Page 50 of Lost Souls

The diminutive man nods sagely. “It’s the humane thing to do.”

Chapter Thirty

A firm resolve pierces even a rock.

(Japanese proverb)

Noreen Millburn isfirmly back at the Bellagio, this time in the magnificent lobby, gazing in awe at the ceiling where artificial light plays on the massive Chihuly glass sculpture, the famousFlori Di Como,revealing such rich, vibrant colours that they put her own adored Lakeland blooms to shame. She wonders how on earth they manage to clean it and hopes that it isn’t dangerous for the poor people employed to do so. The tiniest piece of glass in your eye and…

Yet she finds her attention swinging inexorably backto another work of art, one that is currently standing at the reception desk. The awestruck Englishwoman can’t quite believe that an almost godlike man such as Lyle would be the least bit interested in someone so very much lesser such as she. She hadn’t until this evening – or morning, or whatever blessed time of the day or night it is – believed that any man would give her a second look (she’s seen the first look they give and it’s usually one of disdain or repulsion). Well, maybe Arnie would look twice, especially now that there is more of her on show, but he hardly counts, considering what he clearly likes to gaze upon in extreme close-up for a living.

She still can’t help, however, feeling the tiniest of pangs when she recalls the poor man’s genuine and quite abject loneliness – and the fact of his bringing her all this way in the first place, indeed rescuing her, however bizarre his choice of destination. But she knows all too well that this is simply her obsession for helping dumb animals, and it is high time she began to help herself.

Wrenching her eyes away from Lyle for just one tricky moment, Noreen notices that people are glancing at her, but not with that usual look of ‘what’s the bloody cat dragged in now?’ that she has been accustomed to receiving for as long as she can remember. Even at school she was regarded as the podgy weirdo with the nits, despite the fact she offered to do everybody’s homework for free and would let anyone stroke her ferret. Now she genuinely believes that the glances are more benign, possibly even admiring. Or at least envious. Especially when they follow her, as she moves a bit wonkily on her new high heels towards the striking man by the desk.

The female receptionist is staring up at Lyle with perfectly understandable lust, compounded by a profound professional regret.

“I am so sorry, Mr… Lyle. I’m afraid we don’t have the kind of suite you’re looking currently available.”

Lyle fixes his darkly unblinking gaze on the receptionist, staring right into her eyes. “Would you mind checking again, please?”

Noreen doesn’t notice that his own wonderfully expressive eyes are suddenly suffused with a reddish glow. Nor that, for a brief second, those of the receptionist are catching the powerful beam full blast.

The young woman’s expression goes instantly blank. “Of course,” she says robotically and turns to her computer. “Ah yes! I am so sorry. I spoke in error. The Presidential Suite is absolutely free.” She hands her new guest a key card. “It’s on the top floor. Enjoy!”

Noreen looks at Lyle with a radiance she normally reserves for sunset over one of her favourite lakes or the birth of a new lamb.The Presidential Suite!She is not quite certain why she is allowing herself to be transported upwards to the very heights of luxury by someone who is an almost total stranger, but this whole situation for some reason feels completely and rather happily out of her control. She is no more certain as to who the president actually is these days, or what he is president of, but she hopes that he has left his suite tidy.

***

As if tracking the scent of a particularly elusive quarry,it is Arnie’s turn to be at the Venetian now. Not that he wants to be here. Where he really wants to be is back in his sleazy hotel room, staring at that wall, as his day has already lasted way too long, and it is only by some miracle that he is still awake and functioning. But since the prospect looms large of a far longer, not to say eternal, rest in a place even hotter than Vegas, he has kindly agreed to indulge me.

I haven’t been on a gondola since those days of Casanova. Don’t get me started.

“You ever seeDeath in Venice?” I ask, as a conversational opener. “Oh. Excuse me. My bad. How aboutDon’t Look Now?”

“How about shutting the fuck up?” says Arnie, which elicits a funny look from the gondolier, who of course speaks English and, so far as he knows, has only one passenger in his boat. “What the hell does Satan want with Noreen Millburn?”

I have to sigh at this. As does the gondolier, to be honest.

“Noreen has two souls, dummy!” I explain, politely. “She’s a twofer! Claim one, get one free! Think of the PR bonanza in delivering that good, sweet lady over to the dark side! Plus, she’s the finest, kindest, most charitable person on the planet. And a virgin to boot. You know how tempting that is to a player like His Satanic Majesty? Catnip! You sawThe Exorcist.”

“Noreen… gives Lucifer a hard-on?”

Now the gondolier knows he has a crazy on board.

“The boss is gonna do the lambada on my head for this,” I tell Arnie, who just stares at me. “The Lord movesin mysterious ways. You havegotto win her back, Arnie.”

“Me?From Lyle? Oh, yeah. Sure! Arnie Garth versus Lord of the Flies. What’s the support fight? Godzilla versus Kermit the Frog?”

The gondolier isn’t even listening now. In the old days you could spot the nut jobs straight off. These days they might just be talking on the phone. But he didn’t see any earbuds on this guy.

“So that’s it?” I exclaim. “You’re just going to abandon the poor lady? Hey, you got her into this.”

“Me?I got her—”

“Tomayto, tomato! Okay. I helped. With the best of intentions! But, Arnie, if not you to the rescue, who else?”

“That – it’s not my problem. I’m done for, anyway.”