The Queen of Diamonds Read online

  “Good-bye—”

  “Wait, wait, wait!”

  It was the fourth time I’ve been in contact with the non-existing woman. The third encounter I’ll discuss later.

  “You’re not real,” I tell the non-existing woman.

  “I know about Molly.”

  Silence.

  “I know what happened to her and why. I also have information concerning your family…concerning you. Please, come see me.”

  “How do you know about Molly?”

  “I’ll explain everything later, just meet me.… Come to my house.”

  “Is she okay? Where is she?”

  “I can’t talk; he might be nearby.”

  “Who?”

  “The Queen of Diamonds.”

  “What?”

  “201 Evergreen Road, purple house. See me tonight.”

  “Wait—”

  She hung up, leaving me lost and confused.

  “Who was that?” Jimmy asked. He and Danny were with me, combing Molly’s apartment for clues.

  “The non-existing woman.”

  Danny’s attention snapped to me.

  “Wait! Wait, wait, wait—” he jumped across the room over Molly’s litter of clothes and books to me, grabbed me, and shook me harder than he probably meant to.

  “Who called? Who really called?”

  “The non-existing woman, now let go of me—”

  “She’s called ‘non-existing’ for a reason. She isn’t real, Les! She’s a figment of your imagination!”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Yeah, come on, dude, we all heard the phone ring,” Jimmy said to Danny, backing me up. Danny looked annoyed. He let go of me, glared at Jimmy, and left the room. I watched him go, then slid over to Jimmy.

  “She told me to meet her,” I whispered to him. “If you could…I mean, it’d be helpful if.…”

  “Sure, I’ll go with you. Count me in,” Jimmy whispered back.

  “I’m not sure about this.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll bring.…” Jimmy made a gun with his hand. “Protection.”

  “I don’t think we’ll need anything like that—”

  “Les, I don’t plan to use it. It’s just for the worst-case scenario. You can’t take this situation too lightly; your sister is missing—”

  “Yeah, okay, I just…I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  * * * *

  “Your sister is missing?” my psychologist asks.

  “Yes. At least, we think so.”

  “Why haven’t you contacted the police?”

  “Because she might have disappeared on purpose. You can’t tell the police that she’s gone either,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes. She looks back at me, not a change in her expression. We look at each other for a while before she changes the subject.

  “So the gun wasn’t yours?”

  “I don’t want Jimmy to get into any trouble. If keeping him out of trouble means the gun has to be mine instead of his, then the gun is mine.”

  “Stop worrying about Jimmy. You’re the one in trouble.”

  I sigh and glance at the clock. Hopefully this session won’t go on for too much longer. I can’t take much more of this.

  * * * *

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Les, I’m sorry, I won’t be coming home tonight,” Molly’s voice told me.

  “What? Not at all?” This disappearing act of Molly’s was getting old. It was Tuesday, I was going to leave the next day as Molly had convinced me, and I hadn’t seen any more of her than before.

  “No. You know my roommate Trish? She has something important to tell me. I’m heading over to her mother’s house now.”

  “How’s that going to take all night?”

  “Listen, I can’t really explain. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Call Danny and get a ride to the theatre tomorrow morning, I’ll see if I can meet you there.”

  “Wait, why don’t you just meet me here?”

  “We can’t talk in the apartment.”

  What?

  “Molly, what’s going on?”

  She stuttered, then, “I can’t talk, I’m driving. You know, it’d be really helpful if you went shopping for me. The shopping list is on the fridge.”

  “How can I go shopping if I don’t have a car?” I snapped.

  “There’s a Quick Check just down the street, I’m sure it’ll have what we need. I gotta go—”

  “Wait, wait! Someone called for you a while ago, called back again today. Did you buy a ticket to Hawaii on your credit card?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me. She said your flight has been overbooked; they’re putting you on a later flight or something. They said it was paid with your card.”

  “Shit. You know what, my credit card was stolen a few days ago, I forgot to cancel it! Shit, thanks for reminding me. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not! I’ll just.… I’ll go get the stuff on your shopping list.”

