Crystal Masks

9

Sitting at her desk, pen in hand, Loreley phoned the doctor and set up an appointment for the last week of the month. As Legrand had told her, it was pointless to hurry, but at least it was done. She drew a big "x" on the calendar, so the day of the visit was always visible, and also entered the date in the calendar on her mobile phone. Then she opened her e-mail. There was a lot of commercial mail, advertising, a couple of jobs, two from the bank And the last... from Dr. Jacques Legrand!

She clicked on it.

Hello Miss Lehmann,

I am writing to ask how the convalescence is going. The head wound? What about the knee? Keep the brace on it until goes down completely and you have no more pain when you put weight on your leg.

I'm thinking about taking a few days off, for a holiday abroad. Who knows! I hope your offer is still open. Jacques Legrand.

She smiled. Anything could happen.

"Good news?" asked Sarah as she came into the room.

Loreley looked up from the computer. The secretary was looking at her standing still on the threshold, holding a binder tight to her chest that looked bigger than her, petite and frail.

"What have you got for me?"

Sarah looked down at the papers in her hand. "Oh, no. These are for the boss. I saw that you were smiling and I was intrigued; smiles have been rather rare lately."

"It's not a good time," she confessed.

"I realized that, Ethan is worried about you."

Loreley sensed she was being scrutinized by those eyes which were so dark it was difficult to distinguish the pupil from the iris. There were a few moments of silence.

"If you need me, I'm here..." her friend said, adjusting the large reading glasses better on her nose.

"Thank you, I'll keep it in mind."

When Sarah had gone, Loreley leaned back in her chair. From what the secretary had said, she suspected that Ethan was aware of the situation between herself and John. Maybe he knew where he was, too. She would extort that information from him at any cost; but she had to get him alone.

The occasion presented itself the next day. He had just come in to show her the article in the New York Times, where the Wallace case was mentioned. Public opinion seemed to have already condemned him, inflicting as much punishment as possible on him, before the trial even began.

As she read the news, she shook her head. If she, deep in her heart also condemned him, how could she hope the jury would believe that man? She had to defend him and she was not doing it the correct way and in the right spirit.

She decided she would go and speak to the Wallace family to get as much information as possible about Peter's experience and personality. Yes, she had to dig into their lives.

"Loreley, are you with us?" asked Ethan, standing in front of her desk.

She closed the newspaper and handed it back to him.

"Sorry, I got distracted reading the article."

"I was saying that if you want me to help you with this case, I will."

"That’s kind of you, but you already have your own work to do, and I want to get through this on my own."

The man gazed at her with an insistent message of indulgence, mixed with compassion which made her uncomfortable. She go up from her chair and faced him, leaning against the edge of her desk, arms folded.

"Instead of looking at me like that, why don't you tell me what you're really thinking?”

"I don't understand."

"Come on, you know damn well that John has left home... and maybe you know why." She was forcing his hand, but she had no choice if she wanted to get something out of him.

He scratched his head, a gesture he repeated whenever he felt ill at ease.

"Come on, Ethan! Please."

The man sighed. "What do you want me to say? I don't know what to think and it's not for me to judge. I'm just as messed up as you are with my love life, and that's enough for me."

"Are you talking about your wife? How much longer are you going to allow her to use your son as leverage? You must not let her do it any longer."

"If only it were so simple! If I’m not careful about how I behave with Stephany and what I say to her, I risk making things difficult for Lukas. And for myself. I'm afraid she's going to take him away from New York and go back to her own town."

"Don't give in. Don't give her any more money, she's already bleeding you dry. Try telling her to do what she wants. I really want to see if she’d leave. And to do what, then?"

He shook his head and remained silent. She felt sorry for him and dropped the matter.

"Do you know that Johnny dumped me in Paris, leaving me there alone?" She pointed to the wound on her head. "I did this running after him. I fell down the stairs."

"In fact I wondered how you had hurt yourself."

