Kiss the Girls

said from the back of the room. He had a stun gun and a pistol and struck a dashing pose.
    Naomi imagined that he was smiling behind the mask. More than anything she wanted to see his face, just once, and then obliterate it forever, shatter it into tiny pieces, grind the pieces into nothing.
    Naomi felt her heart skip as she entered the large, attractive sitting room. Her violin was on a table near Casanova. He had taken her violin and brought it to this awful place.
    Casanova was waltzing around the low-ceilinged room like the host of a sophisticated costume party. He knew how to be classy, even gallant. He carried himself with confidence.
    He lit a woman’s cigarette with a gold lighter. He stopped to talk to each of his girls. He touched a bare shoulder, a cheek, caressed someone’s long blond hair.
    The women all looked stunning. They wore their own beautiful clothes, and had carefully applied makeup. The scents of their perfumes filled the room. If only they could rush him all at once, Naomi thought to herself. There had to be a way to take Casanova down.
    “As some of you may have already guessed,” he raised his voice, “we have a nice surprise for tonight’s festivities. A little night music.”
    He pointed to Naomi, and beckoned her to come forward. He was always careful when he brought them together like this. He had his gun in hand, holding it casually.
    “Please play something for us,” he said to Naomi. “Anything that you’d like. Naomi plays the violin, and very beautifully I might add. Don’t be shy, dear.”
    Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off Casanova. His robe was open so that they could see his nakedness. Sometimes he had one of them play an instrument, or sing, or read poetry, or just talk about their lives before hell. Tonight it was Naomi’s turn.
    Naomi knew that she had no choice. She was determined to be brave, to look confident.
    She picked up the violin, her precious instrument, and so many painful memories swept over her.
Brave… confident…,
she repeated inside her head. She’d been doing that since she was a young girl.
    As a young black woman she had learned the art of acting poised. She needed all the poise she could muster now.
    “I’m going to try to play Bach’s sonata number one,” she quietly announced. “This is the adagio, the first movement. It’s very beautiful. I hope I can do it justice.”
    Naomi shut her eyes as she brought the violin up to her shoulder. She opened her eyes again as she placed her chin on the rest and slowly began to tune the instrument.
    Brave… confident,
she reminded herself.
    Then she began to play. It was far from perfect, but it did come from her heart. Naomi’s style had always been personal. She concentrated more on making music than on her technique. She wanted to cry, but she held back the tears, held everything inside. Her feelings came out only in the music, the beautiful Bach sonata.
    “Brava! Brava!” Casanova shouted as she finished.
    The women clapped. That was permitted by Casanova. Naomi stared out at their beautiful faces. She could feel their shared pain. She wished that she could talk to them. But when he brought them together, it was only to show off his power, his absolute control over them.
    Casanova’s hand moved and lightly touched Naomi’s arm. It was hot, and she felt as if she’d been burned.
    “You’ll stay with me tonight,” he said in the softest voice. “That was so beautiful, Naomi.
You
are so beautiful, the most beautiful one here. Do you know that, sweetheart? Of course you do.”
    Brave, strong, confident,
Naomi told herself. She was a Cross. She wouldn’t let him see her fear. She would find a way to beat him.

Chapter 59

    K ATE AND I were working at her apartment in Chapel Hill. We’d been talking about the disappearing house again, still trying to figure out that mind-bending mystery. At a little past eight the front doorbell rang. Kate went to see who it was.
    I could see her talking to someone, but I couldn’t tell who. My hand went for my revolver, touched the handle. She let the visitor come inside.
    It was Kyle Craig. I was immediately struck by the drawn and somber look on his face. Something must have happened.
    “Kyle says he has something you’re going to want to see,” Kate said as she led the FBI man into the living room.
    “I tracked you down, Alex. It wasn’t too hard,” Kyle said. He sat on the sofa arm next to me. He looked as if he needed to sit down.
    “I