#Haiku: Subterfuge Inc.
Ruse patrol:
Dissimulating –
Saboteuse –
Guerilla guest –
C’est moi.
Category: psychology
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 20 – The End
We flew to a hotel at LaGuardia,
Called Derek, whose father suggested
Vince Tromwell. He got
Mirabel immunity as long as she told
“the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth”
and after they tested the shirt and the knife
Verne even confessed –
If you call taking an Alford plea –
(Which legally means “You got me”) –
Confession. Verne got forty years
On each count with deportation
Instead of parole.
Mom and Dad didn’t mind
Having a yoga teacher in the family –
They both started yoga –
I admit I did too –
That’s what big sisters are for;
They go through everything first
So you don’t have to.
We get to be writers, we
The little sisters
Poets and thinkers of all the peaceful
Afternoons; assessing, not
Regressing, savoring even
The upside down moments
Right side up and
Passing them to history.
It worked on everyone but Mr.
Mowgley, English teacher,
Who said;
“Shouldn’t you write this
In the third person voice
To gain some distance?”
I said, “Never.
I’m Richenda Marshott, only me and
I’ll never pretend to be
Anyone else.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Quite a trudge – hundreds of steps –
And I was alone. Maybe these
Holiday-makers were all just too old.
But with every step
I felt increasing peace –
Then came a sign:
“SSSSHHH! MEDITATION IN SESSION!”
Tamed my labored breathing –
Climbed the last few steps
Silently. One teacher – a very old man –
In perfect lotus position –
Eyes closed –
Orchestrated six students –
Their backs to me –
All wearing white.
Like a cult?
I studied them thoughtfully.
No hair like Mirabel’s –
A couple of blondes and one boy –
Very close-cropped, maybe chemo?
My gaze increasingly
Fixed on him; felt
I must be hallucinating.
Weren’t those Mirabel’s ears?
The hair just coming in
Was silvery – the tiny ear studs –
Silver, not diamonds.
I inched my way around – one student
Opened her eyes – gave me
The harsh look my inquisitiveness
Warranted. But I persisted – the skinny
Silent student lost in meditation
Was my sister! No other jewelry, no makeup,
Just cheap gauze clothing, dirty bony bare feet
And that scarred lip.
Looks like the joke was on Mirabel –
Bald, at her thinnest – that
Magnified her true self so
Hugely no one –
No one who loved her –
Could ever mistake her.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I closed them and
Backed against the stone white-washed wall
Trying to mentally connect with her.
What was she thinking
Right at this minute?
Maybe nothing.
I’d meditated – a couple of times and
Found it annoying. I like my own brain
And don’t want to escape it.
I launched an experiment – she forced me
To come all this way to find her –
Now I will make her
Feel my presence. That project quenched
My tears as anger always does;
Focused everything I had
On her. She was strong;
I’ll say that for her
It took a long time to reach her:
Deep in her dream place –
Mouth slightly open –
One tiny tear sliding down from her eye.
That’s when I touched her! I could feel it.
She stirred.
Eyes opened. My sister Mirabel took a
Long, long look into me.
Chapter 19 – Killer Signature
“Mirabel?”
I mouthed her name. She ducked her head,
Bowed deeply forward, then rose
To her feet. A ripple ran through
The group and the leader opened one eye
In displeasure.
My sister grabbed my arm
And began dragging me downstairs.
“My name here is Franny.”
She whispered.
Franny? That name set up echoes.
Had she stolen a murder victim’s
Identity?
I refused to unleash her;
Knew she was meditating for a
Superpower of
Invisibility;
Miraging at will.
At the base of the lighthouse steps
We burst out;
Into the strong sunlight.
“I thought you were dead,”
I gasped. “You left me with HIM!”
She pulled me into a swing
Beneath a shady awning
Two sisters swinging
Side by side –
Both of them crying.
“I’m so glad you found me,”
She said, “Did they follow you?”
“How could you leave me
With HIM,” I raged at her.
“I knew you could handle him,”
She insisted with equal ferocity,
“You’d never fall
For any of his tricks.
And wasn’t I right?
Look, here you are.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 18 – Dream Island
Isla Ensueno is a resort –
Luckily Derek’s air miles included the
Pink stucco hotel.
“No one by that name,” the desk clerk told me so
Patiently. What kind of avatar name would
Mirabel choose? He wouldn’t stand for
Guessing so I tried describing her –
But the clerk shook his head.
Well, I couldn’t leave until tomorrow
Might as well check in and prowl.
It’s a very small island.
My thoughts were uncomfortable –
That oh-so familiar feeling –
Dinned into me by every adult I’ve ever met
That I’m probably doing
Everything wrong.
My “great idea” seemed feeble now
Typical teen impulsiveness.
This wasn’t far enough away – Florida!
How could Mirabel feel safe here?
Smart money said she’d flee
Ocean-wards – the Maldives or Malta or
Some such place – with a whole new
Passport and some new man in tow
Whose identity she could hide behind.