"Kilmer knew. But now let's go back to the topic that interests me most right now. Johnny left home without even a phone call letting me know his intentions, or to give me a chance to defend myself." She put her hands on her hips. "You know what? I don't know if he deserves an explanation, or even if it’s right to give him a second chance to rectify his behaviour!"

"There’s nothing right in all this and I don't want to take sides with either of you." He tightened his lips and took a deep breath. "Look, I’m fond of you both and it hurts me to see you like this. He's not doing well either, I can assure you. I'm sorry but I can't tell you anything else; talk to John."

"And how do I talk to him if I don't even know where to find him?"

Ethan did not respond immediately, he seemed to be measuring the floor tiles with small nervous steps, back and forth, his hands in his pockets; until he stopped again in front of her to look her straight in the eye. "John is in Los Angeles."

"Thank you, Ethan."

"Good luck!"

***

The Wallace's' home was a three-story red-brick building on 71st Street, near the intersection with West End Avenue. Loreley didn't even have to take the car to get there, because it was just over two hundred yards from her home. Before going to see her client's parents, she had gone home from the office to freshen up and change the shirt she was wearing with her suit,.

The woman who opened the door looked at her annoyed, and Loreley realized that her son had not let her know she was coming. It was only after she introduced herself and explained the reason for the visit that she saw her smile and was led inside.

The living room where she was welcomed was decorated in a sober style, which was a little old-fashioned. There was no sign of extravagance, not even in the colours of the upholstery. Everything seemed to be in place, so tidy it seemed almost manic.

Loreley sat down on a cream velvet sofa, with a row of matching cushions resting against the back of it.

"Can I offer you some tea, Miss Lehmann?" the woman asked, standing stiffly in front of her. She was wearing a black dress, just below the knee, mid-heeled shoes and here straight brown hair was gathered at the nape of her neck. She had no make-up, but seemed ready to go out. And in a hurry, at that! The rather rushed mannerisms confirmed this.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Wallace; I'm fine."

She heard the front door unlock and then some footsteps. Shortly after, a tall thin boy appeared at the door. He looked to be in his thirties and resembled Mrs Wallace, so Loreley deduced that it was Michael, Peter's brother. He didn’t look like Peter’s brother, who must have taken after his father.

. "Hello, Counselor Lehmann. I hope you haven’t had to wait too long." He turned to Lorely and shook her hand.

"Michael, why didn’t you tell me anything about this? Did you do it on purpose?" the mother intervened. "What are you hiding from me?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "I've been busy and I forgot to let you know. Now don't start seeing intrigues in everything again."

His mother glared at him.

"I didn't know you had to go out right now," he apologized.

Mrs. Wallace did not seem totally convinced, but her son was unapologetic. "Oh, alright!" She turned to Loreley. "I'm happy to have met my son's lawyer. I'm sorry I didn't come to court, but I won’t miss the next hearing. Now I must go out. As you just heard, I have a commitment," and saying this she left the room.

Loreley sat back on the couch, and Michael picked up a padded chair and sat opposite her.

"I’m sorry. My mother has her paranoia."

"I would have preferred to speak with your mother too, I think I told you."

The young man folded his arms and crossed his ankles. "It's better to leave my mother out of this conversation."

Loreley frowned. "Why?"

"You see, she’s a woman with very firm convictions and a strong sense of morality, or what it is she means by that word. Let's just say she’s a bit of a goody two-shoes. In her opinion, Peter is a layabout, only capable of creating problems."

"Really?"

"Of course, it all depends on what a mother expects of her child, though mine has always demanded too much. But I must admit that this time the problem that Peter has created is really enormous, greater than him... and us."

"And what is your relationship with your brother?"

"Well, when I was little, Peter behaved as if I was the one who took Mom's attention away from him, and for spite he would pinch me so I would annoy her with my crying; or he secretly drank the milk in my bottle, which Mom would leave in my hands once I was old enough to hold it myself. Every now and then, as a boy, he would break something and blame me for the damage, to make her scold me."

"They’re all behaviours that occur in any ordinary family: the older brother very jealous of the younger one and frightened that the parents may love the little one more than him."

