The Night's Legacy Page 4

  “Three dead, another thirty arrested.”

  Rahnasto nodded. Those numbers were better than usual. The three dead—Salei and the two drivers—had been the Private Eye’s work. He wasn’t afraid to kill whoever got in his way. The woman, being a true superhero, left her victims alive to be arrested. In two years—half that with good behavior—most of the thirty would be back. A few would have a change of heart or embrace religion, but most were unskilled immigrants who needed the money so badly they would risk a hitch in prison.

  He cut through the VIP room to his private office. From the bottom drawer he took out a bottle of scotch and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. He downed a shot of the former and then a shot of the latter. Only then did he look up at Kamensky. “Anything else?”

  “Someone left a message for you.” Kamensky passed over a manila envelope. With a grunt Rahnasto opened it. Inside he found a single sheet of paper. Typed on it were the words, “You want the Silver Seraph. I know how. Meet me tomorrow at midnight.” There was an address included as well, one Rahnasto didn’t recognize but could easily have someone case.

  “Who sent this?”

  “Don’t know. It was left on a table. Cameras don’t show anything.”

  Rahnasto tossed the message back at Kamensky. “Send a couple of boys over there this morning and check it out. If it checks out we’ll go.”

  “Sure, Boss.”

  Then Rahnasto waved Kamensky from the room so that he could lean his chair back and sip the Pepto-Bismol as he thought about how nice it would be to operate in a city free of do-gooders.

  Chapter 4

  Lois woke up in her bed at seven o’clock the next morning. For a moment she looked around, not recognizing her own bedroom. What kind of motel was this? her bleary mind asked. Then she saw Mom standing over her and remembered she wasn’t in Durndell or any other two-bit town but back in Ren City with Mom. “Time to get up, sweetheart,” Mom said, sounding far too chipper.

  “Why? I don’t have school anymore.”

  “It’s the first day of your new job.”

  “Job? What are you talking about?”

  “We’ll discuss it down in the kitchen. Do you still eat pancakes?”

  “Your pancakes or pancakes in general?”

  “We can go out if you’d prefer.”

  Lois knew they could go out to a restaurant, but then Mom’s feelings would be hurt. And maybe her cooking had improved over the last seven years. Not a realistic possibility, but not impossible either. “No no. Pancakes are fine.”

  She just about fell down the unfamiliar stairs on the way to the kitchen. She didn’t know how Mom could be so full of energy so early in the morning, especially if she had been at the office all night. By the time she used the bathroom and got down there, Mom already had a stack of round dark brown objects that could charitably be described as pancakes.

  “I found some real maple syrup, like you used to like.”

  “Is that what took all night?” Lois asked as she sat down.

  “Of course not.” Mom shrugged and said, “I’m sorry I left you alone most of the night. I got working on some budget reports and fell asleep.”

  “Budget reports have a way of doing that to people.”

  Mom took the syrup off the stove to pour over Lois’s pancakes. She had never cared that much about the maple syrup except that the liquid made the pancakes somewhat edible. Mom didn’t eat any of the pancakes herself; she already had a tall glass of green liquid at her place on the table, the protein shake she drank every morning. Lois had tried such a shake once and spent an hour in the bathroom afterward.

  Instead of sitting down, Mom went into the living room. She returned a minute later with a box wrapped in blue paper. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

  Lois tore the paper off to find a cardboard box. Inside that was a dark blue polo shirt. She took it out of the box and shook it out. On the left breast was stitched the Thorne Museum name and logo. “A souvenir from the gift shop? What for?”

  “It’s not a souvenir, sweetheart. It’s for your new job.”

  “You got me a job at the museum?”

  “We had an opening in the gift shop for the summer. I thought—”

  Lois tossed the shirt onto the floor. “I am not going to work at the museum.”

  “Why not? Because I’m there?”

