Feel the Fear

  He picked up the bike and very slowly wheeled it home. He needed to clean the paint off before it set hard.

  Ruby must not see this.

  Chapter 37.

  RUBY HAD A VERY SORE HEAD when she woke up the next morning.

  She examined her face in the bathroom mirror. Ruby you look terrible, she told herself. She got dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen, poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table.

  She looked up when Hitch entered the room, but continued to eat her Cheerios.

  Hitch said nothing.

  ‘Look about the skitching—’ she finally muttered.

  ‘I’m not interested in that,’ said Hitch cutting her off. ‘You want to kill yourself that way, that’s your business.’

  She resumed her eating.

  ‘But there is something I need to ask you and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like the answer.’

  Ruby looked up just for a second.

  ‘Before I rescued you from that flagpole, where were you exactly?’

  ‘In the vicinity,’ replied Ruby.

  ‘As in, near the Warrington Apartments?’ asked Hitch.

  ‘If the Warrington Apartments are in the vicinity, then I guess so,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Funny thing,’ said Hitch, he wasn’t taking his eyes off her. ‘The TCPD found footprints in the Thompson apartment, fresh footprints, in the chalk dust – size 3s.’

  Ruby took another spoonful of cereal. ‘Must have belonged to the security guard.’

  ‘You would imagine so but you see the thing that’s going through my mind is, what security guard has size 3 feet?’

  ‘A real short one,’ said Ruby.

  ‘And what security guard uses climbing chalk?’

  ‘An adventurous one?’

  ‘I think we both know that’s a million to one and so if it wasn’t a security guard’s footprint then who might it belong to? And what the Sam Hill was this person doing in the Thompsons’ apartment last night? And then I get to thinking –’ he tapped his head with two fingers – ‘Ruby has size 3s, Ruby was in the area, Ruby is the sort of numbskull to climb up thirty-seven storeys of an apartment block and break into someone else’s home when she has been strictly forbidden to do any kind of field work.’

  Ruby looked up from her breakfast. Her expression said, OK, you got me.

  ‘What I haven’t figured out and I would be truly grateful if you could enlighten me, is why?’

  Ruby put down her spoon.

  ‘I went back because I needed to find something: the card, OK. Blacker and Froghorn weren’t so sure the Thompsons’ had been robbed, at least not by the window thief anyway, and the police were saying it had to be a copycat burglary, but how many burglars can climb up a building like that and squeeze in through a window of that size?’

  ‘You,’ said Hitch.

  ‘Right, but you know what I’m saying, man, you know this has to be connected.’

  ‘As it happens I agree with you. What I have a problem with is your methods.’ He paused a beat. ‘So, did you find what you were looking for?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled the card from her sweatshirt pocket and laid it on the table. There was a bite mark in one corner, impressions of tiny teeth.

  ‘Nileston, had it?’ said Hitch, taking the card.

  ‘It would be more accurate to say, Mr Potatohead had it. The kid must have picked it up before the cops arrived, it was in among all his baby junk. I guess his parents were too freaked by what had happened to even notice.’

  ‘OK,’ said Hitch, ‘I’ll take it in to Blacker, see what he makes of it, but his department is pretty busy right now due to another security breach.’

  ‘At Spectrum?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘No,’ replied Hitch, ‘but a piece of Spectrum hardware has gone missing and as a result all security codes need to be reconfigured.’

  He started to leave.

  ‘Oh. . . if someone has time, they might want to take a look at this,’ said Ruby. She tore the back page out of the novel she was reading. On it were written four sets of numbers.

  3

  14

  1

  10

  14

  8

  15

  14

  13

  17

  14

  15

  ‘What are these?’ asked Hitch.

  ‘It’s the code from the cards, from the bumps and indents – turns out they aren’t words after all.’

  ‘You cracked it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘When?’ asked Hitch.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ruby, ‘I had a spare moment at 3 am, when the pain from my smooshed face was keeping me awake.’

  ‘How?’ said Hitch.

  ‘Turn the page,’ said Ruby.

