A Fairy Tale (5 page)

She paused to admire herself for a moment. “I have
got
to find a dress like this,” she murmured. Then she noticed movement in the reflection and turned to see that some men in Maeve’s Rat Pack style attire had entered through the balcony doors. They’d caught up with her, and she still hadn’t found an exit.

She hoped they’d look for someone trying to hide, not for someone in the middle of the dance floor. She stuck her umbrella point-first into a palm tree’s pot, then grabbed a tuxedoed fairy man who bore a striking resemblance to an otherworldly Clark Gable. “Dance with me, handsome,” she purred. He obliged by pulling her into a dance hold and sweeping her onto the floor.

She and her partner hadn’t even made one circuit of the floor before the music trailed off into silence. There were angry mutterings as the dancers stopped, and a voice rang out from near the bandstand, saying, “How dare you enter our domain?”

A man and woman who looked a lot like Nick and Nora Charles from the
Thin Man
movies stood on the stage by the band, glaring at Maeve’s people. One of Maeve’s men stepped forward. “We seek a fugitive on behalf of her majesty,” he said.

The fairy Emily thought of as “Nora” laughed harshly. “Her majesty? Do you mean Maeve? I do not recall her earning that title. She rules only her own little court. She has no power here.”

“And we have no treaty with her,” Nora’s counterpart “Nick” added. “You are not welcome here.”

“Maeve’s captive must be returned to her,” the newcomer insisted. Emily felt like he was looking right at her. Surely he’d recognize her. She was the only human here not working as a waitress. She pressed against her partner’s side, trying to hide behind him and willing the searchers not to notice her.

Nora smiled and ran one finger along the long strand of beads that hung around her neck. “If you tell us who it is and why it is so important to Maeve, perhaps we would oblige her by offering some friendly assistance.”

Yes, please, tell her,
Emily thought. Then she might finally learn what was going on.

Unfortunately, the man merely bowed, said, “We will inconvenience you no further. Apologies for the interruption.” He and his colleagues left.

Nora raised one penciled-on eyebrow. “Maeve must be up to something,” she said to her consort. “I wonder what it is this time.” They laughed as she waved a gloved hand at the band and the music started again. Emily had a hard time focusing on the steps of the dance as she tried to keep an eye on Nick and Nora, who were talking intensely, their heads close together.

As Emily and her partner danced, Nick and Nora moved into the crowd. They didn’t find partners, but both of them wove their way around the dance floor. Emily’s breath caught in her throat from the fear that they were looking for her. If she was valuable to Maeve, she might be equally valuable to them, and she doubted they’d let her leave if they found her.

“You’re trembling,” her dance partner said.

“I felt a chill,” she replied. Even though she knew she was still wearing her jeans and T-shirt and not a slip-like, nearly backless dress, she thought she felt his cold hand on the bare skin of her back.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asked.

She looked up at him and reminded herself that he didn’t really look like Clark Gable. It was a glamour. Even with the glamour, he was odd, with eyes that didn’t seem to have pupils or irises. They were disks of glossy black, and his hair had a bluish sheen. “I’ll be fine if I keep dancing,” she said, resisting the urge to look for Nick and Nora.

She spotted the exit when she saw people coming and going through a set of glass doors that were nearly invisible in the mirrored walls. She decided to dance the rest of this song, so her departure wouldn’t be so obviously connected with the interruption by Maeve’s goons, and then make her getaway.

The music shifted subtly from one song to another, and dancers changed partners or drifted to or from the dance floor. She was about to thank her partner for the dance, then remembered the rule about not thanking fairies. “That was a lovely dance,” she said. He smiled and kissed her hand, and she turned to go, only to find herself in the arms of the man she thought of as Nick.

She instantly tensed, then realized that was a dead giveaway and forced herself to relax. They made one circuit of the floor before he spoke. “You dance divinely, my dear,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

“That’s quite a compliment, coming from you,” she said flirtatiously, hoping she didn’t sound as terrified as she felt. Why had he singled her out? He must have realized she was human. Did he know she was Maeve’s escapee?

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“I’ve been around, but I’m fairly new here.”

