by Zac Funstein
A call came from a nearby tent was made of reinforced cambric, weather treated, with sewn - in groundsheet, at each end a circular sleeve-door plus ventilator. Matheus had set this up to get the same atmosphere as when in the Gobi Desert-when last a decision had to be made as now.
The pt prolific graphic designer has been involved with art direction a lot but now an artistic choice evaded him.
“Who is that Geraldine?”
“A Mr. Biniam wants to see you about something to do with luxuria. Some girl on a remote road was fatally attacked they have a small article of clothing which was found at the scene.”
“I have heard of these I am fully sympathetic with their plight plus the difficult conditions under which they often have to survive-please send him up.”
The meeting with Matheus had gone well. Kauê had never interviewed anyone in a tent before far less in a hotel bedroom.When the FBI abandoned its traditional role in interrogations to let the CIA began to rely on harsh methods everyone believed that the soft approach was kaput. Street protests outside in the street below in which Russian took to the streets as part of a nationwide demonstration against the government gave a peculiar piquancy. Snipers positioned on the rooftops were ready to take out anyone that caused trouble.Soon they were clambering around on a giant steel tower the city had built, like men children with a giant construction set. Matheus had worked as an electroplater, so had an affinity for these giant pylon carriers;- directories once listed him as a ‘working jeweller, electroplater and gilder plus recently qualified forklift truck driver’. On the radio Cuba battened down for what could be the most powerful hurricane to hit the island ever- people were evacuated from their homes.
Despite Dias being sympathetic however being able to add further substance was not possible since Jolynn S. Geraghty beckoned. Biniam had promised the Geraghty that his assistance would be given now it could be put off no more. There seemed only one choice to take over: Jorge L. Cishion. This was who everyone seemed to believe was the most well suited after his dealings with similar aboriginal attacks on the same stretch of road. Jorge had some SALIGIA interest too which had been shown before though admittedly not very much. His mother had always a well-groomed lady, his shirts, whilst old/ worn, had always been ironed/ tucked in. An imitation boutonnière was always worn. His dictation was impeccable, walking with a military bearing Jorge was immensely polite, would probably have been a hat tipper in an earlier gentler age. Jorge a typical Brazilian, of remarkable energy, probity/ foresight, built up a great business, paid off his father Antônio's debts, formed near Paraty a most hospitable and cultured home, where the Cishion’s maintained their taste for literature, art. His father died as his son proudly wrote upon Antônio's tomb, ‘an entirely honest merchant’.
Invidia must be gone through now, but who knew anything about it that was the question. It was probably in Paris, the chief centre of his time, that Neckam heard how a traveller, among its other stores, must have a needle placed above a magnet (the De utensilibus assumes a needle mounted on a pivot), which needle would revolve until its point looked north, and thus guide. Guillermo D. Zoumalson seemed the one the dial on the compass reached out to after a neighbour of Cishion’s went to Dr. Zoumalson on a referral, after experiencing what was assumed was an allergic reaction. Although absolutely terrified visibly puffy/swollen. Dr. Zoumalson, squeezed him in the same day, consoled, wrote a prescription that must have been the biz because they were as good as new in a matter of a few days. Before anyone is allowed to do cosmetic surgery, they should have at least a Masters in Fine Arts or some kind of body of artistic work; Zoumalson was that man. A far cry from overly ‘done’ looking Botox or injectables that sadly can be the result if left to the inexperienced, Guillermo was an acknowledged genius.
As Cishion reiterated in the doctors tiny consulting-rooms where fine, delicate lines delineate androgynous figures used on models of perfection where all dainty/ showy apparel is forbidden by the state of the atmosphere, equally so is delicate upholstery-this is a medical consulting room pure/simple.
“We are duty bound to investigate all possibilities, but I am convinced our victim was attacked by someone in her immediate sphere, as such, am moving heaven/earth to try to catch the culprit.”