  “In part.” Also because she didn’t want to endure the humiliation of Dr. Johnson seeing her folding T-shirts in the gift shop, not when he had talked so many times about her working as his assistant once she was old enough to have earned her doctorate in Egyptology.

  “Then what are you going to do? Work at another diner?”

  “Is there something wrong with that? It’s good, honest work.”

  Mom sank onto the chair next to Lois. She looked down at the floor, suddenly seeming so old and tired. Any moment she was going to start crying. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realize you hated me that much.”

  “God, Mom, don’t start guilting me.”

  “Then what is it? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

  Lois looked down at the floor as well. “I just want to be my own person. I don’t want people thinking I got the job because I’m the director’s daughter.”

  “Oh. I see.” They looked up at the same time. Mom’s eyes were watery, but she hadn’t started to cry yet. “I understand. You can work wherever you want.”

  The worst part of it was that Mom really did understand. If Lois went to work at another diner or even as a bartender at the Brass Drum, Mom would still understand. She would probably show up on the first night to buy everyone a round to celebrate. That was part of her annoying sweetness.

  Lois sighed and scooped up the polo shirt. “Fine. But just for the summer. Then I’ll find my own job.”

  “I understand.” Mom gave her a hug and stroked her hair as if she were still eight years old. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

  Lois wondered how quickly she was going to regret this.

  * * *

  The regrets began about a half-hour later, after Lois took a shower. On her bed she found a white turtleneck next to the blue polo shirt. She stuck her head out the door, into the hallway. “What’s the turtleneck for, Mom?”

  Not surprising, Mom wasn’t far away. “It’s to cover up your arms and neck, sweetheart.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The museum dress code forbids visible tattoos among museum staff.”

  “When did you make up that rule?”

  “I didn’t write it. The rule was put on the books in 1965 as a response to the peace movement. The actual rule forbids ‘adornments of a tasteless nature.’ I would interpret that to include grinning skulls.”

  Lois glanced down at her right forearm, where she had such a grinning skull tattooed. She had been seventeen and in Portland, Michigan. Since there wasn’t much to do in Portland, Michigan she had wound up letting a local draw the tattoo in his garage while she guzzled a bottle of vodka to dull the pain. Not one of her finer moments. Since then she’d gotten a few more, including a Chinese character for luck on the back of her neck.

  “Jesus Christ, Mom.”

  “Language.”

  Lois rolled her eyes and felt fourteen years old again. She slammed the door shut. Mom might have come in after her to argue, but her sense of modesty kept her out while Lois was changing into the turtleneck, blue polo, and tan cargo pants. She was waiting by the door when Lois came out. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I know it’s going to be a difficult transition for you, but please understand I only want the best for you. I’m your mother.”

  “I know.” She let Mom hug her. When they parted, Lois did a slow turn. “What do you think? Do I look disreputable?”

  “No, sweetheart, you look like my little angel.”

  “Thanks,” Lois said, knowing it was going to be a long day.

  * * *

  The car they had taken from the airport was waiting by the curb. If Mom ha
d noticed her old motorcycle sitting on the porch she didn’t say anything. Her Spyder was chained up in its spot, looking no worse for wear.

  “So how much does the gift shop pay?” Lois asked.

  “Minimum wage. It’s just a summer job.”

  “Then you’ll probably want me to go back to school, right?”

  “Only if you want to go back to school.” Mom turned to her with a slight smile. “What is it you want, Lois?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then maybe this job will help you figure that out.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Lois wasn’t so sure about that. Seven years of various jobs hadn’t brought her any closer to figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Mostly she just wanted people to leave her alone.

  They didn’t say much else the rest of the way to the Thorne Museum. The driver opened the door for her. She nearly fell on her face staring up at the museum’s stone façade. Its Greek columns and portico had always struck her with a feeling of awe, as if she were entering an ancient temple of Zeus.

