“Hush up, Mike. This might be important.” Louis held up one hand to the small man.
“Important?” Joanne raised both eyebrows at the policeman. “What you doin’, Louis? Conductin’ some kind of investigation?”
“I thought you didn’t ask police business questions,” he said. “Now what is a kush ball?”
“A koosh ball,” she corrected him. “A toy. It’s a damned toy. A ball made out of rubber bands.”
“Now don’t go gettin’ all upset, Joannie,” Billy chuckled. “It’s just Louis’ way of makin’ conversation.”
“Well, what the hell do you expect?” Joanne turned on the big man. “Here I am worried sick about Chris and Louis, here, is makin’ like an inquisitor. What are we gonna do? Burn the man at the stake?”
“Now, hold on,” Louis smiled. “It ain’t nothin’ like that. I was just interested in him, that’s all. I like to know who we got livin’ in town. It makes my job easier.”
Mike nodded and grunted his approval and Tyler made a wry face shaking his head.
“Hmmph!” Joanne snorted and looked at the clock. She picked up a quarter and threw it on the pile. She had a very good hand.
They played on, relatively short on conversation for a few hands. Mike and Joanne took turns winning, but everyone seemed lost in his or her own thoughts. Joanne worried about Chris’ whereabouts. Mike worried about Tyler’s soul. Tyler worried about his bad cards. Louis worried about the Aligers. Billy worried that they were running short on beer. But a seed of doubt had been planted in each of their minds. Something was strange about the new couple down at the New Castle Gift Shop. There was no getting around it.
At one o’clock, Chris Parker knocked on the patio door. He wore a strange expression as if he were drifting in some other plane of existence. They all looked at him expectantly...
Chapter Six:.
“Do you mean to tell us that Chris Parker, Mr. Homebody, just up and went on a date with Cheryl Martin for no special reason?” Billy asked. He sat with his arms folded across his chest perusing the young man sitting across the table from him.
“Yeah, so?” Chris looked at him with a look of self satisfaction. “Since when does a fella have to have a special reason to go on a date? Besides, it wasn’t really a date. It just sorta happened.”
“Just sort of happened,” Joanne repeated his words doubtfully. “How does a dinner date just sort of happen?” She picked up the cards. It was her shuffle.
“I told you already.” He rolled his eyes and looked at Tyler for help, but Tyler was busy thinking. “We went to eat at the Bluebonnet and then I drove everybody home.”
“It took you...” Joanne glanced at the clock on the kitchen cabinet. “Five hours to eat and take everybody home?”
“I don’t think that’s all that happened,” Billy mused. “How many stops did you make on the way to Cheryl’s?”
“Aw, Billy, leave ’im alone,” Mike told him.
“That’s none of your business in the first place,” Chris answered him. “And in the second place we didn’t stop anywhere, but the Aligers’ house.”
“Really?” Tyler finally spoke up and leaned forward to look closely at Chris’s neck. “Then what’s that on your neck? Strawberry soda?”
Chris slapped his hand over the mark on his neck and smiled at Tyler good-naturedly.
“She must have done you some good, boy!” Billy laughed. “You ain’t stuttered once since you got here. Or did that Aliger feller put a spell on you?”
“Billy!” Joanne and Tyler said simultaneously. Then Tyler continued “You are the stupidest piece of shit I’ve ever seen! What’d you want to say somethin’ like that for, you dumb ass?”
Chris sat straight up in his chair, still holding his hand on his neck, but he looked like he had been slapped. All the color drained from his face and he looked as if he would faint. Joanne got out of her chair and went to bend over him. She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes and called his name.
He stared into space as if he were catatonic.
“Damn!” Mike cursed softly and jumped up to get a glass of water from the sink.
Billy sat with his mouth hanging open looking at them. Louis began to rail at Billy for being an idiot. Joanne took the water and handed it to Chris, taking his hand and wrapping it around the glass.
“Here, Chris, drink some water!” She told him and glared at Billy.
Chris took the water and drank a few sips.
“Now look at what you’ve done, Billy Johnson,” Joanne turned on Billy. “Louis! Why don’t you do us all a favor and arrest him and get him off the streets.”
