Ian 2
Chapter 34
Arriving near the end of Jeffy's lesson, Fleur stood in the doorway watching Ian's able fingers guide the boy's hand over a sheet of paper. Jeffy's face was bright with a grin. "That's just what I wanted to draw, Ian! It's Superdaddy, coming home after he finishes saving the world."
"We all want our superheroes to make it home," Ian agreed. He checked the Spiderman wall clock. "The Amazonettes are going to need this room in about two minutes. We can go into the anime cave until Lena comes to get you. The first season of Robotech is on the big screen. That was a good one."
"I like robots," Jeffy declared.
"Me too," Ian agreed pointing toward the doorway. "Do you mind if my friend Fleur comes with us?"
Jeffy studied her. "You're pretty, like Storm – but without the white hair. You can come. Do you draw like Ian does?'
"No," Fleur admitted "but I like nice stories. There are some scary ones where I come from on Martinique, about the dorlis, who can change into an animal or turn invisible."
"I'd like to be invisible," Jeffy declared. "Then no one would tease me or pick on me at school."
Sympathy flooded through Fleur as she smiled at the child. "When they see what a great artist you'll be, they'll be sorry they did."
Ian put his arm around Fleur as she shivered in a blast of wind. "We're almost to The Brimming Cup. The hot chocolate will warm you up. The chocolate croissants are really good too."
"I like being in New York because you're here, but it never got cold on Martinique. Getting used to it is hard. Some of the men Papa works with say our family has thin blood."
"It will be spring in a couple of months, and it will warm up," Ian said. "In summer it can get really hot."
"But school will be over in the summer n'est-ce pas?" Fleur leaned into his body as much for comfort as for heat. "We won't see each other every day anymore."
"There has to be a way for us to be together," Ian asserted. "We'll figure it out."
Kate's strong fingers kneaded the knotted muscles in Castle's shoulders as he worked on his laptop. "You're still upset about what happened on the bridge to Rikers, aren't you?
Castle reached back to stroke her hand. "More bewildered than upset. Kate. One of the reasons I started writing about crime was to be able to understand it, to comprehend how humans could treat each other that way. After describing it in 26 best-sellers, I still don't have a clue as to why it happens. I'm trying to work through some of that confusion in this story. I'm not getting very far."
"Then maybe you should take a break," Kate proposed. "Amelia will probably sleep for at least another hour or so, and I just threw in a load of laundry. We could check out what's streaming. Maybe a comedy, something light and silly?"
"Throw in a bowl of M&Ms®, and you're on."
Castle pointed at the screen. "Hey, I remember that actor, Jonathan Lakes, who's playing the blowhard. He was one of Mother's love interests, on and off the screen - about 40 pounds ago. I haven't seen him in anything but the credits for a long time. He's been working behind the camera. I guess he must have gotten a yen to get in front of it again."
I don't think that was it," Kate said. "I heard about something happening on this show, some kind of an accident. Cables snapped, and electrical equipment fell on one of the actors. I think his name was Stanley Beach. The blow paralyzed him. Your mother's friend stepped into the role so the show could make its production schedule."
Castle sighed. "So much for light and silly. I was around theater and movie equipment for more than half my childhood. Gaffers, riggers, and best boys are all very careful. Cables don't just snap. There's got to be more to the story."
"There probably is. I just saw a blurb online, less than a paragraph. I never saw a follow-up. Omigod, Babe, I know that look! You're not going to let this go until you figure it out, are you?"
"Hell no! The next piece of equipment that falls could land on my mother, and no one would even get a pair of ruby slippers out of it. I'm going to talk to Jonathan Lakes and if I can, Stanley Beach as well as the gaffer and any other members of the crew who might have a clue. Who knows? I might even get a book out of it, or at least a character or two."
Kate laid a hand on his arm. "But that's not why you're doing it."
"No," Castle confessed. "It isn't. I made a lot of friends in Mother's world, and I don't want to see any of them hurt."
The rehab unit that housed Stanley Beach tried its best to be cheerful and upbeat. It wasn't working on Stanley. He'd spent most of his life scrambling around on stage, and no matter how many stories he heard about Christopher Reeve and what a heroic life he'd made for himself after being paralyzed, Stanley wasn't interested in being a hero. He'd already been offered voice acting roles but he just wanted to be able to walk again, and despite all the articles on cutting-edge research, it seemed unlikely at best. It was true that he could be strapped into an apparatus that would walk for him. He'd been in a couple of science fiction movies with those, even before they'd actually been invented. But he wanted to be free to let every move, every pose, every twitch, communicate to an audience. That wasn't going to happen, and he wasn't even close to acceptance of a new path for his life. He was angry. He was beyond angry; he was enraged. When Martha Rodgers' son showed up, he was more than eager to let the rage pour out.
Castle knew a desperate monologue when he heard one and let the torrent of Stanley's words cascade over him until the actor was drained. "So, you don't think it was an accident?" Castle recapitulated."
"I sure as hell don't," Stanley confirmed. "I've known Lou Morgan, the chief rigger, for fifteen years and a more anal-retentive man never strode a catwalk. He checks and rechecks everything down to the smallest detail. No way he'd use a defective cable, let alone one that would break. Someone wanted something to happen to the show, or to me. I'm sure of it. Have you talked to Lakes?"
"He and his current girlfriend took a jaunt to Jamaica. Given the current wind chill, I can't say that I blame them, but he's supposed to be back in a couple of days to start pre-production on a new space opera. The network picked it up without a pilot. It's supposed to start running this summer.
"Obviously, the powers that be still have faith in his ability to deliver a hit," Stanley commented. "Look, Ricky, if you find out anything, you let me know, okay?"
"Stanley, you will be my very first call."