Express Male. Elizabeth Bevarly

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      The man’s eyes went wide, and he covered his mouth with one hand in an uh-oh-what-have-I-done gesture. “Oh, of course,” he said in a chastened voice. “I’m not supposed to call you Lila, am I?” He made a fist and gently tapped his forehead. “Silly me. I’ve been out of the service too long. And that little run-in with the KGB years ago didn’t help.” He smiled at Marnie again. “What name are you going by on your current assignment, dear?”

      Current assignment? Marnie repeated to herself. Run-in with the KGB? Oh, yeah. Definitely delusional. “Uh…Marnie,” she said without thinking. But that was probably okay, wasn’t it? As long as she didn’t give him her last name, she should be fine, right?

      He nodded as if he understood completely. Well, that made one of them. “Marnie. Of course. Was it chosen by He Whose Name Nobody Dares Say?”

      Oh, yeah. Definitely quite mad. “Um, actually, it was my father,” she told him.

      “Ah.” The little man nodded in a way that made her think he knew something she didn’t. She hated to think what. “I had no idea the two of you were related,” he continued. “How did that get by me? That must have aided your quick climb up the professional ladder. Not to imply that your ruthlessness and intelligence and complete flouting of personal safety weren’t also responsible,” he hastened to add. “And it’s a lovely name.” He winked at her before adding, “Marnie.”

      “Thank you,” she said. She tried to backtrack to the exact moment when her life had slipped into the surreal. In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been a good idea to have that kielbasa from Hank’s Franks at the mall food court for dinner. Just how long had it been on the rotisserie anyway? Maybe she should have risked the long line at Ruthie’s Smoothies.

      Not that a digestively generated hallucination was her biggest problem at the moment. Especially since her new bestest friend in the world—or, at least, Lila’s bestest friend in the world, whoever she was—seemed to be getting excited about something. And gosh, Marnie really hated to think what.

      “Although I must say, it’s not just your high-ranking status that makes me surprised to see you in Cleveland. Last I heard, you were on a leave of absence in Las Vegas. And then there was that rumor about you having tried to kill—”

      He stopped abruptly, his expression indicating he’d almost said something he would regret later. Funny, that, since Marnie was regretting it right now. He’d mistaken her for someone who’d try to kill someone else? That couldn’t possibly be good, could it? Thankfully, he hurried on before she had a chance to think too much about that. Or experience a stark, raving panic attack.

      “Well,” he said, “let’s just say I’m glad you’re here. For a number of reasons.”

      “Um, look,” she interjected as gently as she could, thinking it would probably be best if she didn’t hear any of those reasons. “You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone else. My name isn’t Lila. It’s Marnie. I’m sorry I’m not who you’re looking for, but…” She shrugged, the internationally recognized sign language for Can’t help you, fella.

      “Of course you’re not who I’m looking for,” he said. “I should have realized that right away.”

      Marnie would have breathed a sigh of relief, but the little man took a step closer, looked first one way, then the other, then leaned in very close, crowding her personal space way more than she liked.

      “I didn’t realize we were being watched,” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear. “I should have realized.” He moved a hand to his mouth to mimic the locking of a lock and throwing away of the key. Very quietly, he promised, “From now on, I’ll just call you Marnie, Lila. I won’t call you Lila anymore, Marnie.”

      Since he was so close, Marnie took advantage of the opportunity to inhale a deep breath, to see if it might offer some clue as to what he had been drinking. Smoking. Sniffing. Absorbing subcutaneously. All of the above. But there was nary a hint of alcoholic, herbal or chemical enhancement about him. A touch of garlic, perhaps, but as far as she knew, garlic had never driven anyone around the bend like this.

      He did that look-one-way-then-the-other thing again, then held up a fat manila envelope that had seen better days. It was stuffed about as full as it could be and still be closed, the flap torn and bent, the paper soiled and wrinkled. Two big rubber bands were wound around it, one vertically and one horizontally, as if he feared the envelope might give way and spill its contents any moment, something that seemed entirely possible. Then he smiled again.

      “Here’s my book,” he said. “I finished it, just as I promised them I would.”

      Book? Marnie wanted to say. That was no book. It was just a big, dirty envelope full of papers. Why would he bring it to her? To Lila? To anyone? And just who was the “them” he was talking about?

      “It’s only a first draft, you understand,” he hastened to add, “but it is my greatest opus.”

      Ooh, it was a book he’d written. Now Marnie really didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

      “Um, that’s really nice, and I appreciate it,” she said as politely as she could. She glanced around again, hoping somebody might have shown up by now. At this point, she’d even welcome the appearance of Bob Troutman. Well, probably. Maybe. Oh, okay, she could handle this little guy for a few minutes more. “But I’m probably not the best person to give it to,” she added. “I’m not much good when it comes to literary criticism. I’m more of a music person.”

      “No, no,” he insisted, his smile falling some. “You’ll like this, no matter what. I assure you, it’s a wonderful opus.”

      There was that word opus again. He really seemed to be attached to it. “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Marnie assured the man. “But, honestly, I just don’t think I’m qualified to—”

      “It’s the story of a powerful sorcerer,” he interrupted in a singsongy, once-upon-a-time voice. “A sorcerer who has betrayed people, and who’s been hiding from those people, hoping they won’t find him.”

      “Um, sounds great,” Marnie said flatly, not wanting to encourage him—especially since fantasy novels really weren’t her thing. “But, really, I—”

      “This book tells all about this sorcerer,” the man began again, emphasizing that last word meaningfully. Meaningful to him, anyway, since Marnie had no idea what he was talking about. “It tells things about the sorcerer no one knew before. And it tells about where the sorcerer has been hiding and what he’s been up to. It tells about where he’s going next. You’ll like it, I promise.” He winked at her again, a gesture that was beginning to creep her out. “It is my finest opus,” he said again.

      Hoo-kay, Marnie thought. Whoever this guy was, he’d caught the express train from la-la land and hopped off at weirdsville. And now he was looking around for the platform for his connection to loonytown.

      He shoved the envelope at her again, using both hands now. “Take it,” he insisted. “Read it. Read my opus about the sorcerer.”

      He was growing agitated now, and Marnie wasn’t sure what crazy people did when they became agitated. Nor did she have any wish to find out. She wondered if she should just take the envelope from him and hope that would make him leave. Then she could return to Lauderdale’s and alert mall security about the incident and go home.

      “Um, СКАЧАТЬ