That’s if she wanted to create
A new persona. But what if –
This is what I gambled on –
She wanted instead to uncover
The old persona – the person
Who had always been there?
It was the only explanation
For involving me –
Other than simply feeding me
To her monster.
I had one single chance –
And possibly I’d blown it.
Dream Island was authentically gorgeous –
Mirabel hadn’t lied
But in the eight years since
Her photo shoot hadn’t its splendor
Diminished, wasn’t it becoming
Just the tiniest bit shabby?
Some people – myself for example
Like things whose edge has been
Taken off. As I circumnavigated
The island’s walking trail
A certain peace overtook me
That could have been
Maturity.
Was this what it felt like
Having nothing left to prove?
If you can enjoy the moment –
Filling yourself with it and
It with yourself –
Then you’ve arrived.
Questions bubbled.
What do you do
When your game has gone horribly wrong?
You start over.
Even if my guess was off
There was still that intriguing
Probability: what if Mirabel evolved
Until her only desire was having a self
Worthy of presentation to the magnificent
Universe this island represented?
Even at fourteen I understood nostalgia –
Viewing the confident know-it-all
My eleven-year-old incarnation
With the purest envy.
What if Mirabel re-set the game –
Made different choices
Stopped pleasing others by
Contorting her body into
Simulacra and challenged the world
To accept her real being?
The younger self I knew – hopeful –
Gorgeous – naïve, impatient –
Wasn’t in the Maldives!
As I walked I systematically
Searched every nook;
Old trees shading the privacy of
Lovers: I broke into – peering under
Awnings, stared right through
Sunglasses: but Mirabel
Wasn’t there.
The trail wound around a sand beach cove
And right up to the lighthouse;
I was unprepared; requiring
Binoculars, sunscreen and a
Really big hat;
Sea breezes made me shiver
In just cami and jeans –
Something put me
In the mood to climb the lighthouse.
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
We examined the boxes content.
“Let’s separate in two piles,” Derek proposed;
“Hopeless and intriguing.”
But which was which?
Everything seemed hopeless: ridiculous clothes,
Shoes with broken heels, endless piles of
old magazines. Souvenir of
Great Britain? – a Union Jack sleepshirt.
Cosmetics and grubby makeup kits,
Hairbrushes, scrunchies,
An ancient red plastic boombox,
Terrible Advice Books
(“The Power of You”)
costume jewelry of improbable value –
Even her jewelry box I recalled
From childhood days.
All just junk Dominica could
Have thrown away!
Why wasn’t Mirabel more literate?
Dyslexia? Hadn’t that word
Been bruited undefined
To the insatiable ears of
An eight-year-old –
I heard parents always looking for
Excuses. I thought about what I would
Have left – same thing Derek might –
Notebooks of scribblings
Journals and diaries –
“Notes to self” – cherished cards
Day planners and calendars?
The only exciting thing: a professional portfolio
Stamped MONFORT COLLEGE OF MODELING.
I opened the portfolio, scared and thrilled
Here’s the Mirabel I would recognize.
But all the photos seemed outdated –
Shlocky, overly made-up and
Inhumanly posed.
This girl should demand
Her money back.
But maybe there was no “money” –
Goblin gold melts away when you reach for it.
What is a “model” after all but
A blank screen embracing
Frenzied searchers for the
“Other.” Well, she’d been
“Othered” here –
One particularly traumatic
Mirabel in whiteface
With the cruel thorn-like silver
Piercings through her lip –
Rendered speechless –
Her life a cage around her
Nude starved body.
Derek saw my reaction and put his arms
Around me.
“Well, that settles it,” I said,
“That was really Mirabel. I saw that lip.”
To suggest anything else –
That there could be
Cadres of desperate girls
Scarred and marked and rendered mute
Thrown away into the dumpster?
No wonder
Mirabel declared the fashion world
“Shit!” One precious picture
Evoked the “Murble” I remembered –
Filled my eyes with tears –
There she was
Pony-tailed Mirabel in Daisy Dukes,
Washing the side of a fake car.
Youthful, hopeful, tender, memories came surging up –
Mirabel filling the kiddie pool so I could play,
Decorating my pancakes with Picasso faces,
Gelling my hair into crazy shapes.
If you ran these pictures backwards
They recorded tragedy: the slow dawn
Of knowledge as she realized she was in
Bad hands; turns out beauty
Isn’t enough. Answering the question;
It had been my real sister who
Threw me at Lord Verne so that she could
Get away. Derek dropped the fake nipple
He’d been studying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know
She was that kind of model.”
I blazed at him: “Everyone’s that kind!
It’s a job!” Derek spluttered.
“The human body’s beautiful.”
I cornered him:
“Will you get naked so I can inspect you?”
His face reddened. Suddenly he
Was fifteen years old. “Not unless you do too.”
“I won’t. You’d have to be the only
Nude person in the room.”
