The Whisper, page 4
“He’s, ahem... our product supplier, the head of the biggest Colombian drug cartel, CEO of Marquez Furniture Group...”
“Also my friend,” Arlington finished. “A good one. He helped me get on my feet when I was down to stealing cars and beating the shit out of local pricks.”
Jasper knew this too. In fact, it was the first thing he had learned about Owen Arlington when he had started in the industry, about how Mr. Arlington, who at the time was too young to be called Mr. Arlington, had been terrorizing Copper Hills—Foster Valley’s twin-neighborhood—until Emilio Marquez changed his life forever. Signor Marquez was like a supreme being without a physical form. Everyone knew he existed, everyone knew he wielded immense power, but only a few had seen him personally, and even those few could hardly tell anything about him.
Owen was twenty-nine when he made acquaintance with him. Although the partnership with Marquez’s cartel was a reckless step, it ultimately worked out. The first party of cocaine they had transported to the United States through seaways had been sold in a matter of days, and eventually their cooperation had become unbreakable.
There was a half-full bottle of whiskey on Arlington’s desk. He poured himself a glass.
“Want some?” he offered to Jasper.
Jasper struggled for an answer and politely refused. Later on, he would think that he should have accepted the offer to look a little more confident in the devil’s eyes.
“Here’s the thing,” Arlington said. “Emilio is arriving in Acheart tonight, which I found out about a couple of hours ago. The bastard always comes without knocking. Soon, we’ll have to pick him up from the airport and drive straight here. Emilio Marquez is not the person I can turn down, but of all days of the year he picked today to visit Acheart. And today is my wife’s birthday.”
“Congratulations,” Jasper said, shrinking at the thought that it might have sounded a little sarcastic.
Congratulations? Why should I give a shit?
“My wife is the most important part of my life,” Arlington went on, “and I feel really bad knowing that I’ll have to leave her alone for her birthday. I can’t do anything about it.” Jasper gave an understanding nod, wondering if this person was capable of feeling guilty in general. “The least I can do for her is to give her a present, and that’s why I need you.”
He brought a small suede case from under the desk and put it in front of Jasper. As Arlington had opened it, Jasper discovered a diamond necklace, shining under the daylight like a constellation in the night sky. The necklace was beautiful but simple, which made it look very exquisite.
“You know how much it costs?” Arlington asked. Jasper shook his head. “Enough to start a new life. So tell me, why should I entrust it to you?”
That question rendered Jasper speechless for a few seconds. A game of Guess What Owen Arlington Means had begun.
“Maybe… maybe…you shouldn’t,” Jasper mumbled.
“I take it you’re not much of a reliable person then?” Arlington began to pace around the office, glass of whiskey in one hand.
Predators were patient, weren’t they? They could study their prey for hours before pouncing.
“Um, no… I mean, isn’t it for you to decide, Mr. Arlington?”
“It sure is, but I would very much like to know your opinion. Are you worth my trust, Jasper?” Arlington tilted his head to one side, looking at him.
Jasper hesitated, sifting through hundreds of answers in his head, trying to pin down a proper one.
“You trust Glen Harding. He trusts me. Maybe that should imply some reliability.”
“Maybe is not an answer.”
“Mr. Arlington.” Jasper exhaled and made his voice deeper. “You can rely on me.”
Having said that, Jasper felt like he had signed a contract with plenty of unspecified terms, and if he broke any one of them the consequences would be fatal. He was pretty sure Arlington felt the same way.
“Good.” A brief smile flashed across the devil’s face. “The present itself is not enough though.” Here goes term number one. “You’ll have to say something to my wife on my behalf, something equally meaningful for us both. The words I’m gonna give you to memorize have to be said precisely, word for word. Otherwise, they will lose their meaning. You’ll do that for me.”
Jasper couldn’t tell if it was a question.
3
PERFECTION
“Afall from here would be lethal. It would end your life. It’s not what you’re looking for, is it? I thought you were a fighter. Waltzing on that ledge doesn’t make me…doesn’t make you…make you…shit!”