  She had gone up the marble steps numerous times, first on Mom’s shoulders when she was a baby and then scaling them like a mountain as a toddler and then doing a sort of hopscotch up as a little girl and then finally with her head down and hands in pocket as a teenager. This time she tried to mimic the easy stride of her mother. A part of her still felt like the toddler trying to ascend Mount Olympus to the heaven of knowledge.

  Mom took longer to make her way up, her face a bit flushed and breath coming heavily despite that she didn’t seem any heavier. “You don’t have to wait for me,” Mom said. “You know where the gift shop is.”

  “I thought you would want to introduce me around.”

  “Most everyone already knows you.”

  When she stepped through the front doors, Lois thought maybe Dr. Johnson would be there waiting for her. He wasn’t. He was probably still in Washington for his presentation. There was only a security guard who smiled at her. “Hello, Miss Locke. Welcome back.”

  “Thanks—Stan.” She remembered his face when it had been a little smoother and the hair a bit less gray. She had gotten to know most of the guards, usually when they were giving her lectures about not playing in the exhibits.

  The main hall hadn’t changed at all in seven years. There was still a blue whale skeleton suspended in the air, its yellowed corpse long and wide enough to take up most of the ceiling. She followed Mom past the ticket counter, to the center of the hall that in an hour would be packed with gaping tourists. On either side of the hall were sets of double-doors—six in all—leading to various exhibits. The one on ancient mummies she knew belonged to Dr. Johnson. He had probably dug up most of the mummies himself and brought them back on his plane.

  “No one’s going to expect you to remember everything right away,” Mom said. “If someone asks a question you can’t answer, just ask your supervisor.”

  “Sure,” Lois said. She hadn’t really paid attention to anything after the mummies exhibit; she hoped none of the tourists bugged her until she had time to do a little looking around.

  At the end of the main hall was the bronzed skeleton of a mammoth named Jeff after Jefferson County, Missouri where he had been dug up. Mom’s lip trembled as if she were about to cry as she looked up at Jeff. “Remember when you climbed up there and tried to ride him?”

  “Yes.” She had been five years old and on spring break from fourth grade. She had employed a cunning ruse by pulling a fire alarm to distract security while she climbed up Jeff’s skeleton, using the wires holding him together where she didn’t have natural footholds. “I thought you were going to faint.”

  Mom still hadn’t lost her temper when someone from maintenance got a ladder to bring her down. She had looked Lois in the eye with a Glare and said, “I’m very disappointed in you, young lady. I want you to apologize to everyone whose time you wasted.” She had spent hours apologizing to security guards, maintenance workers, and even some of the tourists who’d come back after the impromptu fire drill. At the end of the day Mom had given her a hug and said, “That was a very big girl thing you did, sweetheart.” They had gone home, where Lois still didn’t get any dessert.

  At this memory she wanted to turn and flee, but Mom was already guiding her towards the escalator to the second floor. The gift shop was just to the right, sandwiched between the displays of meteors and precious gems. Seeing the rows of red and blue T-shirts she winced, thinking of what had happened in Durndell. Maybe this was some kind of cosmic justice.

  As if Lois were going to school for the first time, Mom looked her in the eye and said, “If you need anything, you call my office. Understand?”

  “I know.”

  “Come upstairs when you get done for the day, all right?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “We’ll go out for dinner, I promise.”

  “Great.” She waited for Mom to do something embarrassing like hug or kiss her, but all she did was pat Lois’s shoulder before shuffling off towards the elevator.

  Taking a deep breath, Lois walked into the gift shop and straight into a nightmare. A man stood up from behind the counter and smiled at her. She could already feel her face turning hot as Tony said, “Hi, Lois. Small world, huh?”

  * * *

  Lois gave herself credit for not fainting. She did have to grab onto a rack of discounted T-shirts for support. “You work here?” she asked.

  “Yeah. So you’re the Lois Locke they said was starting today?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the director’s daughter.”

  “Most people don’t.” Most people expected her not only to be as smart as Mom but as sweet and unassuming as well. As if she were supposed to be Mom’s clone instead of her daughter. “How long you been working here?”

