Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall (18 page)

“I suppose it was kind of naughty of us, coming down here to eat. We thought about helping ourselves to some of that
gateau
over there, but then we thought it might be for a special occasion and it would be such a shame to spoil it.”

“This hotel has good room service,” the cop said. “Twenty-four hours.”

I tugged at Lindy, but she seemed now to be seized by the oft-cited mania of criminals to flirt with being caught.

“And you just ordered something up yourself, officer?”

“Sure.”

“And was it good?”

“It was pretty good. I recommend you folks do the same.”

“Let’s leave these gentlemen to get on with their investigations,” I said, tugging at her arm. But still she didn’t budge.

“Officer, may I ask you something?” she asked. “Do you mind?”

“Try me.”

“You were talking just now about seeing something odd. You see anything odd yourself? I mean, about us?”

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

“Like we both of us have our faces entirely wrapped in bandages? Did you notice that?”

The cop looked at us carefully, as though to verify this last statement. Then he said: “As a matter of fact, I did notice, ma’am, yes. But I didn’t wish to make personal remarks.”

“Oh, I see,” Lindy said. Then turning to me: “Wasn’t that considerate of him?”

“Come on,” I said, pulling her along now quite forcefully. I could feel both men staring at our backs all the way to the exit.

WE CROSSED THE BALLROOM
with an outward show of calm. But once we were past the big swing doors, we gave in to panic and broke into a near-run. Our arms stayed linked, so we did a lot of stumbling and colliding as Lindy led me through the building. Then she pulled me into a service elevator, and only when the doors closed and we were climbing did she let go, lean back against the metal wall and start up a weird noise, which I realised was how hysterical laughter sounds coming through bandages.

When we stepped out of the elevator, she put her arm through mine again. “Okay, we’re safe,” she said. “Now I want to take you somewhere. This is really something. See this?” She was holding up a key card. “Let’s see what this can do for us.”

She used the card to get us through a door marked “Private,” then a door marked “Danger. Keep Out.” Then we were standing in a space smelling of paint and plaster. There were cables dangling from the walls and ceiling, and the cold floor was splashed and mottled. We could see fine because one side of the room was entirely glass—unadorned by curtains or blinds—and all the outdoor lighting was filling the place with yellowish patches. We were up even higher than on our floor: there was in front of us a helicopter-style view over the freeway and the surrounding territory.

“It’s going to be a new presidential suite,” Lindy said. “I love coming here. No light switches yet, no carpet. But it’s slowly coming together. When I first found it, it was much rougher. Now you can see how it’ll look. There’s even this couch now.”

In the centre of the room was a bulky shape with a sheet draped completely over it. Lindy went to it like it was an old friend and flopped down tiredly.

“It’s my fantasy,” she said, “but I kind of believe in it. They’re building this room just for me. That’s why I get to be in here. All of this. It’s because they’re helping me. Helping me build my future. This place used to be a real mess. But look at it now. It’s taking shape. It’s gonna be grand.” She patted the space next to her. “Come on, sweetie, have a rest. I’m feeling drained. You must be too.”

The couch—or whatever it was under the sheet—was surprisingly comfortable, and as soon as I’d sunk into it, I felt waves of tiredness coming over me.

“Boy, am I sleepy,” Lindy said, and her weight fell onto my shoulder. “Isn’t this a great place? I found the key in the slot, first time I came here.”

We were quiet for a while, and I felt myself falling asleep. But then I remembered something.

“Hey, Lindy.”

“Mmm?”

“Lindy. What happened to that award?”

“The award? Oh yeah. The award. I hid it. What else could I do? You know, sweetie, you really deserved that award. I hope it means something to you, my presenting it to you tonight, the way I did. It wasn’t just a whim. I thought about it. I thought about it really carefully. I don’t know if it means much to you. I don’t know if you’ll even remember it ten years, twenty years down the line.”

“I will for sure. And it does mean a lot to me. But Lindy, you say you hid it, but where? Where did you hide it?”

“Mmm?” She was falling asleep again. “I hid it the only place I could. I put it in that turkey.”

“You put it in the turkey.”

