Chapter 21: Passing the Time

I made a point of looking busy for the next week; running here and there, asking questions and such. Jamie was right about me needing to learn how to do this job in the real world, or I was never going to look credible. So, with that in mind, I cheated. I bridged everyone I'd met in the field, starting with Rebecca — the best investigator I knew — all the way down to the Davidson brothers, Avery Clark, and his partner Franklin Reynolds. That gave me the basis for some of my daytime activities, and I'm sure the Davidson's in particular were laughing at my attempt to pick up information from ground they had already covered. It was very instructional, even if I didn't need it to find the painting.

Meanwhile, I sent Walter to look over Ceres' place in Costa Rica, so I would know what to expect when it came time to get the painting. There were five people living on the estate: a middle-aged couple and their three sons. The men kept the grounds, doubling as a security force, while the woman took care of the house. They had a separate house of their own on the property, just far enough away to be out of sight of the main house. Power was from a generator on site, and it only ran long enough to keep the refrigerators cold and allow the woman to vacuum. It looked like the best time to do the job would be while she was cleaning in another part of the house. The best part was that there was no phone; they would have to travel into the nearest town to report the theft. With luck, this would all be over before anyone had a chance to contact Ceres.

While the days were spent looking into Ceres, his company, and any hint of where a million dollar work of art may have disappeared to, the nights were spent working on the legal arrangements with Jamie. After my conversation at the club with Tony, I decided to go a different route with the paperwork. A late-night visit to a professor teaching family law got the project assigned to his class as an exercise. A few discreet inquiries got me the names of the judges most likely to hear cases concerning the group of soon-to-be-orphaned girls. After the professor had pared down the best examples, I had three of the likeliest judges review the documentation that the class had drawn up for Amanda and Diane — two fictitious children whose parents were worried about their futures and in need of a family to take them in. The problem was that the family was very wealthy, and if anything happened to the parents, the girls would inherit an obscene amount of money. Having hypothetically found a trustworthy, loving couple, who cared very deeply for the girls, the parents now needed iron clad paperwork to assure none of the less savory relatives had a chance in hell of challenging the paperwork and hijacking the girl's futures. As the judges came up with possible arguments, I passed them to the professor, who then challenged the students to correct the problems. There was one girl in particular; Maxine, who was very sharp, and I predicted a very bright future for her. All of this was done at night, of course, in carefully crafted bubbles; far from anywhere any of them might actually remember the details. Once I had exhausted all of the arguments, I had the professor send the paperwork to a judge he happened to know in the Vegas court system — an alumni of the school — to go over it as part of Maxine's final grade.

Then there was helping Allison with her research. This included practicing working with a ball of energy I couldn't see, using it to move a variety of different objects around until I was comfortable enough working with it that I wasn't worried about destroying a priceless work of art. I rented a medium sized storage unit to practice in. My plan was to use it to store the painting in until time to turn it over to Intersure. As Allison had instructed, I also practiced moving things with just my personal field. I very quickly discovered that using my own energy tired me out a lot faster — a fact Lizzy confirmed on one of my visits.

She also confirmed that our little adventure the other night had had widespread effects. In addition to all the usual players — including Mel, Lynn, and Susan — waking up horny, Roxy had reported having the most amazing dreams. She couldn't remember exactly what they were, but she attributed her overall feeling of well being to them.

Lizzy also reported — and Amber confirmed — that several of their neighbors in the dorm had apparently caught some of the backlash as well, waking up horny and frustrated. Apparently, in one case, the two roommates discovered something new about themselves.

We also found out that since the energy ball had 'keyed' itself to my energy signature, no one else could do anything with it. As usual, the same was not true for balls that the others touched. Allison had been right about Christine enjoying her role in all of this. She very quickly got over her performance anxiety, trading it instead for the wonder of discovering new things. Don't get me wrong; it's not like she was an overnight exhibitionist and we did it in front of everyone, but she had no problem with the idea of sex for scientific advancement — especially after Lizzy showed her what they looked like. She looked like a little girl seeing her first sparkler on the fourth of July. Interestingly enough, the balls would not attach to Christine or even key to her pattern. Of course, since they already were her pattern...

Allison took the next ball that we created; it was small, like the first one Widget had destroyed. The most significant discovery we made initially was that — unless I prevented it — the proto-patterns attached themselves to the first person that touched them. Unlike what had happened with Widget, they did not merge with the person's pattern; they just keyed to and adhered to it. There didn't seem to be any ill effects from the contact, but they couldn't get it off either. I started to see if I could remove it, but Allison stopped me and said she wanted to leave it for a while and see what happened. We were surprised to see that it had faded and disappeared by the next night. Mine was still going strong, but — as Allison was quick to point out — mine had started out a lot stronger, so it might take longer to fade. Besides, it was keyed to my pattern, and there was a good chance that that made a difference as well. How much difference, we would have to wait and see.

