Queen of the Owls Read online

  Silently, she handed the photo back to him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  A vein beat against her temple. Trembling, she stepped out of her shoes and removed her jeans and underwear.

  Here I am.

  Yes. It was all right. Taking off her blouse had been harder, maybe because it was the first step, the transition from concealment to exposure. This was just more flesh. The rest of the portrait.

  Richard leaned close, pointing to the photo. “You see how her body’s so beautifully curved? The way her right arm echoes that curve? It’s holding on to what’s behind her while her left arm is stretched forward, ready to seize whatever’s next.”

  Elizabeth looked. Yes, she could see that. The figure was bare, unadorned, arced like a bow in the space between past and future.

  “Take the pose.”

  She pulled in her breath. Then she took the posture, all at once— as if her body had been waiting, ever since it was formed, to inhabit that very shape.

  “Yes, that’s it. Perfect.”

  Perfect. No costumes, only herself.

  “One more,” he said. Georgia’s whole body, again. The same curtain, both arms outstretched, her head thrown back in prayer, ecstasy, exultation. Elizabeth opened her arms.

  Richard snapped picture after picture. “You’re amazing.”

  She laughed. “I am, aren’t I?” She wanted to ask him, “What next? What are we going to do now?” She could do anything. Whatever he wanted her to do.

  He lowered the camera. “You are, Elizabeth. Quite amazing.” Then he stepped behind the screen and shut off the light. She waited for him to say something, do something, the next thing. She would respond. He knew that.

  He turned to her and nodded. She was still naked. “Good session. I think we did it.” He pulled the fabric away from the screen, no longer needed, and flipped up the shades. “I’ll see you at Tai Chi, then?”

  At Tai Chi? Elizabeth felt as if she’d been slapped.

  She’d done what she set out to do. But it wasn’t enough. She was farther from enough than she’d been when she started.

  She fought to keep her voice steady. “Of course. Wednesday.”

  She grabbed her clothes. It took her four tries to get her foot through the pants leg.

  Fifteen

  Then it was Wednesday, but Richard wasn’t at Tai Chi. Elizabeth kept scanning the pupils’ faces, unable to believe that his wasn’t among them. Richard was always right up front, the first to arrive and the last to leave. She wanted to ask Mr. Wu where he was but couldn’t bring herself to meet the return question: Why you ask?

  Her limbs moved through the postures, obedient to Mr. Wu’s instruction, but her mind careened from one impossible thought to the next. She didn’t really think anything terrible had happened, yet Richard had never missed class before. Why tonight? And why hadn’t he let her know? It was the least he could do, after what they had shared.

  Then it hit her, nearly toppling her off-balance as she shifted her weight for The White Crane Spreads its Wings—the movement they’d been doing when Mr. Wu collapsed and everything began.

  Richard had no idea how to reach her. He’d never asked for her phone number, only given her his. He might not even know her last name.

  Worry collided with doubt, then confusion and shame, a kaleidoscope of emotions. What did he think she was, without a name?

  No, it was meaningless, just as his absence tonight was meaningless, nothing to do with her or the photos.

  His visage filled her mind, those smoky grey eyes locking into hers, the way he’d looked at her across the marble table, telling her that the only way she could understand O’Keeffe was by doing what O’Keeffe did. A great seduction line. Except he hadn’t tried to seduce her.

  Fear seized her like a fist. How was she going to make it through the class? Mr. Wu rotated his hips. Wave hands like clouds.

  She stumbled. Juniper, next to her, threw her a concerned look. Elizabeth gave a reassuring smile and tried to focus on Mr. Wu.

  Finally, after minutes that felt like lifetimes, the class ended. She had to get out of there, away from the studio where Richard’s absence felt as large as his presence. She rushed to the door, but Juniper’s hand on her arm made her stop.

  “Hey Liz,” she said, her eyes bright. “There’s a new vegan place down the block. Great smoothies. A bunch of us are going. Want to come?”

  Elizabeth stared at her. A bubble of hysterical laughter swelled in her throat. A bunch of us might go out to eat after class. The cover story she had planned to use with Ben. Juniper’s face tightened. “They have more than smoothies, if that’s an issue.”

