floor.
The smell of incense drifted in from another room. Louise sat down in an oversize chair covered with a gaudy red fabric, and fanned her dress, reminding Chapa of an aging peacock. She then turned on a small lamp that had a frilly shade. The lamp’s stingy smattering of light failed to extend beyond its immediate area.
“I used to be Miss Ballistar, but when the Internet became big that name started popping up on all sorts of websites for mystical worlds, role-playing, and that sort of junk.”
“That’s too bad, probably cost you a few bucks to get new business cards made up,” Chapa said, and took a seat in a puffy old chair with paisley cushions that turned out to be more comfortable than it looked.
Madam Eva sat across from him, scribbling something in a thin brown journal that was resting on her lap. She straightened the few remaining folds in her silky flowered gown and slowly leaned toward Chapa. Her hand abruptly caressed his as she ran a satin fingertip across his palm and looked into Chapa’s eyes.
“Your brown eyes are rich and seductive, but also sad in a way. There is a darkness about you. You carry a burden.”
“We all do sooner or later.”
She smiled gently, and he thought about pulling his hand back but figured she might be more helpful if he went along for a while.
“What answers do you seek?”
“I’m looking for someone, a young woman.”
She ran her thumb along the back of his ring finger.
“You were married once.”
Nice guess, Chapa thought. Whatever physical impression his wedding ring had once made was long gone.
“It’s not like that. I’m here about a girl named Annie Sykes.”
Madam Eva withdrew her hand and retreated into her chair. Her expression growing more serious as she examined his face.
“That girl no longer exists.”
“I know she goes by Angela.”
She suddenly seemed frightened, and Chapa now realized the woman knew about Annie Sykes’ name change, which meant she knew much more. He remembered how the police had once considered her a possible accomplice, even though they knew it was a long shot.
“How did you know so much about what had happened to her?”
“I already told this to the police, years ago. I had a vision, a powerful one, they chose to ignore it.”
She started to get up, a nervous response, then caught herself.
“Did you see her in this vision? Did you see Grubb?”
“Who are you? Why are you really here?”
Chapa’s eyes had adjusted to the dark room and for the first time he took in the fullness of it. Four bookshelves hugged the walls, and framed posters of abstract art covered what little space was left over.
“I’m a reporter, like I told you, but I’m not here about your business. I covered Annie’s case sixteen years ago, and I have reason to believe she could be in great danger now.”
She moved closer to him, as though she was seeing Chapa for the first time and wanted to get a better look.
“No, you’re not a reporter, Mr. Chapa, you’re the reporter.” She smiled, not as gently this time. “Guilt has a long reach, doesn’t it?”
She jotted a few more notes.
“Look, Louise, maybe one day you and I can gaze into a crystal ball and examine my hang-ups, but right now I have to know how to find her,” Chapa said, then reached out and cupped her hands in his. “If you care about her, then I assure you we’re on the same side.”
She pressed an open palm to his chest, then closed her eyes.
“Your heart is not entirely pure, Mr. Chapa.”
“Whose is?”
“I spoke with you once back then. You were dismissive, and really full of yourself.”
“I apologize. I wasn’t arrogant, just young and stupid.”
“I choose to believe you, but Madam Eva’s time is valuable.”
Chapa got the message, pulled twin twenties out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. Louise scooped up the money, and it vanished somewhere in the folds of her gown. She then walked to a large bookcase, and slid out a
The smell of incense drifted in from another room. Louise sat down in an oversize chair covered with a gaudy red fabric, and fanned her dress, reminding Chapa of an aging peacock. She then turned on a small lamp that had a frilly shade. The lamp’s stingy smattering of light failed to extend beyond its immediate area.
“I used to be Miss Ballistar, but when the Internet became big that name started popping up on all sorts of websites for mystical worlds, role-playing, and that sort of junk.”
“That’s too bad, probably cost you a few bucks to get new business cards made up,” Chapa said, and took a seat in a puffy old chair with paisley cushions that turned out to be more comfortable than it looked.
Madam Eva sat across from him, scribbling something in a thin brown journal that was resting on her lap. She straightened the few remaining folds in her silky flowered gown and slowly leaned toward Chapa. Her hand abruptly caressed his as she ran a satin fingertip across his palm and looked into Chapa’s eyes.
“Your brown eyes are rich and seductive, but also sad in a way. There is a darkness about you. You carry a burden.”
“We all do sooner or later.”
She smiled gently, and he thought about pulling his hand back but figured she might be more helpful if he went along for a while.
“What answers do you seek?”
“I’m looking for someone, a young woman.”
She ran her thumb along the back of his ring finger.
“You were married once.”
Nice guess, Chapa thought. Whatever physical impression his wedding ring had once made was long gone.
“It’s not like that. I’m here about a girl named Annie Sykes.”
Madam Eva withdrew her hand and retreated into her chair. Her expression growing more serious as she examined his face.
“That girl no longer exists.”
“I know she goes by Angela.”
She suddenly seemed frightened, and Chapa now realized the woman knew about Annie Sykes’ name change, which meant she knew much more. He remembered how the police had once considered her a possible accomplice, even though they knew it was a long shot.
“How did you know so much about what had happened to her?”
“I already told this to the police, years ago. I had a vision, a powerful one, they chose to ignore it.”
She started to get up, a nervous response, then caught herself.
“Did you see her in this vision? Did you see Grubb?”
“Who are you? Why are you really here?”
Chapa’s eyes had adjusted to the dark room and for the first time he took in the fullness of it. Four bookshelves hugged the walls, and framed posters of abstract art covered what little space was left over.
“I’m a reporter, like I told you, but I’m not here about your business. I covered Annie’s case sixteen years ago, and I have reason to believe she could be in great danger now.”
She moved closer to him, as though she was seeing Chapa for the first time and wanted to get a better look.
“No, you’re not a reporter, Mr. Chapa, you’re the reporter.” She smiled, not as gently this time. “Guilt has a long reach, doesn’t it?”
She jotted a few more notes.
“Look, Louise, maybe one day you and I can gaze into a crystal ball and examine my hang-ups, but right now I have to know how to find her,” Chapa said, then reached out and cupped her hands in his. “If you care about her, then I assure you we’re on the same side.”
She pressed an open palm to his chest, then closed her eyes.
“Your heart is not entirely pure, Mr. Chapa.”
“Whose is?”
“I spoke with you once back then. You were dismissive, and really full of yourself.”
“I apologize. I wasn’t arrogant, just young and stupid.”
“I choose to believe you, but Madam Eva’s time is valuable.”
Chapa got the message, pulled twin twenties out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. Louise scooped up the money, and it vanished somewhere in the folds of her gown. She then walked to a large bookcase, and slid out a
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