Jorge picks up a model like Ken from Barbie ‘n Ken- then activates a switch at the rear: a torrent of words pour from the safari-suited man.The mechanism was clearly meant to extol the virtues of Guillermo how the doctor was a good listener who really cared about you; how this was someone who could makes you very comfortable, safe, makes absolute sure you had no pain. Somewhere this had got slowed down so it sounded like the Ken facillime was interested in an ‘asymmetrical Nevis’. A slight lift in the voice at the end of a sentence that changed statement to question- was found to sound like an imperative.
Zoumalson was trying to piece together the initial brush with Invidia. Despite his ill temper, however, every day that was spent in the calm atmosphere of the peaceful holiday village where this was seems to soften him. Strolling through the utterly captivating townlet with its cobbled lanes, old maisons, Italian style piazzas, all within walking distance of the carnival route, Guillermo liked to soak up the atmosphere. Anyone strolling in the other direction would have found a multiplex plus an arthouse showing a GPR documentary. The fest has endured, if this year's lineup is any indication, it is has done so due to the keen curatorship reflected what collected-yes Invidia was on there once again.
“It often seems to be someone in the immediate sphere but we must not generalize. I used to watch them machine weave such as we have here as a boy. In this operation each sliver passes separately through the machine, from the can to the spindle, is drawn out from its length, then receives a small amount of twist to strengthen it, in order that it may be successfully wound upon the roving bobbin by the flyer. I believe what we have here is an example of this known as the ‘immediate twist’.”
“This is made a profound impression by the eloquence of your description. The ‘immediate twist’-I have never heard of it.’”
Cishion approach him with a mature, easy-going attitude-genuinely attended to what had to be relayed.
“The juxtapositions, presented with utmost tact plus passera , allowed associations to seep into us almost unbidden. Passera before you ask is the Venetian for finesse as used in trumping suits in cards.”
“Us Guillermo?”
“My sister Rhonda plus myself.”
“It is the Invidia which concerns us more.”
“As always-it demands attention Cishion.”
The next Chromium globular inclusion seemed to come under the generic title ‘gula’ yes that was true, but there were other scat-terms thrown in for good measure that seemed equally appropriate. How or where these came from was something of a mystery to anyone enquired of. They had been created then someone or something had infused them with life so they remained. Some believed these include implicit, gentle rebukes of the moralistic hypocritical code that govern us, but some in reply believed this was seeing too much into everything.
What was seen of especial relevance was the poet Topi Lindholm. Everyone has been influenced by Lindholm, even though it is hard to tell precisely how. A certain innocence, a rugged austerity ‘the silence that is in the lonely hills,’ something of the cold thrill of dawn, clung to his work give it a particular address to what is better in us. For many these new creations had his stamp though there was no immediate reason why. It was ridiculous anyway-no way SALIGIA had even been considered when Lindholm was around. Then the lonely highway was just a stone road maybe not even that but a stretch of mountainside.
The waiting room where gula-man Harlan D. Shaw had arranged to meet was decorated very nicely, as you made toward the front desk there was always someone ready to greet you seemed to be the impression given.
‘His message is consistent — unshakeable, in fact, no matter the evidence — but Harlan commands worthiness by his on-the-moment, inv
ective-rich variations on the theme,’ confessed one-time collaborator Joachim E. Mathiasen.
“In my experience the staff are all very nice, as well as being welcoming,” muttered Harlan after apologizing for being late. “Everyone is very knowledgeable, professional plus willing to answer all of my doubts. The assistants are awesome, make sure you're comfortable-they can very much talk you through whatever procedures they are performing. The Armenian slight in my opinion is unjustified.”
This was taken to be a reference to a jibe that most users here got their information from an Armenian television commercial, that moreover most Armenian television stations indulged in false advertising, if you had the wherewithal then you could get them to advertise anything for you.‘I don't recommend anything if it is on an Armenian television show you’re guaranteed it is false advertising,’ someone once proclaimed.
Dressed in cashmere overcoat, cap, scarf, plus ubiquitous gloves Harlan seemed as if escaped from some wintry castle.
