Now You See It

I doubted if the combined efforts of Jeremy and my brother could have stopped her from getting to me if she had decided to tear off any part of my anatomy. She took one step toward me and stopped. Juanita had said something.

“High,” Juanita said.

She was sitting in a straight-back wooden chair.

“High,” she repeated. “He’s some place high, looking up at the stars, crying. Natasha is sleeping in his arms.”

There was nothing eerie, distant, or ghostly in Juanita’s words. She had her head turned a little to the right, and she held up a single finger of her right hand. She was trying to see something. She gently bit her lower lip.

“You’ll run and run and look,” she said. “In darkness and light, searching for a secret where there isn’t a secret. It’s all simple.”

“What’s simple?” I asked.

“Huh?” asked Juanita.

“What’s simple?” I repeated.

“Whatever you’re all making complicated,” she said, waving her bangle-covered left arm.

“We’ll find her,” came a voice from the open door behind me.

I turned. It was Cawelti. He looked at Phil. Neither man spoke, but something passed between them-a truce.

“He needs a photograph of Natasha,” I said. “I’ve got one downstairs.”

“Wait,” said Jeremy.

He moved to the door to the bedroom on his right. The rest of us stood: Alice looking at me, me looking at Juanita, Juanita looking at her hand, pursing her lips and then getting up.

Juanita moved to Alice and touched her shoulder gently.

“Tea, I could use some tea. You got some?”

Alice didn’t want to stop looking at me.

“Tea?” Juanita repeated. “I’ll make it myself if you tell me where it is.”

Alice turned toward the smaller woman and said, “It’s in the cupboard over the sink. I’ll get it.”

As Alice moved toward the kitchen, Juanita stage-whispered to me, “I hate tea. My husband, Sol, loved the stuff. Never has any taste as far as I’m concerned.”

Jeremy came out of the bedroom with a photograph in his hand about the size of a book. He handed it to Cawelti who repeated, “We’ll find her.”

“It’s odd,” Jeremy said. “The only poetry that comes to mind is that of Poe, and it gives me no solace. There are times when even poetry will not suffice or comfort.”

After a last glance at Phil, Cawelti was out the door and gone.

I started to look at the watch on my wrist, my father’s watch, the watch that never had the right time, that lived in a time world of its own. I’ve heard people say that even a stopped watch was right twice a day. But my father’s watch just kept on ticking as long as it was kept wound and it kept on turning at its own pace.

“It’s a little after ten,” Phil said, looking sadly at his own watch, a birthday gift from Ruth.

It was going to be a long night.

And it was.

Phil went down to our office to call home. I went to Shelly’s office. In the small reception room, Shelly was seated behind Violet’s desk, phone to his ear. Pancho was in the one chair of the cramped space, an old Look magazine in his lap.

Shelly removed the cigar from his mouth, crinkled his nose in the hope of pushing his glasses up without touching them, nodded at me, and said, “Yeah. He just walked in. Here.”

Shelly handed me the phone.

“Toby,” said Gunther. “I am at the hotel. I have spoken with all members of the Blackstone troupe I could locate. None of them knows where Jimmy Clark might go. All they can say is that he’s a friendly, helpful young man who appears to be completely devoted to Blackstone. One young woman says that he told her he would give his life for Blackstone.”

“Why?”

“No one seems to know. They all say that Gwen knew him best. Perhaps I should go and talk to her.”

“Okay. You know where she is right?”

“Yes, at her sister’s apartment.”

“Call in if you get something from her, anything.”

“I shall,” said Gunther.

He hung up.

“How’s the tooth?” asked Shelly.

“Perfect, I said.”

“When we find Natasha, we should make an appointment to do complete x-rays and see what else is going on.”

“I’ll think about it, Shel.”

“Pancho’s working on the script,” he said.

I looked at Pancho who was dozing. The Look magazine was slipping from his lap.

“I see,” I said.

“Now he needs rest,” said Shel, smiling at Pancho. “Creativity is draining. He needs lots of food and rest. I’m learning a lot about the screenwriting game.”

“Great,” I said, turning to the door.

“Dentist in Disguise,” said Shelly.

“What?”

I turned.

“The name of the script about me,” he said. “Remember, I told you before.”

Pancho was snoring now. Shelly looked at him benevolently and pointed at the little man with the stub of his cigar.

“Bad alignment,” he said. “I’ve got a device that can take care of that, eliminate snoring. I’ll just get a cast of his teeth and make one for him.”

“Great,” I said, going through the door.

The Farraday was dark and quiet, except for my footsteps. I went to our office and found Phil looking at the photograph of me, our dad, Phil, and Phil’s German Shepherd, Kaiser Wilhelm. His back was to me.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Kids are getting better,” he said, not turning to look at me. “Becky told me not to worry. I’m going to worry.”

I went to my desk and sat. Phil was a few feet from me now.

“Becky’s a lot like Ruth,” he said, still not looking at me, really talking to himself.

“Yeah,” I said.

“But she’s not Ruth,” he went on with a sigh.

Now he turned, went to his desk, and said, “Let’s find the baby.”

Phil looked at me now. I had the feeling he wanted me to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. He looked older than usual, maybe because the first hint of nighttime stubble was starting to show on his chin and cheeks. The stubble was definitely gray like his hair.

“Gunther’s going …”

The phone rang. I started to reach for the one on my desk, but Phil picked up the one on his first.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding at me to pick up my phone.

“Just got off the phone with the police chief in Decatur,” said Cawelti. “Jimmy Clark is William Tracy Carson. The chief recognized the description. The limp was the tip-off. Carson’s got a history. Went into the army when he was seventeen. Action in the Pacific, got hit by shrapnel when he took out a Jap machine gun nest on Tarawa. Got all kinds of awards and medals. Came home a hero. Parade down Main Street, parties.”

“Family?” asked Phil.