Allison had expressed a desire to see what difference a bigger bubble might make if it was allowed to attach to someone besides me. Apparently, she had several theories she wanted to test out, but she wasn't ready to discuss them yet, so for now all we could do was observe. As a precaution, any bubbles we made in the real world I immediately banished to dreamspace to disperse. I didn't want to take the chance that something we couldn't see might get away, or even that someone visiting might walk into it since they couldn't see it. Some of the bigger ones took several days to fade out.

The changes in Christine worried me. Don't get me wrong — it's not that I was unhappy about them, but ... I don't know ... it's hard to explain. I guess you could say I had mixed emotions.

I had really expected her to take the apartment I had offered her. Again, I wasn't unhappy that she was staying with me, but — after what that asshole, Brian, had done to her — I was really surprised that she would consider moving in with someone again — especially someone she had just met and really didn't know. I'd never admit it to her, but my first thought was that Jamie had been playing games and stacked the deck when I wasn't looking. But she knows how pissed I would be if I found out, so I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt. I've been tempted to bring it up one night with Christine and just ask her about it, but this little voice in the back of my brain keeps telling me to leave it alone, and if there is one thing I've learned, it's to pay attention to the little guy. So I decided to just let it ride for a while and see how it went.

God, did I just say 'let it ride'? Vegas must be getting to me.

There were other advantages to her being there as well, and I'm not talking about the sex. Lizzy had been right on the money — go figure — in pointing out the mutual benefits of our being together, regardless of whether or not we shared an apartment. With school and planning for her future, the last thing Christine had time for was relationship hassles, and as for me ... ugh! Don't even go there. The difference was that where I was a sort of 'perk' for Christine, I — as Jamie so succinctly put it — sucked at being alone, and having Christine there would go a long way towards keeping me out of trouble. Or at least that was the hope.

And then there were the security concerns. With Henslith running around out there planning god only knew what, I was a lot more comfortable having Christine where I could keep an eye on her without it looking like I was stalking her. Not knowing what that bitch might be up to was a constant, nagging worry at the back of my mind, and if it wasn't for the fact that I really don't sleep anyway, there's a good chance that it would have been keeping me up at night wondering when and how she would strike next.

The most enlightening and magical time occurred when I took everyone to Elizabeth's dreamspace, and she let us see ourselves — and each other — as she saw us. Of course we had no idea what we were looking at, and at first couldn't even tell each other apart.

I also spent some time finding out the truth about Tanya, her niece Missy, and everybody's favorite doctor — and Tanya's personal nightmare — Victoria Essex. Sweet Victoria was the first truly sadistic person I think I had ever met. At least the Sandman had been insane. Essex had no such defense; she just liked to hurt people, which was odd considering her choice of vocation.

Once upon a time, Victoria Essex had had a brother, and apparently her brother got the looks for both of them because he was as handsome as she was plain. This, of course, attracted the bouncy, bubbly, ultra-cute girls. As you can imagine, it wasn't pretty growing up 'Icky Vicky'. Eventually, Grant — her brother — had gone and actually married one of the pathetic little airheads; a girl he had known for many years, and one of the worst of Victoria's tormentors. Her name was Jessica, and she was Tanya's older sister. Before long they had a little girl who appeared to have inherited every 'cute' gene either of her parents had possessed.

Tanya was halfway through college when Jessie and Grant died in a traffic accident. At some point legal documents had been drawn up leaving everything to Missy and naming Victoria as her guardian — Missy had been three at the time. Tanya knew full well how Victoria and her sister had felt about each other and could not imagine why Jessie would leave Missy in her care, but there was nothing she could do, and Victoria had made it very clear that if Tanya wanted to be a part of her niece's life, there was a price to pay.

Victoria Essex was a smart woman, and she had paid attention when spending time with her brother and his young bride. One morning while she was visiting, and everyone thought her still in bed, she had overheard a conversation between Grant and Jessie. They were discussing the rumors of Tanya's college life. They had both attended the same college she was and still had contacts there, so it hadn't taken long for them to confirm the rumors about Tanya. After the accident, Victoria made it very clear to Tanya exactly what would be expected of her if she wanted to see her niece. It had also been made clear that if she did not do exactly what she was told, Missy would bear the punishment. Considering she was a doctor, she knew a lot of ways to inflict pain without leaving signs, and how to make someone sick — or even kill them — without leaving a trace. Tanya didn't believe that one. She watched CSI, after all, and they always found evidence.

