Glamorama

Glamorama Page 186

"Wait, wait, guys," I'm saying. "Sent to warn me by who? About what?"

"That's what we're trying to piece together," Palakon says, overly patient.

"We think that whoever sent her didn't want you making contact with Jamie Fields, and by extension Bobby Hughes, once you arrived in London," Crater says. "We think she was provided as a distraction. As an alternative."

"Provided?" I'm asking. "Provided? What in the f**k does that mean?"

"Mr. Ward-" Palakon starts.

"Jamie told me she knows her," I say suddenly. "That she knew her. Why would Marina want me to stay away from Jamie if they knew each other?"

"Did Jamie Fields say how she knew her? Or in what context she knew her?" Palakon asks. "Did Jamie Fields let you know what their connection was?"

"No...," I'm murmuring. "No..."

"Didn't you ask?" Crater and Delta exclaim at the same time.

"No," I say, dazed, murmuring. "No... I'm sorry... no..."

From behind me Russell says, "Palakon."

"Yes, yes," Palakon says.

On the TV screen the camera keeps panning across the length of the deck and, whenever Marina glances at it, always back to Lorrie Wallace. But once it stays for several moments on Marina, who gazes at it almost as if the camera were daring her.

"Where did you get this?" I'm asking.

"It's not an original," Delta says. "It's a copy."

"That's an answer?" I ask, jaw clenched.

"It doesn't matter how we got it," Delta snaps.

"The Wallaces took that," I say, staring at the screen. "Turn it off."

"The Wallaces?" I hear someone ask.

"Yeah." I'm nodding. "The Wallaces. They were this couple from England. This English couple. I forget what they do. What they told me. I think she opens restaurants. Whatever. Turn it off, just turn it off."

"How did you meet them?" Palakon asks, pressing a button, causing the TV to flash black.

"I don't know. They were just on the ship. They introduced themselves to me. We had dinner." I'm moaning, rubbing my hands over my face. "They said they knew my father-"

Some kind of connection is automatically made and resonates among the three men sitting across from me.

"Oh shit," Delta says.

Immediately Crater mutters, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

Palakon keeps nodding involuntarily, his mouth opening slightly so he can take in more air.

Delta furiously writes down something on the folder resting in his lap.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," Crater keeps muttering.

The Japanese man lights a cigarette, his face illuminated briefly by the match. Something's wrong. He's scowling.

"Palakon?" Russell calls out behind me.

Palakon looks up, knocked out of his concentration.

I turn around.

Russell taps his watch. Palakon nods irritably.

"Did Marina Cannon ask you anything?" Delta asks hurriedly, leaning in.

"Oh shit," I mutter. "I don't know. Like what?"

"Did she ask you if-" Crater starts.

I suddenly remember and, interrupting Crater, I murmur, "She wanted to know if anyone gave me anything to bring with me to England."

her departure from the Queen's Grill, the desperate phone call she made later that night, and I was drunk and grinning at myself in a mirror in my cabin, giggling, and there was blood in her bathroom and who else except Bobby Hughes knew she was on that ship and you were heading toward another country and there was a tattoo, black and shapeless, on her shoulder

I'm wiping sweat off my forehead and the room starts slanting, then t catches itself

"Such as?" Palakon asks.

I'm grasping at something, and finally realize what it is.

"I think she meant"-I look up at Palakon-"the hat."

Everyone starts writing something. They wait for me to continue, to elaborate, but since I can't, Palakon coaxes me by asking, "But the hat disappeared from the QE2, right?"

I nod slowly. "But maybe... I'm thinking... maybe she took it and... and gave it... to someone."

"No," Delta mutters. "Our sources say she didn't."

"Your sources?" I'm asking. "Who in the f**k are your sources?"

"Mr. Ward," Palakon starts. "This will all be explained to you at a later date, so please-"