He huffed, and puffed, “Point taken.”
And to his everlasting credit
Hugged me again, but tenderly.
No further explanations required.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t apologize,” he said.
“It’s all horrible.”
Bad moment over.
“Hey, look at this.”
He’d clicked open the boombox.
“There’s a home-made cassette.”
It was an answering machine cassette.
I recognized it – Dad still used that kind.
It explained the ancient boombox.
“Let’s press play.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Was Mirabel just about breaking rules? Or
Breaking herself against them?
“Different people have different sets of rules,”
I suggested. “She was looking for a different world.”
“Still looking,” suggested Derek.
“Probably for a world where
You don’t have to lie all the time.
“She lied to your parents and -”
“She lied to me and she lied to Verne.
She said bridegrooms
Get in the way.”
“Wow. And you were with her
So briefly!”
“Maybe we’re all impostors,” I suggested,
“Until we find out who we really are.”
“Trying to get “it” right without knowing what “it” is.”
I could really talk to this guy!
What a relief.
He googled. “Impostor syndrome.”
We played dueling phones.
“No,” I corrected. “I substitute
Capgras delusion.
Thinking everyone’s a fraud.”
“Neva vu, I call it. When the familiar suddenly
Seems so unfamiliar.
What’s that phrase?
Fake it till you make it?
Doesn’t that make everyone a fraud?”
“Adults think kids are easy to fool.”
“Some teens believe anybody,”
Derek agreed. “Look at the stuff they post!
Not me. I’m always ready
For the universe to turn
Upside down and inside out.”
I considered it.
Maybe I was too. “It makes life more
Interesting. Trying to see through
Reality to the reality beneath.”
“They’re lucky you’re not a snarky Goth.”
Relaxing guy!
“Who says I’m not a snarky Goth?”
Now we both laughed.
I gave him the Brooklyn address –
No luck there – far away from traffic cams.
Spa camera was on the fritz.
“We need people who knew her when,”
Derek suggested. Providing an
Interesting hour
Of online search.
Mirabel’s most recent address
Was an apartment
Building on the Upper East Side.
We looked at each other.
“Well, it’s something,” I said.
And Derek said,
“Wanna go see?”
Chapter 15 – Stage Set
“Are you here about the rental?”
One eye peered out at us across a solid-looking
Door-chain. My voice was raw from unsuccessfully
interviewing all the other tenants about Mirabel
So Derek swept into the breach.
“Didn’t Mirabel Marshott live here?”
The eye rolled, then closed.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m her sister,” I said, but
Helplessly.
Just another bust I assumed – yet possibly
My breaking voice produced
Some good; next sound a gasp followed by
Unlocking. “You’re the answer to a prayer,”
She said. Crazy! “Come in. Hurry.”
Reached out an arm to yank us inside.
We were in a tiny 20th floor apartment
on the Upper East Side –
I’m telling you, SMALL – entirely empty. There was
A highly-polished floor and a fantastic view
Of other people’s balconies and terraces.
“Her stuff’s in the storage bin,” said the girl.
“We have to make this fast.”
She was a tiny Filipina with literally POUNDS of
Makeup. Any age between twenty and eighty.
Artily dressed – expensively – I surmised –
In flowing hand-painted chiffon. Checked her Rolex;
Opened her Day Planner, plucked out a sticky note,
wrote BACK IN 5 MINS and slapped it on the door.
She pulled us outside and carefully locked
All three locks. “We don’t want them
Finding out about Mirabel,”
She hissed as she frog-marched us to elevators.
“She’s a deal killer.”
Derek and I were both too stunned to speak.
Me of the short game, found my words first.
“Who’s them?” I asked.
“Oh, you know,” she whispered, punching the button
“Anybody who knows the case.
People fear the killers could
Come back. If you’re savvy enough
To afford this apartment you know
The guy who confessed couldn’t
Have done it. So the killers are still out there.”
Derek was the first to address
This fray.
He was more familiar
With the wayward ways
Of Manhattan tenantry.
“Mirabel stayed here unofficially?”
“Right,” said our hostess, seemingly irritated
By the elevator’s slowness.
“She was in the broom closet. It has no windows!
Six kinds of illegal.
I mean, she wasn’t actually here that often.
Probably used it as a mail drop – or
Stayed with boyfriends while avoiding
Other boyfriends. You know how that goes.”
We didn’t. She looked me up and down
Realizing far too late –
She was giving too much away.
“I heard your dad was terribly strict.”
She pursed her lips.
I wanted to defend my poor dad –
After all, if you have a lot of boyfriends and
Play them off against each other
Won’t you find – eventually –
One who’s “terribly strict”?
But I cared too much what Derek thought.
I muted. Elevator arrived. We rushed inside.
“She was there that night?” prompted Derek.
“When the – killing – happened?”
“MAYBE,” breathed our Latinx, so excited to be a
Bad news bear she vibrated physically.
