I wiped my mouth and the envelope flipped out of my waistband and smacked against the linoleum. Lindsey strained as she picked it up with both hands.
She pulled out the money, and then drew her head back. "This smells awful," she said, staring at the thick wad. "Is this real?" she asked. She purposely dropped it to the floor. "Who gave you this?" I was fairly certain she knew.
I gaped at the scattered bills. There was a lot of money on that floor. "I told her I never wanted to see her again."
"When?" Lindsey asked. "When did you see her last?"
I was torn between picking up the money and getting another drink of water. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, and if I was going to talk I needed a drink first. I bent over the fountain and drank and drank. I felt her hand on my shoulder.
"Jeffrey. Was she here?" Lindsey asked. "Did you two come together?"
"No," I said.
"Who has the tape?" she asked again. "I'm not walking away until you tell me. You're avoiding my question, Jeffrey, and I won't stand for it anymore. Tell me the truth right now. If you have any hope of seeing my daughter again, you will tell me right this second. Who did you give the tape to?"
I was sick and tired of her shit. "The truth?" I asked, my voice loud and level with hers. "I'm not the only one who hasn't told the truth. Why didn't you ever tell Caroline the truth about Eva?" I caught my breath, glowering at Lindsey.
Lindsey is the real liar, here. She's the one to blame. Tell her.
"This is your fault," I spat. "If you had opened up your tight little mouth in the first place, we wouldn't be here. We never would have gone to that party."
Lindsey's jaw dropped. "I never told her because Edward told me not to. He told me it would protect her."
I bent down and gathered up the money, cramming it back into its envelope. No longer feeling the need to hide anything from her, I said, "I gave the tape to Eva."
"I knew it," Lindsey said.
"She's the only one who can explain all this," I said. "Eva can help her."
"You idiot. Eva is the one doing this to her. Get out," Lindsey said, backing away from me. "I don't want you visiting Caroline anymore."
Lindsey stormed down the hall and out of sight.
Good riddance, said my voice. Of course Lindsey hates you. Hasn't she always?
"She has," I said. No matter what I do, she will be resentful.
I was even thirstier, and as I sucked at the water my eyes picked up a change in the lighting. It had dimmed and it made me think of Eva and her goggles. Surely she would help her sister if I asked her to. She did say she'd give me anything.
I tapped on the nurse's desk. "Which way to oncology?"
58--NKUMBI
Nkumbi leaned against Caroline's hospital room wall with his arms folded. A whining hum furrowed in the back of his head where it became a throbbing headache. Ever since buying that book, he sensed that he was being followed. He was the detective, and would soon catch the one lurking in the distance, watching him.
If you can, said a voice in his head.
Nkumbi did not consider himself weak and did not fall into self-doubt, and so the foreign voice disturbed him. He moved what he thought was doubt aside, back to where his headache throbbed, and turned his attention to Lindsey.
"A bit harsh, no?"
"No," said Lindsey with finality under her breath. Word of Caroline's unusual sickness began to spread through the hospital and Lindsey had done her best to have her daughter remain a patient and not a curiosity. She guarded her daughter's side and had agreed to see Nkumbi alone in Caroline's room without prying ears. "I want him out of my life. I'll never forgive him."
"Listen to me," Nkumbi said. "You must forgive him. It has to be within you to do this. Jeffrey will soon realize what he has done. He will say to himself, 'I have done evil. Unforgivable evil.' And this is why your forgiveness is vital. Because if he can see that you are willing to forgive him for what he has done to you, your daughter, your trust, then there is the possibility that Caroline will forgive him. You see? He cannot give up hope. Right now that is all he has left--hope."
Lindsey did not seem to be in the mood for a lecture, and the look on her face told him, Shut Up. That voice--it was audible, as if somebody was whispering in his ear.
"The nurses will leave us alone for a while," Lindsey said, stepping beside her daughter. "Caroline's back has swelled with bedsores. It's been almost impossible to turn her, so they settled for propping her on her side by tilting the bed until she rolls, alternating her side every six hours. I think they just turned her, so they won't be in for a while. What was it you wanted to tell me?"