Through the rearview mirror, he felt the cab driver cast a wary glance at him.
It was almost an hour drive to the Arlingtons’ mansion, and half of that time Jasper struggled to get past the word “make.” The text Arlington had given him to learn was neither long nor complicated, but the words, one by one, kept slipping out of his head. Maybe if he knew the meaning of the whole text it would be easier for him to memorize. But these words, as Arlington had pointed out, were sacred for both him and his wife. Jasper dared not ask him for the details.
Jasper held a paper sheet with a few lines in Arlington’s neat handwriting on it. He had read the text aloud in the office, which Arlington had found quite dry and uninspiring. The devil said reciting the text was not enough. Jasper would also need to fill the words with emotions, another unspecified term. Expressing emotions, especially in front of someone like Owen Arlington, was somewhat unnatural to Jasper, and after a few failed attempts they had given up.
By that time, Emilio Marquez was already on his way to the Arlington Building. All Arlington could count on was Jasper’s solemn promise that he would make Mrs. Arlington cry. In a good way. Of course. Jasper shuddered at the thought of what would happen to the one who actually made the devil’s wife cry.
It was past six when the cab pulled into Pine Ridge Road, which flowed along a forest edge like a river. Once upon a time, this area had been a part of Rosaline Park, a vast forest sea where people had come to escape the city vanity. Its most picturesque spots had been bought by businessmen and politicians, and eventually the eastern side of the park had turned into a separate region. Owen Arlington was one of the first people who had settled down there. His mansion stood upon the most distant hill of Pine Ridge.
The first thing that crossed Jasper’s mind when the cab stopped in front of the tall metal gate was how far he would have to run to reach the nearest neighbors. Jasper actually couldn’t believe that someone like Owen Arlington could build a house in the middle of nowhere without a purpose.
Here, his victims could scream all they wanted; nobody would ever hear them. That was an inside joke among the dealers, but now when Jasper himself appeared in the Devil’s Nest it didn’t seem funny at all.
Through the iron bars of the gate, he saw a wide gravel path that twined around a massive fountain—currently not working—and ended at the porch of a three-story mansion made in the neoclassical style with cream-colored outer walls, broad windows, and a columned portico.
Jasper pushed the buzzer on the right column of the gate. While he waited for a response, he repeated the text, first in his head then out loud to himself. He only stumbled once, and that was progress.
Good, Jasper. For that, Mr. Arlington won’t smash your eyeball with a claw hammer.
He was repeating the text so intently that at first he didn’t notice someone approach him from the other side of the gate. It was a tall African-American man in denim overalls powdered with sawdust. Beads of sweat were dripping down his bald head.
“Jasper Newman?” the man said with an overly southern accent.
Jasspa Nooman?
“That’d be me. Mr. Arlington told you why I’m here, didn’t he?”
“He shua did.” The man gave him a crooked smile.
He brought a keychain out of his bottomless front pocket. Chills went down Jasper’s spine as he heard a creak of the opening gate and the gravel crunching under his feet. The ghost of Owen Arlington seemed to haunt this place. Jasper felt his presence in its every aspect.
Whatever you do, whatever you say, one way or another Owen Arlington will find it out. He always does.
“I’m Dale,” the man introduced himself, giving Jasper a sweaty handshake.
“Nice to meet you.” Jasper looked at the mansion, appraising it from the bottom to the top. “This place is like…really beautiful.”
Regardless of how beautiful it was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just set foot on no-man’s-land.
“Takes a hell of a lot to maintain it,” Dale said.
Once he locked the gate, they headed to the front porch.
“Is it your job?” Jasper asked.
“One of many. I’m the head of security and housekeeping, a laborer, a secretory, a wine delivery guy for Mrs. Arlington, a cook if needed. I’m whatever this place needs me to be.”
“Sounds like too many responsibilities for one person.”
“I get my salary accordingly. Mr. Arlington is a very generous man. If I didn’t like the job, I wouldn’t have worked here for six years.”
Jasper turned away, trying to swallow a giggle. He thought that, regarding Mr. Arlington, the word “generous” could have a variety of meanings.
