Contact is made

Shortly after my Beatrix was abducted, I spent my Friday evening combing the neighborhood posting signs.

I posted this one.

And this one.

I got sympathy from passersby, and even received some calls with tips to visit local used bike shops to see if anyone had sold a used bike matching Beatrix's description. They were all concerned neighbors with comforting words, but none that brought my Beatrix home.

But then, the plot became thicker.

Last weekend while sitting in a cab on our way to a burlesque show, my phone buzzed. It was a blocked number, so I ignored it. But the following message was left:

"Hi. This is Louie, um. I might be able to help you with, um, that poster that you, that you put up. About that yellow bike. Um, I would like to talk. I'll be, I'll be calling you back. If anything, I would like to meet in person. Cause um, I have to explain, you know, the situation. About somebody."

Gasp!

What twist was this simple case of a stolen bicycle about to take? Could it be that the dreadful assumptions of my precious Beatrix being nabbed by some sophisticated crime syndicate with terrible and sinister intentions are possible - nay, probable! - and not just some overly theatrical imaginations of a rambling, occassional blogger?

IIIII knew it!

So I summoned all the dudes I know in New York: A Palestinian guy. A dude in a bowtie. And a boy with a dragon tattoo. I summoned them each and I said, "I need you. I may be heading into a lion's den, and I need your muscle if shit pops off."

But Louie never called back.

So I continue to sit sleeplessly at my dining table. Stroking my angst-crinkled forehead. Biting my nails to nubs. Drinking cups of stale Folgers. Waiting for a blocked number to buzz and light up. In my head, horrific but all equally likely visions of ill-fated Beatrix continue to swirl about, each vision ever more grandiose than before.

An untouchable garbage collector in Mumbai.

A cold sherpa.

A flying monkey in an evil witch's army.

Or most fearful of all, tearful gulp, a clown's bicycle.