F. Paul Wilson - The Tomb

No.

Vicky put the piece back. She remembered the last time she had sneaked a nibble of chocolate—her face swelled up like a big red balloon and her eyelids got so puffy all the kids at school had said she looked Chinese. Maybe no one would notice the nibble she took, but Mommy would sure notice her blown-up face. She took one last, longing look at the rows of dark lumps, then replaced the lid and put the box back on the table.

With Ms. Jelliroll under her arm again, she walked back to the bottom of the stairs and stood there looking up. It was dark up there. And she was scared. But she couldn't stay down here all night. Slowly she started up, carefully watching the dark at the top. When she reached the second floor landing she clung to the newel post and peered around. Nothing moved. With her heart beating wildly, she broke into a scampering run around to the second flight and didn't slow until she had reached the third floor, jumped into her bed, and pulled the sheet over her head.

10

"Working hard, I see." Jack whirled at the sound of the voice, nearly spilling the two glasses of champagne he had just lifted from the tray of a passing waiter.

"Gia!" She was the last person he expected to see here. And the last person he wanted to see. He felt he should be out looking for Grace instead of hobnobbing with the diplomats. But he swallowed his guilt, smiled, and tried to say something brilliant. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I'm here with Nellie."

"Oh. That explains it."

He stood there looking at her, wanting to reach out his hand and have her take it the way she used to, knowing she'd only turn away if he did. He noticed a half-empty champagne glass in her hand and a glittery look in her eyes. He wondered how many she had had. She never was much of a drinker.

"So, what've you been doing with yourself?" she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

Yes—definitely too much to drink. Her voice was slightly slurred.

"Shoot anybody lately?"

Oh, swell. Here we go.

He answered in a quiet, soothing voice. He wasn't looking for an argument. "Reading a lot—"

"What? The Executioner series for the fourteenth time?"

"—and watching movies."

"A Dirty Harry festival, I suppose." 'You look great," he said, refusing to let her irk him as he tried to turn the talk toward Gia. He wasn't lying. She filled her dress nicely, and the pinkish color, whatever it was, seemed made for her blond hair and blue eyes.

"You're not doing so bad yourself."

"It's my Fred Astaire suit. Always wanted to wear one of these. Like it?"

Gia nodded. "Is it as uncomfortable as it looks?"

"More so. Don't know how anyone ever tap danced in one of these. Collar's choking me."

"It's not your style, anyway."

"You're right." Jack preferred to be unobtrusive. He was happiest when he could walk past with no one noticing. "But something got into me tonight. Couldn't pass up the chance to be Fred Astaire just once."

"You don't dance and your date will never be mistaken for Ginger Rogers."

"I can dream, can't I?"

"Who is she?"

Jack studied Gia closely. Could there be just a trace of jealousy there? Was that possible?

"She's…" He looked around the room until he spotted Kusum. "… that man's sister."

"Is she the 'personal matter' you helped him out with?"

"Oh?" he said with a slow smile. "You've been asking about me?"

Gia's eyes shifted away. "Burkes brought your name up. Not me."

"You know something, Gia?" Jack said, knowing he shouldn't but helpless to resist. "You're beautiful when you're jealous."

Her eyes flashed and her cheeks turned red. "Don't be absurd!" She turned and walked away.

Typical , Jack thought. She wanted nothing to do with him but didn't want to see him with anybody else.

He looked around for Kolabati—not a typical woman by any standard—and found her standing beside her brother, who seemed to be doing his best to pretend she wasn't there.

As he walked toward the silent pair, Jack marveled at the way Kolabati's dress clung to her. It was made of a gauzy, dazzlingly white fabric that came across her right shoulder and wrapped itself around her breasts like a bandage. Her left shoulder was completely bare, exposing her dark, flawless skin for all to admire. And there were many admirers.

"Hello, Mr. Bahkti," he said as he handed Kolabati her glass.

Kusum glanced at the champagne, at Kolabati, then turned an icy smile on Jack.

"May I compliment you on the decadence of your attire."

"Thank you. I knew it wasn't stylish, so I'll settle for decadent. How's your grandmother?"

"Physically well, but suffering from a mental aberration, I fear."

"She's doing fine," Kolabati said with a scathing look at her brother. "I have the latest word and she's doing just fine." Then she smiled sweetly. "Oh, by the way, Kusum dear. Jack was asking about durba grass today. Anything you can tell him about it?"

Jack saw Kusum stiffen at the mention of durba grass. He knew Kolabati had been startled when he had asked her about it on the phone today. What did durba grass mean to these two?

Still smiling, Kolabati sauntered away as Kusum faced him.

"What did you wish to know?"

"Nothing in particular. Except… is it ever used as a laxative?"

Kusum's face remained impassive. "It has many uses, but I have never heard it recommended for constipation. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. An old lady I know said she was using a concoction with a durba grass extract in it."

"I'm surprised. I didn't think you could find durba grass in the Americas. Where did she buy it?"

Jack was studying Kusum's face. Something there… something he couldn't quite define.

"Don't know. She's away on a trip right now. When she comes back, I'll ask her."

"Throw it away if you have any, my friend," Kusum said gravely. "Certain durba grass preparations have undesirable side-effects. Throw it away." Before Jack could say anything, Kusum gave one of his little bows. "Excuse me. There are some people I must speak to before the night is over."

Undesirable side-effects ? What the hell did that mean?

Jack wandered around the room. He spotted Gia again, but she avoided his eyes. Finally, the inevitable happened: He ran into Nellie Paton. He saw the pain behind her smile and suddenly felt absurd in his old fashioned tuxedo. This woman had asked him to help find her missing sister and here he was dressed up like a gigolo.

"Gia tells me you're getting nowhere," she said in a low voice after brief amenities.

"I'm trying. If only I had more to go on. I'm doing what I—"

"I know you are, dear," Nellie said, patting his hand. "You were fair. You made no promises, and you warned me you might not be able to do any more than the police had already done. All I need to know is that someone is still looking."

"I am." He spread his arms. "I may not look like it, but I am."

"Oh, rubbish!" she said with a smile. "Everyone needs a holiday. And you certainly seem to have a beautiful companion for it."

Jack turned in the direction Nellie was looking and saw Kolabati approaching them. He introduced the two women.

"Oh, I met your brother tonight!" Nellie said. "A charming man."

"When he wants to be, yes," Kolabati replied. "By the way—has either of you seen him lately?"

Nellie nodded. "I saw him leave perhaps ten minutes ago."

Kolabati said a word under her breath. Jack didn't know Indian, but he could recognize a curse when he heard one.

"Something wrong?"

She smiled at him with her lips only. "Not at all. I just wanted to ask him something before he left."

"Speaking of leaving," Nellie said. "I think that's a good idea. Excuse me while I go find Gia." She bustled off.