“Stabbed to death in their beds. – Franny and Jane.
Mirabel just took off – I mean who wouldn’t? So the cops
Maybe even the murderers – never knew she was there.
Now we have to sell the place –
I’m Dominica – Jane’s sister.”
Uncomfortably long elevator ride
To the basement. Finally she said,
“You know, you look like her. Here we are.”
A bump along the basement floor.
“Mirabel kept her stuff in bins.
Here, you’ll need one of these.”
She slid a trolley at us.
I gathered courage.
“Did you know Lord Verne?”“We all heard plenty
About the titled ex-.
Violent and threatening. But
I thought he was in Europe?”
“5106, 5107 – here we are.”
She unlocked a storage unit. Three boxes piled
In the center of the floor. Marked MM.
Our helper watched us load them.
“Thank God you’re getting these out of here –
We didn’t know how to contact her.
I’ve got to get back. Interest
Has been heavy.”
“How do you explain the murders?”
“When you need real estate
You’re not scared of death. Just
Don’t say how – they don’t want
To know.” She nodded fiercely
“Unbelievable I know – but that’s New York.
Your door’s is that way.”
We both stared at her departing back,
And clattering heels.
“Wow,” said Derek, “Plenty to chew on.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 13 – Why Women Want to Escape Lord Verne
I know I did. Did this mean that I
Could finally consider myself
Grown up? Wouldn’t my teachers
Be surprised. Verne inveighed against Kruptupian
The whole way back
And I didn’t stop him.
I imagined myself floating above him
And looking down on him
Pityingly. Wondered if Mirabel
Ever had done that.
At the Fifth Avenue apartments
Someone claiming to be Derek Lowther
Was pacing back and forth,
Eyed by the suspicious doorman.
He was over six feet tall, very skinny with
Explosively curly brown hair,
Big soulful green eyes and perfect skin.
I almost threw myself into this strange man’s arms
And kissed him.
“You’re not Derek,” I announced, exiting the car,
.“Derek Lowther is a ratty, pimply little brat
Who spits when he talks.”
“And you were a squirt with braces
And a squint,” he sassed back,
All I needed to hear for confirmation.
Nobody knows about the squint.
“It’s called amblyopia
And I’m all cured now,” I told him
As we race-scrolled through family pics –
Growing up for each other’s eyes
Across eight years of ski slopes
School parties, beaches and
Christmas. “Verne, this is Derek Lowther.”
Verne barely deigned to register
The presence of another human being.
“Step into the café,” he ordered.
Perhaps if you’re six feet tall
And possibly still growing
Things are different but hadn’t we
Just breakfasted? No one cared.
Derek: 2 Breakfast burritos and a café Americano,
Verne: espresso and blueberry blintzes,
Richenda: Milky coffee, everything bagel.
Only ordered where I can
Shed bagel dust at will.
As he and Verne gazed at each other
I thought Derek required a call-back.
“Remember Mirabel?”
“I remember the Mirabel Legend,”
Derek offered. Honest guy.
“Kids absorb gossip.”
“What kind of gossip?”
Verne was too sharp, I thought, snapping
At a guest like that.
Soon Derek too would want escape –
Playing into my hands exactly.
I smiled to myself, steepling my fingers
Like a movie mad scientist.
“Text and sub text,” Derek offered.
“Text” was parents explaining Mirabel had run away,
“Sub-text” came through eavesdropping about
Mirabel living wild and free to public acclaim.”
I could work with this guy, I thought,
Satisfied. At least
We spoke the same language –
Very unlike me & Verne.
“We were going to get married,” huffed Verne.
“She gave up her job with her boss –“
“Her nasty boss –“ I added. Helping.
“She called Richenda to help with planning.”
See? THAT wasn’t true.
Since I didn’t challenge Verne went on more
Confidently, “Ghosted us at dinner.
Didn’t come home at all last night.”
Derek looked at me with an
Expression seeming to communicate
“Tell me the REAL story later.”
I liked him more and more.
“Wow,” Derek commented evenly.
“Rough.” Turned to me. “You saw her?”
“I did,” I offered, not willing to say
In front of Verne what exactly I had seen.
“She’s a redhead now.”
Verne was impressed enough
To plunge into a long recital
Of our late night Kruptupian call,
Then insisting Ravi posed as
Mirabel’s groom. I could tell
My silence was registering with Derek.
Since he seemed to know I saw it
Differently, he must know I wanted
Getting out of there.
“Runaway Bride,” said Derek,
“I get that you can’t involve the media.”
“Any ideas?” asked Verne.
“I’ll study traffic cams for Mirabel locations,”
Derek offered, “See where she went.
And with who.”
Verne’s eyes jumped with excitement.
“You can do that?”
“Traffic cameras are easy, private cams
Are more complex.”
“I’ve got the exact times she was in
Brooklyn and at the spa,” I offered.
“I just need my laptop,” said Derek,
Hastily said,
“I need the ladies’ room”
But secretly went upstairs
To get my bag and leave it
In the hall.
