The Queen of Diamonds Read online

  * * * *

  “Mark! Hey, uh, the apartment’s bugged!”

  “Okay.… What do you want me to do about it?”

  Interesting reaction, but it’s Mark, so I wasn’t too surprised.

  “I mean Molly’s apartment.”

  “Really? Molly’s apartment is bugged?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “Well, maybe she doesn’t trust you being alone with her stuff.”

  “What? No, I don’t think Molly even knows that the apartment is bugged. This stuff looks pretty professional—”

  “Ask Molly.”

  “I can’t, she’s missing.”

  There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

  “What?” Mark finally asked. It was infuriating, talking to Mark.

  “She’s missing! She’s been gone without a word for a day now.”

  “So you’re talking kid-on-the-back-of-the-milk-carton missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you called the police yet?”

  “No, Danny told me to wait around, make sure she isn’t just out or something.”

  “But you think she’s really missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, I know.… I’ve been walking around the apartment in circles for a while now. I put the bugs in the freezer—”

  “Hey, don’t break them!”

  “You think I can trace them back to whoever put them in the apartment?”

  “No, not that…I want them.”

  “Mark, this is serious!”

  “I know, I know, just.… When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Molly? Um, I spoke to her on the phone yesterday.… She was upset.… She said ‘I love you’.”

  “What?!” It sounded like something on the other side of the phone tumbled over and broke.

  “Mark? Are you there?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—”

  “Where are you?”

  “Nowhere, nothing; she said she loved you?”

  “Yeah, and then she said ‘Don’t worry about me, everything’s okay’ and hung up.”

  “Dude, Les, that’s bad.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “Maybe I should call the police—”

  “No! No, Les, the apartment is bugged, that’s not a good sign.”

  “Do you think the police have something to do with this?”

  “I don’t know, maybe! What if she knew or found out that someone’s been watching her? If I found out my apartment was bugged, first thing I’d do is go into hiding, try to figure things out, you know?”

  “You might have something there,” I said. My head was whirling, my brain shifting through memories. “Once she asked me if I was in the apartment.… She said we couldn’t talk there.”

  “She definitely knew the place was bugged, then. Les, don’t call the police.… We don’t know who she’s hiding from or what connection they may have. We have to find her ourselves.”

  “How? We’re not detectives.”

  “Listen, I can’t talk now, but just promise me you won’t call the police.”

  “Okay, I won’t. What about Danny? He still doesn’t believe that Molly’s really missing.”

  “I’ll call him—”

  “He’s on a date with Derek, you won’t reach him.”

  “Damn it. I don’t like that guy.”

  “Derek? Why, he seems nice—”

  “He’s fake and honestly he doesn’t seem interested in Danny. But whatever, I’ll call Danny later.”

  “Well, until then, what do I do?”

  “I don’t know.… Call your girlfriend. By the way, she’s freakin’ hot—”

  “Bye, Mark.”

  “Hey, if things don’t work out between you two, can you give me her number?”

  I hung up.

  * * * *

  I’m once again at the police station. Once again I’m in an interrogation room, and once again I’m staring blankly at my own indifferent reflection in a one-way mirror. I’m very aware of the tracking bracelet on my ankle. I decide to sit up straight, my hands neatly folded in front of me, trying to look as innocent as possible.

  Danny is undoubtedly outside the room giving the police a hard time. There are no words to describe the expressions on Danny and Jimmy’s faces as detective Colly and I descended the stairs of the apartment. I only smiled at them and mouthed “I told you I’m not crazy.”

  Detective Colly is probably behind the mirror, talking with her superiors. Finally she and another officer enter, carrying a folder of papers. Colly sits in front of me while the other officer leans over me menacingly.

  “As you know, I’m Detective Colly. This,” she nods to the other officer, “Is my partner, Detective Emerson.”

  Emerson is this big scary guy; black, bald, and tall, with exploding muscles. He wears a straight, poker face expression and towers over me like some stone castle. I look back at Detective Colly, my eyebrows raised.

  “We have a few questions to ask you. First,” she takes a picture out of the folder and lays it down in front of me. “Do you recognize this person?”

  Before me lies a picture of Dr. Patricia.

  “Um…yeah,” I stutter, picking up the picture. “Dr. Patricia; she used to be my psychologist. My parents told me she was just murd—” Wait. Why is she showing me this picture? If she’s an undercover cop, and she’s been snooping around the apartment.…

  “You bugged Molly’s apartment. You think.… You think Molly or I have something to do with the murder?”

  Colly’s expression doesn’t change but Emerson smiles. I’m shocked and I don’t try to hide it.

  “Do I need my lawyer?”

  “We’re just talking here, Leslie,” Detective Colly answers calmly. I interrupt her.

  “I didn’t—and wouldn’t—hurt anyone. Why would I ever even want to hurt my childhood psychiatrist?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. We know Dr. Patricia let in her attackers, that there were at least two people involved in the heist, and that what was meant to be an easy robbery turned into a homicide. Have you ever been inside her house before?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Then you knew she was wealthy?”

  “No, I—”

  “You didn’t know she was rich?”