"Oh, please," Victoria had laughed. "I'm not talking about poisoning her. Where would be the fun in that? I don't care if she lives or dies, but watching you watch her die, knowing that there is nothing you can do and that you could have prevented it? Now that's entertainment. What do you think? Hepatitis? HIV? Those could take years..."

Their time 'together' had gotten steadily darker ever since.

Stealing the painting was the simplest part of the whole project. Thanks to Walter's reconnaissance, I would have been able to walk right into the entryway while the maid was vacuuming upstairs, but I wanted to leave a trail showing me coming into the house. That way, they could waste some time trying to find me before they reported the theft. I picked a spot not too far out and stepped out of the shadow of a tree on the edge of the first grove of coffee trees facing the house. There was about fifty feet of open space before you reached the driveway and then another fifty or so to the front door. I took my first picture from there. The grass was fairly well tended but still damp from overnight, which was perfect for what I wanted and would make it clear where I had entered. Once I reached the driveway, the grass was shorter, and the trail would be harder to follow; but if you knew what you were doing, it shouldn't be hard to tell where I had crossed.

I know this is going to sound weird, but just as I was about to step up on the wide porch I got the strangest feeling I was being watched. I stopped and turned around, but there was no one nearby.

"That was weird," Jamie said.

"So you felt it too? Nice to know it wasn't just me. Let's do this and get out of here."

The feeling came again as I was opening the door, and I was just about to turn when I caught a reflection in one of the glass panels. There, standing in the open area behind me, was a guy straight out of National Geographic. His skin was that classic dark, South American bronze color, and his only clothing seemed to be a loincloth — although he had several pouches and gourds strung here and there from around his neck and shoulders. He also wore several necklaces, but I couldn't tell what they were made of in an eight-inch reflection. His feet appeared bare, and he carried a long, crooked staff — which appeared to be covered in intricately carved patterns and had several feathers dangling from the top. There were other things dangling from it as well, but I didn't think I wanted to know what they were. As I said, you couldn't really tell in the small reflection, and when I turned for a closer look, he was gone. Turning back, I noticed the reflection had disappeared as well.

The latex gloves I had brought made it safe to open the door, step into the entryway, and start taking pictures of the inside of the house. I wanted to make sure there was no doubt someone had been here and hopefully to show that it was in fact Ceres' house. Then it was time to retrieve the Lady. There was a little problem getting the painting down as it was mounted a little higher than I expected — Walter was taller than me and I was using his reconnaissance after all — but fortunately the piano bench was right there, so it wasn't that bad. I set the painting carefully on the floor and moved the bench back where it belonged. As I did, I got that feeling again.

"Don't turn around," Jamie said. "In the mirror."

There was a small mirror tucked into a bookcase on the side opposite where the painting had been hung. At the time I couldn't think of why it might be there. It seemed such an odd place to put a book-sized mirror. Later, when I mentioned it to Allison, she just shook her head and said, "Boys. It's so you can see how you look before you answer the door." It made total sense, but at the time I had no idea.

All that mattered at that point was that from where I was standing, the mirror reflected part of the next room, and framed in the mirror stood my mystery man from the yard. I could make out more detail this time, though not much. His face and body seemed to be decorated in elaborate patterns using what could have been paint or even tattoos. Some of the patterns, though, were scar tissue. I stood looking at him for a moment, and he seemed oblivious of my scrutiny — watching me rather than the mirror. After a few seconds I turned to face him, and he was gone. A couple of quick steps into the next room confirmed that he had in fact vanished.

"Okay, that's just freaky," I said.

"Yeah, no kidding, like you said, let's get this done and get out of here."

I could still hear the vacuum running upstairs, so I took the painting over to the door, and then checked outside to make sure none of the help were visible. When I opened the door, my attention was immediately drawn across the open expanse, to the edge of the field where I had stepped out. There, in the shadow of the trees, was my mystery man again. He remained still for a moment, staring at me, before turning and walking back into the trees.

When I say they were coffee trees and that it was a field, the natural tendency is to think of the nice, neat rows of a fruit orchard somewhere. This was nothing like that. The whole area was pretty heavily overgrown with brush, and the trees were not carefully manicured and planted in neat little rows. They were in rows, but the rows themselves were not even, nor was there that uniform spacing you see in a domestic grove. And then there were the spider webs to consider. They ranged in size from about twelve inches up to several feet in diameter, and many were actually strung between the rows. If I ever needed to torture someone with arachnophobia, I would just drop them in the middle of a coffee plantation in the dark. I'm not phobic about spiders myself by any means, but just thinking about it gave me the willies.