  ‘So what do the numbers mean?’ asked Hitch.

  ‘Beats me,’ said Ruby, turning back to her bowl of Cheerios. ‘That’s the big “don’t know” – I’ve figured out that the code breaks down into those numbers. But I haven’t a clue what the numbers stand for.’

  ‘So. . . give them to Blacker?’

  Ruby nodded. ‘Might as well, my head’s too sore to think about them. Tell him it’s a ternary numbering system. He’ll understand.’*

  Hitch turned to go, then looked at his watch. He frowned.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Ruby.

  ‘A message,’ he said.

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘Well, you, actually.’

  ‘Me?’ said Ruby.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hitch. ‘Tell me. . . on your little adventure, did you happen to lose the Escape Watch?’

  Ruby checked her wrist. ‘Um. . . yeah.’

  Hitch sighed. ‘Well then I guess someone got a hold of it.’

  ‘Someone like who?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘No idea,’ replied Hitch.

  ‘So what do they want?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘How would I know?’ replied Hitch, ‘the message happens to be in code.’

  Ruby looked at him. ‘You think it might be the skywalker?’

  ‘The thought is crossing my mind,’ said Hitch.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Ruby – she was beginning to feel the smallest flicker of panic.

  ‘Sit tight,’ he replied, ‘it’s one of those Spectrum rules. Bide your time, until things begin to make sense – same goes for you by the way.’

  And with that, he was gone.

  Mrs Digby wouldn’t hear of Ruby going to school. Ruby had mild concussion and as Mrs Digby so wisely said, ‘You don’t want to play fast and loose with concussion.’

  Ruby’s donut phone rang.

  ‘Hey, it’s me,’ said Clancy. ‘You wanna meet at the diner this morning?’ He was trying to sound brighter than he felt; he needed to see her.

  ‘I can’t today,’ said Ruby. ‘I had a bit of an accident last night, my whole face is smooshed and I took a knock to the head so Mrs D says I gotta lie low.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Clancy. He sounded alarmed, Ruby could hear his arms flapping.

  ‘Relax would you Clance, I’m totally fine, OK. I don’t look so good but I’m all there.’

  ‘You sure you’re sure, Rube?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I’ll call you if I start dying.’

  ‘OK, promise you will.’

  ‘I promise, Clance.’

  Ruby’s eye was turning a nice shade of purple and she had a fat lip. The graze to her arm was looking OK but her knee looked gruesome. Ruby looked a long way from picture perfect. Too bad her mother had booked that Ada Borland portrait – today was really not the day for it.

  ‘You know, I’m going to cancel,’ announced Sabina, sweeping into the room.

  ‘Why?’ said Ruby.

  ‘Take a look in the mirror Ruby, have you caught sight of yourself lately?’

  Ruby peered at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. ‘I don’t have a problem with getting my picture taken.’

  ‘But you don??
?t look how you look,’ explained her mother.

  ‘What are you saying?’ said Ruby. ‘This is exactly how I look.’

  ‘Yes, how you look after you collided with a cop car,’ said her mother.

  ‘And how many mothers can say that about their kid’s picture? That’s gotta be more interesting than the usual snap.’

  ‘Snap? Snap?!’ Sabina’s hands were on her hips, her voice raised unusually loud. Ruby thought she maybe needed another of Hitch’s herbal teas. ‘Do you have any idea what a privilege it is to have Ada Borland take your picture? I was ecstatic when I won that raffle but you, you couldn’t just do this one thing for me, you had to louse it up Ruby, because it’s all about you and what you want! If my daughter could have just done this single sweet thing for me, I swear I’d be happy until Christmas!’

  Sabina turned and strode out of the room with such force that the soap fell out of the soap dish. Ruby heard her mother dial the photographer’s number and leave a message to the effect that she was very sorry but her daughter had been in an accident and the portrait would have to be cancelled. Ruby felt truly bad. As much as she didn’t particularly want her photograph taken, even if it was to be by the great Ada Borland, she did understand how much it meant to her mother. But what could she do?