  “No, no, I’d love to, if I didn’t have to rush home to my kids. Maybe another time.”

  Juniper gave a murmur of agreement. “Don’t have any kids myself, but I get it. So sure, another time.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t leave without asking someone. “You know Richard, the guy who helped while Sifu was sick?”

  “Of course. We’ve both been coming here since, like, forever.”

  Elizabeth tried to keep her voice low. She didn’t want anyone wondering why she was so interested in Richard’s whereabouts. “Seems odd for him to miss a class, don’t you think?”

  Juniper shrugged. “Oh, he gets like that every so often. He’ll get totally engrossed in some new thing he’s working on and won’t come up for air till it’s done.”

  “Ah yes. The artistic temperament.” She wanted to ask how long his immersion usually lasted but that would be too much. It was an explanation, anyway.

  “You should check out his work,” Juniper added. “He puts his stuff up at that gallery right by campus—you know, next to the old firehouse? He’s got this great series up now, all these close-ups of old people’s faces. Ears, noses, things like that. It’s really cool.”

  Elizabeth had stopped listening. Juniper said Richard might not come for air—meaning, she assumed, that he was holed up in his studio, alone. The question was: what was she going to do about that?

  Juniper seemed to sense that Elizabeth’s mind had wandered. She adjusted her collar. “Well, see you soon.”

  “Yes. Have fun.” Elizabeth went to retrieve her jacket and shoes. Nowhere to go now, but home. Or Richard’s studio. She thought of going there, surprising them, and for a moment that seemed entirely possible, maybe even the right and brilliant thing to do. Then her sanity returned. Don’t chase boys. She got out of the elevator, stepped into the street, and began walking.

  Hands in her pockets, she bent into the autumn wind. Her body was hunched, cold, nothing like the body she had shown to Richard, so glorious and unafraid. She reached the end of the block just as a bus with green letters and a familiar logo eased into place. The doors whooshed open. Elizabeth hesitated. It seemed as if there was something else she ought to do, besides getting on the bus and going back to her apartment, but she didn’t know what it was. She thought of walking, just to fill the time. The wind bit into her skin.

  “You coming, miss?”

  She looked up at the bus driver. Disappointment, doubt, desire—a tangle of emotions, like the colors of a painting, splashed across her face.

  “Yes. Sorry.” Elizabeth climbed the step, swiped her card, and took a seat. The bus swung away from the curb.

  She pressed against the window, hugging her elbows, and thought about how she’d felt in Richard’s studio. Opening her shirt, the fabric sliding down her arms like water. The air on her flesh. He’d meant it to be erotic. How could it be anything else?

  O’Keeffe had insisted that people were projecting their own desires onto her work. When people read erotic symbols into my paintings, they’re really talking about their own affairs. On the other hand, Marion Mackenzie thought O’Keeffe knew very well what her paintings suggested. Judy Chicago had said the same thing, accusing O’Keeffe of refusing to articulate her commitment to a female art—a female erotic art—even though her own work embodied it.
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  Elizabeth gazed at the darkening streets. Had Richard done that too, pretending not to know, pretending it was all about helping her with her dissertation, when it was really about—what? Getting her to take her clothes off? But why? Altruism, voyeurism, an artistic experiment—none of the possibilities made sense.

  No matter which way she tried to force her thoughts, they circled back to the same fact. He hadn’t tried to seduce her, even though she was clearly seducible.

  Her stop was just ahead. It was too soon; she wasn’t ready to face Ben and her life with him. She’d gone to Tai Chi and Richard wasn’t there, even though he had told her he would be, and now the class was over. She stood. Her feet were huge, heavy, alien limbs, as she walked to the front of the bus and descended the steps to the pavement. Then she crossed the street and entered her building.

  Ben was gathering the sections of newspaper when she turned her key in the lock and pushed open the apartment door. “The day’s chaos,” he said, indicating the newspaper. “Did you want any of this, or should I put it with the recycling?”

