Perry had to resist the urge to rip the covers from the sleeping form of Falco and throw him on the floor. How dare he come to their home and disrupt everything he had been working so hard to achieve? He left him asleep and went to the kitchen where Angelica was making breakfast. She looked up at him when he entered and frowned.
“Did you wake him?” She asked.
“No,” he told her and sat down at the bar.
She poured him a cup of coffee and spooned sugar into it.
“Do you think the Primus will eat honey and bagels?”
“I hardly care what he will eat,” he said drinking the hot coffee before it was cool. “He would probably prefer rusty nails and battery acid.”
Angelica frowned and looked around the kitchen. Perry wondered briefly if she would go down to the carport and look for rusty nails. His dislike for the Primus was incomprehensible to her. Feelings of like or dislike were apparently foreign to her. Feelings were apparently foreign to her. Their thirty minutes had gone much better for him than for her. He doubted that she would ever offer him another chance to elaborate. He hardly cared. The presence of Falco Atrox had done irreparable damage to his plans. He pressed his hands over his face and looked at her from between his fingers. She set out three plates and continued to prepare the bagels, which meant she pulled them apart and set them in the toaster oven. He wondered if she had even the slightest emotional attachment to him. Until last night, he had thought she was developing something for him. And then, this morning, he thought that he might have made a breakthrough, but now, he knew he would have to re-evaluate the situation. He still could not read even the least thought from her. It was quite apparent that Falco had given her the ability to block him as totally as he could block her. He remembered what his ‘brother’ had told him about making her a First Order Citizen. You won’t be able to keep up with her anymore. Another of his recently found human states of emotion assaulted him. Depression. He left her in the kitchen and went down the hall to the bathroom to wallow in self-pity.
Angelica finished breakfast and then went to look for him. She found him in the bathroom taking a shower. She pressed her ear against the door and listened to him singing some strange song about a yellow submarine. She wondered where he found all these silly things. She opened the door and he stopped singing.
“Peregrin?” She asked, hoping to learn the meaning of this activity. She had never heard him singing in the shower before.
“What?” He peeked around the shower curtain at her in surprise. “Angelica, have you ever been truly startled?”
“Once or twice,” she admitted.
“Have you ever been embarrassed?” He asked.
“No,” she told him truthfully. “What was that you were singing?”
He let go of the shower curtain and continued his bath.
“A song about a man who lived under the sea,” he told her. “I suppose he just wanted to get away from everything.”
“That is silly, isn’t it?” She took a seat on the vanity and swung her legs.
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “How about this one? I’d like to be under the sea, in an octopus’s garden, in the shade.” He sang part of another song for her.
“Under the sea again?” She asked. “Do these songs hearken back to when you were a porpoise?”
“I was a dolphin, not a porpoise,” he said and then yanked back the curtain to look at her. “Who told you that?” He hoped against hope that she wouldn’t say Paula Anne McDaniels.
“The Primus mentioned it,” she said as she slid off the vanity realizing she had made a serious blunder.
“There is a difference between porpoises and dolphins,” he said closing the curtain again somewhat relieved by her answer. “What else did the Primus tell you about me?”
She searched her memory to find something innocuous to say. “He said that he had not seen you in years and that he was surprised to see you here. But I didn’t come in here to reminisce about your past. I came to ask what happened last night?”
He did not want to discuss the fiasco of the night before with her. He’d rather have discussed the earlier fiasco they had experienced in the bedroom.
“Nothing happened,” he lied flatly.
“That is not true.”
“Nothing of importance.” He pulled back the shower curtain and got out to get the towel hoping to scare her away again. It didn’t work this time.
“Why do you insist on tampering with these people’s lives?” She asked looking at him blandly.
“Angelica, you tamper with their lives,” he countered and wrapped the towel around him as he felt the now familiar twinge of embarrassment under her scientific gaze.
“In some small way, it’s true,” she admitted. “Your tampering is without subtlety.
“I merely change one variable and allow nature to take its course,” he told her and picked up the comb to run it through his hair. “It is the natural progression of things.”
“How can it be part of the natural progression if you have changed something?”
“It is part of the natural progression because I am part of the natural progression and therefore, everything I do is part of the natural progression. Show me something that is not natural.”
“Speaking of natural progressions,” she looked at him curiously “I do not think that thirty minutes is sufficient. It was somehow... incomplete?”
“Aren’t your bagels burning?” He asked.
“No, they are on the hold cycle,” she told him as he stepped past her, opened the door and went into the bedroom. She followed him.
“I would like to see this thing through to the finish,” she told him as he rummaged for something to put on.
“Does that mean you are going to undress again?” He asked her and smiled at her incredulously.
“Do you think I should?” She asked in all seriousness. “The Primus is still asleep.”
“If you think it would be appropriate.” He frowned. This was not what he had expected.