"Yes, that’s true, but Peter exaggerated those behaviours. Despite the way he picked on me, though, he was my idol. I tried to imitate him in everything: in the way he dressed, combed his hair, interacted with girls..."

He paused as if to reflect, then shook his head smiling.

"He had a lot of savoir-faire and a way of behaving that went beyond his good looks, which already made him a winner! But trying to be like my brother didn't work for me. I envied him, and over time I even started to hold grudges against him because of that. In retaliation, I tried to be the first in my class at school. I was able to overcome my laziness when it came to studying and discovered that it was easy for me to get good grades, which until then had been rather poor. I had achieved my goal: my parents praised me and humiliated him for his mediocre grades. It's horrible, I know, and I'm not proud of those years. I haven't thought about it in a long time."

So much for the younger brother in adoration! During his teenage years, Michael seemed to have been not only jealous, but begrudging as well, Loreley thought, settling back better on the cushions. But she didn't know, though, where that young man wanted to go with this.

"And how did your brother react?"

"Peter preferred not to say anything in those situations, it was the only form of respect he had for our parents. He would take the lectures in silence, but when we were alone, he would get angry: ‘Mom and Dad just can't understand that I, unlike you, I don't want to go mouldy inside the walls of a college,’ he said. ‘If you like to study, go right ahead, good for you. I want to create and live in the open air.’ That was the concept he would often repeat after the usual discussion about school."

"So he didn't realize that you were striving to earn high grades just to get back at him."

"No, I don't think so, he never said anything about it."

"Peter didn't want to go to college, so what was he doing?"

"My brother had a flair for art and he painted. And not just on canvas, but on street pavements too, and on the walls of buildings. It's rare, though, for anyone to make a living as an artist right away. Mom and Dad kept telling him that, but he didn't give a damn and never tried to change things. He said that on the one hand he found it convenient because I was there to channel all their expectations, so he could be free to go his own way."

If it was true that Peter had an unhealthy jealousy towards his younger brother as a child, it didn’t mean that he continued to be that way when he was an adult. She must maintain pressure on that point. For the moment all she had understood about him was that he possessed a character which was at odds with the kind of malice and instinct for violence needed to beat a woman to death.

"From what you’ve told me, Peter was very jealous of you as a child. Was it like that in later years too? Did he ever hit you? And, when it came to girls, did he ever shown excesses of anger?"

Loreley watched Michael get up and head to the next room. He disappeared behind a door and reappeared with a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. "Do you want some?" he asked her. "Maybe it would be better to offer a glass of champagne to a lady like you..."

Loreley hesitated, she was not used to drinking hard alcohol on an empty stomach and in her state she couldn’t even afford to. "Yes, thanks."

He didn't ask twice and poured two fingers of whiskey into the glass, then took a sip and sat down again in front of her.

"I knew we were going to get to these questions." He emptied his glass in one gulp and filled it again. "I want to be honest with you, Counselor. You see, Peter was jealous and possessive in his relationships with girls, I must acknowledge that, but the only time he was involved in anything violent because of one of them was to defend her, not to assault her. As for me, I was on the receiving end of only a couple of punches from him; well deserved, by the way. I needed a good lesson, but my father wasn't there, so he took care of it."

"And what had you done wrong?"

Michael looked away. "Peter had found a sachet of cocaine in my drawer. I know what you're thinking, but I wasn't a cocaine addict. It had been given to me by a college classmate of mine; I had put it aside because I was scared to try it, and was waiting until I found the courage to do it. I took a big risk. That guy hoped that I would like it so much I’d become hooked on it and buy it from him, as Peter explained to me later. My brother had saved my ass by getting rid of it and keeping quiet about it with our parents. But that time he couldn't keep his hands to himself... just for my own good, so I’d learn my lesson."

"Did it end there?"

"Yes, of course. That's why I didn't want Mom to take part in this conversation, I couldn't have been so honest. You don’t know her."

"I already have a vague idea."

"Multiply that vague idea by at least three."

Loreley nodded."Let's go back to Peter."

"I have nothing more to tell you about him. Soon after that, he met Lindsay and left home."

