"Well?" Esther's friend gasped. Roden thought he saw a flash of curiosity cross her face before she gave him an imprudent glare.
Maybe her cocky attitude was just for show. She simply covered up her insecurities by being a bitch . . . He had to tell her, to get to the next step in saving his friend and hers from a bad situation. "Can I speak with you alone?" he asked.
She rewarded his question with an exaggerated look of haughtiness. Yup, Roden thought, he was right. She was compensating. "No, you can have nothing to say that my date here can't hear."
Oh, yes, she enjoyed this attention. It added a little flare to her date, so she played up on the dramatics. Roden glanced at her date and back to the overreacting woman. Then he glanced back.
"Do I know you?" Roden addressed the man. He almost had a vaguely familiar face.
The man rose up off his chair slightly to offer his hand to Roden. His nonchalance showed that he was not affected by the conversation between the intruder and his date. He found it slightly amusing by the smirk on his face. "Martin Voletti. I don't think we've met." He sat back down in his seat. "I have seen the Esther statues, though. Very good. I've been to La Donne on 5th many times. In fact, that's where Manda and I met."
"Dr. Michael Roden," Roden replied in greeting. He didn't recognize the man's name. Maybe they crossed paths at the gallery. He had been there several times himself over the years, and he did have a good memory for faces if not for names.
"Doctor?" Manda inserted, "Like a 'psychiatrist' doctor?" Roden colored, and she smirked at her correct guess.
"Listen," Roden addressed them both, "I really don't mean to interrupt your meal. Truly. It's just that . . ." he paused. No this would be delicate ground.
Manda raised her eyebrow at him again. Not a very becoming habit of hers, Roden reflected. He went on, "Max - the artist - is convinced – somehow – that Esther is in some kind of trouble." Manda's expression started to reconfigure into confused concern. "He left me a voice message saying that he was going to try to . . . 'take her away'."
"What?" Manda breathed. The concern appeared sincere. The first genuine expression Roden noticed on this woman.
"Come again?" Martin added in turn. Roden ignored him. It really was between him and Manda.
He quickly filled her in on the rest of what he knew to try to keep her calm and get some action going. Manda, skeptical by nature, took a little more convincing than he felt they had time for. When she finally understood what Roden told her, she grabbed her cell phone and called Esther's number. Esther didn't answer her home phone. Manda then tried her cell phone with no success. After trying each phone number a second time, Roden got her to agree to lead him to Esther's apartment so that they could check on her and warn her of Max's ill-considered intentions.
Martin insisted on joining them, declaring that Roden was a stranger, and one with odd circumstances for making their acquaintance. Roden could understand the justification in that.
The apartment was several city blocks away, so they took Roden's twenty-year old BMW sport coupe. Though, a bit cramped with the three adults, it sped along very quickly, which was the necessary objective at that moment.
Manda wanted to call the police, and Roden had a difficult time convincing her to hold off until they reached Esther's apartment. Luckily, Martin was of the same understanding as Roden, and convinced Manda to refrain from calling the police until they were sure of what was going on. The police wouldn't like it if they were dragged out to report a false tip on an imagined crime. Manda appeared to be appeased by his suggestion, and Roden was grateful.
The drive seemed to take forever. Saturday night traffic was surprisingly sparse, but the traffic lights were working against them. The BMW sped from one long red light only to reach another and another. Roden had to breathe deep in order to stay calm, but Manda's cutting comments didn't help. She did not let up on her accusatory statements that Roden acted negligent and that "that crazy artist" acted, well . . . crazy. Her accusations were the same, over and over again, without any pauses. The only thing that changed were some of her colorful words: creep, weird, freak, nuts, lunatic, criminal, degenerate; along with the adjectives sloppy, reckless, thoughtless, irresponsible, heedless, inappropriate, illicit, immoral, depraved . . .
Roden concentrated on the notion that this had to be penance for the regrettable situation that he had started. For the hundredth time that night (probably more), he berated himself for getting involved when he approached Esther. He couldn't for the life of him remember why he had thought it would be a simple harmless gesture. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Finally, FINALLY, they reached Esther's apartment. Manda flew out of the car before Roden could even pull the key out of the ignition. While Roden held the driver's seat forward to allow Martin to crawl rather ungracefully out of the back seat, Manda frantically pressed the call button for Esther's unit.
By the time the men caught up to her, Manda was nursing a broken nail from the fierce pounding she performed on the call button. She gave Roden an angry glare. His feelings of guilt were starting to wear as his annoyance increased.
"Well," Manda practically shouted, "She's not answering!"
"Let's give her a chance," Martin suggested, "Maybe she's in bed and she needs to make it to the receiver."
"It's barely nine o'clock," Manda retorted, "Ess is not an old lady. Even she doesn't go to bed this early. Besides, she lives in a teeny one-bedroom flat. You can walk across the entire length of it in less than ten steps."
She pushed the button for one more long moment, and then began to fish through her purse. "I'm calling the police."
Roden's face fell with the idea of this next move, but he let her rummage for her phone. He knew he couldn't delay any longer. Esther was not answering her phone or her door. This didn't bode well.
Martin spoke just then, "Hey, someone is coming towards to the door. Maybe we can get in with her."
Roden and Manda looked up, and the three of them stared at an elderly woman while she slowly walked up the pavement. As the lady reached the door, the three took a step back, making room for her, but stayed close to the door so they could grab it and slip in behind her. While she searched her luggage-sized purse for her keys, the lady gave the suspicious little crowd at the door sly and distrustful glances.
Eventually, she pulled out a handful of keys and began to sort for the one that would fit the lock. Manda's impatience showed as she tapped her foot and glared at the lady with her arms crossed. This didn't go unnoticed. The elderly woman gave her a sour scowl; and, as she shoved the key into the lock, she glanced slyly again at the three people huddled around her.
At last, she turned the key and opened the door just enough to slip in, attempting to shut it behind her. Manda acted quickly, and grabbed the door before it hit the frame, nearly squashing her fingers in the process. She tried to pull the door open as the lady held the knob and used all the weight of her rickety little body to pull it closed.
"Listen you old fart," Manda snarled through the opening, "if you don't let go of this door right now, I will personally see to it that you are in need of the services of a nursing home for the rest of your short life."