“I would like to discuss this mood variable more in depth with you,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed. “The finer points seem to escape me. Perhaps I need more study. I had not realized it was such an intricate process.”
“Intricate is a good word,” he told her with no small amusement. “It would compare somewhat to the tea ceremony in Japan. One can just drink a cup of tea or one can drink a cup of tea.”
“I see,” she nodded. “Let’s plan on eight o’clock this evening then and I will try to work in a bit of research between now and then.”
Perry rubbed the back of his neck and sniffed.
“I think your bagels are burning,” he said.
“Tyler,” Aunt Mary said while wringing her hands nervously as she waited for the kettle to boil. “Why do you think Mildred Morris wants to see me? After all these years and all these hard words between us. Why, Tyler?”
Tyler yawned and held onto his ribs. Aunt Mary had thoughtfully rolled him out of a sound sleep at five thirty in the morning and it was Sunday! He was still half asleep.
“Maybe she wants to apologize?” He suggested as he scooped a hefty spoon of decaffeinated instant coffee into his cup and added four sugar cubes while he waited for the water to heat. He needed double caffeine, but there was none in the house. He had lain awake far into the night after Paula Anne had fallen asleep snuggled on his good side. He felt guilty about thinking she would forget him when the baby came. It was unfair to think such things about her. He would at least have to give her a chance to prove him wrong.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she shook her head and frowned even more deeply. “She sounded hysterical, Tyler. She said she would be here at seven o’clock sharp.”
“Just invite her in. Be your usual nice self and offer her a cup of coffee. See what she has to say,” he told her and yawned again. “If she gets ugly with you, I’ll be here to look out for you. Don’t worry. It’s probably nothing.” Ev
en he didn’t believe that. He could not honestly imagine what in the world could be wrong with Mildred Morris. Maybe she had lost her mind.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Aunt Mary muttered as she pulled her terry cloth house robe around her thin shoulders and got up to get the kettle as it began to whistle. “She sounded so strange. Almost frightened. I wonder if something has happened to that boy of hers. But why would she want to talk to me?”
“Just calm down Aunt Mary,” Tyler said again, trying his best to soothe her nerves. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
An urgent knock on the back door announced seven o’clock. The woman was punctual.
Tyler got up to do the honors. He limped to the door and pushed it open.
Mildred Morris stood on the back steps looking like Holy hell in a baggy yellow sweatshirt, jogging pants and a pair of white socks stuffed into a pair of hideous pink plastic shoes. Her eyes were wide and circled with dark shadows. Tyler had never seen her without her makeup, her wig and one of her expensive, ill-fitting dresses. He was shocked. Her gray hair hung about her face in lanky tendrils. It was obvious that she had been out in the second thunderstorm that had passed through earlier that morning. She looked damp and it almost seemed that she smelled of mold.
“Tyler!” She said in surprise when she saw him. “Tyler! Let me in. Please!”
He stepped back and she brushed past him, brutalizing his ribs in the process.
She rushed into the kitchen and looked at Mary in speechless panic.
“My God, Mildred!” Mary stood up and took off her glasses. “What on Earth has happened?”
“It’s Sammy!” She wailed and went to throw her arms around Mary’s neck. “Oh, Mary, Mary! What am I going to do?”
“Here you go, Mrs. Morris,” Tyler said quickly and hobbled over to pull out a chair for the woman afraid she would inadvertently crush his aunt. He took her arm and directed her to the chair. She fell into it heavily as Aunt Mary hurried off to get her a cup.
Tyler took the cup and allowed his aunt to sit with the woman while he fixed her a cup of coffee.
“I never thought I would be coming to you for help!” She sniffed and blew her nose on a wrinkled tissue. “I am so ashamed of myself, Mary. Here I am now. Desperate and destitute. I am being punished by God for treating you so mean. We used to be such good friends...”
“Well, for goodness’ sakes, Mildred.” Mary patted her arm sympathetically. “Tell me what’s happened.”
Tyler set the coffee on the table and spooned sugar in it for her. She picked it up and took a sip and then drew a deep breath.
“It’s Sam Junior,” she began with more control than before. “He’s lost his mind.”
Tyler took a seat on the other side of the table. This might have been worth getting up for after all.
“Just start at the beginning,” Mary urged as she continued to pat the woman’s arm.
“My poor baby boy. He’s stark raving mad and it’s all that... that woman’s fault. I think he might kill himself. He’s walking around that big empty house of his with a loaded pistol in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Every once in a while he sets down the bottle and picks up a picture of Maureen and then he walks around cursing and saying horrible things, terrible things, crazy things! Then he takes a big swallow of whiskey and then he runs to the sink and throws it up. He won’t quit drinking and he won’t put the gun down.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Mary asked her in disbelief.