"How was the relationship between them?"

"As far as I know, good. Some arguments, yes... who doesn't have them? Certainly, he seemed a little tense lately, but I think it was for financial reasons."

"Was there someone else buzzing around Lindsay?"

Michael moved around in his chair. "I don't think so, but she was very reserved and didn’t talk about herself much. She never seemed to me like the kind who lets herself be carried away with passion."

Loreley saw him look at the pendulum clock on the wall, an antique piece, and realized it was time to take her leave.

She got up off the sofa. "Well, at this point I’ll get out of your hair. Thank you for your time." She took her handbag and jacket and left.

10

The next morning, Loreley submitted a request for an interview with Peter Wallace. She knew more about him now, but nothing relevant to the trial. What she needed was more information about Lindsay and their life together.

This time she wouldn’t give up until she had obtained more than satisfactory answers from him. The picture she had painted for herself regarding his personality did not reflect that of an irascible and violent man; but if she couldn’t find out anything else, it would take a miracle to prove it.

When Sarah asked for news of Hans, as they were having lunch together, Loreley remembered she had promised to drop in to see him, so she left the office late in the afternoon and took a taxi.

The taxi driver attempted to make conversation with trivial questions as they drove along, but received a series of grunts and monosyllables in reply. She was too busy reflecting on her problems with John to think about anything else. In the end the talkative driver shrugged his shoulders, mumbled something and desisted.

Loreley shook her head. It was as if she had a magnet that attracted only weird taxi drivers. Or was she the one with a problem? She didn’t bother looking for an answer, and shrugged in turn, watching the line of cars and passers-by with their elongated figures being swallowed up in the shadow of the Tribeca buildings.

Fortunately, there was a serene and welcoming air in Hans’ home. The newlyweds paid a lot of attention to each other, which caused a little pang in her heart: she and Johnny had never been as close, even at the best of times.

Those sad thoughts haunted her all through dinner and must have been reflected in her face, because at one point Esther placed a hand over hers.

"What's wrong, Loreley?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." She had lost count of how often, in recent times, she had used that excuse to justify her mood.

"It's not tiredness," her brother intruded. "Tell me what’s wrong with you; don't beat around the bush and offend my intelligence with more excuses like that," he said in his usual prevaricating tone.

Hans could be a real balls buster when he decided to act like the older brother. Loreley had no way of changing the subject, he wouldn't have let her. She looked down at the plate of fried chicken wings. It was time to tell the truth. A half-truth, at least.

"Johnny and I had a bad fight... and he left."

"Really?" asked her astonished brother. "How long ago?"

"Several days." She avoided looking at his face.

"I'm sorry," Esther said, squeezing her hand. "He’ll come back, you’ll see. People often argue, but then they make up again."

She shook her head. "The matter is too serious! On the one hand I would like to go and talk to him, on the other I’d like to send him packing and go my own way; but I can't."

"If he matters to you, clear things up," Hans suggested.

"I'd have to fly to the Pacific to do that."

Hans sighed. "So he’s gone back to L.A.? Avoiding problems instead of dealing with them is of no use. I don't know what happened between you, but if John insists on staying away, either you go to him and try to save your relationship, or you end it, right away."

If it was up to her, she'd have done it days ago!

"Loreley, don't make hasty decisions," Esther interjected, throwing a look of rebuke at her husband.

"I'm confused... or should I say, I’m struggling." She put down her fork. She just couldn’t get the chicken down, and looked at her sister-in-law as if to apologise.

"Don't worry! Can you come and give me a hand in there?" asked Esther, getting up. Taking her by the hand she pulled her up from her chair, ignoring her protests.

When they went into the kitchen, Esther turned to her. "Listen, Loreley, I know it's none of my business, but I’m very fond of you. I'm a romantic, and I like stories that end the right way.” She smiled at her. "Now that we’re alone, can you tell me why you fought?"

"I don't feel like talking about it, I'm sorry."

"Then the problem is more serious than I thought. Tell me, do you want John to be a part of your life? Do you still love him?"

