Authors: P. R. Garlick
She leaned forward and asked the cab driver to turn on the
inside light.
She frowned when she saw her companion's split lip with a
few drops of fresh blood still oozing to the surface. "Let me clean you
up," she said as she reached for her case to search for something to
clean his wound.
"Don't worry about it?" The man said as he dabbed at the
wound with his fingertips. "It's practically stopped bleeding."
"Do you have a clean handkerchief?" She said, ignoring his
protest.
"You certainly are a bossy little thing," he snapped as he
reached into his back pocket, again wincing from the movement. He
pulled out a wrinkled up navy blue and white bandanna handkerchief.
Liane looked at it distastefully, not taking it from his hand.
"It's clean!" he snapped, watching as she lifted the skirt of her
black habit and ripped at her slip. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Getting something clean," she answered as she took the white
fabric and held it firmly against his lip.
He grabbed her hand and started to pull away. "Easy!"
"Don't be such a baby," she chided, knowing he probably was
in a great deal of pain, but having mixed sympathies for him. She had
to remind herself this man could be dangerous.
"By the way, may I ask, who I saved?" The man asked as soon
as she seemed satisfied with her administrations. He already had a
pretty good idea, but decided it would be better to make certain.
"You saved!" Her eyes flashed like glittering emeralds.
"From my vantage point, it looked like you were the one being saved."
"My thanks." He nodded, looking down at her more intently.
"And now, again, I'll ask who are you? And why didn't you meet me
outside the club?"
"I thought it would be more to my benefit to follow you," she
replied honestly.
"Okay. Now, who are you? We both know you aren't Kitty
Katt." He raised his eyebrows and smiled at the name she used at the
club. "And nuns don't usually sing in nightclubs dressed as . . ." His
smile deepened as he watched her mounting embarrassment. "A
floozy," he whispered, adding more accent to the word than if he had
said it aloud.
"She would if she had a good reason to dress that way," she
retorted, feeling her cheeks burn. She leaned forward and told the
driver he could turn off the inside light again, preferring to hide her
embarrassment from this stranger.
"Such as?"
"Finding my brother," Liane replied. "Jack Spencer is my
brother and I'm trying to find him."
"Then you're . . ."
"Mary Catherine," she finished for him. "If you are really
Jack's partner, like those men said, you'd know about me. Jack
probably speaks about me from time to time."
"Yes, he does, and about your sister. I thought you were more
than likely her." He looked at her shrewdly, scratching his beard.
Jack had once said his sisters looked very much alike. This woman
certainly did look like the sister he had already met at Deverauex's
office.
"I haven't any idea where Liane is," she lied.
"None at all?" He wasn't hiding the skepticism in his voice.
"No . . .All I know is that she's in trouble. And Jack's
disappearance is at the bottom of it somewhere."
"Hold on!" The man raised a hand. "Explain exactly what you
do know."
She frowned. "Not much. Liane and I were worried about
Jack's being away. We had a good reason."
"The money and the letter."
"You know about them?" Her eyes flew open wide. "Then
you
are
his partner!"
"Yes, and I'm trying to find him too."
"Then you can help me," she said anxiously, not realizing
what she was suggesting until the words were out.
"I work alone . . .at least, now I do."
"But I have to find my brother and try to clear my sister's
name. Don't you see?"
"I see." The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a
pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long drag before continuing.
"But you'll hardly be helpful."
"I helped you tonight."
"Did you?"
"Of course. You aren't going to try and tell me you planned on
getting beaten up."
"No, not entirely." He threw the cigarette abruptly out the
window, and leaned closer. "Don't you see this isn't exactly
something a nun should get involved in?"
"I am involved. And they know it too. They know I tricked
them so you could get away."
He leaned back and rested his head on the back of the seat as if
thinking. The lights were getting brighter as they returned to the city.
She could see his eyes were thin slits as he looked at her, while she
stared back at him, not bothering to hide her distrust.
The last word he had gotten the other sister was still missing.