  Elizabeth blinked. Who cared? “No, I don’t need it. Go ahead and recycle it.”

  She opened the closet and took out a hanger for her jacket. Ben hadn’t commented on her early return, any more than he’d commented on her haircut. Maybe he didn’t care when she came home. She shoved the hanger back on the pole and slammed the closet door.

  Ben lifted his head. “You okay?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  He tossed the newspapers into a bin by the front door. “You seem upset, that’s all. Did something happen at Tai Chi?”

  “What could happen at Tai Chi?” Part of her wanted him to insist on knowing, even though there was nothing to tell. “Of course not,” she repeated. “I’m fine. Like I said.”

  Be nice to him, she told herself. He was her children’s father, the one who watched them when she saw Richard. “What about you?” she asked. “How’s the case?”

  Ben gave an exasperated sigh. “The case is impossible. The landlord keeps changing his story, and then Solano’s family keeps upping their demands, even when it doesn’t make any sense, even if it actually hurts the case. I feel like I’m chasing my own tail.”

  “Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Me too.” He picked up the TV remote. “In the end, I think it’ll come down to the judge’s impression of me, personally, which isn’t the way the law is supposed to work.”

  Elizabeth made what she hoped was a sympathetic murmur.

  Ben pressed a button, and a newscaster’s face filled the screen. “Oh,” he added. “There were two messages for you on the land line. Lucy and Andrea.”

  Lucy? She wasn’t obsessing about Daniel’s little fit, was she? He wasn’t even five, for goodness sakes. Besides, she’d handled it with her iPhone. Richard Ferris, photographer.

  “What did she say? Lucy.”

  Ben’s eyes were on the screen. “I was getting the kids out of the bath. I didn’t pick up.”

  “Well, what was the message? You said she left a voicemail.”

  “Something about an idea she had, I didn’t listen to the whole thing. She wants you to call her back.”

  Honestly, Elizabeth thought. Couldn’t he have listened and called back himself? They were his children too. Then she checked herself. She was the one who dealt with Lucy. She’d set it up that way; it was easier to juggle the duties you’d chosen.

  “Fine. I’ll see what she wants.” She grabbed the phone and pressed messages.

  “Hi there, folks.” Lucy-like, she got right to the point. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening, but I was thinking about Daniel and that Lego rocket, and how upset he was that some unknown enemy might ruin his creation?”

  It was about the spaceship, then. Elizabeth let out a sigh of her own.

  “Not a major incident,” Lucy continued, “but it got me thinking because that sort of thing can happen when kids are creative, which Daniel is, and which I try to foster. But I also need to foster their sense of community. So I had an idea, a way to make the kids feel like they’re part of a little tribe. Call me back and I’ll tell you about it.”

  Not as bad as she’d feared. Elizabeth took the phone to the couch and sat down next to Ben. He lowered the volume. “What do you suppose her idea is?” he asked. “Taking them to Disneyland for a week, her treat?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Guess I’ll have to find out.”

  Lucy’s idea was to organize a project that all the children could work on together, a cooperative endeavor uniting the Monday-Wednesday and Tuesday-Thursday cohorts. “I thought maybe we could do a play—well, more like an excuse for everyone to dress up in costumes, say a few lines, maybe do a song? Something even the little ones like Katie can manage.” She chuckled. “A surprise for the parents. They’ll like that.”

  “It’s a wonderful idea,” Elizabeth said. She caught Ben’s glance and gave a thumbs-up. “When were you thinking of doing it?”

  “Give us a week or so. Say, a Monday at noon? Not this Monday, but the one after. Would that work for you?”

  “I’ll make it work.”

  “I was thinking Katie might like to be a snowflake.”

  “She’ll be in heaven.”

  A play, Elizabeth mouthed, and Ben signaled sounds good. When she hung up, he said, “Put it on my iCal, okay? I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Will do. It sounds adorable.”

  Then she pressed messages again. Andrea’s voice, unlike Lucy’s, was urgent and tight. “I need to talk. Call me.”