  “Thanks, bye!”

  “Bye.…”

  * * * *

  After my psychiatric session, Danny and I stop off at Molly’s apartment to get my luggage.

  “I have to meet with this freakin’ doctor same time tomorrow. She wants to do more hypnosis,” I tell Danny.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Danny says, throwing a handful of clothes into my suitcase.

  “What?!”

  “I think she could help you figure out what’s real and what’s not.”

  “I know what’s real.”

  I catch Danny rolling his eyes. “So the meds gave you a hard time last night?”

  “Why you think that?”

  “Well, it would explain the sour attitude.”

  I pick up a T-shirt and try to figure out if it’s mine or Molly’s.

  “Hey, I know what will make you feel better!”

  “Really?” I scoff at the idea.

  “Yeah. I’ve got a key to the theatre. There’s no one there now, and the stage is pretty cleared out, so, you know.”

  “What are you driving at?”

  “You can go dance. Get everything out, calm down, let go of that stress and anger and whatever you’re bottling up. I can even bring music, if you want. What kind of thing do you dance to? Bach or Gaga?”

  “Let me guess; you have a lot of Gaga, don’t you?”

  “Just got her new CD!”

  “You’re so gay.”

  “Hey, don’t dis Gaga.”

  I smile and imagine an empty stage.

  “I should probably practice…fine. Let me just change clothes first.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs in the car, all right?”

  “Yeah.” I shuffle through the bundle of clothing in my suitcase, trying to find some flexible pants. I decide against making Danny wait—I’ll just change at the theatre.

  I grab some black sweats, run over to the door, and just stop myself from smashing into Trish. As surprised as I am to see her, she seems more surprised to see me.

  “Les! Hey, what are you—”

  “Where’s Molly?” I demand.

  “What?”

  I grab her, pull her into the room and slam the door closed.

  “WHERE’S MOLLY?!” I yell at her, faking anger I should but don’t really have. She sits on the couch and starts playing with a few blonde strands of hair.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about!”

  “Uh, no, I don’t.”

  “Last Tuesday, Molly went to your house to talk to you about something important, what was it?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

  Now I really am getting angry.

  “You don’t remember?”

  Trish is looking more and more uncomfortable. She sighs and stands up.

  “Um, I gotta go somewhere
. Maybe she was talking to someone else on Tuesday.”

  I watch her leave, realizing she really has no idea what I’m talking about. What if Molly never made it to Trish’s house? Then I remember that wasn’t the last time I heard from Molly before she disappeared. I’m confused; none of this is making sense, and the sound of Danny honking his car horn interrupts any comprehensible thought. I’ll worry about all of this later. I need to clear my mind.

  * * * *

  It was pouring. The sky was dark. Heavy clouds covered the atmosphere, creating so much gray it was hard to believe the sky’s true color lay hidden beneath, a pretty light blue somewhere beyond.

  It was miserable weather. What made it more miserable was being forced to walk around outside without a raincoat. By the time I got to the theatre, my hoodie was so soaked it looked like I’d jumped into a pool.

  I ran up the theatre steps and stood shivering under the awning, disgusted with how cold and clingy my clothes were. My hair hung down in front of my face and my teeth were chattering.

  FLASH. I realized the light wasn’t lightning, but the flash from a camera. I looked next to me and saw the non-existing woman standing there, a cigarette in her mouth, a camera in her hands, smiling at me again. The Polaroid camera spat out a photo. She grabbed it and immediately started to shake it, letting the camera hang around her neck, swinging slightly. She watched the photo develop and laughed.

  “Cute picture,” she said smoothly, stuffing the photo in my face. I looked like a wet cat.

  “Well, I like it,” she said in reaction to my disgusted expression. “It will go great with the rest of my collection.”

  “What collection?”

  “It’s entitled ‘The Many Faces of Leslie Adams’.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Be flattered.”

  “Oh, I am.”