“It is odd to hear you speak of ‘gula’ -it’s quite nostalgic nowadays’. Now you are going to ask why this is used Cishion.”
Jorge wasn’t but didn’t like to disagree-especially with someone who was trying to be helpful. Being blessed with the happy faculty of looking upon the bright side of life possessing a cheerful disposition, unaccustomed to give way to despondency it was not wanted to do anything that might jeopardise a solution.
“The answer is I don’t know-maybe we ought to have just stuck with what was used before. I have been trying to reach the makers of one such variation several times, calling continuously trying to get in contact with the protagonist, leaving numerous messages to find out what was going on. I have been there several times to see them because the workers told us I have to talk to him. They however never had the courtesy to ever return my calls.”
In appearance Jose Mansfield was tall/gaunt, a little like a modern Don Quixote; by nature the gentlest/ most easy-going of men. Now, bending his long, angularity almost in half, he positioned his reading-glasses to a slither in the entrance panel then stared into the waiting room. Within, just out of vision-range, Harlan D. Shaw paused in his banter with Cishion then listened carefully. The sharpness of Mr. Mansfield's breath as it cut against the sharp edge in the panel, told Harlan they were being watched.
Mr. Mansfield pressed closer against the panel in his effort to see more, suddenly this flew open with him ending up sprawled on on the worn carpet.
"There, now!" said Harlan as if they knew who this was. "There, now! Serves you. You’ve hurt yourself!"
Before they could account for themselves the eavesdropper had picked themselves up dusted themselves down then run off; as Harlan explained:
“I get these all the time. Now this has gone somewhere-it will bode ill. This is like Vitoria Rodrigues Rocha. I have no patience with that woman, anyhow. Rocha hasn’t the first notion of comfort/ good cheer. Her rooms are always in disorder, there is no suggestion of harmony in the furniture (on the contrary every article seems, as the Venezuelan say, to be arguing with every other article); why, I’ve run in there of an evening and found that lodger of hers wandering around uneasily, trying to find somewhere in which to read his newspaper. He didn’t know what was the matter—none of the poor wretches do.”
Vitoria was one of those women who, if they had no work to do, would make it.Vitoria was never idle. Her house, or rather condominium—there was only a downstairs—was as clean as a new pin; not a speck of dirt to be seen, as to dust, that was a thing unknown; but then was always dusting, scrubbing, or sweeping.
A short conversation followed with Cishion asking who they were or where they had gone, with the one who disturbing the activity saying they didn’t know- it might have been related to the Schreiber in general, the unlucky road specifically or all or none of these. It was an occupational hazard anyway that much was certain.
“If you would-tell us how gula can help us with Prince Rupert-since we are on the matter.”
“I am sure you are quick, receptive, and polite—all that is to the good. But are you serious? It does not seem to us as if you had ever had the smallest self-mastery, I doubt if you have ever disciplined yourself; discipline is a very tiresome thing, unless you like it-gula needs self-restraint.”
“Orderliness-yes I have that-now please will you continue.”
Not that distantly Jorge turned a revival meeting into a fight, beat a hardened sinner almost into a mass of pulp. As a teenager Jorge turned a hapless school teacher out of the school house, nailed up the establishment, because the teacher muttered against it, threw the pedagogue into the street. Yeh Cishion was disciplined you would be reasonable to suppose.
“Those girls that keep disappearing-yes of course it is terrible. They have lost another why I’m sorry to hear that. I suppose the temptation is to state that it is the same person, but it can’t be now-this has been going on for such a while. If this is someone who uses a Chromium based dieting aid is another matter.”
“If you would allow your wildest associations.”
“You know what always hits us when ever I see PR-it’s kind of hard to describe this community,” continued Harlan. “It’s not the sort of community where you can go down to the post office then meet neighbors. It’s not really urban per se. It’s not really suburban either. It’s ‘rurban’ urban where it matters, but with mountain like aspirations.”
“I get where you are at but don’t really see how this will give us any oomph.”
..........