As a result of all this, I completely lost sight of my mystery guest within seconds. Since I needed to establish a definite in and out trail, I quickly moved down the stairs and across what passed for a lawn to the point where he had disappeared, and looked around. There was no trail to follow, but a couple of feet in, I spotted one of the feathers from his staff. As if things weren't weird enough, it was in between the second and third rows of trees, and there was a gigantic spider web between me and the feather. And no, I didn't see him duck under the web when he went through. I on the other hand had to get down on my hands and knees in order to get past the web without disturbing it; which I really didn't want to do. I wasn't bothered by it, but the thing was a work of art in its own right.

"Well, at least we weren't imagining the whole thing," I told Jamie as I tucked the feather into my back pocket for later study and made my way back to the painting. Right now I had work to do.

For what seemed the thousandth time in twenty-four hours, I wished I could see what I was doing. Hovering somewhere about my person was a ball of energy. I released it, and — as I had practiced — pushed it toward the painting, while picturing in my mind the image of it stretching into the shape I needed. The ball was my backup. I couldn't risk using it alone since we didn't know how long it would last, and it was already ancient compared to all the others we had made. For the most part, I would be relying on my own energy field. I had been practicing with four by eight sheets of plywood, so the painting shouldn't pose that much of a challenge. Still, when you're dealing with million dollar art works, I don't think you can be too cautious or careful.

After waiting a couple seconds for the energy to sort of 'soak in', and complaining one final time about working blind, I picked the painting up and stepped across the line of shadow cast by one of the bigger trees and into the cabana. A couple more steps took me into the darkness of the new storage unit, and I set the Lady on the special easel I had set up. I wanted her out of here and into someone else's hands as fast as possible, but there is only so much you can do on a Sunday, so I covered her up and left her alone in the dark.

Monday morning, right after I sent Christine off to school, I called Intersure and was greeted by the cheery voice of their receptionist.

"Good morning, Celia," I said. "It's David Malcolm. Is Miss Blake available?"

"Good morning, Mr. Malcolm, let me check for you."

The hold music was a piano concerto, and it reminded me that I wasn't going to get a chance to hear Ceres play for his Blue Lady. Celia came back on after about a minute.

"I can put you through to Miss Blake; have a nice day, Mr. Malcolm."

"Thank y..." I got cut off as she transferred the call.

"Veronica Blake."

"Good morning, Miss Blake, how was your weekend?"

"Depressing," she said. "I spent most of it counting the hours until I have to pay out on a million dollar policy. Please tell me my week is about to improve."

"That depends," I said. "Can you get your hands on a van on short notice?"

Dead silence, and then finally, in a voice that sounded like it needed water, "Tell me you're not joking."

"I hope not, but I haven't checked yet," I lied. "If it's where it's supposed to be, can you authenticate it yourself, or do you need someone else for that?"

"No, we have professionals for that. David, please tell me you're not joking. You have 'Femme en Bleu'?"

"As long as your information was correct, and there are no copies floating around, then yes, I'm serious, and a little anxious to get rid of her; how soon can you meet me?"

"Meet you?" she asked. "Meet you where?"

"A self-storage unit not far from here."

"A self ... You left a million dollar painting in self-storage?" Her voice was a mixture of shock, outrage, and I think the last was fear. "Are you insane!?"

"It depends on whom you ask," I answered. "According to my therapist, I'm just horribly misunderstood. So can you get the van, or do I need to rent something? Is there any kind of special padding I should get? I wonder if it would fit in my trunk?"

I had the odd feeling in my head that Jamie's sides were hurting and tears were running down her face.

"What? No! I'll bring everything. Where should I meet you?"

She did bring everything: a van, a specially designed museum delivery box, two armed guards, and a photographer to document the event. I was half afraid she was going to wet herself as she waited for me to open the door. The painting was far enough back that it was hidden in shadow until the door was fully opened. You could just make out the legs of the easel below the black cloth I had draped over it to keep dust off. If I'd thought of it, I would have gone out and bought something the same size to put in front of it: "Dogs Playing Poker" or "Elvis on Black Velvet" maybe. The look on her face when I pulled the sheet off would have been priceless. Not that there was anything wrong with the look on her face now. I'm not sure how long she had been holding the breath, but I knew when she let it out. Then she was hugging me.

"Hey, I like this job!" Jamie said.

"Behave yourself," I said.

"Where did you find it?"

