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by J. A. Henderson

Anne-Louise wafted over, munching a hors d'oeuvre. Martin was draped over her shoulder like a bag of fluff, his pink hands clutching her silk dress and bunching it at the neck.

  “You’re not gonna believe this, but I’ve had half a dozen requests from people wanting to buy Clancy’s paintings!”

  “Glad they got their priorities right,” R.D. grumbled. “They’re looking at a medical marvel and all they want to do is snap up a bargain and play a few rounds of croquet.”

  “Never you mind.” Anne-Louise patted his arm. “Those little stick men you draw are priceless to me.”

  Then she was off and mingling again. Martin blew a happy raspberry at his father as he bounced away.

  Clancy broke free from her admirers and headed towards them.

  “I’m not enjoying this much. I hate being the centre of attention.” She took Justin’s arm. “Don’t suppose you’d be allowed to take me home early.”

  “Of course I can.” A grin sprouted on the researcher’s face. “Be my pleasure, in fact.”

  “It’s kind of your party,” R.D. broke in. “I think you’re stuck here for a while.”

  “Nonsense.” Justin put his arm protectively round the girl. “Now that the champagne is flowing, they’ll all be swinging from the Chandeliers in half an hour. Waving the Confederate flag and reminiscing about how nice it was when they still had slaves.”

  “Justin isn’t exactly a party animal.” R.D. explained.

  “Go get your coat, Clancy.” The researcher put down his glass. “I’ll make excuses and we’ll get out of here.”

  “Thank you. Maybe we could both have a quiet drink somewhere.” Clancy headed for the cloakroom and Justin’s smile grew so wide his glasses wobbled.

  “Make her buy the rounds.” R.D. whisked a pen from his pocket and clicked the top. “I’m gonna put a few more zeros on the sale price of these paintings.”

  “Very funny, Scotty.”

  “And be careful.”

  “Whaddya mean?” Justin halted on the way to fetching his coat.

  “She’s your patient.” The psychologist jabbed the pen at his friend. “I know you like her, but if you two get involved in the wrong way, it’s gonna mean nothing but trouble.”

  He expected his friend to protest but Justin flushed bright red.

  “I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

  “I could draw a moustache on you for a disguise.”

  But Justin was already heading for the door.

  R.D. strolled into the hall, avoiding conversation by keeping his nose in his drink. The Fischer house was enormous and every crevasse was filled with polite chatter and dinner suits. Nobody seemed inclined to include him in their conversation.

  “I feel like the trained seal at a fucking penguin convention,” he muttered to himself, as he headed into one of the many studies.

  A young woman was standing on her own looking up at one of Clancy’s paintings. R.D. recognised her as a girl called Maggie, a friend of one of Justin’s lab assistants. They had been introduced a couple of times at faculty parties and, as far as he remembered, she was a physics undergraduate at the University of Texas.

  “Hi there.” She looked round as he strolled up to her. “R.D., isn’t it?”

  “Hi Maggie. Enjoying the party?”

  “Just got here. Now I can’t make up my mind whether to crash the stocks and bonds conversation or slap the fat woman who keeps wanting to talk to me about holistic medicine.”

  Maggie smiled broadly and went back to studying the artwork.

  “Please don’t say anything pretentious about it,” R.D. pleaded. “It just looks like a bunch of shapes to me.”

  “I think it’s crap. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’d given up hope of talking to someone normal.”

  “Oh, I’m not normal.” Maggie nodded behind her. “All these stuffed shirts pass for regular in these parts. That’s what’s so depressing.”

  “Then I got the perfect drug for you,” R.D. said. “Where do you come from anyway?”

  “International Falls in Minnesota.”

  “I mean before that. What were your parents? Vietnamese? Chinese?”

  “My grandparents were Irish,” she snapped, feisty as the country. “You telling me I have slanty eyes?”

  The psychologist couldn’t tell if she was joking. He wondered if it was some kind of test.

  “So… where did you get a second name like Woo?”