She could not answer that question, and just stared at her.

"I'll take that for a yes. Go to L.A. and talk to him. If you decide to end things now, without even trying, you'll spend the next few years wondering what would have happened if you hadn't been so proud. If he turns you down, then you’ll have no more doubts or regrets in the future."

"I’ll give it a try," she replied, wanting to put an end to that conversation quickly. She owed it to her child.

***

Before leaving for Los Angeles, Loreley asked Ethan to keep her up to date on any news regarding the Wallace case. She also asked him to get her a copy of the last examinations performed on the victim.

The hearing was scheduled for the following month and she had plenty of time to return from Los Angeles, go and talk to her client again and study the complete documentation once more. The only problem was Kilmer: she would have to ask for permission to take a few more days off work.

As expected, her boss was furious. He ranted for about ten minutes and then threw her out of his office, with the threat that this would be her last vacation.

As soon as she had a little more experience, she would open a law firm of her own, she promised herself after yet another of Kilmer’s acid remarks. From a financial point of view, she could even do it immediately, but you can’t buy experience, so she left the office that evening planning every move.

When she arrived home, she rummaged through the papers Johnny had left in a drawer, until she found a business card with his father's phone number and office address. Colin Austin was an architect too; his son had worked with him before moving to New York.

She put the card in her wallet and packed a small bag with only the bare necessities: this wasn’t a vacation. If she needed anything, she'd buy it in L.A. The plane ticket was already in her bag. Sarah had taken care of everything.

While Mira was preparing dinner for her, Loreley took a shower. If things didn’t go right, she would have to talk to her and let her go. Her stomach rebelled at that thought and the little appetite she had disappeared.

She was sitting at the table staring at the glass of water when her cell phone rang. It was Hans.

"Hi, Loreley. I need to ask you a favour. Could you take a package to Mike Gambit, the film director, when you go to Los Angeles?"

How did he know about her trip? she wondered astonished. She had only told her boss, Ethan and Sarah, people who had nothing to do with her brother.

"Can't you send it to him with a courier or in the mail?"

"If I’m asking you, it's because I feel it’s safer doing it like this, don't you think? I know you have other things to think about, but you just have to go to Hollywood and ask for him. Mike's expecting you. It won’t take up much of your time and it will save me making a trip."

"All right, I'll take it to him. Tomorrow morning I'll leave a little earlier, so I can drop by your office and get the package." She didn't even ask him who had told him, it didn't matter.

"You're an angel! See you tomorrow, then... And good luck with John. If he's acts like an asshole, knock him out!"

She smiled. Esther had told him that maybe she was going to L.A., she thought.

***

The six hours of the flight seemed longer than it had taken to get to Paris. The anxiety of having to look for Johnny and meet with him seemed to have made time go slower.

Once outside the LAX airport, Loreley glanced at the sky. The sun reigned in the endless clean blue, hardly comparable to the sky dotted with large gray clouds that she had left in New York hours earlier. The temperature seemed pleasant and her coat ended up on her arm.

She took a taxi to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel on the boulevard of the same name, and, after a quick shower and an hour's rest, went out for a stroll along Rodeo Drive in a slightly better mood. There were many designer brand stores along the street, lined with palm trees; shopping had never excited her much, so she stopped to buy only a few things.

Only once had she really enjoyed walking around the shops. it had been the year before, with Esther, when they had bought an elegant dress which her sister-in-law had then worn the evening that Leen... No! She didn’t want to remember that dramatic event.

Deep in thought she slowed her pace wondering what to do next.

She could go and visit the Austin family and settle the matter with Johnny right away, but she wanted to have some peace for at least a day before confronting him. A better idea was to do the favour Hans had asked of her.

***

Very thin girls, with legs a mile long, were parading along the elevated catwalk mounted for the film set. Loreley watched them from a secluded position, wondering why on earth it was necessary to walk in that contrived way and, above all, why you would show off a dress by putting it on girls who were anorexic or on the verge of it.