Verne did not alert, unaware
Of my escape. Like Mirabel
I was getting the hell out.
When I got back they were discussing
Hiring a P.I., Derek’s dad
Had an art theft guy.
“We think she ditched her phone. “
“But her online account,
See who she called –
It’s golden. Maybe just a password hack,”
Said Derek. “Depends how well you know
The person.” “I can help with that,” I said,
Possibly unwisely – Verne’s face
Froze in jealous competition.
Apparently I belonged to him
Already.
Verne paid the bill,
Discomfited by precipitous
Abandonment.
“I have some friends to call,” he sniffed.
Threat or promise – we encouraged him.
“I’m going to see Derek’s folks” I lied so
Smoothly Derek kept his calm.
“They’ll have all kinds of suggestions.”
Verne was stymied
By our determination.
“I’ll call,” I promised pathetically.
Verne made a note of Derek’s number.
I marched after Derek
Who was walking decisively.
“So where are we going?” I hissed
Conspiratorially.
“Subway. No car service on my allowance.”
Down the steps into the hot and stinky
Underworld. “Fine with me,” I offered.
“I want to be anonymous.”
“I know the feeling,” said Derek.
“What’s with that guy?
You’re escaping a police state.”
We clutched straps and leaned together
Studiously ignoring people who
Were studiously ignoring us.
“So, what’s the deal?”
Hissed Derek. “Do you think he murdered her?”
“Not sure,” I said, “When he wanted me
To comfort him he said
I wasn’t the first fourteen-year old he’d had.”
“Oh, my God,” said Derek. “Disgusting guy.
His world is him and whoever he’s picked
To be his mirror.”
A startling, grisly, accurate thought.
“He left with me,” I mused,
“I’m his alibi but he could always hire someone.”
“But you don’t think she’s dead.”
“I hope she’s not. But if I find her now
I feel sure she’ll finally tell the truth.”
That idea sounded stupid to my ears.
Wouldn’t Mirabel do what she’d
Always done and feed me any story
I wanted to believe?
“I think I can tell the truth from lies,”
I offered, I’d like to
Test it.” To Derek’s credit
He didn’t argue. “My only question is;
What if he killed her, and then
Hired a girl to impersonate Mirabel?”
I had to admit I’d thought of this.
“It doesn’t sound so hard to me,” said Derek.
“After all you haven’t seen her for – what –
Six years?” I shook my head.
“I think it was really her and everything
She said and did was signaling.
I longed to learn her language.
“I think –“ could I confess this deepest secret
To this stranger –
“She’s longing to be found.”
A moment’s silence but Derek didn’t
Counter. “We’ll check her friends,” he said,
“When we open her account.”
Did Mirabel have friends?
Would Verne allow it?
I must have looked like a stopped clock
Because he propelled me out the double doors.
“Is this our stop?” “Change trains.”
Back to waiting on a dangerous platform
In the dark, hovering over an electrified hell.
Had I always been this scared
Of everything?
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Derek speaking.
“Sounds just like Mirabel to me. Wasn’t
Disappointing everyone her stock in trade?”
Impossible to argue with.
But I put in the effort.
“Maybe something’s REALLY happened to her this time.
She seems to have been juggling two men
She hated; stealing diamonds and God knows what.”
Should I explain her attempted
Brain hijacking?
Maybe I shouldn’t tell him anything.
Why couldn’t I stop myself? Because
Derek is my age and will have
Predictable response? It felt like,
AT LAST a human being
To speak to in this world of artificial masks.
“God. I’m sorry.” His voice really did
Sound sorry. “Do you want to come here?
Should I go there?”
It was fresh and novel to be offered
The Choice. Sounded like he really
Wanted to help.
“What could you do?”
My own voice sounded like a five year old
Quivering on the edge of tears.
“Help you look? I’d do anything I can.”
I gave Derek the bridegroom’s address.
Speaking of the bridegroom, he burst through
The doors, arms full of literature and bottled water.
“Hotel coupons, flight discounts –
These could suggest where Mirabel might go.
Or where Ravi might stash her.
What a liar! That bastard!”
He DEFINITELY wanted to be the one
Whose mood Mirabel controlled.
I felt I had to interject some authenticity.
“She probably wanted to keep Ravi
From chasing her. Or suing her.
For, you know, the diamonds.”
Verne paused to drink from his
Chilled bottle, flicking
Droplets on his collar.
“She shouldn’t turn to him.”
So we were back to Bad Mirabel,
Conniving Mirabel, with motives
Always suspect.
Not so different – as Derek pointed out –
From the way she’d always been.
We climbed dispiritedly back into the car.
I needed Derek. Just to speak to
Someone sane.
“Have you announced your engagement
Formally?”
“No. We just thought of it. No details yet.”
This opened an unpleasant picture.
Why was I the first
Wedding task?
