Jane Vows Vengeance

“Beautiful,” Walter answered. “I wish you’d come with us.”

“So do I,” said Jane. She glanced at the dresser, thinking, Then I never would have seen this stupid clown.

Only the clown wasn’t there.

“Did you move the Pierrot?” she asked Walter.

“The what?” Walter said as he took off his shoes.

“The Pierrot,” said Jane. “A clown. It was sitting on the dresser.”

Walter shook his head. “I didn’t see any clown,” he said.

“But it was right there,” said Jane. “I put it there when I came in.”

“You bought a clown?” Walter shuddered. “Clowns give me the creeps.”

Jane got up and went to the dresser. She stared at the place where the clown had been, as if perhaps she just couldn’t see it. She looked on the floor around the dresser, then behind it. It wasn’t there. She then checked the closet, under the bed, her suitcase, and even the shower. There was no Pierrot anywhere to be found.

“Where could it possibly have gone?” she wondered aloud.

“Maybe it came to life,” Walter suggested. “Like the clown in Poltergeist. Maybe it’s hiding and just waiting for us to go to sleep so it can come out and murder us.”

Jane ignored him. “It has to be here somewhere,” she said.

“Forget about the clown,” Walter said. “Are you ready to have an amazing dinner with your almost- husband?”

“I can’t wait,” said Jane, opening the minibar and peering inside.

“Good, because we’re meeting everyone in ten minutes,” Walter informed her.

“Everyone?” Jane said. “In ten minutes? What happened to our quiet dinner with Ben and Lucy?”

Walter looked sheepish. “Well, it’s just that everyone got along really well today, and on the way back Suzu suggested we all have dinner at this restaurant she knows of.”

“Suzu?” said Jane. “She actually spoke? She hasn’t said more than a dozen words the entire trip.”

“She talked to me quite a bit today,” Walter said.

Jane felt her stomach tighten. “Really?” she said. “About what?”

“I don’t know,” said Walter. “Lots of things. She’s really very interesting.”

“I bet she is,” Jane said as she checked the wastepaper basket beside the desk.

“For example,” Walter said, “did you know Genevieve hated Ryan because he won the Pecker- Deadbird?”

Jane turned around. “Excuse me?”

“The Pecker-Deadbird,” Walter repeated. “It’s an award given to an architect whose work reflects the aesthetics of John Pecker-Deadbird.”

“Who was …?” Jane said.

“The father of post-minimalist modernism in institutional design.”

“Oh,” said Jane. “That John Pecker-Deadbird.”

“Apparently Genevieve thought she should have won the award that year for some juvenile detention facility she built in Manchester, but according to Suzu, Ryan was very close to at least two of the judges on the committee, if you know what I mean.”

Jane was surprised to hear Walter talk like this. He was never one to gossip, and here he was wagging his tongue like a fishwife. She wondered what else Suzu had told him.

“Even if he wasn’t involved with the judges, I don’t know why Genevieve would think she had a chance at the Pecker-Deadbird,” Walter continued. “Her work is clearly post-modernist minimalism.”

Astonishing, Jane thought. It’s as if he’s been possessed by the spirit of a fifteen-year-old girl.

“Oh,” said Walter as he changed his shirt, “I also found out that Ryan was the reason Sam didn’t get the teaching position at Columbia. She asked him to write her a letter of recommendation—you know, because they worked together on that project in Charleston—and he did. Only it wasn’t at all flattering. He totally threw her under the bus.”

“Suzu told you this too?” Jane asked.

Walter shook his head. “No. Sam did. She had a couple of glasses of champagne and started talking.”

Aha, Jane thought. He’s rambling because he had a little too much to drink. That explains it.

She was still searching for the clown doll. It had to be there somewhere. Clown dolls don’t just get up and walk away, she thought as she checked behind one of the room’s two chairs.

“You should have heard Bergen at lunch,” said Walter. “He was telling the filthiest jokes. There was one about three plumbers, a goat, and a bottle of—”

“Bergen?” Jane said. “Bergen Faust?”

“Bergen Faust,” Walter said, as if there were two of them. “The guy is hysterical. Hang on. Let me remember how it goes. Okay, so these three carpenters are hired to build a barn. And one of them has a rash, so he has to put liniment on it three times a day.” He stopped and looked at Jane with a bewildered expression. “Or maybe it’s the goat that has the rash. Anyway, they all end up—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jane said, holding up her hand. “I’ve heard it before.”

She had not heard it before, and didn’t want to hear it now, but thankfully this shut Walter up. At least momentarily. He very quickly moved on.

“Another thing about Bergen—he had a beef with McGuinness too.”

“Really?” Jane said. She was much more interested in this line of conversation. “What kind of beef?”

“McGuinness stole a commission from him,” said Walter. “I forget what. A shoe museum or something.”

“Shoe museum?” Jane said. “Who would want to build a shoe museum?”

“They have one for chewing gum,” said Walter. “In Minsk, I think. Why not shoes?”

“Why not, indeed,” Jane replied. “It sounds as though Ryan McGuinness was quite the topic of conversation today.”

“Not really,” Walter said. “His name just came up a couple of times. By the way, what are you looking for?”

Jane put the cover back on the ice bucket. “The Pierrot,” she said. “The clown doll,” she added when Walter looked at her blankly. “Remember?”

“No,” Walter said. “I don’t think you mentioned it.”

Jane started to ask him how he could possibly have forgotten, when something occurred to her. He’s been glamored, she thought. That explains the chattering and the forgetfulness. But who glamored him?

“Walter,” she said, “did you happen to run into anyone on your way up here?”

“Not that I recall,” Walter said. “Why? Are you expecting someone?”

“What’s the last thing you remember doing?” asked Jane.

Walter thought for a moment. “I remember getting in the elevator,” he said. “And then I came into the room.”

“Good,” Jane said. “Now, was there anybody in the elevator with you?”

Walter thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, there was. But I can’t remember who. Probably just some other guests. Why?”

“No reason,” Jane answered. “I was just curious. By the way, how do your teeth feel?”

Walter ran his tongue over his teeth. “Now that you mention it, they feel a little tingly. Must be that toothpaste the hotel puts in the bathrooms. Who knows what’s in French toothpaste, right?” He laughed, sounding slightly mad.

There was no new toothpaste. The tube Walter had been using was the one Jane had packed from their own bathroom back home. The tingling sensation was one of the symptoms of having been glamored. There was no doubt in Jane’s mind—there was another vampire in the hotel, and he had gotten to Walter.

Joshua, she thought. I’d bet my fangs he’s the one who stole the Pierrot.

It all made sense. After pretending to return to London, Joshua had been following them the whole time,