From the corner of his eye, Nkumbi caught a small hole behind Caroline's bed. He walked over to the hole and said, "I saw Eva with Jeffrey," sticking his pinky inside the hole, drywall dust falling from the ripped edges onto the small pile underneath. "She is as tall as she is ugly, dressed in white with monstrous sunglasses. She is an outpatient here."
"Is she here? For Caroline? Should I call security?"
"No. I did not think she was here solely to meet Jeffrey and so I stole a look at some of the hospital records. Eva has Xeroderma Pigmentosa," Nkumbi said. "I guessed from her records that it is a type of light sensitivity that has ultimately led to skin cancer. It has already spread to her organs. She is dying."
"Oh, thank God," Lindsey said, raising her head to heaven.
"I did not have time to search all her records," Nkumbi said, "but I went back over seventy years. Her mother had the same disease. So did her grandmother."
"It's genetic?"
"Yes. And if she reincarnates, then she must live with the disease. Perhaps that is why she published her book."
"That doesn't make sense," Lindsey said. "If she can reincarnate, she could've published that book a lot sooner."
"No, not if the timing is important. She might have been waiting for the right moment, and for whatever reason, that moment is now.
"A packet of seeds comes with that book," he said. "I took the seeds, dissolved them in water, dirty water from the road, and dipped a lead pipe into the mixture. And what do you think happened?"
Lindsey raised her eyebrows. "Nothing, I'm sure."
Nkumbi reached into his shirt sleeve, pulling out the pipe. "It turned to gold. I took it to a dealer. And now, I give it to you to verify."
He handed it to Lindsey and she grasped the pipe in her hand, twirling it in awe. Half the pipe remained dirty and silverish in colour. She ran her hand along the dirty half then ran her hand along the smoother, bright gold half.
"Is it possible to turn lead into gold?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, stroking her hand up and down the pipe. "Nuclear transmutation. But it's not worth the process; the expense far outweighs the gain. It's cheaper to dig." Lindsey turned the pipe over and over in her hand. "You said you did this with water and seeds?"
Nkumbi nodded. "These seeds could be pebbles from the Philosopher's stone, the legendary catalyst needed for the magikal chemical process."
"The Philosopher's stone," she repeated. "It's real?"
Nkumbi shrugged.
She squeezed the gold and her fingers left a soft indentation. Then she put the golden end in her mouth and bit, leaving teeth marks. "The bite test. It's what they did in the olden days to test the gold. Pure gold is soft." She stared at her own markings.
"Lead is poisonous," Nkumbi said.
"Gold is consumable," Lindsey countered. "People use gold leaf in baking and gold dust in drinks and in sweets. On truffles. "
Caroline stirred and a loud bleep sounded off. The sudden beeps were normal, though disturbing. The beep quieted, but Nkumbi knew that nurses would be in soon.
"There's no way to really tell that this is gold, but you said you had it analyzed?" she asked.
"I did."
"This is almost serious enough to involve the government," Lindsey said. "South Africa and China are the world's largest producers of go
ld."
"Yes," he said.
"And India--the largest consumer. Countries use the gold standard to back their money. This could ruin a country."
"The book has not made it to the mass market," Nkumbi said. "But if enough people read it and dabble with those seeds, it will."
"I have to find Caroline's copy of that book," Lindsey said, casting her eyes to her daughter. Caroline scratched her stomach, scowling in her sleep.
"You will not, I am sure. I doubt Tatwaba took it. Either Jeffrey is lying to you or it made its way back to Eva. I read a few pages at the bookstore," Nkumbi admitted, "And it got me thinking, after I watched her talking with Jeffrey out here in the hall. In her book she writes that all things on earth are composed of colour, focusing on white." Nkumbi examined the white dust on his finger. He had to tell Lindsey what he had read, explain his thoughts out loud, in hopes that she could offer some helpful information. "Let me apologize for the physics lesson, but it is most significant. White is a perceived colour that comes from light, by combining light's rainbow colours in equal proportions. As far as metaphysics go, according to Eva, by knowing the focal points and channels in the physical body, and by mastering the levels of colour, one can master the physical realm--change shape, form and substance, travel through time and space."