It couldn’t be that Mirabel needed
Someone sane to speak to –
I must be a distraction
From what I could see was Verne’s
Slow boil.
At that very moment
he eyed my phone suspiciously.
“So, who was that?”
I saw him itching to
Commandeer my phone.
Who WOULD I be talking to? The press?
Poor Mirabel! Her trap was sounding
Worse than ever.
I engineered my way out.
“My parents’ friends.
Their son could help –
He’s hacker smart.”
Should I mention my upcoming move?
Best not; a storm settled between
Verne’s eyes. He thirsted to be
My focus of attention with
No competitor to mute his power.
“He’s meeting us at the apartment.”
Verne didn’t like that one bit.
I realized, even if I have to sacrifice my clothes
I must escape.
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aalyn
I closed the door for
Privacy but Dad only wanted
To speak to Verne. He was
WAY more interested in talking to a man
He’d never met than listening to
His own kid! Go ahead. IGNORE the Virgin.
The virgin is used to it!
At least I was allowed
To listen in.
Verne said Mirabel had just pulled a “Mirabel.”
“Wedding’s off, I take it?” asked my Dad.
He sounded relieved!
“Not because of anything I’ve done or said,”
Verne assured. “She just can’t seem to cope.”
Handed back the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Take the first train home,”
My Dad directed.
“Dad, it’s only Saturday!”
“You can’t stay alone
In some young man’s apartment.
Doesn’t look good.”
“Who’s looking?” I demanded. “Besides, he’s staying
at The Stanhope,” I winked at Verne.
“I’m sorry, no! Must I put your mother on?
You know she’ll back me up.”
“At least let me call the Lowthers.
Maybe they’re in town.”
Longtime family friends. He subsided.
Muttering.
“Parents are so awful,” I proclaimed out loud once
Severing connections.
“They think I’m a baby.”
“They want you to never age”
And Verne smiled wickedly at his private
Epsteinian joke.
I found the Lowthers’ number and got only voicemail –
Should have figured that would happen!
They were at the Cold Spring country house of course!
I enunciated clearly, “This is Richenda Marshott
with an emergency question. Please call me back as soon
As you get this at 715-527-1313.”
This granted me another day at least
I thought till
Someone might check in.
If I spoke to any member of the family –
even barf-inducing Sierra – I could fend off Dad
For the entire weekend.
Verne looked hungrily at my phone.
“What question will you ask?”
“Why, if they’ve heard from Mirabel of course.”
Dropped it in my pocket. High-waist jeans
Have deep, deep pockets.
“I’m going to the Day-Spa,”
I said, allowing him to bail.
But of course he said,
“I’m coming too.”
Chapter 12 – Derek
Bioceutically Renewed was so far east
It was almost in the water. At the door, a
Sweet-faced Asian lady
Expressed almost comic dismay.
“Customers privacy sacrosanct! You understand.
Sacrosanct.” But
Just when I would have recommended
Verne get more friendly
He went haughty.
“We’re talking about a missing person!”
He barked. “This is a police case!”
She was not to be caught.
“Are you police?”
“He’s the fiancé.” Reaching out to touch her arm was
Too naïve! She shrank away.
Verne swelled, his importance
Throbbing. “I’d like to see
The manager!”
We filled the tiny waiting room.
The employee backed away, alarmed,
Scurrying, hastily diminishing
In size. I imagined that was their secret to dispense –
Clients requesting “to be smaller”
Turned into mice. I hissed at Verne.
“What if she calls the police on US?”
He waved this away, airily.
“Flunkies never do. A British title paves the path
To everything.” How I wished
This wasn’t true. The frosty-eyed manager
Was neither young nor Asian,
But when I introduced, “This is Lord Verne,
Mirabel’s fiancé and I’m her sister”
Her expression changed most notably.
How in our democracy could Verne be right?
“Have you told the police?”
“They’ll get involved after the waiting period,” Verne said
Smoothly. Far too smoothly. How many
Wives had disappeared on him before?
“We think she’s under duress. We’re trying
To act fast.” I begged;
“We just want to find her! She carries
Valuables. She could be in danger.”
Verne’s eyes raked me over,
While he fluttered his lips
Disgustedly, as if to say –
“And she left me with this THING!”
Instead of instant ejection
We made it to the inner sanctum, an
Unromantic room where filing cabinets loomed
Over wooden chairs. Ms. “Operations Manager”
Consulted her computer.
“She signed up for our Wedding Package
But only made the first appointment. That was
Days ago. I understood – er – her fiancé
Was…someone different altogether.”
Verne paled and lost his breath.
Fell into a punitively twisted chair.
It was up to me to ask the questions.
“Short, fat, bald?”
“That’s the one.” The woman panicked
At her own audacity.
“Tells us what we need to know.”
Verne was gasping like a fish
And he was not a good color.
I thought he might stroke out.
“Contact numbers?”
“Contrary to policy. I’m sorry.
Her voice was cold, but her eyes were warm.