“I did exactly the same thing once when I was nine years old. I hid my sister’s glowball inside a turkey. That’s what gave me the idea. Quick thinking, right?”

“Yeah, it sure was.” I felt so tired, but I forced myself to focus. “But Lindy, how well did you hide it? I mean, would those cops have found it by now?”

“I don’t see how. There wasn’t anything sticking out, if that’s what you mean. Why would they think to look up there? I was pushing it behind my back, like this. And kept pushing. I didn’t turn around to look at it, because then those boys would have wondered what I was doing. It wasn’t just a whim, you know. Deciding to give you that award. I thought about it, real hard. I sure hope it means something to you. God, I need to sleep.”

She slumped against me and the next moment she was making snoring noises. Concerned about her surgery, I adjusted her head carefully so her cheek wasn’t pressing on my shoulder. Then I too began to drift off.

I WOKE WITH
a jerk and saw signs of dawn in the big window in front of us. Lindy was still fast asleep, so I carefully extricated myself from her, stood up and stretched my arms. I went to the window and looked at the pale sky and the freeway far below. Something had been on my mind as I was falling asleep and I tried to remember what it was, but my brain was foggy and exhausted. Then I remembered, and I went to the couch and shook Lindy awake.

“What is it? What is it? Whaddaya want?” she said without opening her eyes.

“Lindy,” I said. “The award. We’ve forgotten about the award.”

“I told you already. It’s in that turkey.”

“Okay, so listen. Those cops may not have thought to look inside the turkey. But sooner or later, someone’s going to find it. Maybe someone’s carving it right now.”

“So what? So they find the thing in there. So what?”

“They find the thing in there, they report the big find. Then that cop remembers us. He remembers we were there, standing next to that turkey.”

Lindy seemed to get more awake. “Yeah,” she said. “I see what you’re saying.”

“While that trophy stays in the turkey, they can link us to the crime.”

“Crime? Hey, what do you mean crime?”

“Doesn’t matter what you call it. We need to go back there and get that thing out of the turkey. It doesn’t matter where we leave it after that. But we can’t leave it where it is now.”

“Sweetie, are you sure we have to do this? I’m so tired now.”

“We have to do it, Lindy. We leave it the way it is, you’ll get in trouble. And remember that means a big story for the press.”

Lindy thought about this, then she straightened up her posture a few notches and looked up at me. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go back there.”

THIS TIME ROUND
there were cleaning noises and voices down corridors, but we still made it back to the ballroom without encountering anyone. There was also more light to see by, and Lindy pointed out the notice beside the double doors. It said in plastic mix-and-spell letters:
J. A. POOL
CLEANSERS INC BREAKFAST
.

“No wonder we couldn’t find that office with all the awards,” she said. “This is the wrong ballroom.”

“It makes no difference. What we want is in there now.”

We crossed the ballroom, then cautiously entered the catering room. Like before, a dim light had been left on, and now there was also some natural light from the ventilation windows. There was nobody in sight, but when I glanced along the work counters, I saw we were in trouble.

“Looks like someone’s been here,” I said.

“Yeah.” Lindy took a few steps down the gangway, glancing about her. “Yeah. Looks that way.”

All the canisters, trays, cake-boxes, silver-domed platters we’d seen earlier had vanished. In their place were neat piles of plates and napkins positioned at regular intervals.

“Okay, so they’ve moved all the food,” I said. “Question is, where to?”

Lindy wandered further down the gangway, then turned to me. “Remember, Steve, the last time we were here, before those men came in? We were having quite a discussion.”

“Yeah, I remember. But why go over that again? I know I was out of line.”

“Yeah right, let’s forget it. So where’s that turkey gone?” She glanced around some more. “You know what, Steve? When I was a kid, I so wanted to be a dancer and a singer. And I tried and tried, God knows I tried, but people just laughed, and I thought, this world is so unfair. But then I grew up a little and I realised the world wasn’t so unfair after all. That even if you were like me, one of the unblessed, there was still a chance for you, you could still find a place in the sun, you didn’t have to settle for being just
public
. It wasn’t going to be easy. You’d have to work at it, not mind what people said. But there was definitely still a chance.”

