“One might. Good points.”
He bowed slightly. “Also, I did some checking. I found someone who went for the audition at LaGuardia.”
“How’d you manage that?”
Devo smiled slyly. “Come now, Moe, need you ask?”
“I know, I know, that’s why we pay you the big money. So what did this guy you found have to say?”
“He said it was the oddest audition he ever attended. They didn’t ask him to run lines, to do a scene or to discuss his training or experience. Apparently, it truly was like a cattle call. Appearance… everything was about appearance. They had a very specific set of parameters even beyond what was listed in the ad. You had to have a certain type of complexion and visible tattoos were strictly verboten.”
“That’s odd,” I said. “I thought movie makeup could cover anything.”
“It can… on film, but what if the role required-”
“-live appearances?”
“Precisely.”
“Moe, pick up line two. It’s your daughter.” Brian’s voice came loud over the intercom.
“Excuse me a second, Devo.” I picked up. “Is everything okay with-”
“Mom’s fine, Dad. I mean, as fine as can be expected. I just saw her and I think she’s more embarrassed than anything else.”
“Good. I’ll be coming back up there tonight to check on you guys. Is the deputy still outside the door?”
“The cute one, Robby? Yeah, he’s still there.”
“Too much information, kiddo. Way too much.”
“Oh, Dad, grow up. Besides, I have something I want to tell you.”
“What?”
“Remember when we were watching that video of Uncle Pat-I mean, of the guy posing as Uncle Patrick?”
“I remember.”
“I said something wasn’t right about him even though he looked just like the pictures of Uncle Patrick.”
“Yeah.”
“I know what it is,” she said. “He was too comfortable on camera, too much at ease.”
“I’m not sure I’m getting you.”
“Look, Dad, think about those old pictures of your family from Russia. You know how they’re all so stiff and unsmiling and their eyes have that deer in the headlights thing going on. Then think about your folks’ generation and then yours. People got more and more comfortable with having their pictures taken, but not necessarily with being videotaped. My generation is really the first generation that’s grown up on video. Births, our first steps, first baths, birthday parties, bat mitzvahs, weddings, sweet sixteens, baseball games, dance recitals, almost everything my generation has done our parents taped. We’re really used to being in front of the camera. We like it. Being on tape is… for us, it’s affirmation. All the people I go to college with have cameras on their computers. And Uncle Patrick was killed in what, nineteen seventy-sev-”
“-seventy-eight,” I corrected.
“But you get my point. That was way before the ever present, all-seeing eye. That guy on the tape is no ghost, he’s my age.”
“Funny you should say that. I think Devo’s arrived at the same conclusion. Thanks for the assist, I’ll see you later.” That was met with a very loud silence from the other end of the phone. “Okay, Sarah, what is it?”
“I think you should leave Mom alone for a little while. Like I said, she’s pretty embarrassed and feeling kinda stupid about this. If she feels you’re there to judge her or…I just think you should give her some time. I can look after her for now.”
It bugged me that Sarah twice mentioned Katy being embarrassed, but I couldn’t say why exactly. There seemed to be a lot of things I didn’t have answers for just lately. In any case, I didn’t pursue it.
“I’m very proud of you, Sarah. I think I’ll take your advice, at least for a day or two. But I want to know if anything happens with your mother. I mean anything. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Love ya.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I put down the phone and recounted Sarah’s theory to Devo, after first explaining what was on the videotape I had given him.
“My guess,” I said, “is that the guy you’ll see on that tape is the guy who got the part.”
“Yes, personal appearances and all. Why don’t you go talk to Brian while I get started with the tapes?”
I hesitated. “Just one more thing. This Tilliston Casting, they legit?”
“I am afraid not. They were a post office box and a phone number. The phone number has been disconnected and the P.O. box closed.”
I made a move for the door. Devo called after me.
“One last thing, Moe. Judas Wannsee.”
“What about him?”
“Here.” Devo handed me a folder. “I have tracked him down, He was a difficult man to find.”
“He would be.”
“He has changed his name several times in the past decade, but you should be able to contact him there.”
“Thanks.”
When I stepped back out into the main office, Brian nodded at Carmella’s office.
“She’s back, in case you’re interested.”
“Okay, but first, show me what you got.”
Brian slid a Polaroid across the desk to me. It was of a freshly done tattoo. The tattoo was of a rose threaded through the Chinese character for eternity, and 4/7/00 was written neatly across the bottom in black marker.
“By the way, boss, that ain’t one Chinese character, but two that have been superimposed on each other. My bud tells me that even that’s a sorta shorthand and that this one here means,” he said, pointing at the back of one of his business cards, “long or no change. This one here means never eroding.” He showed me the back of two more business cards. “The proper way to write it is like this or this here. These four mean forever and those four there stand for eternity.”
“Thanks for the Chinese lesson. I don’t know, Doyle, maybe we should can your ass and hire your friend.”
“Maybe, but he ain’t half as charmin’ as me.”
“I’d like to meet him. I’ve never met anyone completely devoid of charm before.”
“Huh?”
“Forget it. Who’d you get the Polaroid from?”
“Mira Mira,” he said, as if that were explanation enough.
It wasn’t. “I’m listening.”
“She’s a tattoo artist. Works by appointment only and charges an arm and a fuckin’ leg.”
“Nice pun.”
“Pun?”
“Never mind.”
“Anyways, an old snitch of mine turned me onto her. When I showed this Mira Mira what I was lookin’ for, she pulled that Polaroid right out of her… whachumacallit… her-”
“-portfolio.”
“Yeah, her portfolio. She does Polaroids of every one of her creations. She even has photo portraits done of some of her work. She says those photos sell in galleries for thousands of bucks. Me myself, I don’t see it, paying for a picture of a fuckin’ tattoo.”
“I don’t think you’re her target audience, Doyle. She tell you anything about the client?”
“White kid, twenty, maybe younger. Came in with a heavyset guy in his late sixties.”
“Did she think they were lovers?” I asked.
Doyle cringed. “I didn’t ask. She did say that the old guy had an eye patch over his left eye. Here’s her contact info. I told her you might wanna talk to her.”
I slid the Polaroid and the contact info into my jacket pocket. “I’m curious. Why’d she give you the Polaroid?”
“Because she said she was embarrassed that she had even done the job and…” He hemmed and hawed.
“And… I’m waiting.”
“I paid her for it.”
“Don’t tell me how much. I don’t want to know, not now, not when I’m thinking of telling you you did good. Just put in your reimbursement request to Carmella.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“And Brian…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t pad the request because I’m going to ask this woman how much she charged you.”
He opened his mouth to say something and thought better of it.
Carmella was once again sitting and staring out the office window. Only this time there was fire in her eyes and no tears to contain the flames.