  “My name’s Wood, R.D., Maggie Wood! I know my eyes are a shade narrow but they aint all that bad!”

  “No. They’re lovely.”

  It was true, but Maggie’s jaw had set and she put her hands on her hips like a female Genghis Khan. Hmmm. He’d better stop thinking like that.

  “I got red hair, for God’s sake!” she hissed. “How many Orientals do you know with red hair?”

  “I thought it was a wig.”

  To his surprise, Maggie laughed out loud.

  “Let’s go out in the garden and have a proper conversation.” She tugged at his sleeve. “I’m into the Higgs-Bosun theory, punk rock and rough sex. You?”

  “Well two out of three isn’t bad.” R.D. allowed himself to be led outside, glancing around to make sure Anne-Louise wasn’t watching.

  “What the hell is the Higgs–Bosun theory?”

  -15-

  R.D. and Justin met on the lawn outside the Daler labs. It was their unofficial conference area, where they could speak freely to each other, away from other employees.

  “What’s up, big man?” R.D. opened a can of coke and sat down.

  “I keep thinking about what you said at the party a few weeks ago.” Justin pulled a lunch box from his briefcase and opened it.

  “You can remember what I said?” R.D. thought back to all that free champagne. “I can’t even remember what I said.”

  “About getting involved with a patient.”

  “Oh yeah. Listen. I know Clancy’s smart and beautiful, but you’ve been treating her like the last ham sandwich at a weight watchers convention.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “Your bottom jaw looks like an open cash register every time she walks by.” R.D. gritted his teeth. “And… eh… she’s had some pretty bad experiences with men.”

  “I know. And I aim to change that pattern.” Justin glanced sideways at his companion. “Besides… eh… she isn’t my patient.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I stopped giving Clancy the Cocktail.” Justin was frank and open as always. “She aint gonna be coming around the lab anymore.”

  R.D.’s brow furrowed.

  “And you didn’t think to inform me first?”

  “I’m telling you now, Scotty.”

  “Jesus. What if she has a relapse?”

  “She won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I’ve done every test on her I know, including brain scans.” Justin put his head in his hands. “Her synaptic makeup is exactly the same as it was before.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. These are untested waters and it’s far too soon to tell.”

  Justin stayed silent.

  ‘Besides, she sure as hell isn’t the same.” R.D. argued. “This is well on the way to making us famous.”

  “The Cocktail didn’t cure her, old pal. You did.” Justin couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “She wasn’t mentally ill. She was just a traumatised young woman who had suffered years of abuse and withdrawn into her own world to stop the hurting. It was you who brought her out of her shell. You’re a better psychologist than you realise.”

  “Ok. Then let’s start working on some real nutters. It’s what I always said you should do.”

  “I aint sure that’s gonna be possible.”

  “What’s going on Justin?” R.D. scrutinised his companion. “How come you’re so dispirited all of a sudden?”

  “I been examining the test results again. On the animals.”

  “Why
would you go to all that trouble?”

  “I wanted to be sure about Clancy, so I started going over our findings with a fine-tooth comb.” Justin ran a hand through his hair. “I keep finding discrepancies. Critters dying for no reason. Results that don’t really add up. It’s like someone is actually sabotaging my work.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t either but then I got to thinking.” Justin hung his head and black hair flopped over his glasses. “Clancy has stopped taking the Cocktail and she’s still fine.”

  “Well, like you said. If she wasn’t sick to begin with…”

  “Doesn’t explain the dodgy results on the animals.” Justin said quietly. “But I tell you what would. The Daler Corporation makes a fortune selling anti-depressants to every country in the world. Pills that have to be taken all the time.”

  He chose his words carefully.

  “If we’ve actually found a permanent cure for depression, one that doesn’t require the patient to continue their course of drugs, Daler would lose millions.”

  “They’re funding you, pal,” R.D. reminded him.

  “It’s not like you to be so naïve,” Justin scolded. “Daler have to be seen to be doing something positive in drug treatment, huh? Pharmaceutical companies have a bad enough reputation as it is. But look who they put in charge. Me!”