Certainly the slim silhouette possessed more momentum than a more substantial and curvaceous one, but exaggerating it like that meant sending the wrong message to the female universe, and risked plagiarizing young minds. Moreover, some of the clothes she had just seen would been more appealing, especially in the eyes of men, if they were adequately filled in strategic places.

She smiled. Well, yes, wasn’t the frantic pursuit of outer beauty meant to seduce, charm and please the opposite sex, and at the same time satisfy that touch of narcissism that is in each of us?

It was fun to watch some of the film takes, but she soon became bored and tired of standing there watching that fashion show which was continually interrupted for one reason or another.

She crept out of her corner feeling very thirsty. When she saw a vending machine down the hall, she went to get a drink, inserted the coins, and typed the number under the bottle of mineral water. A hum alerted her that the machine was in operation; but the bottle barely moved and hung there instead of falling into the shelf underneath.

Thinking that the huge contraption would not budge an inch even if she kicked it, as she would like to do, she opened her wallet again to get another coin and try again.

"Wait, I'll take care of it," said a voice, catching her by surprise. "Every now and then these money-suckers don't work like they should."

Loreley stepped back to make room for the guy who had had spoken; it was only as he was delivering a violent blow on the side of the distributor that she looked at the profile of his face.

Then opened her eyes in amazement. Sonny!

The bottle fell with a thud and he stooped open the door to get it out. When he straightened up again and turned, Loreley’s gaze met his hazel eyes.

"Good lord!" he exclaimed. "You... here?"

She looked at the small strand of straight, dark hair that had fallen over his eyes, giving his face an almost wild air.

"My brother asked me to do a favour for him. I have to deliver a package to Mike Gambit." She unscrewed the cap of the bottle, put it to her lips and drank a sip of water.

He smiled. His white, regular teeth stood out in his tanned skin. "I'm composing the soundtrack of a film," he told her, pushing the hair from his forehead with a quick movement of his fingers. "I would never have expected to find you here a thousand miles from home!"

"Me neither. But I'd better go now," she said, before he could keep her there with more questions. "I hope your work goes well, Sonny."

She was returning to where she had started when she found himself among a group of people wearing carnival costumes who were chatting among themselves. One of them pulled back a dark red curtain and signaled to the others to follow him.

Perhaps out of sheer curiosity, or just because she needed to fill some time while she waited, Loreley let herself be pulled inside. She was catapulted into a huge room in Belle Epoque style, with large candle chandeliers hanging from the ceiling; sofas and armchairs lined the sides of the r in the middle of it was an improvised dance floor

She had always liked carnival masks, but had never worn one.

"Move it, come on. We don’t have much time!" ordered a female voice. "Are you all here?"

Loreley turned to the woman with vaporous red hair who had just spoken.

"We need two more female extras," the redhead said, and pointed at her. “You! Go and get ready, what are you waiting for?"

"I’ve got nothing to do with this, I'm here for other reasons," Loreley explained, embarrassed.

The redhead glanced at the kind of pass that Loreley had pinned to the pocket of her shirt, which Hans had arranged for her before she left.

"Seeing that you’re here now, you could help us. It will only take an hour, two at the most. You’ll have fun, and earn a little money as well!" That said, she pushed her until she was in front of a man, a few yards away, who could only be considered male because of the narrow hips and a slight trace of shaved beard. "Go with Fabian, he’ll find a costume your size. We'll take care of the red tape later."

Before she even had time to reply, Fabian took her by the arm and led her to a room close by.

What on earth am I doing? she asked herself, feeling dazed.

Before looking for a suitable costume for her, he looked at her from head to toe, forefinger and thumb on his chin, then shook his head in disapproval. "You’re dressed like an office clerk,” he commented amicably.

Loreley looked down at her knee-length straight black skirt and white shirt, and shrugged her shoulders. Best if that man didn't know what she did for a living.

"I'm used to dressing like this... and I don't mind it."

He took one step back and walked around her. "You should make the best of your long legs and your straight back. If you were thinner, you would be good for the catwalk."

"It already seems too much for me just being here. And if you think I'm undressing in front of you, forget it."