  “About a year. Helps me pay the bills.” He flashed a smile that brought back unwanted memories of his backseat. “You making some extra cash for the summer?”

  “Yeah. Mom said there was an opening and I leaped at the chance.”

  Before they could say anything else, she heard a girl shriek, “Oh my God! Lois!”

  A blond girl seized Lois in a vise grip even tighter than Mom’s first hug back at the hospital in Texas. After nearly choking the air from Lois’s lungs, the girl pulled back and smiled expectantly. Lois glanced down at the girl’s nametag. “Hey—Melanie. How are you?”

  Melanie pouted. “You don’t remember me, do you? Melanie Pullman. We had American Lit together in high school? You came over to my sleepover, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” That been Lois’s senior year in high school. As a freshman in the grips of puberty with acne, braces, and thick glasses, Melanie had been one of the few kids uncool enough to hang out with Lois. The acne and braces were gone but the glasses remained. She tried to think of how old Melanie would be: twenty-five? “What have you been up to?”

  Melanie seized the opportunity to spew out her entire history for the last ten years. After Lois had left, Melanie had finished high school and then done two years at Ren City Community College, just missing Lois’s brief stay there. “College wasn’t really for me. I’m not super-smart like you and your mom.” So Melanie had done some temping for a couple of years, winding up at Olson Steel and catching the eye of Mr. Olson’s son Oliver. “Ollie and I just clicked, you know? We got married after like two weeks.”

  They got divorced after two years when Melanie caught him in bed with his new temp secretary. “I’m glad I never had any kids with that rat, you know?” While Melanie had thought Ollie was well off, his company was wiped out in the recession, leaving her with nothing. “So I saw the job listing and I applied and Tony hired me and I can’t believe it but now you’re here too!” Melanie wrapped Lois in another hug and then began bouncing up and down. “It’s going to be just like high school again.”

  “Great,” Lois mumbled. She had hated her two years of high school. Not
only the boring classes, but also the equally boring people who thought high school was the summit of their lives, people like Melanie.

  She caught Tony’s eye as Melanie took her hand to tug her away. He gave her a smile and shrugged, leaving her to her own devices. She couldn’t really blame him for passing Melanie off onto her, but she promised to make him pay for it later.

  * * *

  Melanie folded a T-shirt and said, “This isn’t really a hard job, especially not for super-genius like you.”

  “I’m not a super-genius.”

  “Sure you are! I’m surprised you aren’t already a doctor like your mom. It must be nice that you can work at the same place, though.” Melanie finished folding the T-shirt and then picked up another. “My mom was a cleaning lady for some rich people. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s not like I wanted to follow in her footsteps, you know?”

  “Yeah, I guess not.” Lois had done a stint as a chambermaid for a hotel, which had given her a new appreciation for waitressing.

  Melanie held up another T-shirt. “Now the secret is you want to fold them so most of the logo or whatever shows. That way customers don’t unfold it, though some will anyway, especially the little kids. You want to try?”

  “Sure.” Lois picked up a T-shirt and repeated what Melanie had done. It wasn’t really hard. Still, Melanie clapped as though she’d just won an Oscar.

  “You’re a natural at this! But you should do a couple more just in case.” After Lois did so without any folding accidents, Melanie led her over to a rack of cheap toys. “When we get too low on these you just go back into the storage room and get some more. Tony’s not going to have you working the counter today being your first day and all. He didn’t put me on the register until my third week but I’m sure you’ll get to do it sooner being a genius and all.”

  “What if I don’t want to work the register?”

  “Oh you have to! We all take turns doing it. It’s not so bad. Most of the customers are pretty nice. A few can get mean but if they get too mean you can call security to throw them out. And if any homeless guys get in here you call security right away. The ticket counter’s supposed to stop them, but they can be pretty smart about that and they start wandering around up here where they think no one will look.”