“Ah. I’m sure I’d have noticed you if you had been here.” He pulled her even closer in a way that her Cotillion teacher would have frowned upon, and they moved as one. He was an expert dancer whose lead was easy to follow. She was accustomed to dancing with professionals in choreographed numbers, but those dances weren’t nearly as graceful and fluid as this impromptu whirl around a ballroom. If she could capture this motion on stage, her career would be made.

The music seemed to go on and on, and she wondered if it would ever end. She imagined that this was the equivalent of having the king dance with her, so she couldn’t excuse herself in the middle of a song. She saw her umbrella in the potted plant as she passed by, and then the doorway, and then they were on the wrong side of the room again. She’d always thought Cinderella was foolish to linger dangerously close to midnight at the ball, but she was starting to understand just how difficult it could be to get away from a royal dancing partner. Every turn around the room brought her closer to pumpkin time.

The song finally wound to a finish, and she held her breath, waiting to see what Nick would do next. He bowed over her hand, released her, and after a long stare he turned and moved away, toward Nora. The two of them spoke softly as they stood in the middle of the dance floor, and while they were occupied, Emily hurried toward her umbrella, pulled it out of the pot, and moved swiftly for the glass doors.

Her back felt like it had a target on it as she forced herself to gracefully ascend the steps to the doors. At any moment, she was sure someone would call out, exposing her as an imposter, or capture her, but she made it to and through the doors into what looked like a fancy hotel lobby, only without the registration desk and bell stand. There was even a revolving door. She wondered where the door led—to yet another cinematic version of a historical era, or maybe to whatever passed for the outdoors in fairyland? It was too much to hope that the doorway would take her back to the real world. It couldn’t possibly be that simple.

And it wasn’t. She heard hurried footsteps behind her and turned to see a group of stern-faced tuxedoed men rushing out of the ballroom. She ran for the door, glad she still felt like she was wearing sneakers even as she heard the rapid click of heels on the marble floor. The footsteps behind her sped up, as well, and she dove for the revolving door, throwing her whole weight on it to start it spinning.

The door came to a sudden, shuddering halt before she was safely on the other side as her pursuers caught it. She wasn’t entirely trapped, though. There was a narrow slit open to the outdoors, so she sucked in her stomach, turned sideways, and squeezed her way through. At the last second, her pursuers pulled back on the door, narrowing the gap and trapping her foot. She jerked away,freeing herself but leaving her shoe wedged in the doorway. “Oh, no, you’re not using that to track me down. I’ve read that story,” she muttered as she bent to grab her sneaker. She jammed her umbrella into the door to keep it from revolving, and then she ran for her life.

The Upper West Side, New York City—The Murray Residence

Wednesday 3:40 p.m.

Tanaka turned to face Sophie. “Miss Drake? I’m Detective Tanaka. I’ll be looking into your sister’s disappearance.”

Sophie recovered her composure instantly and gave Tanaka a dazzling smile as she took his umbrella. “Please, call me Sophie. I must say, I didn’t expect such special treatment. You got here so
quickly
.” Although her honeyed drawl sweetened her words, Michael detected a tart edge of displeasure in her voice.

“Hey, anything for the kid here,” Tanaka said, coming over to where Michael sat on the sofa. “How’re you doing, Rev?”

“Better.”

“Well, you still look like hell. I mean, heck. I’ll have to tell everyone that you’re not just taking a vacation here.” His tone changed from teasing to real concern. “And this is probably the last thing you needed, huh?” The level of worry on his face and in his voice suggested to Michael that the rapid and high-level response had nothing to do with the potential seriousness of this case and everything to do with Tanaka’s concern about how it might affect Michael’s currently fragile health. In short, he was being humored.

Sophie joined them after setting Tanaka’s umbrella in the bathroom to dry. “Can I get you anything to drink, detective?”

“No thanks,” Tanaka said.

She gestured toward the chair facing the sofa. “Then please, have a seat.” She seemed to have forgotten that this wasn’t her home.

“I’ll need to talk to you too, Rev,” Tanaka said as he settled into the chair. “You’re the neighbor, and you know her habits.”