“Well, it looks like you did okay.”

“It’s funny the way this world works. You know, I think it was very insightful. On the part of your wife, I mean. Telling you to get this surgery.”

“Let’s leave her out of it. Hey, Lindy, do you know where that leads? Over there?”

At the far end of the room, where the counters came to an end, there were three steps leading up to a green door.

“Why don’t we try it?” Lindy said.

We opened the door as cautiously as the last one, then for a while I became utterly disoriented. Everything was very dark and each time I tried to turn I found I was beating back curtain material or else tarpaulin. Lindy, who’d taken the flashlight, seemed to be doing better somewhere in front of me. Then I stumbled out into a dark space, where she was waiting for me, shining the torch at my feet.

“I’ve noticed,” she said, in a whisper. “You don’t like talking about her. Your wife, I mean.”

“It’s not that exactly,” I whispered back. “Where are we?”

“And she never comes to visit.”

“That’s because we’re not exactly together just now. Since you must know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

“You didn’t mean to be nosy?!”

“Hey, sweetie, look! This is it! We’ve found it!”

She was pointing the beam at a table a short distance away. It had a white tablecloth on it, and two silver domes side by side.

I went up to the first dome and carefully raised it. Sure enough, there was a fat roast turkey sitting there. I searched out its cavity and inserted a finger.

“Nothing here,” I said.

“You have to get right in there. I pushed it right up. These birds are bigger than you think.”

“I’m telling you there’s nothing in there. Hold the flashlight over here. We’ll try this other one.” I carefully took the lid off the second turkey.

“You know, Steve, I think it’s a mistake. You shouldn’t be embarrassed to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?”

“About you and your wife being separated.”

“Did I say we were separated? Did I say that?”

“I thought …”

“I said we weren’t exactly together. That’s not the same thing.”

“It sounds the same thing …”

“Well, it isn’t. It’s just a temporary thing, something we’re trying out. Hey, I’ve got something. There’s something in here. This is it.”

“Then why don’t you pull it out, sweetie?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?! Jesus! Did you have to push it in so far?”

“Sssh! There’s someone out there!”

At first it was hard to say how many of them there were. Then the voice came closer and I realised it was just the one guy, talking continuously into a cellphone. I also realised exactly where we were. I’d been thinking we’d wandered into some vague backstage area, but in fact we were up on the stage itself, and the curtain facing me was the only thing now dividing us from the ballroom. The man on the cellphone, then, was walking across the floor of the ballroom towards the stage.

I whispered to Lindy to turn off the flashlight and it went dark. She said into my ear: “Let’s get out of here,” and I could hear her creeping away. I tried again to pull the statuette out of the turkey, but now I was afraid of making noise, and besides, my fingers just couldn’t get any purchase.

The voice kept coming closer until it felt like the guy was right there in front of me.

“… It’s not my problem, Larry. We need the logos to be on these menu cards. I don’t care how you do it. Okay, then you do it yourself. That’s right, you do it yourself, bring them over yourself, I don’t care how you do it. Just get them here this morning, seven-thirty latest. We need those things here. The tables look fine. There are plenty of tables, trust me. Okay. I’ll check that out. Okay, okay. Yeah. I’m gonna check that out right now.”

For the last part of this, his voice had been moving over to one side of the room. He must now have flicked a switch on some wall panel, because a strong beam came on directly above me, and also a whirring noise like the air-conditioning had come on. Only I realised the noise wasn’t the air-conditioning, but the curtains opening in front of me.

Twice in my career I’ve had it happen when I’ve been on stage, I’ve had a solo to play, and suddenly it hits me I don’t know how to start, which key I’m in, how the chords change. On both occasions this happened, I just froze up, like I was in a still from a movie, until one of the other boys stepped in to the rescue. It’s only happened twice in over twenty years of playing professionally. Anyway, this is how I reacted to the spotlight coming on above me and the curtains starting to move. I just froze. And I felt oddly detached. I felt a kind of mild curiosity concerning what I’d see once the curtain was gone.