  Elizabeth remembered their last conversation—the canvas bag of clothes, Curious George babbling in the background, Andrea’s certainty that she would figure out a way to ambush Michael and unmask his lie about a coat drive.

  She glanced at Ben. This might not be a conversation she wanted him to overhear. “I’ll take it in the other room,” she said. “Let you have your peace and quiet, especially after such a tough day.” She took the phone into the bedroom and shut the door. She tapped on Andrea’s number.

  “Lizzie?”

  “It’s me. What’s up?”

  “Everything. Nothing.” Andrea’s voice rose, cracked. “This whole thing is making me completely insane.”

  Elizabeth lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. “Is Michael there?”

  “Of course not. He’s quote, working late, as usual. When he’s not busy with his firm’s beloved coat drive, that is. How many coats are there in this fucking town?” Andrea gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “You told me to spy on him at that coat thing, but how am I supposed to do that without him noticing?”

  “I said it could be a cover story. There’s no way for me—”

  “It’s absolutely his cover.”

  “Andie. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

  “Which is why you have to spy on him.”

  “Me?”

  “You. All you have to do is show up on Sunday with some old jacket and ask around. He won’t be there, of course.” Andrea cut off Elizabeth’s objections before she could raise them. “I can’t do it myself, someone from his office would recognize me. But they don’t know you. You can look around, ask if he’s there or when they expect him. They’ll tell you no, and I’ll have proof that he’s lying. Simple.”

  “Andie,” Elizbeth repeated. It wasn’t simple at all. Even Andrea— for whom obstacles dissolved and penalties were waived by the flash of a saucy grin—even Andrea didn’t get to decide what was simple and what wasn’t. Elizabeth was sure her sister had forgotten what she’d told her about being attracted to someone in her Tai Chi class, and her advice to go for it. If Andrea remembered, she couldn’t possibly think Elizabeth was the right person to spy on Michael.

  “I don’t see how—”

  “You have to, Lizzie. I can’t stand this a second longer.” Her voice caught. “There’s no one else I can ask.”

  That was the impossible part. Her sister’s misery, her n
eed. Andrea didn’t know what it was like for her charm to fail.

  “Please.” And again, heart-wrenching. “Please.”

  Elizabeth tightened her grip on the phone. She was certain this was a bad idea. There were too many loose threads that couldn’t possibly add up to the kind of evidence Andrea wanted. No serious investigator would endorse such a half-baked idea.

  From the other room, she could hear Ben’s footsteps. She didn’t have much time. “All right,” she said. “Fine. Just tell me where and when.”

  “Thank you, thank you, Lizzie darling. I knew I could count on you.”

  Andrea’s gratitude only increased her conviction that the whole thing was a mistake, but she had already agreed. The door creaked as Ben pushed it open. “I’ll do my best,” she said, and hung up.

  “What’d she want?” Ben asked.

  “Oh, another favor. She has a new customer on Sunday morning and wanted me to fill in for her at the food co-op.” Elizabeth waved a hand. “You know Andie. It’s hard to say no.”

  The lie came easily. She didn’t actually need to lie, yet she didn’t want to tell Ben the whole story. It was all connected, somehow. Michael, Tai Chi, her sessions with Richard.

  “Sunday morning? Does that mean you’re asking me to watch the kids?” She heard the unsaid again. He was right, she’d been asking more often than usual. But she couldn’t let her sister down.

  “It’s only for an hour.”

  Ben looked unhappy, and Elizabeth retreated quickly. It would be foolish to spend her limited currency on Andrea when she might need it for Richard, later. “I’ll take Katie with me,” she said. “Daniel can occupy himself with his Legos, and you won’t have to do anything except be home. You can work on your brief, talk to clients on the phone, whatever you need to do.”

  “Divide and conquer.”

  “Exactly.”

  “All right,” he said. “If you really need me to do it, that can work.”

  Elizabeth tried not to feel guilty—and, really, she had nothing to feel guilty about. All she was doing was checking on Michael. She rose and smoothed the nonexistent creases on the leggings she’d worn to Tai Chi. “I’m going to peek at them before I go to bed.”