“Now settle down, Joanne.” Tyler stood up.
“What’d I do?” Billy found his voice amid the clamor. “I just said the truth. He ain’t stuttered. I thought it was good.”
“Let’s just settle down now,” Tyler said again and took Joanne’s arm to direct her back to her seat at the table.
“I’m all right,” Chris looked at them. He was totally embarrassed.
“To tell you the truth,” Mike said as he sat back down as well. “I was just noticin’ the same thing, but I didn’t want to say nothin’. Ya’ll never take me serious. Chris has been over to that house just one time and look at him.”
“I said I’m f... f... fine!” Chris told them. “J... J... Just forget it!”
“He was just mad,” Joanne told them defensively. “Chris don’t stutter when he’s mad. You all know that! He’s mad, that’s all.”
“I ain’t mad, J... J... Joanne,” Chris told her and then fell quiet.
“Hey! How about some popcorn?” Louis said suddenly, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah, I got some Orville.” Mike got up and went to dig around in the cabinet.
They all sat in silence while Mike put the popcorn in the microwave.
Louis cleared his throat and broke the spell.
“Did Mrs. Aliger play that piano for you?” He asked unable to help himself.
“Uh, uh,” Chris shook his head. “Mr. Aliger p... p... played it. He’s real g... good.”
“I should have known,” Louis grumbled. He was getting tired of hearing about how good this guy was. So now he plays the piano. “Did she make you all some of that tea?”
“Yeah,” Chris nodded, but did not elaborate.
“I had some of that tea,” Tyler said thoughtfully. “It was all orangey and spicy.”
“Mine was green,” Louis frowned. “It was all right for hot tea. She sent some home to Julia.”
“Strange, ain’t it?” Mike looked at them. “First, Aunt Mary and Tyler. Then, Reggie Greene and then Louis and Chris, who’s next?”
“Oh, man!” Billy frowned at them. “You think ever’ thing’s strange. Sounds to me, Louis, like you’re more interested in Mrs. Aliger than her husband.”
“That’s a helluva thing to say.” Louis looked down at his beer. “I’m a happily married man and you all know that.”
“Yeah, right.” Billy moved the cards and ashtray so Mike could set a bowl of popcorn between them. “You and Mike and Tyler... all happily married. That’s why we’re settin’ here playin’ poker together and gettin’ drunk.”
He picked up the cards and the game resumed, but their usual camaraderie had been lost.
Three in the morning found the police sergeant sitting on the round base of the crumbling World War II memorial on the corner of Thomas and Catherine Streets. Only the rusted stub of the flagpole was left sticking out of the monument. The bronze plaque was cracked and part of it was missing. Louis pulled a stray clump of grass from between the bricks and tossed it into the street. He thought the little forgotten corner suited his mood perfectly. He felt that he was as forgotten as the veterans the memorial was built to honor. Billy Johnson, one of the biggest idiots in town, had hit the nail on the head. If Billy Johnson could pick up on it, then he knew he was in trouble and that he would have to do something about it before Julia got wind of it. But
the main problem was that, from his vantage point on the street corner, he could see the big windows of the apartment above the old junk shop and that was why he was sitting there. He had lost his mind. He pulled another clump of grass from the bricks and looked at the dead weeds around the flagpole. He wondered why Magnolia Springs had never bothered to repair the memorial. It seemed a shame and made him all the more depressed. The thing reminded him of himself. Was he falling into a state of disgrace just like the memorial?
He got up slowly and walked around the thing inspecting it carefully. A piece of broken brick had fallen from the base and lay on the sidewalk. Without thinking, he kicked the brick into the street, forgetting that he was wearing his sneakers instead of his boots.
“Shit!” He said aloud and reached down to rub his toe.
“Hey!” A voice from across the street startled him. “Whatchoo doin’ over there? Tearin’ up the rest of the flagpole? You drunk or sumpin’?”
He looked up to see Hannah Lipscomb watching him from the shadows in front of the theater.
Louis limped across the street favoring his newly acquired sore toe.