"Ceres' retirement estate in Costa Rica," I said as I pulled out a small envelope that contained the imaging card from my camera and showed it to her. I had been careful to wear gloves whenever I'd had to handle it and wipe it down a final time —, just in case — before dropping it into the envelope. I'd purchased a new card for the camera before I went south to Ceres' place. The camera had come with a 2 gigabyte card in it, but I wasn't going to need nearly that amount of space for my purposes, and smaller ones were cheap enough that it wouldn't matter if they gave it back to me or not. Besides, I couldn't be sure if Atkins' people had used it before — wouldn't want any embarrassing images to show up later. It was a really nice camera, too. Eight-megapixel resolution and a case full of accessories — I was going to have to take a photography class just to learn what they were all for. Based on the ones I'd seen in the shop at the mall where I had snapped the shots of Avery and his partner way back when, this bad boy was cutting edge and had to cost a fortune. One really nice thing about stealing hardware from agencies that don't exist is that most of the stuff comes without serial numbers. Sweet!

Veronica's face was blank as she took the little envelope from me and handed it to the man with the camera that had been taking pictures of everything.

"I'm not going to ask," she said. She turned to the team waiting by the van. "Alright, let's get this back to the office for inspection and authentication."

"Do I need a receipt?" I asked.

Tuesday's paper had two items that caught my attention. I had been avoiding the paper on purpose as planned, but I made an exception just to see the story. The first was a picture of Ceres being arrested at his local estate. Most places that wouldn't make the front page, but it had apparently been a slow news weekend, and he was one of the wealthiest men in Vegas who didn't own a casino, and he had been caught trying to defraud an insurance company for a million and a half dollars. When I got to page 8 to finish reading the article, I discovered that I was going to be getting my full fee. They had printed one of the photos of me uncovering the painting. They had also spelled my name wrong; shocking, I know.

The second item caught my attention as I was leafing through to finish the article about Ceres' arrest. Apparently a local doctor had committed suicide. Nurses had discovered the body early Monday morning as they were opening her office. Due to the grisly nature of the find, the police had treated it as a homicide. However, based on the nature of her injuries, the angle of cuts and so forth, the medical examiner concluded that she had apparently been in the process of performing a hysterectomy on herself. Evidence found at her residence suggested that she had been taking several anti-depressants which she had prescribed for herself as well. Her niece, whose name was being withheld since she was a minor, had been taken in by child services pending the location of her next of kin.

"Surprise!" Jamie said. "A little more gruesome than I planned on, but either way, that bitch deserved it."

"You won't get any argument out of me. What did you do?"

"Oh, I've been a busy little bad-girl. While you and the others were learning to juggle proto-patterns, I was busy pushing buttons here and there around town. Seems Essex in particular has been living on the edge for some time. It was pretty clear she hated women, so I just kind of helped her to extend that revulsion to include her own female parts."

I needed to have a talk with Jasmine, as this would impact her as well.

"Yes," Jasmine said when I called. "I have just read the story. Though few will miss her, I am sure Tanya will be upset to have lost one of her best customers."

"She doesn't know?" Jamie said, obviously as surprised as I was.

"Apparently not," I said, then turned my attention back to Jasmine. "Yes, I'm sure she will be. I'm sorry for interrupting your morning. I know how much you and May like your morning naps after a long night at work."

There was a moment's hesitation.

"That is true," she said. "May and I do indeed value our quiet time, but as this concerns one of my girls, I do not mind the interruption. Perhaps we can speak again later."

I took a few minutes to rearrange the furniture into something more suitable while they settled themselves to rest, and then I pulled them both into the cabana. I even opened up the side so they could see out into the lagoon.

"Lady Jasmine, you honor me," I kissed her hand and then handed her into one of the bamboo papa-san chairs I had set up. I then kissed May's hand and held it as she knelt on the cushion I had placed next to Jasmine's chair.

"Tea?" I offered. I had a service set up near the door with water heating over a small can of fuel.

"Yes, thank you," Jasmine replied.

"It would be my honor to serve you," May offered.

I glanced at Jasmine for permission and when she nodded said, "Thank you, May."

I settled myself in the chair across from Jasmine, and we waited as May made tea for us both, serving Jasmine first, as both her Mistress and my guest. As I was the host, Jasmine waited until I had taken a sip before she did. May waited until we each sipped ours before starting a cup for herself.

"This is a lovely setting," Jasmine said conversationally. "Thank you for inviting us. I gathered this was a matter of some urgency."

"Yes," I said gravely. "There is news I must share with you regarding Tanya's relationship with Dr. Essex. You truly did not know their relationship extended beyond the House of Seven Willows?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. "No, I did not. It is forbidden for the girls to see patrons without going through the house. I cannot protect them otherwise if..."

I held up my hand and said, "Not in that way. Victoria Essex was Tanya's sister-in-law. Tanya's older sister was married to Victoria's younger brother.