Not slapping Dale in the face for improperly trimming the lawn was “generous.”
Not laughing at him in front of his guests was “generous.”
But if Dale meant something different, six years were too long not to figure out what kind of person Owen Arlington really was.
“Is Mrs. Arlington alone in the house right now?” Jasper asked as they reached the front porch.
“With her friend,” Dale said.
“Girlfriend?”
“Yes. Girlfriend.”
“You know…I’ve never seen Mrs. Arlington before. How will I know which one of them is her without asking directly?”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” Dale smiled and took a few steps back. “Mr. Arlington always gets the best.”
He turned around and strode to the woodshed on the right of the house, leaving Jasper puzzled.
It’s the habit you can pick up after Owen Arlington if you interact with him on a daily basis, Jasper thought, making a mystery out of everything you say.
He took a deep breath and ascended the porch steps. It was so quiet outside that he could clearly hear women’s laughter coming from inside of the house. Once he knocked on the door, the laughter stopped and the flip-flop of bare feet followed. Jane Elizabeth Arlington opened the door. Jasper knew it was her because, in the blink of an eye, Dale’s words made sense to him.
The devil indeed always gets the best.
Mrs. Arlington looked too perfect to be real. Jasper felt as if he could take a step toward her and she would disappear back into the world of perfection. Every curve of her body was perfect, as if she were a creation of an excellent cook who knew the precise amount of ingredients. A pinch of this. A pinch of that. Bellissimo. This was perfection. She wore a gray knee-length sweater hanging off one shoulder, which couldn’t hide the mouth-watering shape of her body. Waves of her chocolate hair washed over her broad shoulders. Her blue eyes shined with curiosity. Her lips, those ample red-painted lips, made Jasper think of something kids were not allowed to think.
“Mrs. Arlington… Um… I wanted to…”
Jasper cleared his throat and with no additional words began to recite the text, which sounded more like a lecture on social studies than a love letter or other romantic crap Mr. Arlington had meant it to be.
“A fall from here would be lethal. It would end your life. It’s not what you’re looking for, is it? I thought you were a fighter. Dancing on that ledge doesn’t make you...”
“Waltzing,” Mrs. Arlington corrected him.
Even her voice was perfect, low-pitched and smoked.
“Excuse me?” Jasper mumbled.
“Waltzing,” she repeated, smiling a big, treacherous smile.
She leaned against the doorway. Ice cubes clattered in the glass she held in her hand. A smell of something strong was coming out of it. She took a sip and turned her head back to Jasper, waiting for the continuance.
“Oh, right, I’m sorry,” Jasper said. “Um… waltzing on that ledge doesn’t make you more or less fearless. Your wish to make that move...”
“To take that step,” Mrs. Arlington cut in once again.
Jasper caught a hint of mockery in her voice. Mrs. Arlington’s smile widened.
“Your wish to take that step,” he continued in a colder tone, “only means you got nothing to lose. Please, let me be the first thing you’ll be afraid to lose.”
In the resulting silence, Mrs. Arlington fixed her eyes on him. Her smile wasn’t treacherous anymore. It was a smile of amusement, as if she had seen a monkey do a double flip. That was exactly how Jasper felt.
“Jane Austen would turn in her fucking grave if she knew she hadn’t written something like that,” Mrs. Arlington said.
Jasper didn’t know what kind of person she was. Not yet. If he had, he wouldn’t have taken that commentary as an offense.
Something rustled inside the pocket of his sweatshirt as he took out the case with the necklace. Mrs. Arlington didn’t accept the present right away. Jasper figured she wasn’t done messing with him. He forced himself to look back into her eyes.
That staring contest would’ve lasted for God knew how long, had a woman’s voice from the depth of the house not interrupted them.
“Jane, who’s there?”
Mrs. Arlington didn’t reply. Without taking her eyes off Jasper, she quietly said to herself, “We’re about to find out.”
She stepped aside and opened the door wider, making way for him.
“Mrs. Arlington, I gotta go. I have some stuff to do.”
