Page 114

"A search for the name revealed an item on the obituary pages. It's true. Gerta Senetsky died."

"How?" Ice asked.

"They didn't say specifically in the obituary, but from what I could read in small news clippings, it looks to me like either a suicide or an accident."

"If Gerta Senetsky is really dead, who is that up there?" Rose asked, gazing back at the building.

"I don't know what to tell you. I haven't found any other relatives I could suggest." Evan said.

"When did she die?" I asked.

"A little less than a year after she entered the clinic," Evan replied.

All of us stared at him.

"Maybe that's a student who broke some rules and was locked up in the tower of Senetsky," Cinnamon grumbled, gazing back at the building.

"How weird," Rose said and lowered herself slowly beside Ice and myself.

"Maybe it's her ghost." Cinnamon suggested. half-kiddingly.

"Please, not your spirits again," Rose moaned.

We all stared at Evan for a long moment, and then Cinnamon's eyes widened.

"From what you told us previously. Madame Senetsky's husband did commit suicide about that time, too. right?"

"Yes, very soon afterward, but it's all been kept so vague. There are so few details."

"This is getting too complicated. What do we do?" I asked.

"If we keep trying to find out, this whole thing could explode in our faces," Rose suggested in a loud whisper.

"Or Madame Senetsky's," Cinnamon countered. She stared at the house again and then turned back to us, her face etched with determination. "Tonight, girls, we go up there and confront our Peeping Missy, whatever her name is."

"I don't know," Ice said, shaking her head. "Poking around like that."

"We're not the ones who have been poking around. Ice. We have to find out what's going on. Rose is right. It's so weird, and who wants to be taped at and spied upon and robbed of clothes and..."

"Cinnamon's right." Rose concluded. "I don't care what the consequences are. Let's get to the bottom of it."

"I wish I could go up there with you," Evan said. "I've got a few more ideas I want to pursue. If you find out anything concrete, call me tonight. Call me any time. Rose."

She nodded.

"It's starting," I said when the first raindrop hit my cheek.

"Come on in and have something hot to drink before you go, Evan." Rose said.

We helped him into the house and to the dining room. where Steven and Howard were still having their breakfast. For the time being, we put aside our mystery and instead talked about the Performance Night, the people we had each met, and some of the things we were told. I saw how much Evan enjoyed our company, and I felt sorry for him having to return to a big home where his only companion was his computer and what its electronic tentacles could latch onto for him.

We're all isolated in different ways, I thought. Even people who were in a city as big as this one, with so Feat a population, found themselves trapped in their own pockets of loneliness. Some brought their own isolation upon themselves with their conceited manner, living as if they were looking down at the rest of the world from an ivory tower. Despite her grand lifestyle and her many, many important

acquaintances. Madame Senetsky struck me as someone who was not really happy. She was too concerned with being Madame Senetsky. I had yet to hear an authentic, free, and wonderful peal of laughter coming from her, see an honest smile or a look of pure wonder in her eyes.

Mommy and Daddy lived on a farm in a very unsophisticated world by Madame Senetsky's standards. They worked very hard, but the work seemed naturally part of who and what they were. That was certainly true for Uncle Simon. The word work had an entirely different meaning for him when it came to his flowers. There was none of this contrivance, this myriad of defenses to construct around yourself so your reputation and your power over other people was constantly protected. Back home, they just nourished their work, not their image. It seemed that here our images were almost as important, if not more important than our talents, and protecting and building that image was a continuous, never-ending responsibility. Disaster for Madame Senetsky was probably being caught with her hair down.

There were tears in Rose's eyes when she said goodbye to Evan. I had tears in my eyes, too. after Chandler called to say good-bye for a while.