  “I was, like, ten when I attended sessions with her; I just thought she had a cool house. Anyway, until two weeks ago I was in New York City! I have my girlfriend, friends, even coworkers who can attest to that. In fact, I can call some of them up right now—”

  “So you’re saying you have nothing to do with the robbery?”

  “Yes, I have nothing to do with the robbery. I’ll take a lie detector test if you want.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “What about her?”

  “She recently went missing. Do you have any idea what happened to her, where she went?”

  I try to calm myself down and think. That I’m nervous and high-strung at all is a bad sign, even if my sister and I are being accused of murder.

  “No, I don’t know what happened to her, but that’s what I’ve been trying to find out. Anyway, Molly couldn’t hurt anyone, let alone murder a woman she never even met.”

  “Then what about your missing file?” Emerson speaks for the first time. His deep voice startles me and I look up at his accusing scowl.

  “What?”

  “There are patient files missing from Dr. Patricia’s office.… All of the ‘A’ files, actually. That would include your file, wouldn’t it?”

  “How should I know? Dr. Patricia wasn’t my regular psychologist; she might not have any files for me at all. I had sessions with her for maybe two weeks while she was covering for my usual doctor, Dr. Massy. Anyway, there are a lot of last names that start with the letter ‘A’—”

  “Yes, but ‘Adams’ was the
name of the patient she was supposed to meet the evening she was killed.”

  “…What?”

  “The patient schedule in her computer had the name ‘Adams’ typed in for an 8 o’clock session. She was killed about that time that same night.”

  I’m speechless. I’m not sure what to make out of this or what to say, but now Detective Colly and Emerson are staring at me, expectantly.

  “Well…I don’t what to tell you. Maybe someone’s setting me up, but I have plenty of witnesses to attest that I was in New York City when she was killed—”

  “Can you tell us why, exactly, you were attending sessions with Dr. Patricia? Do you have a mental illness, or were you just a ‘disturbed’ little kid?”

  I purse my lips together. I can tell she already knows the answer to that question, and despite the fact that I did take medication this morning, I can feel my hot anger rising alarmingly high.

  “I’m not saying you did anything, Leslie. It just seems awfully coincidental that only a few days after you show up here, you happen to be found at the scene of some mysterious explosion—”

  “I want my lawyer.” Shit, I sound guilty as hell.

  Emerson is smiling again. Colly nods, taking the picture from me and putting it back in the folder.

  “That’s not necessary. We’re not holding you as a suspect—not yet, anyway. You’re free to leave.” She smiles at me. I grind me teeth and rise from the table. She waits until I’m at the door before saying, “Honestly, I don’t think you did it.”

  I stop at the door and debate whether or not I really want to stay to hear what she has to say. She continues.

  “I don’t think you were at the house at all.… I think you had your siblings commit the crime for you—”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “We’ll find those diamonds, Les.”

  I freeze up, remembering my dream.

  “Wait.… Diamonds?” I turn around. Detective Colly is watching me closely, trying to read my reaction.

  “Dr. Patricia had quite an impressive collection of jewelry. It was the most valuable of the items stolen from her house.”

  The Queen of Diamonds. My cell phone rings. The sound makes me jolt. Emerson and Colly look surprised as well, obviously not expecting the unpleasant interruption. Woken from my trance, I quickly leave the room. I don’t pick up the phone until I’m walking out of the building.

  “Hello Les,” the non-existing woman greets me over the phone.

  “What the hell is going on?!” I scream back. The non-existing woman ignores my question and asks me intensely, “Did you try to kill me a few nights ago?”

  “What?”

  “The explosion at my place; did you plant those explosives?”

  “Hey, I barely got out of that house alive; if anything, it’s you who’s trying to kill me!”

  “Shit.”

  “Where’s Molly?”

  “She’s safe; shit.”

  “I asked you a question, where the hell is she?”

  “You have to help me, Les.”

  “What? Screw you—”

  “Someone’s trying to kill me, the same person who’s trying to frame you.”

  I knew I wasn’t that crazy. Thank god. “…I’m listening.”

  “I don’t want to say too much over the phone. I want to meet you in person—”

  “Last time that happened, I almost got blown up.”

  “We’ll meet at Molly’s apartment—”

  “Bad idea, the police bugged the place. I found most of them, but there might be.… Wait, how do you know where Molly’s apartment is?”

  The silence tells me all I need to know.

  “You’re Trish.…” I breathe the name into the phone. Silence. I wait for her response.

  “Yes.”

  The non-existing woman has a name at long last. Danny bursts out of the police station in a huff and joins me in the fresh air. From the frustrated expression on his face I can tell they must have questioned him, too. I sigh and turn my attention back to the phone.

  “Where else can we meet?”

  “How about the Italian restaurant next to the theatre? Tonight, okay? We’ll make it an eight o’clock date.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. The line goes dead and I stuff the phone back into my pocket.

  “Where’s Jimmy?” I ask Danny.

  “He’s still in questioning. Les, did you know your old psychologist was killed? Worse yet, they think—”

  “—That you and I are in on it. Yeah, I know. They think Molly might have something to do with it, too—they know she’s missing.”

