Today the area's completely vacant, as is most of the showroom.

A wide-eyed newscaster with a sandblasted suntan, crispy blond hair and overly pink cosmetic accents appears on the screen as a spinning graphic of a Smart Car pops in over her right shoulder. Ryan reaches for the remote and pumps up the sound.

“Police are still trying to determine who is responsible for hijacking two prominent Charlotteans while they were test-driving one of the new eco-friendly Smart Cars in Pineville, just south of Charlotte.

“The perpetrator has been described as a small-framed white man, balding and gray, probably in his early to mid-sixties. Brandishing a pistol, he ordered architect Marshall Steiner and artist Clarice Tuthill from the tiny car while they were driving it in nearby Jack Hughes Park.”

“He wasn't that frightening,” Clarice says to the camera. “But he did have a gun. So we thought it best to let him have what he wanted.”

“So far, no trace of the automobile has been located and authorities suspect the perpetrator may have been able to disengage the car's locater device. Police have issued this sketch of the man.”

A computer-generated image of a man looking somewhat like an unkempt John McCain who'd spent the last twenty years riding the rails appears on the screen.

ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN in Charlotte's Phillips Place Retail/Residential Development, Ryleigh Owens is standing in her mother's kitchen preparing to place a ceramic sauce bowl in the dishwasher. It slips from her hand and crashes to the floor when she sees the drawing of the reported car-jacker.

“Shit!”

She grabs her remote and presses the pause button, freezing the image on the screen.

“Mom!” She yells. “Get in here.”

Tessa Owens dashes in to the kitchen. “What did you break now, Ryleigh?”

Ryleigh points at the television screen. “Look.”

Tessa turns her gaze from the shattered bowl to the drawing of the man on the TV.

“Mom...doesn't he look like...”

Tessa rubs her hand across her face and peers hard at the screen.

“It could be anybody Ryleigh, It's a drawing.”

“I know, mom. But you can't deny it. He does look an awful lot like your brother Raymond. It's been years since you've seen him, though. Why would he be coming around now?”

“About 40 years ago my brother Raymond was as sane and happy as anybody,” Tessa recalls. “But it was after he came back from Vietnam. He was never the same again. A few years later Mom and Dad had him committed to Dorothea Dix Hospital up in Raleigh. I went to visit him some, but as the years went by it seemed as though he didn't know who any of us were anymore. Then your grandparents passed away and, well, we all sort of just moved on without Raymond. We didn't think about him anymore. At least, not until he escaped.”

“When was that?”

“About 1995. I heard he had been seen at Elmwood Cemetery, hanging out around Mom and Dad's graves.”

“Who told you that?”

“Back then there were a few different attendants who monitored the grounds around the clock. One of the men – he called himself Putnam, I believe – would spend time talking to some of the drifters that made their way through the cemetery. He got to know them and would listen to their stories. He stopped me one day when I was putting flowers on the grave on Dad's birthday and told me the story. By then though, it had been six months since he'd seen Raymond, so god knows where he ended up after that. By now, I didn't even know if he was still alive.”

“If it is him, mom, shouldn't we try and help him?”

MARSHALL STEINER REACHES FOR HIS PHONE and dials Ryan Wu's cell number. Since it's the middle ofthe business day, he fully expects to get voice mail, so he's already mulled over what kind of message he's going to leave. It catches him off guard when Ryan answers.

“This is Ryan Wu.”

“Huh?”

“This is Ryan Wu, how can I help you?”

“Ryan? Oh, hey – I figured I'd get your voice mail. It's Marshall Steiner. Any word on the car?”

“Marshall!” Ryan replies enthusiastically. “No, man. Not a peep. But we got a whole bunch more new ones in this morning. Wanna come down and test drive another one?

“Are you kidding me? After what happened I didn't think you would want us anywhere near your lot.”

Ryan chuckles slightly. “It's not like it was your fault. You guys came down here to buy a car. Not get held up at gunpoint.”

“I still feel really bad about the whole thing, Ryan. Both of us do.”

“Don't,” Ryan interjects. “It's okay.

