playing card, the number forty-two…but there’s no senseless killer hiding in these dark eyes.

  “For the last time, put down the weapon or we will fire!” the cop shouts. Brendan blinks and I’m shut out. Then Brendan’s arm loosens and he lowers the gun slightly. He smiles a dim, sad grin of defeat, and throws the gun away.

  The silent moment is broken, and the cops start to bark orders at each other, orders at us: “Put your hands above your head!” and there are footsteps and creaking as officers scurry around, trying to find the stairs.

  “It was never personal,” Brendan says quietly to me.

  I nod and find I’m able to smile back.

  * * * *

  “What happened next?”

  “They arrested him. I told them everything; my lawyer thinks she can get all charges dropped.… Brendan’s pleading insanity, which seems appropriate.”

  “What about Trish?”

  The projector in my head whirls to life once more, finally fixed and functional. I pass back through the images and dialogue to that day a little less than a week ago.

  The scene plays before me as vivid as if I’m witnessing it all for the first time. Trish is being escorted into a police car. She’s flirting with the officer helping her in, telling her side of the story. In her story she portrays herself as Brendan’s innocent captive, rather than a criminal associate.

  “She’ll be fine,” I hear myself say.

  “And Molly?” Dr. Bandos’s voice quietly asks.

  FLASH. Fast forward. Mark, Danny, Mom, Dad, and I are at the airport waiting. I’m flipping through a magazine, not really paying attention to what I see on the pages. Danny’s pacing impatiently. Mark’s hitting on the girl in the seat next to him. Mom and Dad watch the gate without blinking.

  Finally the doors open. We all stand. A flood of people rush out, men and women in business outfits, families in Hawaiian T-shirts, groups of Hawaiian tourists—we’re straining our necks to look over the crowd and find Molly.

  Then we see her. In the vast sea of str
angers there’s little Molly, standing alone, clutching a small suitcase, her puppy-dog eyes desperately searching the terminal until she sees us. She beams.

  “She’s relieved to be home,” I say, smiling myself. I hear scribbling, then Dr. Bandos takes a deep breath.

  “Now, the bigger question; how do you feel about this being our last session?”

  “I can’t wait to go home to NYC,” I say immediately. I desperately miss Jenny and Bongo—I still haven’t finished telling them what happened with Brendan and all.

  “I suppose you’re also happy to have that thing off your leg, huh?” Dr. Bandos laughs.

  I nod. More scribbling.

  “Well then, I suppose we can bring this to a close. I’m going to count backwards from 10 to 1. When I reach one and snap my fingers, you’ll wake up feeling refreshed.”

  No, duh. It’s sad how this has become second nature to me. Dr. Bandos counts down and I start to feel lighter, floating back to a state of consciousness.

  SNAP! I’m awake. I rub my eyes, sit up, and yawn. Dr. Bandos is smiling at me. I’m not really sure why and just smile back.

  “It was very interesting working with you, Lesl—I mean, Les. When you come back to Jersey, maybe you can pay me a visit?”

  I nod. “Actually, I have to stay for yet another week…as a witness in the trial, you know.”

  “Ah.”

  “But I’ll stop in to say good-bye before I head back to New York.”

  It’s hard to believe that this whole time I’ve just been an hour away from my comfortable city apartment. With all that’s happened, it feels like New York City is light years away, an unreachable wonderland.

  Dr. Bandos and I shake hands and I leave her office. I’m surprised by who’s waiting for me just outside the room.

  “Jenny!” I run over and grab my smiling girlfriend in a deadly, choking hug. After spinning her around a bit, I release her and wait happily for her to get air back in her lungs before I ask what she’s doing here.

  “You said…just a moment.” Deep breath. She straightens herself and starts again. “You said in your message that you still had to go to court, being a prime witness and all, so I was thinking, ‘God, that’d be interesting’ and decided I had enough of waiting around for you. I figured I could help you with your testimony, you know…that and I’m tired of being left out of all the crazy adventures you’ve been having lately—”

  “I missed you too.”

  I kiss her. As we leave I fill her in on the events following Brendan’s arrest; returning the diamonds to the police, Jimmy’s broken leg, and Danny’s plans to take on Brendan’s role at the community theatre. I’m telling her about Molly’s return, Brendan’s plea of insanity, and Trish’s fictitious story of innocence when I have the most bizarre feeling of déjà vu—as if I’d just gone over the whole story. Strange…I can’t seem to remember.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This is Tracey Landau’s debut novel. Her poetry has previously been published by the American Poets Society. She currently lives in Florham Park, New Jersey. Watch for her upcoming novel from Borgo Press: Stranger Son.