“Hannah.” Louis stepped up onto the sidewalk beside her. “What in the world are you doin’ out here this time of the night?”
“Uh, oh.” The old woman began to hobble away from him down the sidewalk.
“Wait!” He hurried to catch up to her.
“Whatchoo gonna do? ’rest me?” She glanced up at him and kept walking. He could smell the sweet and sour odor of wine on her even though he was still fairly intoxicated himself. Her green plaid pantsuit was covered with unidentifiable stains.
“No, I ain’t gonna arrest you,” he told her. “I’m off duty. Should I arrest you? Have you committed a crime I need to know about?”
“Nope! Unless walkin’ down the street is a crime.” She didn’t slow down. “Unless you gonna count bein’ born.”
“Where you goin’?” He asked matching her pace.
“Home,” she said.
“Wrong way,” he told her.
“Whaddaya care?” She asked and turned around abruptly to begin walking back the other direction. She lived over in Woodruff, a cluttered little subdivision from the early fifties. It was at least five miles away.
“I’ll drive you,” he told her as they neared his truck.
“You ’restin’ me now?” She looked up at him. The street lamp revealed weak, red-rimmed bloodshot eyes, a murky shade of gray.
“No, just come on.” He opened the truck door for her and helped her inside. He went around, slid under the steering and started the engine. “I was just thinkin’ we ought to do something about that memorial.”
“Yeah?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Yeah... what do you think about that?” He asked her.
“Nobody cares what I think,” she said gruffly.
“I do,” he told her. “I was thinkin’ we could rebuild it and instead of makin’ it just for World War II vets, we could make it for all the vets from all the wars.”
The old woman stared straight ahead.
“I think we should all get together and rebuild the monument,” he continued when she did not speak. “Maybe we could put names on it like the one’s in Washington. World War I and II, Korea... Desert Storm.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Desert Storm...” she added slowly. “Larry’s name, too.”
“Well, of course,” he told her lightly. “Sure. He was my best friend.”
He thought for a moment she would say something further, but she just turned her head and looked out the side window.
“Nobody cares,” she said finally.
Louis sighed and shook his head. The alcohol was wearing off and he was developing a headache. She was probably right, but he didn’t care that nobody else cared. He made a right at the corner and stepped on the gas. Best to get her home and himself as well.
Peregrin raised his eyes from the street below and watched Angelica as she placed two cups of tea on the small pedestal table between the two chairs facing the long window overlooking Catherine and Main. She sat down in her chair without looking at him and picked up her tea. The silver light of the full moon fell across her lap causing her to almost glow in the dim interior of the alcove. He wondered vaguely if she had any idea how beautiful she was or if she cared.
He picked up his own cup and held it between his hands under his nose and closed his eyes. He wanted to live in slow motion. Everything moved too fast. He enjoyed everything. Breathing, smelling, tasting, feeling. He could feel the slightly raised surface of the black Chinese symbol on the white porcelain cup. The beauty of the symbol belied its simple meaning: tea. It was a strange coincidence that the central character resembled the letter ‘t’ in the alphabet used in this country. But Chinese characters, like Japanese symbols, were so much more aesthetically pleasing than the Roman letters. People who created and used these symbols must have had some basic, if subconscious, knowledge of the secrets of the universe. To take such pains to build an individual work of art to represent one word displayed a dedication to the beauty and art of calligraphy that was passing from the world.
“Any thoughts?” Angelica interrupted his musings.
Perry held up the cup and opened his eyes to compare her face with its simple, yet elegant design. An almost perfect match, he decided.
“... cleverly fashioned like the full moon softened by spring water... like an ancient mirror and dappled moss on a table. Like a dewy, budding lotus bloom bidding the lake farewell, ...How can I drink my fill, ill and frail as I am?”
“Those are not your thoughts,” she told him blandly.
“But they are,” he objected. “I may not have said them first, but I would have if no one else had thought to because I certainly would have found them eventually when I looked at you in the moonlight.”
“You must not forget who you are.” She turned a warning glance on him. “We must not forget who we are.”
“But surely there is time for some enjoyment. Some small pleasure.”