He needed to get out of there, out of no-man’s-land.
“If you leave right now, I will forever remember you as an asshole who thought there was some stuff more important than my birthday.”
Jasper looked down as if apologizing.
“What? Is that a shitty reason?” Mrs. Arlington didn’t mean to give up. “Okay, I’ll try another one. If you leave right now, I uh… let’s say, I won’t accept the present.”
Jasper kept silent, his hand with the present in it still extended.
“Why are you making me do this?”
Mrs. Arlington lowered her head in feigned disappointment, taking a deep breath before she went on. “Honey, if you leave, I’ll tell my husband you didn’t come here and I got no present at all, or that you did come and called me a dirty whore.” She put an index finger on her chin, pantomiming to be deep in thought. “I can tell him you broke into our house and made me blow you while worshiping Satan. Fuck, I can tell him whatever comes to mind.”
Jasper’s face went blank instantly, and for another few seconds he was unable to say a word.
“There you go. There’s the reaction,” Mrs. Arlington said. “That’s the way it always works.”
“He won’t believe you,” Jasper reasoned.
Mrs. Arlington sensed the uncertainty in his voice and smiled again.
“Maybe he won’t.” She leaned in and continued in a whisper, “But why take the risk?”
“Mrs. Arlington, you don’t even know me.”
“If I did, I probably wouldn’t be so insistent.”
Jasper wasn’t sure what drove him to accept the challenge. Was it the threat or the temptation?
In the dining room, where Mrs. Arlington had arranged her little get-together, he got acquainted with her best friend. Madeleine Crawford was blonde, tall, and beautiful—beautiful like an innocent child, without that extra pinch of somewhat sexiness and sluttiness the hostess possessed.
“Hey, Maddie,” Mrs. Arlington said as they entered the room the size of Jasper’s entire apartment. “We got a new guest.”
Madeleine looked at Jasper with wide, ocean-blue eyes, took a sip from the wine glass in her hand, and smiled at Mrs. Arlington.
“You found a new toy, eh?” that smile seemed to say.
“Does our guest have a name?” Madeline asked.
Mrs. Arlington looked at Jasper, expecting the answer. He introduced himself so quietly that at first nobody quite caught his name. Then Jasper raised his voice a little.
“Nice to meet you, Jasper. My name’s Maddie.”
“Madeleine,” Mrs. Arlington corrected her, “or Mrs. Crawford. If you’re gonna call her Maddie and me Mrs. Arlington, I’m gonna get real pissed.”
Madeleine half chuckled, half choked on her wine.
“Trust me,” she said, “you’ll save yourself a whole lot of trouble if you call her Jane.”
Jasper stood with no idea how to contribute to the conversation.
“Our guest is not a big talker,” Madeleine pointed out.
“Hope this will loosen his tongue a bit.” Jane poured a little whiskey in a tumbler and slid it over to Jasper across the table. Her birthday menu lacked a main course, but the range of appetizers was wide and varied, from a simple vegetable platter to smoked salmon canapes. “You see, Jasper, I wouldn’t let anyone leave without toasting to me first.”
“How can I propose a toast to you, Mrs. Arli… Jane?” Jasper said, holding the glass. “I mean, I know nothing about you.”
“God, you’re so lucky,” Maddie remarked.
Jane looked at her with sarcastic reproach and turned back to Jasper.
“All you need to know is that I’m a fucking champion. Am I not, Mads?” Maddie’s lips twisted mockingly. “I have plenty of traits to toast to. Some of them are so obvious that you can’t help but notice them. If there’s nothing better on your mind than, ‘Wow, you got a nice pair of tits,’ that’s fine. I’ll be happy to hear even that.”
Jasper gave a faint snort.
“You got a nice pair of tits,” he stated with confidence, though he wasn’t confident he could easily get away with it.
Jane and Maddie broke into hysterical laughter. Maddie’s eyes were glistening with tears. She was laughing so hard it seemed she could pass out any second. Jane spilled the third of her glass’s contents as she swayed back and forth, trying to catch her breath.