Nkumbi squinted at the dimming overhead halogen bulbs.
She's here, whispered the voice.
That voice was not his. The book. Nkumbi smacked himself on the forehead. Fool. He had unleashed something when he opened it. "I must be careful," he said under his breath. To Lindsey he said, "The Unit has a file on Eva as thick as a hair. Jeffrey, as difficult as he is, has been a wealth of information. So has her book. She took a chance publishing that." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Eva has not been seen in daylight," Nkumbi said, keeping an eye on Caroline. "Her car windows are tinted. Jeffrey described her house as having lots of drapes."
Nkumbi looked directly at Lindsey as it dawned on him. "She wears white to work her magik. The windows are covered, but they let in some light. Enough. And water breaks up light, dispersing the colour. That is why she does not leave the continent; she would have to cross the ocean."
Caroline moaned and pulled at her gown, exposing her stomach. It was red where she scratched and blotchy around the navel. Lindsey handed the pipe back to Nkumbi. She pressed against Caroline's red spots with her fingers and trailed across the blotchy spot. White powder covered her fingers. "I think the nurses have been dusting her with too much talcum. It's irritating her skin."
Nkumbi, sticking the pipe back inside his sleeve, leaned over Caroline, inspecting her closely. "I do not think it is talcum." He rubbed his white tipped fingers together and turned to the hole in the wall. "Did you notice that hole?"
Lindsey walked over to the wall. "No," and said, "There was a hole in her room, and it kept getting bigger." She dipped her finger into the drywall dust on the floor under the hole. "I never really paid attention to it, and hadn't seen that it was growing. I was too focused on Caroline."
Together they brought their faces close to Caroline's stomach. As she drew in a breath, her naval opened up, excreting white drops of liquid which quickly dried, leaving a powdery film on her skin.
"It's pus," Lindsey said. "She has an infection."
"No, I do not think so. It is drying hard, and flaking off. Pus does not do that."
"Then what is it?" she asked.
"Drywall," he said.
59
Nkumbi left the hospital and drove to Caroline's. There had to be something at the house that would help him figure out how drywall had managed to make its way in and out of Caroline's naval. He had witnessed several exorcisms and had seen victims excrete clues as to the cause of their possession.
Drywall--Calcium Sulphate Dihydroxide, better known as gypsum--seeped from Caroline's navel. The hospital lab technician had tested the wet and dry substance on her stomach, and the results were absolute.
Nkumbi searched through the mess in the living room, stepping over piles of mail on the floor. He pulled furniture away from the walls as he hunted along the bottom molding, then looked up and examined the ceiling and the lighting fixture.
He did the same in the kitchen, swiping dishes off counters and into the sink, feeling up and down the backsplash with his hands. The rooms, disheveled as they were, gave no telltale sign. He saved Caroline's bedroom for last.
Folding his arms across his chest, he allowed his eyes to do the work from outside the room. The door had a diagonal crack from top to bottom and it hung wide open. Furniture, rugs, clothing, and shoes were spilled in the room's center. Long crisscrossed scratches cut into all four walls, like a wild animal had been caught inside and clawed its way around the room.
Nkumbi stepped inside, crossing the room slowly, head on a swivel. He went into the bathroom. The toilet lid was open and he heard water running. A dead crow floated in the toilet.
Backing out of the room, he went back to the window. A squeak from behind made him turn. The breeze from the open window swung the door on its bent hinge exposing exactly what he had been looking for.
White powder covered the floor under a hole in the wall big enough for him to crawl into. The hole's opening was stuffed with bedding and pillows, and coated with a yellow film that gave off a terrible odour. This was the stuffing Jeffrey said he had crammed into the hole in an attempt to close it up. Nkumbi pulled a glove from his pocket. He squatted and pulled out the blankets and pillow, breathing in and out from his mouth to avoid the horrific stink. He peeked inside, and saw that it opened to the other side. He walked out into the hall. There was no hole on that side.