  She bit her bottom lip, as if trying to make up her mind whether or not to tell me something. That made me curious. She sighed and looked at the picture as she said, “You should get out of here.”

  “Back out in that rain? No thanks. Anyway, I’m looking for Molly, my sister—”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Uh, do you even know who she is?”

  “I don’t mean get out from under the awning, I mean get out of New Jersey.” She looked up at me, her eyes, outlined black with eyeliner, large and almost worried.

  “Why?” I ask, taking her seriously now.

  “You know you ask a lot of questions?”

  I was tempted to say “What?” She went back to smoking and looked off into the rain. She wouldn’t say another word.

  * * * *

  I enter the theatre. Danny was right, the place is empty. I throw down my stuff onto a chair in the first row and go to chan—WAIT! What happened then? There was more.…

  I was about to enter the theatre when the non-existing woman grabbed my shoulder.

  “Beware Brendan.… But I didn’t say anything.”

  I looked at her, confused. She put a finger to her lips. Then, keeping her eyes glued to me, she opened the door of the theatre and waved her hand, ushering me in. She pushed the door closed behind me after I entered, and if it wasn’t for the warmth in the theatre, I would’ve gone back out to talk with her more.…

  I should have. Beware Brendan. Did she have something against him, or was there something else? Now I wonder if she was suggesting to me that Brendan had something to do with Molly’s disappearance.

  Music starts and it stops my thoughts dead. I’m back in the theatre. It’s not raining out. Danny’s with me, but otherwise the theatre’s empty. I listen to the music and am glad Danny hadn’t put on Gaga. Instead, a cool, rhythmic jazz, a deep blues piece, floats through the air. I climb up on the stage and warm up, stretching and bending. In the front row I can hear my brother grunt his annoyance with my flexibility.

  “You’re going to live to be a hundred, aren’t you?” He shouts at me.

  “Here,” I tell him, handing him my iPod. I point out a song and take my place center-stage. The jazz stops and the classical piece I’ve danced to over and over again starts to play. I take a deep, slow breath and the theatre slips away. I disappear into a world of strings and soft piano which dictate my inhale and exhale.

  I start to rehearse and feel like I’m back in NYC. I can see my beautiful young dance partner in her silky white dress, gracefully spinning, her face placid. The stress is disappearing from my body and my mind feels released of a burden, clearer and more able. I completely lose track of time.

  * * * *

  Eventually I hear the end of the song approach. The strings are loud and frantic. Quick movements, little breathing. The music builds up and abruptly stops. End position. Fade to black. House lights up. Time to leave the stage.

  I realize someone’s clapping and look down at the sea of chairs. The theatre has just now reappeared. I see my brother smiling at me, and next to him, out of his seat, Jimmy is clapping wildly.

  “Wow.… Just, wow, man! You’re a professional! Well, you are a professional, but I mean, you’re good. I’m not even into this theatre stuff, but that was—”

  “When did you get here?”

  “I’ve been here for a while now, actually. I said hi and stuff, but Danny said you wouldn’t hear me.”

  “I told you,” my brother says smugly. “Once he gets on stage, he’s in another world. Isn’t that right, Les? You looked good, by the way.”

  “You only saw half. The piece is a duet.” I’m suddenly thinking of my sister again. I shake away my worry and turn to Jimmy. “How did you know we’d be here?”

  “I called your cell, Danny picked up and told me you were here.… Why, are you mad at me or something?”

  “No,” I say honestly, jumping off stage and grabbing my change of clean clothes. I’m not mad, just thoughtful. I’m realizing now how many warnings I’ve been getting lately. Jenny says stay away from Jimmy, and Danny and Mark seem to feel the same way. The four of them don’t think I can trust the non-existing woman, and she told me I should beware of Brendan. And yet not Jimmy, the non-existing woman, nor Brendan seemed dangerous to me.

  “I just need to think,” I say to myself, sitting down in a chair. I hold my head in my hands and ruffle my hair, then notice something lying on the ground.

