Our gazes locked. I realized what Max was thinking. Perhaps tonight’s bizarre episode was a heavy hint from the spirit world that he was right and there was indeed more to Lopez than met the eye.
Seeing my inquisitive frown, Max shrugged in silent response. Then we both gazed contemplatively at Lopez’s peaceful, oblivious face.
“Well, I’m guessing he’s Catholic, right?” Jeff said prosaically, breaking the spell. “And those folks tonight were . . .
sort
of Catholic. So maybe he just really got into it.”
“That was nothing like a Catholic service,” I said.
“Oh, like
you’re
an expert.” Jeff began rationalizing what he had seen. As I certainly knew by now, this was a common reaction to mystical events. “Anyhow, people do amazing things in a state of religious ecstasy. Piercing their bodies without bleeding, walking on hot coals, playing with venomous serpents, speaking in tongues . . . How religious is Lopez?”
This question seemed to interest Max, who looked at me with pert curiosity.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, never having discussed the subject seriously with him. “I get the impression that his family is religious, and I know he practices the faith to some extent.”
“There! You see?” Jeff seemed satisfied.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “His attending Mass once a week does not explain what happened tonight.”
“Whatever. And as long as he’s all right when he wakes up, I don’t really—” Jeff’s cell phone rang. “Hey, maybe this is Puma calling, wondering where we are.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the LCD panel. He looked surprised when he saw the caller’s name. “Oh!
Finally.
” He met our gazes as he answered the phone and said, “Frank. Thanks for calling me back—after I left you at least five messages.”
Max sat up straighter, listening to Jeff’s side of the conversation with alert interest. I ceased stroking Lopez’s silky hair and clutched his shoulder anxiously, watching Jeff.
“What? Huh? Calm down. What are you talking about?” Jeff frowned. “Tried to
kill
you? Oh, come on.”
I gasped. Max hopped off the bed and stood staring at Jeff, his face creased with concern.
“Slow down,” Jeff said. “I can’t understand . . . The cops? No, course I didn’t . . . What are you
talking
about?” His gaze shifted to Lopez. “Er, was the police detective Latino by any chance? Oh, just guessing.” Jeff covered the receiver and said irritably to me, “Esther, the next time you sic him on a friend of mine, maybe you should tell me?”
“I didn’t
sic
him on Frank, I was worried about—”
“You’re not saying this
cop
tried to kill you, are you?” Jeff said into the phone. “Then what are you . . . Uh-huh. Uh-huh . . .” Jeff’s puzzled expression transformed into shock.
“What?”
“What happened?” I asked in alarm.
Jeff shushed me. “When? And he . . . Uh-huh. But, Frank, are you
sure?
Was it definitely . . . Okay. Yes, I believe you . . . No, I don’t know, either. Listen, where are you now? Because I’m going to come get you, that’s why . . . Come get you to
help
you. Calm down.” He winced and held the phone away from his ear for a moment. The he said to Frank, “Listen to me. You can’t just wander the streets. I’ll come get you and take you somewhere safe . . . I don’t know where. I’ll think of something.”
“My home,” Max said promptly. “It’s warded. He’ll be safe there.”
“I’ll take you to my friend Max’s place,” Jeff said into the phone. “It’s ‘warded,’ whatever that means. A good security system, I guess. There is also, I’ve been told, a big dog there. Uh-huh . . . Okay. We’ll be there as soon as possible. In the meantime, I
beg
you to try to calm down, Frank.”
Jeff ended the call and stared at his phone with a puzzled frown.
“Well?” I asked. “What happened?” When he didn’t move or respond, I prodded, “Jeff?”
“This isn’t good.” His expression was serious and bewildered.
“
What
isn’t good?”
He looked from me to Max, then said, “Biko just tried to murder Frank.”
19
“ W
hat?”
I said.
“I know this sounds insane, but, uh . . .” Jeff spread his hands helplessly. “Frank says that the same young guy who helped him when he was attacked Monday night broke into his apartment a little while ago, armed with a sword, and tried to kill him.”
“What?”
I repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
“It’s what Frank said.”
“Did Biko speak?” Max asked. “Did he give a reason for his behavior?”
“Frank said he didn’t talk at all. Just broke down the door and came in slashing.”
“What was Biko’s demeanor?” Max asked.
“Frank didn’t say, but does it really matter?” said Jeff.
“Biko just tried to
kill
a guy.”
“Max,” I said, aghast, “what do we do now? Should we call the police?”
“Probably not a good idea,” Jeff said. “At least, not until Frank calms down. Lopez paid him a visit out of the blue, only a few hours before this attack, so now Frank thinks the cops are in on it.”
“In on
what?
” I asked.
“I have no idea,” Jeff said wearily. “Frank sounds hysterical. Barely coherent.”
“Max, what’s going
on?
” I asked, my hand still clutching Lopez’s shoulder.
“Without more information, it is impossible to be certain. Therefore, Jeffrey, we must go collect Mr. Johnson immediately and take him to safety.”
“I guess I’m the one who got him into this by asking him to take over some of my workshops at the foundation,” Jeff said with a sigh. “So whatever ‘this’ is, I suppose I’d better help him get out of it.”
I followed the two men out of the bedroom, shocked enough by this development to take my eyes off Lopez for a few moments. “I don’t understand. What is Biko
doing?
”
“Let’s call him and find out,” Jeff said, pulling out his cell phone again.
Had Lopez been right after all? Was Biko a danger to the community, roaming the streets with a sword in search of someone to punish for the death of his dog? I couldn’t understand what was happening. An unexplained attack on a frightened mundane seemed totally out of character for the intelligent, responsible young fencer.