Back in Caroline's room, Nkumbi knelt, eye level with the opening, and clicked on his pocket torch, aiming it inside. He peered into the other side and was tempted to reach through, but caution told him no. Pointing the torch upward, the light bounced off red pipes. Same when he pointed down. The wet pipes throbbed, filling and emptying with a slurp. There was no ceiling inside the hole, and no floor. Nkumbi withdrew the pipe from his sleeve and dropped it into the hole, listening for the clink it would make when it hit bottom. That sound never came. He took a deep breath, and aimed the torch into the mystery room it opened into. It was not a room, but a staircase. He knew exactly where that hole led--Caroline had described that staircase perfectly to her mother. He would take his patrol car to Eva's. Shortcuts, in his opinion, were less traveled for good reasons.
60--JEFFREY
Eva wore her goggles around her wrist like a bracelet.
I smiled weakly when Eva noticed me. I had hoped to catch her alone, but a tall, black man wearing a doctor's coat approached her. "We've been waiting for you," he said with a snicker. The nametag pinned to his collar read, "Dr. Hubert Rhymes, M.D.
"I could use your support," she said, her outstretched hand reaching for mine, and I stepped forwards, grasping her.
"Eva," I said. "You can help Caroline, can't you?"
After a long silence whilst the doctor fiddled around with a machine in the hall, Eva said, "I can."
"Cure her," I said, "And I'll do what you want. I'll be your solicitor. I'll live with you and help you raise the baby."
"Done," she said.
It was strange, the calculation in her expression, and my feelings were at odds, having a distrust of her along with a consuming attraction.
The doctor ushered us into a small room with his computerized machine, a bed, two stools, and a metal table topped with a long syringe. He closed the door, and sat. Eva also sat, and their movements--the crossing of legs, placement of hands on lap--were in sync.
"The test will be simple, and painless," he said. "I have the needle right here. All I need is a little of the amniotic fluid."
"Let's get this over with, Mr. Granger," Eva said.
Holy fuck--that name. Should I ask? I opened my mouth, but shut it when she lay down on the gurney and lifted her dress whilst the doctor squeezed gel onto a paddle connect
ed to the machine. He moved the paddle across her mound and a black and grey picture popped up on the computer. A sonogram. The doctor picked up the needle and the outline of a child came to animated life on the screen. My child. "This won't hurt the baby, will it?" I asked.
"No," said the doctor. "We're here to make sure the baby is healthy."
"What if the baby isn't?"
Eva laughed like I was an ignoramus. "Don't laugh at me," I said, clenching my fists.
"If she is unhealthy," said the doctor, "Then we need to start over."
"What, you mean abortion?"
"We've never had to do that," the doctor said. "Relax, the baby will be fine."
The needle was poised over her stomach like a weapon, and at that moment I didn't trust the doctor and what was about to happen. "Don't you hurt the baby," I warned. I felt like I was going to faint.
"Why don't you step outside," the doctor said, reaching for the door, and my heavy legs lifted one at a time, taking me away from Eva and the doctor she called Mr. Granger.
A form without eyes, nose, or mouth sat at the nurse's station. I could barely see in that damn darkness. I approached the form and asked, "Who is Mr. Granger?"
"Excuse me?" the nurse asked, taking shape as she looked up from her paperwork.
"Mr. Granger," I repeated, leaning against the desk for support. "That doctor in the room with Eva. Who is he?" A calendar blinked on her computer screen.
"I don't know who you're talking about," she said, yawning. I sneered at her. When she looked at me, she chuckled. Chuckling? At me?
"Bitch!" I screamed. "Lying, lazy Jou Moer. What's so funny? I didn't tell you a joke. I asked you a fucking question. Who is that man in that room with Eva?"
Flustered, she flipped through the papers on her desk. She turned to the computer, her fingers typing away, pages scrolling by on the monitor. "Ms. van Hollinsworth sees Dr. Rhymes," she said, her voice shaking. "No one here goes by the name, 'Granger.'"
I reached across the desk and tilted the monitor towards me. The highlighted date on the computer said it was the twenty-first of August.
Eva's book signing party had been in April. Five months ago. Where had the time gone? It seemed like only a few days had come and gone, not months.
Seeking Samiel Page 16
