Chapter 3
Shoutouts!
TheAngryPrincess13: Yes, Dennis does rock. He rocks my toe socks off. And is it just me, or does the Torn Prince look a whole lot like James Dean? ponders
Catiepie182002: I enjoy recognition too…I love it when people do shout-outs, so I adhere to the golden rule. And yeah…I leave for Europe on Tuesday, and I won't be back for three weeks, and I have no idea how long this fic is going to take me to write, so I'm writing frantically here. I hope I'm done before I leave, cause I would just feel awful if I left you guys hanging…
Magdalena Iris Roth: Yesh…everyone forgets Maggie…except for me. cackles evilly And did you notice that she was EXTREMELY touchy-feely with him even after he'd told her not to touch him? Like, tugging on his jacket and everything…I find that hilarious. And I wonder what he saw when she ran into him…if he saw any of her life…that would make a good fic…eh. I'm shutting up now. Maggie has a part in this chapter, and probably chapters to come as well.
Thanks for the support, guys!
Also, I figured that the Kriticos family would've gotten a huge insurance claim on the glass house. I mean, they could've made up some story about a natural gas explosion and gotten a good size claim on it; I don't see why they wouldn't. So I'm assuming they've moved out of their ratty apartment into a decent middle class house. If you disagree, go ahead and yell at me…but hey, if a house that I inherited blew up, I would drag all the money out of the situation that I could, especially if I was dirt poor…
I raced down the stairs, unwilling to wait for the overly-slow elevator. I jumped in my car, avoiding meeting the gaze of anyone that I passed on the street.
But how was I going to find Arthur Kriticos? It was getting dark, and all I knew about this guy was his name, nothing else.
I pulled out the article about the fire once again, this time looking at the address where the fire had been. It was in a suburb of the city, probably about fifteen minutes drive. It was worth a shot, anyway; even if they had moved after the fire, the neighbors might have known where they were going.
The rain intensified as I drove out past the downtown area, the windshield fogging up as the air temperature dropped outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I slowly cruised down the street they lived on, finally finding the small, middle class home. It had been repaired and remodeled, almost unrecognizable from the picture of the burnt out shell in the article.
I pulled in the short driveway and pulled my hood up, taking a deep breath and sprinting to the door as soon as the car door was shut. I rang the doorbell, relieved to see that there were lights on in the house.
The door opened swiftly, and a young woman stood there, cradling a toddler on her hip.
"Can I help you?" she asked breathlessly.
"I wanted to know if you could help me find Arthur Kriticos."
She nodded and stepped aside, and I stepped inside the well lit simple home. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air, and childrens' toys littered the floor.
"I'm sorry about the mess, but my husband has been out of the state, and it's just so difficult to keep up the house with three kids," the woman said, smiling and setting the toddler in a playpen beside the couch.
"No, it's okay. My room is much worse, I guarantee you," I said, and she laughed.
"You said you wanted to find Mr. Kriticos, right?" she asked, and I nodded vigorously.
"Yeah. Do you know where he moved after…"
"The fire, yes…the poor man. He had a horrible breakdown after that happened; his daughter practically sold the house to us by herself," she said, and then she started sifting through the pile of papers on the coffee table. "Just a yesterday he sent us a change of address to send our payments to…"
She found the paper she was looking for and handed it to me. "We already have a copy of that in our filing cabinet. You can have this one."
Thank God, the address wasn't far from where I was; maybe ten minutes.
"Why do you want to find him? I mean, if you don't mind me asking…" she asked.
"No, I don't mind. My brother…he died a few days ago, and I never really knew him that well, but I think Arthur Kriticos did."
"Oh, I'm so sorry…good luck. Arthur really is a sweet guy, I don't see why he wouldn't help."
I thanked her profusely and was back in my car in what seemed like a few seconds. I felt like a total idiot, leaving home and running all over the city looking for people who I didn't even know, but every step was leading me closer to Dennis.
As I sat down in the car something poked me in the side, and I pulled the weird glasses from Dennis's box out of my pocket. They really were odd glasses, and they made me kind of nervous for a reason that I couldn't quite pinpoint. I started to slip them on, but then I decided that I was wasting time and that I needed to get going; I didn't want to knock on Arthur's door at midnight. I threw the glasses in the passenger seat and backed out of the driveway.
I was right; their new house wasn't far at all from where they used to live. The house looked like a normal, middle class home. I saw someone look out the front window, and as I pushed open the gate the inside door opened.
"Yes?" The man said, not opening the screen door yet as he eyed me carefully.
"I'm looking for Arthur Kriticos," I said, and he hesitated.
"Who are you?"
Wow. I hadn't expected such a bitter response, especially not after the woman at the last house had bragged about him so much.
"I'm Julia Rafkin. I'm Dennis Rafkin's sister. I was hoping I could talk to you about him."
For a moment, I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Deep, horrible anguish. But then he looked down at the floor.
"Sorry. I don't know anyone by that name."
"But your uncle-"
"I said I didn't know him."