  “What’s wrong with you? Apart from looking like the Milky Bar Kid?”

  “I was an untried researcher, not long out of college. I wasn’t nearly qualified or experienced enough to run this project. That’s why I jumped at the chance without asking questions.”

  He smiled awkwardly.

  “And Anne-Louise’s father gave me you as a right-hand man, even though he thinks you’re a moron. It’s like he wanted us to fail.”

  R.D. could see his friend’s point.

  “But you made it work,” he protested. “The other heads had been plodding away for years without success.”

  “Exactly! They underestimated us. They didn’t expect us to succeed. I’m damned sure they didn’t want us to succeed.”

  “It’s a bit late now.”

  “Is it?” Justin shook his head miserably. “If it turns out Clancy’s ‘cure’ isn’t a cure at all, we won’t just be suspected of being sloppy. We’ll be accused of faking the whole thing. All my research will be discredited.”

  “They couldn’t have engineered that, you idiot.” R.D. punched his friend on the shoulder. “You picked Clancy. How could Daler know you’d do that?”

  “I didn’t pick her, eh Scotty?” Justin looked sideways at his friend. “Anne-Louise did. Convinced me to take Clancy from Northland.”

  “That’s paranoid talk! She wouldn’t screw you over.”

  “I guess not.” But Justin didn’t sound convinced. “Just keep your eyes open.”

  He gave a wry grin.

  “I think your father in law is out to get us.”

  R.D. went white.

  -16-

  “Omelettes,” R.D. said happily. “I love ‘em.”

  He’d met Clancy for breakfast at the East Side Café. It was a rare get together for he had hardly seen the woman since her discharge from Daler. Coffee aromas emanated from each table and paintings by struggling artists smeared gaudy local colour across the wall. None were as eye catching as Clancy’s.

  “You can put anything on an omelette without fear of culinary snobbery. It even sounds French. In fact, a well packed omelette should look like a Chihuahua that’s been run over by a truck, then you bung on ketchup for the final effect.”

  His companion gave an eggy laugh.

  Afterwards they got into R.D.’s shiny blue BMW and he suggested a drive to Zilker Park and a visit to the botanical gardens. Clancy was surprised. The psychologist was game for most things but rarely instigated an activity that didn’t involve sitting in a bar.

  Intrigued, she agreed. They drove in silence. R.D. had gradually lost his perkiness and appeared to be brooding. His companion waited.

  Leaving the car, they strolled through bending boughs laden with a thousand dying blossoms. The young woman squinted at her mentor with inquisitiveness as he meandered among the scattered stone benches. Finally, he halted - looking, not at Clancy, but up through the wooden leafy spokes of the covering pines.

  “I need to talk to you about Justin,” he began.

  “You can’t talk to Justin about Justin?”

  “Not like I used to.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “They should get some thistles in here. Brighten the place up a bit.” R.D. unearthed a cigarette pack from his rolled up t-shirt sleeve and opened it.

  “I got something for you.” He dipped in nicotine stained fingers and pulled out a silver star on a chain. His companion gave a small gasp.

  “Thank you!”

  “You hate it…”

  “No. I love it.”

  “It’s a star,” R.D. added, rather unnecessarily. “Just like you. It’s made of Titanium.”

  “Isn’t that expensive?”

  “It’s indestructible.”

  “Just like me?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  Clancy fastened the gift around her neck. R.D. pulled a cigarette from the packet and lit it, concentrating on his actions, not looking at the decoration.

  “You might not want to wear it around Justin,” R.D. confessed behind a flower of sulphurous flame. “I think he might be jealous of our friendship.”

  The acrid scent of spent match drifted between them.

  “Why else would he keep sending me all over the country for conferences?”

  “Maybe he thinks you’re a spy for Daler. Being married to the boss’s daughter an all.”

  “Well that’s just stupid.” The psychologist put on his best indignant expression. “And where have you been? Nobody sees you these days.”