“There is time and there is time. This time slips away.” She returned her gaze to the window. “A moment spent in idle pleasure can be regretted at a crucial crossing. When the work is done, there will be time. If work is left undone, there may be no time for anything.”
“A morbid thought.” He frowned. “Your own, no doubt.”
“Of course,” she said and raised one eyebrow to look at him quizzically.
“Time is irrelevant,” he told her. “What is done today can be undone tomorrow. What is not done today, can be done tomorrow. It seems especially true in our case. Good deeds are fragile, easily crushed like a lotus blossom. But the ugliness grows stronger and spreads. It also seems that it is far easier to build mud from lotus blossoms than the reverse. Entropy is everywhere.”
“Ah, but you forget,” she smiled. “Lotus blossoms arise from the mud. It is in the mud that they find the life that gives them their beauty. And life goes quickly for these people. Tomorrow may be too late to undo what is done today. They may be gone.”
“That’s true. But there is far more mud than lotus blossoms,” he countered.
“Surely you are not becoming pessimistic?” She asked.
“No, not pessimistic,” he said. “Reality speaks for itself and it is reality that is pessimistic. I prefer to look beyond reality to fantasy. I prefer to allow reality to pass me by at times. Even now I feel myself growing older and I choose to ignore it.”
“Ignorance is the root problem in most instances,” she nodded. “But sometimes even ignorance cannot be blamed for what occurs. There is definitely something here in Magnolia Springs. I am not sure what it is.”
“That is what you said last time,” he reminded her. “I saw your report.”
“That is not exactly what I said,” she frowned at him. When had he seen her report? “I said inconclusive findings.”
“This language is full of words. Perhaps you will find the right ones
to express what you truly mean this time.”
“There are no words in any language to express feelings accurately,” she sighed and sipped her tea. “I have to have something more concrete.”
“Perhaps we could find something together. Some way to express what you want to say,” he suggested.
“Another of your fantasies no doubt.” She looked at him in the dimness. He could feel her eyes on him.
“Leave some room for my fantasies in your work and you may be surprised at the outcome.” He looked away from her.
“You are merely part of the whole. I trust that you will make a worthwhile contribution to the effort.”
“I intend to contribute as much as possible, as often as possible.” He smiled and then closed his eyes and leaned his head back to inhale the aroma of the tea again.
He knew she was analyzing his words.
When she did not comment he frowned. “You consider me part of this study? Is that all?”
“We are both part of this study. You and I and all the people in Magnolia Springs. All are part of the whole. But you are using the wrong word again. Consider and consideration. I do not consider you at all. You simply are what you are. To consider you would be a wasted effort. For instance, the boy was not scheduled.”
“The boy was my fault entirely,” he shrugged. “You do recognize ‘fault’, do you not? He became my responsibility. Perhaps another word you do not consider.”
He smiled and then frowned and then smiled again. Smiling and frowning and shrugging. Laughing and crying. Sneezing and coughing. Hiccups. He especially liked hiccups. They were very amusing.
She turned her darks eyes on him unexpectedly. “To consider words is useless. One of the most disconcerting things I have noticed about you is that you waste a great deal of time which is what I am concerned with.”
He did not answer her, but hiccupped instead.
Chapter Seven:.
Chris Parker turned the wheel of the Mercedes carefully and guided it around the corner as if he were afraid the street would scratch the tires. He pulled it up alongside the curb in front of the New Castle Gift Shop, put it in park, set the emergency brake and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the steering wheel before turning off the ignition. He got out and stood looking at the car for several seconds as if waiting for it to do something extraordinary before punching the remote door lock and alarm activation device hanging from the key chain. The alarmed whooped once and fell silent. Chris looked up and down the streets. Deserted on Sunday morning. He walked slowly to the stairs and clunked up the steps to the landing wondering what he was going to tell Mr. Aliger about his car. He stood in front of the door looking down at the pretty key chain with its Oriental symbol in heavy silver. He wondered what it said and then wondered why Mr. Aliger would want a Japanese symbol on his German keys. It didn’t make any sense to him.
The Pandora Effect Page 9