  She tried to block out these unpleasant feelings by switching on the TV matinee and strangely it was while watching The Rise of the Zombies that Ruby thought of something.

  She had a plan.

  Chapter 38.

  SHE PICKED UP THE PHONE AND DIALLED RED’S NUMBER. She got lucky – Mrs Monroe answered. ‘Sadie, it’s Ruby, I wondered if you could help me out.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll try,’ replied Sadie. ‘What is it you need?’

  ‘It’s a kinda weird request but I was wondering if there was any way your friend Frederick Lutz could do me a favour. It’s just when I met him at the Scarlet Pagoda costume benefit he said if I ever wanted to get my make-up done for a special occasion then he would do it.’

  ‘If Frederick said that then it’s a done deal,’ said Sadie. ‘He never backs out of a promise.’

  ‘The thing is,’ said Ruby, ‘it’s kinda time-sensitive.’

  ‘How time-sensitive?’ asked Sadie.

  ‘Like now,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Ah,’ said Sadie, ‘no wriggle room?’

  ‘None,’ said Ruby, ‘I’m kinda desperate.’

  ‘That bad, huh? Hang in there Ruby, and I’ll get right back to you.’

  Ruby didn’t have to wait long, Sadie called barely seven minutes later.

  ‘Frederick would be delighted to see you, get over there as quick as you can.’ She gave Ruby the address and wished her luck with whatever the emergency was. This was one of the things Ruby liked about Sadie, she didn’t ask too many questions. When Ruby reached the payphone on the corner of Cedarwood, she called Ada Borland’s studio and left another message from her “mother”.

  ‘Hi, this is Sabina Redfort again. Sorry for the confusion but it turns out I was over-dramatising. . . as usual. . .. I know. I’m a total worry worm –’ pause for laughter – ‘really, it’s wart? Well there you go, I’m a worry wart. Anyway, my daughter will be with you after all, boy that kid is a real trooper, an inspiration to us all.’

  Ruby arrived at 119 Derilla Drive to find Frederick Lutz sitting on a lawn chair in his driveway. On his lap was a dachshund. He raised a hand in greeting and slowly heaved himself up from his chair. ‘Come on in,’ he said. ‘This is Paullie,’ he added, indicating the dachshund.

  The dachschund raised its head and regarded Ruby sleepily.

  ‘Hey Paullie,’ said Ruby.

  Lutz stood, lifting Paullie carefully. He set the dog down on the grass, and Paullie stood on his tiny legs waiting.

  ‘Come,’ said Lutz.

  He led Ruby into his workshop, a spare room that he had converted into a kind of salon, every surface covered with movie memorabilia. He sat her down in a swivel chair in front of a brightly lit mirror, and took in the horror show that was her face.

  ‘So I see we are starting with Halloween and heading backwards. Kind of unusual for me; I usually start off with pretty and head on in the other direction.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, it’s bad huh – is there anything you can do with it?’

  ‘Can I do anything? Can I do anything? Kid, you’re talking to Frederick Lutz here, course I can do anything! Never fear, I’ll have you looking like Shirley Temple in the blink of an eye – that’s the look we’re going for right?’ he winked.

  Ruby smiled. ‘Well, something along those lines.’

  The Hollywood make-up genius worked on Ruby for a good couple of hours and while he worked he talked. Mainly he talked about the old days when the industry was dominated by sirens of the silver screen – Erica Grey, Bette Davis, Lauren Bacall.

  ‘They were some women, I can tell you,’ said Frederick, ‘they don’t make ’em like that any more.’

  The make-up artist’s walls were crammed with framed photographs and posters of the actors he had worked with and the movies he had worked on and stuff he had collected over the years. There were no end of big names. One poster that caught her eye was the one for The Cat that Got the Canary. The image was of the Little Yellow Shoes, and Margo’s lower legs were all that could be seen of the actress. A black cat walked off to the right of the picture, a yellow feather in its mouth. It was a striking image. The poster was signed by the actress herself.

  ‘So did you meet her?’ asked Ruby, pointing to the poster.