“May I get you a water?”
“Please,” said Verne. “Bottled, if possible.”
The moment she was out the door I raced
To the computer. “Last appointment was three days ago!”
I took a screenshot with my phone.
Ms. Harvey returned with a bottle of chilled water
which Verne accepted. I was rescued
By the ringing of my phone.
“I’ve got to take this.”
Stepping into the hall.
I heard a deep masculine voice.
“Hi. This is Derek Lowther. Is that
Richenda?” Derek Lowther? Last time I saw him he was a
Particularly nightmarish twelve year old jerk.
(I was a cool eleven year old sophisticate.)
This was NOT the person I’d hoped to speak to. I
Pushed out through the anteroom and into
The pale winter sunshine, playing
For time. “Yes,”
I told Derek unwillingly, “it’s me.”
“So what’s the emergency question?”
“Have you heard from Mirabel?”
He was genuinely astonished.
“Has ANBODY heard from Mirabel?
I certainly haven’t. I’m at the apartment.
Do you mean, did she call here?”
“Maybe you could find out
If your parents have heard anything?”
“They’re on retreat in Sri Lanka. You can assume
The answer’s No. What’s the hurry?”
“Mirabel is missing.”
A beat of silence. I could hear his struggle to be polite.
“Wasn’t Mirabel ALWAYS missing?”
“This time’s exceptional. She came back.
She was getting married.
Then she disappeared. Again.”
I have to admit it did not sound like an emergency.
Impossible to explain anything to this guy!
Hadn’t seen him in 3 years and already
I was angry at him.
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 7 – Bride & Seek
In the elevator Verne requested:
“Game face only.” I was bemused.
Which game is that?
“Bride and Seek” – the ancient
Party game – requires someone
Getting locked in an airtight trunk
Does not end well, as I recall.
We decanted on the penthouse floor.
Battle of the Rich Men, I thought,
Who knew that’s how my
Weekend would devolve?
But this man’s apartment seemed really his
As opposed to Verne’s
Antiseptic rented rooms –
Each gaudy piece carefully curated,
Trucked in from God knows where
Art deco friezes,
Naked ebony statues –
Bows & arrows –
Lots of brass and torchieres.
And that’s just the hall.
Leather paneled, copper nailed door
Opened before we even rang the bell and
A handsome, shorter, older man
Stood before us in bathrobe and slippers.
Mirabel with this guy?
What is the use of beauty
If this is all it gets you
Verne’s at least good-looking.
“Why, Verne,” he said in a voice even I
Recognized as jovially false:
“What brings you at this hour?
Please come in.” Bizarre foreign accent
I couldn’t place.
He took my hand, mauling it like many
An unbalanced teacher at my Special School
for Introducing Adolescents to Adult Subjects
Long Before They’re Ready.
I am practiced at closing my mind
Against these guys
Even as they woo me.
“You can only be Mirabel’s lost sister.”
“That’s just it,” I said, “It’s Mirabel who’s lost, not me.”
“I’m Ravi Kruptupian,” said the man,
Refusing to let go.
Subtle power struggle – your manners make no
Purchase here –
My first flicker of
Actual fear – alone in the world
With two strange men who wore
Compulsive need like ad logos.
I can’t fault Mirabel for deciding
Better disappear than marry amongst this ilk but
Where does that leave ME?
“Welcome to my enchanted forest,”
Said the man in the bathrobe.
“Please leave your shoes by the door.”
He slid the bolt as
We came through.
“I know it’s late,” Verne began,
Ravi said, “Never care about the time. Drink?
Pot of coffee?”
Kruptupian’s inner rooms did not reassure.
Dark, hand-carved, certainly fake
Tree branches projected from the walls
Displaying riots of glittering glass objects.
Coffee appeared from
A wall recess. Why not?
Spiked mine with hot milk and brown lump sugar.
“Where exactly did Mirabel SAY she was going?”
Asked this man as if he and Mirabel’d never met.
“Aren’t you supposed to be
Honeymooning?”
Was that a tinge of glee I heard?
I’m sure Verne heard it too.
He might go off on any moment –
I didn’t think he was coping well –
Game face was NOT in evidence.
We sat in an upholstered leather booth
Highbacked –
Plundered from some café.
“She didn’t say,” said Verne.
“She was joining us for dinner,”
I told this strange new man.
“I just arrived on the six o’clock train.”
“Sisters can be difficult,” said Ravi.
“Or so I’ve heard.
Your relationship was good?”
Wow! Mirabel wasn’t great at telling folks
The basic facts about her family.
Was he implying
Mirabel left because of ME?
Two Marshott girls never breathe at once?
I decided not to get into it.
“She seemed fine when we tried on clothes together,”
I began to feel hopped up on coffee.
Quit that stuff
Before the shaking hands. I
Banged my mug upon his shiny table.
“I heard you knew her well.”