“I don’t like being on this side of things,” Michael grumbled.

Tanaka nodded. “I know.”

Sophie paused for a second, watching the two of them, before joining Michael on the sofa. As soon as she sat, she started to lift her right foot out of its shoe, then she seemed to realize what she was doing and shoved her foot back down.

Tanaka took out his notebook and a pen, opened the notebook, and braced it on his knee. “Now, Miss Drake, I’m going to ask you both some questions. Please don’t take offense, but there are some things I need to rule out. I’m not casting aspersions on your sister.”

Sophie nodded. “I understand. And in the interest of saving time, I’ll tell you that, to the best of my knowledge, my sister didn’t have money troubles and wasn’t in debt. I’ve never noticed any signs of substance abuse. She has no history of mental illness. She hasn’t mentioned dating anyone, and that means she also hasn’t mentioned any recent breakups. She wasn’t planning a vacation, since she just took over the lead role of a Broadway show. She got a good response to her debut, so she isn’t hiding in shame. Is there anything else you need to know?”

As Sophie went through this recitation, Michael watched her in something that felt uncomfortably like awe. He’d conducted hundreds of interviews, and he’d never seen anything like this. She sat perfectly still with her hands folded in her lap, staring steadily at Tanaka as she spoke. She didn’t clutch or smooth her skirt, tuck her hair behind her ear, pick at her fingernails, or exhibit any of the other signs of nervousness he usually saw when he was questioning people. When it had been his turn in her place, he’d been a mess. He remembered grabbing his knees so it wouldn’t be obvious how badly his hands were shaking.

But Sophie was the steadiest, calmest person in the room. Her unwavering gaze was getting to Tanaka, who had beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He kept his eyes down on his notebook instead of looking up at her, avoiding the intense eye contact. That was something Michael never thought he’d see—this delicate girl was making Tank sweat, just by looking at him. The most hardened psychopaths hadn’t been able to get to Tank like that.

No, not a girl, Michael corrected himself. She was about four years older than Emily, as he recalled, so she was over thirty. She’d probably get carded in a bar, but no one would dare treat her like a child.

Tanaka shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and turned to Michael. “What about you, Rev? Does this fit with what you’ve seen?”

“Yeah.”

Tanaka nodded. “Okay, that eliminates the usual reasons people go missing.”

“Which means foul play, right?” Sophie asked.

Tanaka took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead, then shot a worried glance at Michael before answering Sophie. “Let’s play it safe and investigate like it is foul play. Now, I need a physical description of your sister.”

“She’s twenty eight, five foot nine, very slender build, has strawberry blond hair a shade redder than mine. I think she’s wearing it past her shoulders now. Her hair is a little curlier than mine. Blue eyes.” She broke her focus on Tanaka, who sighed in relief, to take a photograph out of her purse and hand it to him. “This is the most recent photo I have of her. I printed it before I left.”

Tanaka tucked it away in his coat pocket. “Thank you, that’s helpful. Any tattoos or other distinguishing marks?”

“No tattoos, unless she got one recently that I don’t know about. She is a dancer, though.”

“So?”

“It gives her some distinguishing marks.” Sophie pulled her right foot out of her shoe and extended her leg in front of her, her toes pointed. Michael would have expected a woman like her to have the kind of dainty foot that would slide easily into a glass slipper, but her foot was gnarly. Her toe joints were large and knotted, and there were calluses around her toes. The nail on her big toe was a purplish black. Two of her smaller toes were taped. “Dancers tend to have hideous feet,” Sophie said, putting her foot back in its shoe.

Tanaka raised an eyebrow as he made a note. “I never knew you could spot a dancer by her feet.”

“Oh, honey, ballet is
brutal
.”

Tanaka flipped a page in his notebook. “When did you last talk to your sister?”

“Last night, shortly after ten my time, which would have been eleven here. She’d just come offstage, and she called to tell me how the show went. She was about to go out with some friends from the cast. She said she’d call me later, but she didn’t, and she hasn’t answered when I’ve called her, either at home or on her cell.”

“Did she mention the names of these friends?”