  “Shit.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re not going to find her.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because they don’t suspect Trish, and she’s the only one who knows where Molly is.”

  “What’s Trish have to do with anything?”

  “You know how I kept telling you about the non-existing woman? The Queen of Diamonds?”

  Danny’s expression is blank. Then the realization washes over him.

  “You were right, Danny. The non-existing woman isn’t an actress; at least, not one in the play. Trish knows where Molly is. She says she needs help—someone’s trying to kill her.”

  “Shit.”

  “Don’t feel bad for her; we don’t know if she can be trusted. She might be the one framing us or trying to kill us—I have no idea. She might’ve killed Dr. Patricia, for all we know.”

  Danny looks a little confused, but at this point I suppose it doesn’t matter. The less he understands, the better; he’s just going to get in the way. I need to talk to Jimmy…I need protection for tonight, and maybe Jimmy can get his hands on another gun. Tonight I’m not taking any chances.

  Then again, if Jimmy doesn’t have a gun, I guess I can always call Mark.

  Mark has always been a daredevil. When we were kids, he wanted to be a stuntman. In fact, I’m pretty sure Mark still wants to be a stuntman. His dangerous hobbies started with dirt biking and has since evolved to sky diving and drag racing.

  Of his dangerous activities, hunting and target practice were two that really stood out. Mom has always been terrified of guns, and here’s Mark, collecting artillery as if in preparation for Armageddon. I’m sure he still has his guns hidden somewhere, and he owes me one for telling Mom and Dad about my getting arrested. In fact, I even know which one I want.…

  * * * *

  “You wait here. I’m just going to run in and tell Mark something,” I tell Danny as I get out of the car parked in front of our parents’ house.

  “We drove all the way here just so you can tell Mark something?”

  No.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t want to risk calling him when his phone might be tapped,” I tell Danny before running into the house.

  Mark lives in the small “apartment” above our parents’ garage, so at least according to his standards, he doesn’t actually live with our parents (unless, of course, he needs to use a bathroom or the kitchen). I run up the stairs in the garage. Mark opens the door just as I reach the top step.

  “Where’s Danny?” he asks, looking behind me.

  “Don’t worry, he’s in the car.”

  “Good.” Mark grabs my shirt and pulls me in, slamming the door closed behind us. I take a seat on the clothes-covered coach while Mark goes off to find the gun I told him I needed over the phone.

  “You know how dangerous it is for you to be here?” Mark reprimands me.

  “Did the police bug the place?”

  “No, but they stopped by and questioned Mom, Dad, and me. Now they know Molly’s missing. You’re lucky the two of them just left to fill out a missing person’s report, as if that would help the situation.”

  “They’re wasting their time.”

  “Well right now, that’s a good thing.” Mark returns with the revolver. He puts it down on the table in front of me. The two of us stare at it for a while in silence.


  “Is it loaded?” I unwillingly ask.

  “Yeah.”

  More silence. My brother looks like he wants to ask me something. Quietly he finally says, “You aren’t going to shoot anyone, right?”

  “What? No! Of course not…I just…I have no idea what I’m doing,” I sigh. Mark sits beside me on the coach.

  “Everything’ll be fine. I trust you with Molly’s life over anyone else in our family,” Mark tells me.

  “Wow, lay on the pressure, why don’t you? You make it sound like if I do something wrong, I kill her.”

  “Don’t worry so much. We’re going to get her back, safe and sound.”

  He pats me on the back. I take a deep breath in, let it out. Finally, I pick up the gun. A chill rushes through me the moment I touch its cold handle. Simply holding the loaded weapon makes everything so much more real and dangerous. Then I hear a voice and look up. Standing in front of me is Scott.… Great.

  “Ask Mark about the riddle,” Scott demands. Even though I hate that he’s here, I obey.

  “Mark, I had a dream.… There was a riddle in it, maybe you can help me figure it out?”

  “Sure, fire away! I’m good at riddles; did a ton when I worked at that Chinese Buffet writing fortunes for fortune cookies.”

  “Well it’s not so much a riddle. ‘Some two queens flipped’—a Queen as in the playing card.”

  “…That’s it? What kind of riddle is that?”

  “I don’t know. You know I suck at riddles.”

  “Okay, well, ‘some two Queens’ or ‘sum of two Queens’? Is the answer supposed to be a number?” Mark asks me.

  “What?”

  “You said to think of cards. If the answer’s a number, the sum of two queens is twenty-four—because a Queen is twelve in the deck, you know? Unless we’re talking blackjack, then it’s twenty. I don’t get that flipped bit, though.…”

  Scott pulls a card out of thin air and holds it out to me. There’s a number burned in the center in an elegant script, more decorated and vivid than any time before.

  “Forty-two,” I whisper. Scott smiles a bright, secretive grin and nods.

  “Forty-two’s the answer? What does ‘forty-two’ mean?” Mark asks me.

  “It’s a person.” I smile and look up at him, just now starting to understand. “I think I know who was behind the robbery at Dr. Patricia’s.”