There must be some sort of monumental misunderstanding. This just didn’t make any sense!
Jeff shook his head and disconnected his call. “Biko’s not answering.”
“I’ll try to reach him, too,” I said.
“Good,” said Jeff. “Maybe if we tag team him, we’ll get a hold of him. I’m going to call Puma, too. If anyone can bring that kid to his senses, it’s her. Right now, she’s probably still at the ceremony, but she’ll check her messages later.”
“Puma!” I said suddenly. “We haven’t seen her all night! And she would realize how confused we are by what just happened to Lopez. She would help us.”
Jeff said impatiently, “We need to put Lopez on the back burner and—”
“Jeff, where was Puma?” I said, the truth suddenly clear to me.
“Not there.”
“Of course she was there. She’s the one who told me
I’d
better be there, or . . .” Jeff’s eyes widened as he realized what I was saying. “Oh,
shit.
You mean she’s missing?
That’s
why we didn’t see her in the hounfour?”
“She wasn’t at the service!” I said. “She dashed out of the training room—”
“Because you had upset her,” Jeff pointed out.
“—and we haven’t seen her since,” I said. “Biko left the room a minute or two behind her, and we haven’t see him since, either.”
“You think something’s happened to Puma?” Jeff said, alarmed.
“If something did,” I said, “it would explain Biko going berserk.”
“I’m calling her.” Jeff dialed and held the phone to his ear.
There was a standard amount of friction and exasperation between the Garland siblings, but it was obvious they were close. Moreover, Biko had been the man of the family virtually all his life and, especially now with his mother dead, he obviously took his role as Puma’s protector very seriously. I had no doubt that he was capable of rash acts and violence if he thought his sister was in danger.
Jeff frowned and shook his head. “I’m getting her voice mail.” He left a message for Puma, saying we were worried about her safety and Biko’s whereabouts and asking her to call him immediately. When he hung up, he said to me, “But I don’t get it. How would Puma being in trouble explain Biko attacking
Frank?
Puma and Frank have never even met.”
“I have no idea why one thing might have led to the other,” I said. “So you need to go find Frank.”
“Esther is right,” said Max. “We must get a clear account of events from Mr. Johnson.”
“Lots of luck with that,” Jeff muttered. “Did I mention the word
hysterical?
”
They left to go find Frank. I watched from my window as they walked rapidly away from the building, heading toward Tenth Avenue, where they would hail a cab. (Poor Max, I thought. He’d been in a lot of moving vehicles lately.) Max was clutching his straw hat to keep it from flying off his head, and I noticed some paper garbage tumbling madly across the street. It was getting really windy out there. I hoped that meant the heat would break soon.
I went back into the bedroom to resume my vigil beside Lopez. Sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, I picked up my phone, called Biko, and left an urgent message on his voice mail. Then, with nothing else to do, I called Puma, too. No answer, of course. Where
was
she?
I felt a deep sense of dread as I recalled how trusting of the mambo she was.
Looking at Lopez’s slack, motionless body, I tried to take comfort from Max’s conviction that the mambo was not responsible for his condition.
If my former almost-boyfriend had been asleep instead of passed out, I would have appreciated this quiet time alone together, as he lay peacefully on my bed while I got to look at him all I wanted, without interruption or arguments. With his body sprawled out in unconscious surrender, his smooth torso exposed by his open shirt, and his face innocent and serene, he would look irresistibly tempting to me under almost any other circumstances. But given the events that had led to his current condition, a heavy weight of fear sat on my chest every moment that I gazed at him now. I knew I wouldn’t breathe easily—let alone be able to spare serious attention for Biko, Puma, and Frank—until and unless Lopez awoke and seemed all right.
I wondered again if I should get him to a hospital. I wondered what he would want me to do. I recalled Max’s and Jeff’s arguments against seeking medical care for him, and I decided to wait. Despite my anxiety and Lopez’s oblivion, he didn’t seem ill or endangered. So I would give him a little more time to come out of this on his own.
The phone rang, startling me.
Lopez heard it. His head turned and he gave a faint grunt of irritation. His face creased momentarily with a slight frown. I watched him tensely, hoping he’d wake up.
“Lopez?” I prodded.
Still nothing. He just lay there.
I sighed in disappointment and picked up the phone on the next ring. It was Jeff calling to say that Frank wasn’t at the arranged meeting place. Jeff had just phoned him to find out why. It turned out that, while waiting for Jeff and Max, Frank had panicked, believing he was being watched or followed, and he had fled into the night.
“Was he
always
this high strung?” I asked.
“I don’t really know him that well,” said Jeff. “But cut him a little slack, Esther. Someone just tried to kill him.”
“That’s no reason to go all to pieces,” I said critically.
“Anyhow, new plan,” Jeff said. “I don’t want to spend all night chasing Frank around Manhattan. And Max is worried about his dog—I guess she wasn’t feeling so good today—and wants to check on her. So I gave Max’s address to Frank. We’re going to go there and wait for him.”
“Do you think he’ll show up?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. But he’s scared out of his wits, and we’re offering to help him. So I think so.” Then he asked, “How’s the sleeping detective?”
My gaze slid back to the body on the bed. “Oh, he’s still . . .” I gasped when I realized his eyes were open and looking at me. “He’s awake! I’ll talk to you later.”
I ended the call and lowered the phone. My heart pounding and my gaze fixed on Lopez, I was scarcely even aware of the phone hitting the floor as it slid out of my slack grasp.
“Lopez?” I said anxiously.
Lying absolutely still, his black lashes fluttered as he looked around for a moment, taking in what he could see from his current position. His voice sounded normal, though puzzled, when he said, “This is your place.”