I was at a loss. I didn't know what to say, because I knew he was lying to me. I knew it. But there was nothing I could do about it if he didn't want to talk about it.
"Well…thanks for your time…"
I started to walk back to my car, and then another car pulled up behind mine; an old Dodge Neon that coughed and sputtered as it reluctantly turned off. A black woman stumbled out of the car, muttering to herself the whole time.
She almost ran into me, and then she looked hard at me and said, "God damn, you look familiar. What's your name, kid?"
"Um…Julia. Julia Thurston."
She shook her head. "I could've sworn…but nah, guess it couldn't be…"
I grabbed onto her sleeve before she could walk right on by. "But I used to be Julia Rafkin."
She stopped dead in her tracks. "Ain't you a little young to be married? And to a guy like him?"
"I was his sister."
Arthur cleared his throat from where he stood in the doorway. "She was just leaving, Maggie. Come on in. I've got your stuff right here."
"No, wait!" I yelled, and Maggie stopped and turned around once again. "Did you know Dennis?" I asked, practically begging.
"Yeah, I knew Dennis. Not all dat well, though," she said, her thick accent making her hard to understand. My heart leaped as I realized that she had known him.
"Maggie…" Arthur said, his own voice pleading.
"Aw, come on, Arthur. She was his sista, for goodness sake. Just talk to her."
"I don't want to talk about this. You know that."
"Look, I never even met him. Anything you guys can tell me would be worth everything to me," I said to them. I could tell Arthur was weakening; no matter how mean he tried to act, I could now tell that he was a softy.
"Fine. Come on in," he said quietly, opening the door wider. I thanked him and walked in the house, immediately struck by the smell of burnt cookies. Maggie followed me in after a quick, quiet argument with Arthur.
"I'll go get some drinks. Maggie…don't start this conversation until I get back," Arthur ordered as he walked out, and it made me wonder what he was trying to hide that he thought Maggie would tell me. I hung up my jacket on the coat rack, and then I sat next to Maggie on the couch. The room was filled with boxes, and the house didn't seem to have any homely touches; they must have just moved in recently.
"Is this a bad time? Should I come back later?" I asked in a whisper.
"Honey, with what you wanna talk about, anytime would be a bad time," Maggie said, gesturing wildly.
A young woman entered the room, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and an apron tied around her waist. She extended her hand to me and smiled.
"Hi, I'm Kathy. Dad told me you're Dennis's sister," she said as we shook hands. She seemed to be nervous, although I had no clue what she would be nervous about.
"Yeah…how well did you know him?" I asked her.
"Not well. Dad knew him better than any of us."
"Kathy," Arthur warned from the kitchen, and she rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen. Arthur walked back in with two lemonades, and he set one down in front of me and Maggie grabbed the other one from his hand, downing half the glass in one swallow.
"What exactly did you want to know?" Arthur asked, his eyes not once meeting mine.
"Well…how did you guys know Dennis?"
Arthur looked at Maggie, and Maggie shrugged. "It's a long, long story," Maggie said, shaking her head.
"I have all the time in the world to listen if you don't mind telling me. Please…I didn't even know I had a brother until a couple of hours ago," I said, and Maggie exhaled in amazement.
"You work fast, girl. You already found Arthur? How'd you manage that?"
"Well…Dennis evidently worked for Arthur's uncle…and Dennis had an article about the fire on his apartment wall," I explained, hoping I wasn't bringing up a topic that was still terribly sensitive to this family.
Arthur's expression darkened, and for the first time Maggie didn't seem to have anything to say.
"Did you know him because of your uncle?" I asked Arthur.
"Yes…when Cyrus faked his death the first time…we met Dennis during some of the…legalities," Arthur said, seeming to force every word out of his mouth. "Cyrus owed Dennis a lot of money for his services."
"What did Dennis do for him?"
Once again, they fell silent. Then, Maggie just exploded.
"Come on, Arthur, tell the girl the truth!"
Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glaring at Maggie. "I don't think she'd believe us. And even if she did, I don't think she'd want to know."
"Want to know what?" I said forcefully.
Maggie sighed in frustration. "Your brother was a psychic guy who help Cyrus cage up ghosts."
I practically choked on my lemonade. "He what?"
"See? I told you," Arthur said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "We're only going to cause her more trouble by throwing all of this at her. She needs to leave."
"No!" I yelled, beginning to get angry. "Just…start from the beginning. I swear, I'll believe every word if you just tell me slow," I said. I'd believe anything by now.
"Maggie. Come here. Now," Arthur ordered, dragging her aside. They had a short, heated conversation, and finally Maggie left, storming out the front door, almost forgetting the possessions she'd come for. Arthur ran his hand through his hair, sitting down across from me.
He finally looked up at me, looking defeated, his eyes filled with sorrow.
"Alright. Let's start at the beginning."
Ahaha…I'm not sure if I want to detail their conversation or not…so give me some input. Cause if you guys want me to detail it, I'll do that, but if you want me to just summarize, that'll work too. It's all good.
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