  “There’s no reason for me to be at the labs these days and I don’t like being around all these trapped animals.” Clancy fingered the star round her neck. “And, yes, Justin is overprotective, but that’s OK. I’m still not real comfortable mingling with society.”

  “I know.” R.D. agreed. “And I think it’s great that you and he are getting married. I’m happy for you both. But… this is happening awful fast. I’m sorry for saying it, but it’s true.”

  Flushed with discomfort, he scratched the side of one temple, careful not to disrupt his hair. He shielded his eyes with his hand, since it was already up there.

  “He’s not just overprotective. I think he still sees you as a little girl who needs looking after.” The bag was open and the cat halfway up a tree by now but he doggedly soldiered on. “Justin wants you in a gilded cage, but he’s trying to shut himself in too - and that’s a waste of a great talent. Besides, it’s going to get awful cramped.”

  Clancy tapped R.D.’s nose to shut him up.

  “Hey, don’t you figure I’ve thought about all this? Now suppose you think about it. I got no qualifications. No education to speak of. Being around people still makes me nervous. Let’s be truthful. I’m a freak. Becoming the wife of a wonderful, gifted man might be good as I’m going to get.”

  “You’ve got talent too, girl. What about your art?”

  Clancy tossed her head.

  “Aw, big deal. I like my old paintings R.D., but nobody buys that stuff. Too much like Norman Rockwell, they say. Too many cute animals.” She leaned forward on the concrete slabs that bordered the goldfish’s world and tickled the water with a grassy frond.

  “I don’t wanna paint like that, anyhow. Reminds me of the past.”

  She swiped angrily at light dancing on the pond, scattering startled fish.

  “I produce mindless garbage… don’t deny it, R.D”

  “I wasn’t going to. Looking at it makes my head sore.”

  “People pay good money though. Read in all sorts of stuff that isn’t there. Well, more fool them. I just go up to the canvas and let the brush mo
ve where it wants. It doesn’t mean anything. But I’m a fad. Couple of years they’ll all be interested in some other sideshow attraction.”

  Clancy tried to entice the fish, waggling her fingers in the water. They hung warily back.

  “I love animals, R.D. but they don’t give a damn about me anymore.” She hauled herself back onto the carved seat, settling beside her perspiring friend.

  “They’re carp.” Her companion coughed politely. “I don’t suppose they form strong emotional attachments.”

  “You’d be the expert on that.”

  “Touché.”

  “Justin and I just need a little period of adjustment.” Clancy moved round so the psychologist couldn’t avoid her look. “But don’t you be worrying, R.D. I’m my own person and I won’t be told who I can and cannot see.” She laughed casually. “He knows what you’re like with women so, of course, he frets.”

  Her eyes widened impishly.

  “But I can handle you.”

  “You don’t have to handle me,” R.D. was indignant. “We’re pals.”

  “Well, sure we are.” Clancy plucked at his sleeve, dragging him down beside her. She studied her friend’s face, ignoring his discomfort.

  “You’re still beating around the bush. I can tell.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Ahah. When you say, ‘Can I ask you a question?’ it always changes the context of what you’re asking.” Clancy plucked a blossom and threw it into the still water. Large mottled mouths nibbled cautiously at the edges.

  “If you say do you like dogs you just want to know the answer. If you say can I ask you a question… do you like dogs? It means you’ve just driven your truck over my pet Chihuahua. If you say, do you like sex?”

  “Let me rephrase this. Can I ask you a question without you interrupting?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.” The blue eyes were unwavering.

  “There’s the matter of Justin’s work.” R.D. hesitated.

  “Go on.”

  “He’s not doing any. People are getting worried.”

  “You mean you’re getting worried.”

  “He still hasn’t seen any new subjects that we could test. All he does is fret over these old results. And he’s replaced half a dozen staff already.”

  “He cares R.D.” Clancy sounded annoyed. “He doesn’t want to experiment on anyone else if his research is wrong.”