“I hear what you're saying – but we'd still like to make it up to you. Clarice is having a gallery exhibit tomorrow and there's a reception with food and drinks beforehand at her apartment in Gateway. We'd like you to come.”

“I read about that exhibit,” says Ryan. “Other-worldly psychic X-files kinda' stuff.”

“That's Clarice for you.”

“Right up my alley. I'll be there.”

MATTHEW O'CONNOR AND NIESHA CAMPBELL press the buzzer on the door of Clarice's apartment building.

“Hello?” A voice crackles over the intercom system.

“Uh...hi. It's Matthew and Niesha for Clarice.”

“Hey guys. It's Clarice. Long time no see. Come on up. Fourth floor, apartment 431.”

The two head for the elevator, where they run into Marshall standing with a handsome Asian man who’s wearing a black suit and a thin black tie.

“Marshall! Niesha squeals. “You look great. Who's the good-looking jazz musician?”

Marshall laughs. “He does have that retro look going on, huh?”

Niesha nods approvingly.

“Ryan Wu, this is Niesha Campbell and Matthew O'Connor. Long time friends I don't get to see enough.”

“Nice to meet both of you,” Ryan says, extending his hand to Niesha and then Matthew.

”You guys here for Clarice's reception and exhibit?”

“Yeah. A little late as usual, but we wouldn't miss it for the world,” says Matthew.

A few minutes later the four find themselves squashed into Clarice's smallish apartment amidst a crowd of about 60.

“Clarice!” Marshall shouts over the music and conversation. “Sorry we're late. Big crowd, huh?”

“This is just the start of the evening,” she says happily. “We're about to move it downstairs to the gallery space.”

“Where's Saul?”

“He's already down there, making sure all the last-minute details are taken care of.”

Clarice waves to Ryan. “Smart Car show back up yet? She asks, in an elevated voice.

“No. Not yet!”

“Sorry about that, Ryan.”

“No worries, Clarice. I already told Marshall insurance will cover it. I'm just looking to get you guys back out to the dealership and you in a Smart Car.”

“Sounds good, Ryan.' Clarice waves again as she is pushed by the moving crowd in to the hallway. “See you downstairs.”

SAUL IS ADJUSTING A DIRECTIONAL LIGHT onto a portrait Clarice has entitled “Old Man in Blue.” Marshall touches Saul on the shoulder and he turns around abruptly.

“Marshall. Hey, man. How you been?'

“Alright buddy. That's you in the picture there?

“I suppose. You should probably talk to Clarice about that.”

“Okay...but that looks like you standing by that ethereal old dude in the panhandler's outfit.”

Marshall turns to Ryan.

“Ryan, this is Clarice's significant other, Saul. He was trapped in an old mine with a ghost a few months ago.”

Saul balks uncomfortably at Marshall's suggestion, “Not so sure about all that,” he says slowly, “but I did help Clarice out with the show. Nice to meet you.”

Ryan thrusts his hand forward.

“Good to meet you. I actually saw a news report about your experience in the mine a few months back. Did it freak you out?”

Saul shifts uncomfortably and manages an equally disconcerted laugh.

“It was...a different experience,” he says.

OUTSIDE ON TRADE STREET a crowd is gathering around an unfolding scene: a balding, silver-haired man is attempting to crunch a red and silver Smart Car into a tiny space at the end of the block. He pulls it forward and then back, slamming it in to the car in front and behind.

“What is all that noise?” Asks Ryan.

“Let's go find out,” Marshall replies, pulling Ryan towards the front of the space.

They manage to make it out of the front door just as the small, wiry man Marshall had encountered a few days earlier dashes past them on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Marshall shouts. “It's him. That's the guy who stuck us up in the park.”

Ryan tugs on Marshall's sleeve and points towards the corner.

“What?”

“I think we found the Smart Car.”

Clarice sticks her head out the door.

“What's going on?”

Marshall and Ryan nod at the car.

“Oh my god!”

~ David Moore
* A mixture of fact and fiction, Elmwood Park is a serial exclusive to Uptown.
To catch up on previous editions, go to the archives section of this website.