  ‘Oh, many times,’ said Frederick. ‘One fabulous lady, too bad she married that George Katsel.’

  ‘Not nice?’ asked Ruby.

  Frederick scrunched his face into a sour expression. ‘Not nice at all, only interested in himself. It was all about him and what he wanted; never did a thing for anyone else.’

  Ruby winced – the words so closely echoed her mother’s.

  ‘He had magnetic appeal though, it was hard for anyone to resist him when he set his baby blues on something.’

  ‘Old George sounds like quite the egomaniac,’ said Ruby.

  ‘You better believe it,’ said Frederick, shaking his head. ‘They called him the Cat, because he was so darned lucky. Katsel always got what he wanted, always the Cat that got the cream.’ Frederick paused, to make a careful adjustment to Ruby’s foundation. ‘I met Margo after that time, long after she broke it off with George and much later on in her career when she was already quite famous and I can’t think of a bad word to say about her, except I wish she hadn’t been so darned tall.’

  ‘Funny. . .’ considered Ruby. ‘I always thought she would be kinda small, more like my height, well taller than me but, you know.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ said Frederick.

  ‘She looks little in The Cat that Got the Canary,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Smoke and mirrors,’ said Frederick, pausing for a minute, to review his latest creation. ‘If I needed to touch up her make-up on set, I had to stand on a crate. I know I’m not the tallest guy in town but Margo, she must have been 5' 10", 5' 11". Making Margo look small was the magic of the movies!’ Frederick Lutz chuckled and dusted Ruby’s face with some bronzer. ‘Meanwhile, making your face look like it never came into contact with a sidewalk is the magic of make-up!’

  And when Ruby turned to view her face in the mirror, she saw that he wasn’t lying. . . she looked just like she usually looked, her face restored, not a visible scratch on it.

  Chapter 39.

  HAVING THANKED FREDERICK ABOUT TWENTY TIMES, Ruby set off for Ada Borland’s studio, which as it turned out was located not so far from the Scarlet Pagoda. She buzzed the buzzer and a stern-looking woman dressed entirely in grey came to open the door. The woman (named Abigail) was actually very friendly and showed Ruby around the gallery while she waited for Ada to appear.

  The Scarlet Pagoda had obviously been a huge influence on Ada, and there were many framed photos of the theatre taken over the severa
l decades that she had been working there. It was fascinating to see the various changes made to the building, how it had become a popular destination, flourished and then later was left to rot. There were pictures of many of the famous faces who had performed there, actors, acrobats, contortionists, dancers and singers. Starlets in extravagant costumes, circus people in fabulous creations. Ruby was lost in this world of performers when she heard a thick croaky voice.

  ‘Ms Redfort?’

  She turned to see a small woman, quite elderly, with dyed black hair that was cut into a neat bob. An enormous pair of orange-rimmed glasses obscured most of her face; her lips were painted the same colour and perfectly matched the frames.

  ‘I’m Ada,’ she said, ‘let’s take your picture.’

  It was clear from looking at Ms Borland’s work that the photographer was interested in a lot more than her subjects’ physical appearance. She seemed to look beyond all this and capture the uncapturable. The portrait itself became a story, layered with atmosphere and meaning. The more you looked the more you saw and the more the background told you – the things that just happened to be there were part of the story too.

  Ruby was curious about all these people who had sat for portraits: some grand, some ordinary; old and young. Faces strange, ugly and beautiful. Posed pictures and casual but all had something of the artist, her viewpoint. And as Ruby looked, she asked, so what was Erica Grey like, what was the president like, what was this grocer man like, and every time, Ada replied, ‘You tell me, it’s all there in the photograph if you care to look.’

  Ruby enjoyed the experience, and although sitting for her portrait took more time than she would have thought possible, chatting to Ada was a rare opportunity and she was glad she hadn’t missed it.

  ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Ruby Redfort,’ called Ada. ‘Do visit again.’

  Ruby snuck back into the house only to be greeted by Mrs Digby who jumped about six inches when she saw Ruby.

  ‘Jumping jack rabbits, child, what happened to your face?’