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‘You’ll be glad to hear the world’s managed fine without you: no major disasters, fantastic weather – I even managed to shoot two more of my pictures. And the Klimt one you were in is looking beautiful. You are a natural; I can see why Maxine wanted to sculpt you. Latisha, please, I’m here to find the truth of it all.’
Latisha turned slowly. ‘Does Felix Baum know you’re talking to me?’
‘No, I’ve avoided seeing him. I was waiting for you.’
Latisha studied her momentarily, then decided that she was telling the truth. ‘I’m thirsty and hungry.’
Susie poured a glass of water from a jug and plucked some grapes from a bunch sitting on the bedside tablet. She placed them both beside Latisha.
‘I’ll ring for the nurse.’
Latisha drank slowly, without taking her eyes off Susie. ‘I didn’t miss it deliberately. I was set up – a man swapped my insulin for something toxic; he was trying to kill me,’ she told her flatly, noticing as she did that the artist appeared older, tired; there was a new fragility about her. ‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you? Maxine’s crazy old friend, just one of them eccentrics she used to pick up like dust?’
‘If I thought that, I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my time and my money, would I?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Maybe you’re searching for redemption. Maybe you want me to absolve you of Maxine’s murder? Tell you your boyfriend is kosher?’
The nurse, a young Latina, interrupted them and both women fell silent as she changed Latisha’s drip and took her pulse and blood pressure. After she’d left the room, Susie took Latisha’s hand.
‘Please, I need to understand what happened in those last weeks. You said she left a box. I would like to see what was inside. Maybe there was a sign, a letter, something?’
‘Oh, there was plenty.’ Just then Latisha noticed the locket dangling around Susie’s neck, the ruby catching the light. ‘That from Felix Baum?’
Susie nodded.
‘He gave Maxine the very same pendant, only a week before she died. He’s particular that way, Maxine used to tell me. He likes to control everything… ’
Just then another nurse appeared in the doorway and informed them that visiting hours were now over. Susie stood reluctantly.
‘Here’s my number, ring me when you’re ready. I’ll have my driver take you home, then you can show me all you know.’
Latisha closed her eyes. There was still a space inside where she knew she’d been living for the past ten days. Maybe it had been with Jesus, maybe not. To her dismay, she couldn’t remember. ‘You realise I’m going to finish this for Maxine. Whatever you decide to do, I’m going to see that someone pays for her death.’
*
The mask felt smooth between Felix’s fingers; red cast plastic, he guessed, wondering how Susie’s people had accessed such an accurate portrait of Lincoln. He pressed it up against his face. He hadn’t seen Susie for a few days; she’d been avoiding his calls. He’d heard through Dustin that both Susie and her team had been working nonstop to coordinate and complete the other photographs, so he’d assumed it was simply that she had become consumed by the work. He wasn’t worried; he knew Susie had agreed to attend his client Felicity Kocak’s party in the Hamptons, and that was only a week away. He could wait another seven days.
As for Latisha Johnson, she appeared to have stopped harassing both himself and Gabriel since falling into a coma, and the ghost, after-image or whatever had also disappeared. It felt safer – his life had resumed a recognisable shape. All he had to do now was to wait for Susie to finish her work and for the gallery to open. Everything else was in place: the sale of the next Hopper, the new show for Baum #1, the works requested by his new Russian client. Being Felix Baum was good again.
He rested the mask against the wall, at the foot of the blank space in which he intended to hang his print of the Triumph of Pan edition once it was available. The mask would serve as his provenance; it would be the joker in the pack.
*
Latisha sat at the edge of the hospital bed, dressed, but a little disorientated in her old clothes; they felt loose and alien, as if she’d slid into someone else’s skin. She glanced around the hospital room. Her bag was packed, and the nurse had made sure there was a good supply of insulin within, as well as some new toiletries for her to take home. They had banned her from smoking her pipe, but one of the nurses she’d befriended had snuck some pipe tobacco in, and that too was waiting for her the moment she stepped outside the building. Now she just had to make a decision. Just then she felt the cool soft imprint of an invisible hand slipping into her own, pulling her toward the window. She let the ghost guide her.
Looking down, she had a clear view of the entrance of the hospital. The distinctive gait of a man crossing the road toward the hospital caught her attention. Felix Baum walking determinedly toward the entrance.
Panicked, Latisha swung back round, grabbed her bag and coat and stepped into the corridor. To her relief there was only one nurse in sight, walking away from her. Unseen, she ducked into a supply cupboard next to her room.
Minutes later, she overhead Felix asking a nurse for directions to her room. Standing in the dark, she held her breath as she heard the click of the door, then through the wall the muffled thumps of his footsteps as he searched the room for her. Moments later the door clicked again as he exited.
*
Felix stood in the corridor, befuddled. The reception desk had told him the Latisha woman was still in the building, but from her room it looked as if she had already been discharged. He cornered a passing nurse.
‘Excuse me, can you tell me whether Latisha Johnson is still here?’
The nurse, a young Latina carrying a tray of equipment, stopped reluctantly. ‘If she’s not in her room she’s left already. She was due to be discharged today anyhow.’