He had been warned the nun was on her way here, but she was
supposed to be on the way to the mission school in Pulcallpa. It
would have been better if she had gone straight there instead of
interfering. Now that she was involved, she'd be danger. Danger!
She'd probably get them all killed.
"You'll have to go back to the States," he finally said.
"Oh no I won't!" She shook her head. "I came here for a
reason, and I intend to see it through."
"When are you scheduled to leave for the mission school?" he
asked, catching her off guard.
"I'm not . . .not for a while at least. I have to find Jack first."
"No way, Mary Catherine. This is dangerous, and besides,
you'll likely get in my way."
"Fine," she said, realizing they had stopped for traffic. "Then
I'll do it myself." With that, she grabbed her bag, opened the car door
and got out. To her surprise, the man didn't try to follow.
I
"Please let me explain, Ricardo," She rushed on with her
planned excuse as she noted the anger in the club manager's eyes. "I
had to get away from here last night!"
"So it was not a headache, as you tried to tell me." The man
crossed the room to stand before her. His dark eyes held hers as
though trying to find the truth in the depths of her bright green ones.
"Now you expect to give me another story!"
"No . . .the truth." She sighed, as if in defeat, knowing she had
to be convincing if she hoped to get any help from this man.
He smiled, but there was still a look of doubt on his face.
"Tell me this truthful story of yours."
"There was a man in here last night. A bearded man with a
brown flight jacket. He was talking to a very attractive woman."
Liane saw the look of recognition enter his eyes. "I believe you know
her."
"What if I do?"
"Nothing, but I left last night to get away from that man."
"Why? Who is he?" Ricardo's darkening eyes narrowed as he
waited for her answer.
She realized she would have to explain more if she hoped to
get any help from Ricardo. "His last name is Marshal. I don't know
his first, or if that's even his real name."
"Let us sit while you continue." Ricardo said, obviously
interested in what she was saying.
She followed him to the sofa, forcing herself to sit beside him.
"I'm frightened of that man," she said nervously. "You see, I have
information some people are interested in obtaining. He doesn't want
me to tell anyone what I know."
"So much intrigue . . .Are you certain you are not making this
up to keep me from firing you?"
She stood up and faced him. "I came here for help! I don't
give a damn about this job. I'll find someone else to help me!" With
that she turned as if to walk away.
"Wait . . .wait, Mary Catherine," Ricardo said softly as he
reached out to prevent her escape. "I have to know more before I can
say that I will help you."
"Oh Ricardo, I hope you can." She smiled through trembling
lips, giving the appearance of helplessness. "I believe you may know
one of the people I'm looking for."
"Who is that?"
"The woman who was with Mr. Marshal last night." Liane
was certain her suspicions were correct. She had watched the woman
as she left the club the night before.
She remembered her stopping to talk to the men in the car.
The same men who had taken Marshal to the abandoned building and
beat him in their attempt to get information. Liane was certain that
woman had given them their orders.
"Juanita?" Ricardo looked surprised. "I don't understand how
she should fit into this."
"I'm not exactly certain how she
does
fit into things, but I am
certain she knows the people with whom I need to talk."
"And the man with her last night? Marshal, you said was his
name. How does he fit into this? I also saw him talking to her last
night. You say he does not want you to speak to her."
"He's the only person in the way of my telling what I know."
"Which is?" Ricardo asked with more interest than he was
feigning.
She smiled and shook her head. "Ricardo, I'm no fool. If I
tell, I won't get what I'm after."
"I see . . ." He thought a moment before going on. "And what
am I supposed to do for you?"
"It's simple. Tell me where I can find Juanita."
"I can't. She comes here. I have no idea where she lives."
"But I thought . . ."
"What, Mary Catherine? More employee's gossip?"
"No. I saw the way you looked at her. I thought you were
interested."
"I would be, if I could get close enough to her. She sets my
blood on fire. I would give anything for just one . . . Never mind."
He paused, as if to regain his composure. "If what you say is true, it
may be to my benefit to help you contact her through other means. If I
am able to do this, she will be at your show tonight."