  “Okay, Les, come on. We gotta put the set back the way it was. Hey Jimmy, can you grab those props—No, no, not those, the suitcases; just bring them over here.”

  “Oh my god, what did you put in these? Rocks?” Jimmy complains, dragging a suitcase across the stage.

  “Don’t be such a wuss—”

  “Hey, guys,” I interrupt. I pick up the leather-bound notebook and raise it up for them to see.

  “Is this either of yours?”

  “Do I look like I keep a journal?” Jimmy scoffs.

  Danny shrugs. “Not mine.”

  I look at the journal and flip it open to the first page to check for a name.

  “Hey, Danny, has Mark ever been here? To the theatre?”

  “Maybe once a while ago.”

  “Then this must be Molly’s.”

  “What?” Jimmy and Danny say simultaneously. Jimmy drops the suitcase with a thud and jumps down from the stage. Danny follows him. On the first page of the notebook is a place to write the journal owner’s name. The person only put their last name: Adams.

  “She didn’t write her name, but Molly used to keep a journal in high school.… I mean, I think we can trust this isn’t Mom or Dad’s,” I say slowly, starting to flip through the pages. Jimmy looks uncomfortable.

  “If that’s her diary.… I mean, you’re not going to read it, are you?”

  Danny and I look at each other.

  “Uh, hell yeah!” Danny answers for me.

  “Also like in high school.… Anyway, it might give us hints as to why she’s gone,” I add, still flipping through the pages. I stop at one that catches my interest. There’s just one sentence written in th
e center of the page, surrounded by drawings of diamonds and rings. It reads two simple words: “I’m rich!”

  * * * *

  “Hey, Derek, have you seen Molly?”

  “Hi, Les. You mean today?”

  “Yeah.” I jumped up and sat next to him on the edge of the stage. He looked me up and down and smiled. “I guess it’s raining.”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. I looked down and realized I was dripping all over the stage.

  “Um, no, haven’t seen her today. Were you planning to meet her here or something?”

  “Yeah, she called me last night, said she’d be here.”

  “Sorry. Hope you have a ride back.”

  “Nope. If she doesn’t show, I’ll have to walk back home in the rain.”

  “Well, stick around for a while. Danny might show up; he could give a ride home.”

  “Good thinking,” I told him. I looked down at the script he had in his hand. He moved it so I could see it better.

  “Hey,” I hesitated. I looked up, just to check if Brendan was around. He wasn’t. “Do you know Brendan?”

  Derek’s eyes darted from the paper up to me. He seemed frozen for a moment, then raised his eyebrows. “Who?”

  “He’s an actor here, I think. You know him?”

  “Why?” he asked quickly.

  “Someone told me to stay away from him. I’m trying to figure out why,” I said slowly.

  “Who? Who said…?”

  Derek stopped after seeing my expression. He eased up and laughed. “Sorry, I’m just.… See, whoever it was is probably being overdramatic. There are so many people in the production getting together and breaking up and backstabbing each other, and.… Well, I’m a bit of a gossip queen, myself. You know theatre folk.…”

  I did. Dancers can get rather caddy; most of my friends thrived on conflict and gossip. But it was obvious Derek wasn’t telling me something.

  “I know the type,” I said aloud. “So, do you know this guy? Brendan?”

  “Nope.”

  “No?”

  “Haven’t even heard of him. Sorry.…”

  * * * *

  Someone stole Jimmy’s car. He couldn’t be happier.

  “Are you sure someone stole it?” Danny says, walking around the lot in circles.

  “Yeah,” I add, “I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to steal that piece of junk. Maybe it was just towed?”

  “Nope!” Jimmy shouts happily, skipping around the parking lot. “No, it was right here! I left it here, and now it’s gone! You guys, this is great! Me and the boys, we’ve been trying to figure out what to do with that piece of shit for a while now. I mean, since that was our get-away car, that’s incriminating evidence. Also, it was just a matter of time before that yellow deathtrap got pulled over. I guess you guys will just have to give me a lift!” Jimmy comes to a halt next to my brother who gives him a painful smile.