Let him think she’d squealed –
I smiled in a way that forecloses
Further questions and
He blinked indulgently.
“I haven’t heard a word
Since her going away party.”
Ripple of surprise from Verne.
“Going-away party” unknown to groom?
Ravi kept smiling.
He had a lot of teeth.
“Maybe she needs a honeymoon alone
I heartily recommend
Fall in love with your SELF first.”
We did not believe him for a minute –
He was needling Verne.
This bad conversation somehow seemed
To be endlessly getting worse.
“She certainly had the means –
I gave her a generous parting gift
Then found out she helped herself to more.”
His face hardened, steely-eyed.
“I didn’t know until she tried to fence my stones.”
“Mirabel stole from you?” spluttered Verne.
“Who knows what went through her mind,”
Ravi spread his hands in apology.
“She may have been confused about my gift.
No harm done.
Jacobson returned the stones.”
What did all this mean? Don’t worry about Mirabel,
She’s just a little thief?
Disappearing from humiliation, exposure & shame?
I felt surge of prosecutorial passion:
Was it possible to get to the bottom of this?
Never had “game face” seemed so
Dangerous and unappealing.
“She worked for you?”
I tried to clarify.
“She was my scout. She brought me –
Things I might want to buy.”
Verne’s boil burst.
“She never for anything with me!”
He sounded ready for a fight
But defending his money, his charm or
My sister?
Ravi skirted the issue
With old-world politesse.
“Women keep some expenses private.”
That’s true as dirt;
My mother calls it “mad money”.
A hundred dollars tucked inside
Your bra. Verne would never best this man
Except in hotness and
Eligibility. Someone
Needed to tell him he was “enough”;
Probably that was Mirabel’s job
And she got tired of doing it.
I was not the one to explain to him.
I pursued investigation.
“Did she call you?”
Ravi pulled out his phone.
Flicked through content. “I don’t see it.”
“She took a car to the wilds of Brooklyn,”
Verne asserted, coming back up
Like a Bobo doll.
“Know anything about that?”
He was overly combative – this
Wouldn’t get us anywhere.
“What address?” At least
Ravi seemed interested.
Luckily Verne recalled it.
Ravi remained impassive.
“I’ve got no information.”
Verne stood up. This felt bad.
“Sure she isn’t hiding here? Using some old key?”
Ravi rose too.
Short but still impressive.
“She never had a key. She couldn’t enter
Without my knowing. I’d rather
My house guests weren’t disturbed.”
Verne veered away. Fisticuffs avoided.
Ravi walked us – miming helpfulness
Towards the door.
“I suggest missing persons.
Get police involved.”
He seemed to know this would insult Verne further
And it did but Verne shook it off,
A punch-drunk fighter.
“What good are they?”
Ravi pushed his luck.
“Troll the basics – hospitals and morgues.”
Verne’s face melted into gargoyle.
Turning to me Ravi backtracked –
“Likely bridal nerves? The engagement was
So sudden.”
“We’ve been together forever!”
Verne barked. I took his arm.
“Sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you.”
Somehow the door got opened.
“No problem. Let me know if she turns up.”
I shoehorned Verne outside.
“You’ll tell us if she calls?”
“If that’s what Mirabel wants.”
I got the door shut before Verne
Attacked him.
“I hate that guy! He’s so disgusting!
How I wish we hadn’t come!”
I thought he might weep.
The elevator opened without a
Summons. This whole place seemed
Intent on ridding itself of us.
But Verne resisted. “I bet she’s in there.”
He looked back longingly.
“I bet she’s not.” I muscled him
Into the elevator.
“How do you know?”
He looked at me as if I had
Magic powers.
“He accused Mirabel of stealing!”
Verne blew that off.
“Mirabel’s light-fingered.
He steals from the world, she steals from him.”
He didn’t seem to realize
This philosophy could apply to him.
Why marry someone you can’t trust?
One more thing I still don’t get
About Adult World.
I reassured him.
“She burned that bridge. I could tell.”
Verne taxed me with how I knew –
Sneering, “Woman’s intuition?”
Since he couldn’t trust Mirabel
How could he trust me?
Needing me made him hate me.
I would have to manage him
Like a parent. Like poor
Mirabel herself. Luckily
He relaxed into the car without more fuss.
I said, humoresque – “I’m psychic.”
I say that to my folks because
They’re just so clueless about
Others’ vital signs –
How else explain the obvious? But
Verne’s whole face changed. He became
Pathetically excited.
“Of course!” he said.
“The sister thing! It creates
A Psychic link. I have no siblings.
Tell me what you feel?
Where’d she go?”
The driver also needed to know:
Where to?
We put him on pause while
I equivocated.
“I haven’t seen her in so long,
The connection’s fogged.”
The only thing I knew for sure was
Mirabel must hate Ravi just like I did.
“I need to get to know her again.”
“Tell me where to go,” said Verne.
Then he invoked the magic words.
“I’ll do anything.”
Alysse Aallyn 