Ricardo D. Aquirre was assured of safe conduct when his well written e-mail arrived in Ralph T. Fagan’s in-box outlining his wish to share some of his encounters with Ms. G. Schreiber as the communication called it. Ricardo was a high tension cable engineer who had mended the cables that ran beside the Schreiber residence the day before her fateful excursion. The communication went something of the lines of:
‘Our little coterie is the object of great envy; we live just as we like, without considering other people, which I am not sure here is prudent. This guy-or girl for that matter- are a hangin around with a bunch of hillbilly-assassin, we cannot just stand by doing nothing because we're too lofty to get down in the dirt with these scumbags. We have to find who did it before they get away. Someone once mooted:-you are either alive/ proud or you are dead, when you are dead, you can't care anyway’-I would like to change that to when you’re dead you do care. The dead watch from heaven-they judge those of us left-those that took their lives are judged the hardest.
Ricardo whom Tranquillo had kindly let into the lock-up where Fagan was giving the Volvo the once over at first could not make out the scene on the distinct lack of visual data provided then Ralph-wearing dungarees-who was under the car on a running-board upon reappearing saw a figure, a man with a wide-brimmed hat, enveloping cloak, then a scarf around him as if it was excessively cold. Fagan got up gave the new entrant what seemed suspiciously like a jack. “Great now just stick that under the car and start cranking would ya?" Ralf said hunting in the tool box.
"Cranking?" Aquirre asked.
"Why-it doesn’t make any sense?"
The initiate couldn't believe the request.
"To lift the car-there is something I want you to do anon. Now would you just be a friend and do it!”
After this was complied with it was mumbled:
“Mr. Aquirre thank you very much for coming you must excuse the attire.”
Ralph dusted himself down-a comparative youngster to the ‘wrecking crew’ as his division was mockingly known. A gifted prognostician Fagan’s particular voodooism was deemed eminently suited.
The newly arrived was taken in momentarily so that Aquirre had the sensation as if being ‘neutered’-that is gone over in excruciating closeness. It can’t have been for but a moment but the sensation at least for Ricardo was slightly unsettling. Dressed somewhat like an off-duty soldier-of-fortune-this seemed to add a militaristic inclination to proceedings.
“I sense you have an interesting diagnostic on what happened in Prince Rupert Mr.Fagan-some fundamental assumption about what was going on.”
The tools that had been used were returned to the strongbox from which they had come as they bantered regarding this chance encounter which ended so tragically. Fagan was to liken it to a playoff in a well-rounded tournament where they had met somewhere before. There was it was observed a certain abrasiveness even though it was never given expression.
“It is a case of the haves vs the have-nots to us. There are those who have very little in the way of transportation-against those who are sophisticated enough to travel around in SUV’s.”
“Seems like you’re claiming this is Native American inspired Ralph. Most would call you racist-your chance of a public relations position squashed.”
“The Cherokee with a musket theorem-yeh that gets dug out once in a while-I’m not one of those I have many friends within the aboriginal communities-besides there are tracks that have been found suggesting an unknown vehicle was in the vicinity with NYC plates on.”
This was one of those moments when there should have been what was called God sound-effects-thunder or something vaguely cataclysmic- instead there was a deadly silence.
“But that is not why you are here we might attribute socioeconomic causes -you met the deceased whilst mending some cable outside her home.”
“Nice teenager not a nymphomaniac or anything like that. That’s the usual prejudice isn’t it-that they asked for it-that they were of ‘loose moral virtue’ or ‘begging for it’. That’s the one senile old magistrates come up with.”
Usually when Ralph said anything controversial it seemed to invoke some henchman sound-the shuffling of ground-crew rushing to his aid-this was not forthcoming however.
“What about cohabitation-that’s another one.”
“G living in sin with some guy from the nearby town-doesn’t fit somehow what they mockingly call ‘cohabitation’. There was a boyfriend whom-since we are on the topic-was nowhere in the vicinity has a perfectly verifiable alibi so where does that leave us-I’ll tell you nowhere.”
