The board was crowded with slips of paper offering apartments for share, rides to the Hamptons, a male 'inaid' who promised to 'bust your dust.'
There were numerous other notices offering items and services. Finally, in the upper right corner, Gelsey found an offering of newborn kittens.
She untacked it, turned it over, found Tracy's message on the other side: 'CALL DIANA! URGENT!'
She thought about whether she should call. By the time she reached her car, she had decided not to. But then, driving downtown, she changed her mind. When she reached the Village, she pulled into a metered parking space on Seventh, walked a block to an Italian coffee house on Greenwich Avenue, entered, ordered an espresso, then proceeded to the rest-room area, where she found a quiet pay phone.
Oh, Dr. Z… Again she hesitated. She hadn't spoken to Diana since the night she'd walked out. But when she lifted the receiver and inserted a quarter, the number flew back into her head. She was sorry she remembered it.
'Hello. May I help you?' It was Kim, with her mechanical singsong, who painted Diana's toenails and slavishly handwashed her underwear.
'It's Gelsey. Is Diana there?'
'One moment, please.' Not: 'How are you, Gelsey?' or 'How're you doing' or 'Good to hear your voice again.' Just that distant, mechanical response that brought back the strange alienated feeling that had filled her during her time as one of Diana's girls. 'Is it really you?' The oh-so-unctuous voice of Herself. 'None other!' Gelsey tried to sound cheerful. 'Tracy gave you my message?' Beware! A trap! 'No. But I ran into a mutual friend who'd seen her and passed it on.' A giggle. 'Still mysterious. How long has it been?'
'About a year and a half.'
'That long?' This is boring. Time to get curt. 'What can I do for you, Diana?'
'It's more like what I can do for you, my pet.'
'I'm doing just fine, thanks.'
'With the police looking for you?'
'I can take care of myself.'
'I don't doubt that!'
Diana giggled again. 'Still,' she said after a pause, 'we may have a mutual interest.'
'I can't imagine how.'
'Let bygones be bygones, what do you say?' Then, in an unusual pleading tone: 'I do wish you'd come back.'
'I don't think so. Sorry.'
'We made a lot of money together. We could make so very much more.' It was just what Erica Hawkins had told her. She thought: Better to make money with art than marks. 'Look, Diana-'
'What happened between you and the gentleman downtown was not good for business, not at all.'
There it was, the reproach that always undercut the sweetness.
'It's your business, not mine.'
'Oh, yes, I forgot! You do it for fun.'
'What do you want?'
'To help you. You're a wanted woman. I can fix that. Have Thatcher get you out of this mess. Help you leave town, hide out, whatever. I'm still very fond of you, you know. I admit I was upset when you left.
I'm well over that.'
What could she say? That she didn't believe her, not for a minute, a second? That she never wanted to see her again, or sleazy Thatcher either? That Diana's proffered fondness was not reciprocated a single bit? That she didn't need any help hiding out because she always hid out-hiding out was what her life was about? Isn't that right, Dr. Z?
'Why don't we have tea, talk things over?' Diana crooned. 'Why not just leave things as they are?'
'You're not being very friendly, Gelsey. Considering the circumstances.'
Gelsey felt her stomach tighten. 'I don't know what circumstances you mean.'
'The gentleman, the one you took down at the Savoy I understand he was carrying something… unusual.'
Her stomach went hard. 'Where'd you hear that?' 'Around.' Diana paused.
Gelsey had a feeling that when she spoke again, her tone would be a good deal less ingratiating. 'Listen to me.
You killed a mark. That's not good for business.' 'So you said. But I didn't kill him.'
A haughty laugh. 'I certainly don't expect you to admit it!' ' ' to the point. '
'The point, my pet, is that I want what you took off Dietz. Not his money or his watch. The other thing.'
'Assuming I have it, why should I give it to you?'
'Because I know how to market it.' Another pause. 'You do have it, don't you?'
'Tell me what it is and I'll tell you if I do.' Gelsey smiled the moment she said that, pleased by her shrewdness, for it occurred to her that although Diana seemed to know she had taken something, she had not yet said what she thought it was.
'All right'-Diana was now all business-'you have an item and I have a buyer for it. That's got the makings of a fifty-fifty deal.'
'After you take fifty percent off the top?'
Silence. 'Are you mocking me, dear?'
'I wouldn't dare.'
Diana laughed. 'You'd dare do anything you felt like doing. I know you better than you think.' Gelsey kept silent. 'You won't deal-is that it?'
Gelsey smiled. She had Diana on the mats. 'You know I don't care about money.' And we both know you care about nothing else.
'So you always said. I never believed you.'
'Sorry, Diana. No sale. But if it'll make you feel better, I won't be playing the KO game for a while. It's suddenly gotten too dangerous-if you know what I mean?'
'Stupid, insolent girl!'
Gelsey hung up, delighted she'd shattered Diana's poise. She returned to her table and sipped her espresso. In the interval it had grown cold.
Why? Why, Dr. Z?
By the time she reached home she was frantic. It seemed as if her world were falling apart. She was a murder suspect; the police were after her;
Diana was after her, too something to do with that computer chip she'd found on Dietz. But since she'd smashed it up and incorporated it into her painting, she couldn't make a deal with Diana even if she wanted to.
Meantime, Dr. Z was dead. And Tracy, her only friend, was afraid to see her anymore.
As she entered her loft, she felt desperate. She had no one to talk to now, no one to turn to for help. All she had left was her fortress and her prison, the mirror maze below.
She put water on the stove for pasta. Then, realizing she wasn't hungry, she turned it off. She poured herself a vodka, straight from the bottle she kept in her freezer. Then she stood by her window looking out as darkness crept up slowly on the industrial buildings around and the abandoned amusement park across the road.
She wished that it would rain, a soft, ripe, gentle rain that would wash her windows and skylight clean. Then she could go into the city and take down a mark. Except, of course, she could not. Employees at the bars and pubs would be on alert. The police were looking for a killer.
So, even if it did rain, she could only dream.
What was it about the rain? Why did it always fill her with a longing she did not know how to satisfy? Why did rain always make her want to enter mirror world, the magic country of reverse?
So many questions, so many things about herself she didn't understand.
Despite the numerous times she had discussed her fears with Dr. Z, she still had found no answers.
Why couldn't she break away from the mirrors? Would she ever be able to find her real self inside the glass?