“I can’t do that!” Mildred moaned and dabbed her eyes. “What would they do? Come and shoot him? Take him away to the nut hut? I have to think of his reputation or at least what’s left of it. He’s already ruined it because of Maureen Fitzgerald and that Aliger fellow!” Mildred glanced at Tyler and he looked down at his hands.
“Oh, my,” Mary said quietly. “Has Maureen rejected him so completely?”
“If it were only that simple,” Mrs. Morris shook her head. “It’s not really Maureen that seems to be the problem... oh, she’s a big part of it, I’m sure, but he was making up with her. In fact, he told me only last night that he was going to propose to her as soon as he could find her. I shouldn’t have left him. I left and went home. I should have waited for him to come back. No, this is much, much worse.”
“Well, what is it then?” Aunt Mary looked at her in consternation.
“That man, Mr. Aliger!” Mildred wrung her hands and took another sip of the coffee then frowned and looked at Tyler. “Don’t you have any creamer?” He got up to find some milk. “Not the nice brother, Perry, but the other one. That... Fred Aliger!”
Aunt Mary frowned at her. Hadn’t Sam attacked both brothers first?
“Didn’t you hit him in the head with your purse?” Mary asked her in surprise.
“Oh, yes, Lord, but let’s not talk about that now.” Mildred rolled her eyes. “I was just trying to help Sammy.”
“Well, like I said, Mildred. Just slow down and begin at the beginning,” Mary sighed. “I’ll try to help you if I can, but don’t you think we should hurry? I mean, if Sammy’s walking around with a gun...”
“Yes, yes,” Mildred sighed and pursed her lips. “Let me see... where do I begin...”
‘Fred’ sat in Perry’s chair at Perry’s table eating Perry’s bagels. Perry picked up the other plate of honey and bread, his cup of coffee and went down the inside stairs to the shop below. He had to get away from the man. He did not want to talk to him and he could not bear to see Angelica waiting on him hand and foot. He did not expect her to do anything for him. Why did this idiot think she should be his servant? Perry just wanted to be alone. He was discomfited to hear Angelica’s soft slippers flapping on the stairs behind him.
She obviously wanted to continue their discussion.
“I thought,” she said as he sat on the bottom riser with his bagel “that you would arrange to go out somewhere. I’m sure you can think of something to do. While you are out, I will prepare a special dinner for you. I will take some of the music from the store and some nice wine and cheese and make special salads. We can light some of these aromatic candles and sit on the floor in the living room rather than in our chairs. That will lend to the romantic setting, don’t you think? We’ll turn out the lights and light the candles and drink wine instead of tea. I watched a movie on the internet last night wherein a young couple did this. We can eat our supper at about seven thirty and listen to the music while we eat. How does that sound to you, Peregrin?”
It wasn’t a bad plan. It reminded him of the conversation he’d had with Mildred Morris only yesterday. He wondered if Mrs. Morris would have approved of Angelica’s plan.
He nodded and stuffed another bite of the sticky bagel in his mouth and took a drink of coffee.
“I will continue to research the subject throughout the day as I have the chance and will add whatever I think will be relevant to our objective.”
“I see,” he said wishing it would be so simple. If only all these other problems had not cropped up. This was exactly what he had wanted all along, yet somehow it did not seem so important any more.
“I also understand that there will be a partial moon tonight if you would like to gaze at it,” she added after a moment.
Perry set his plate and cup down on the step and turned to look at her. He almost laughed at the look on her face. She sat watching him expectantly, waiting for his comments on her plan. He took her in his arms pushed her back on the stairs and kissed her. It was as good as anytime to give her another lesson. This one in spontaneity. Her plan sounded too much like one of her lab experiments. This was a much better plan. No plan at all. He only hoped that Falco would like bagels enough to go for seconds or even thirds.
An hour later Perry dragged the heavy chest into the front door of the Gift Shop and set it up on the counter. He opened the lid and took out the latest addition to peruse it carefully. It contained Billy Johnson’s heart attack that had originally been
Mrs. Martin’s heart attack. His conscience actually hurt him when he thought about Sam Morris and what he might be doing at that moment, but there was plenty of time to take care of Morris. He had no intention of letting the man die, but it wouldn’t hurt to allow him to suffer just a bit. Perry stood up straight at the thought. He couldn’t allow that. He had no right to inflict punishment on Sam Morris or anyone else! He would have to straighten it out right away! He replaced the boxes in the chest and closed the lid to look sadly at the broken lock. He took a roll of nylon strapping tape from under the counter and wound it around the middle of the chest several times and then prepared to pick it up and take it out to his car. He would take it to the creek submerge it in the soft mud under the bridge and that should be the end of it. Before he could make it out the door, he heard the sounds of Angelica’s slippered feet on the stairs again and waited for her.
She carried a half-eaten bagel in one hand.
“I thought you might like to know that the Primus has returned to the sofa and is asleep again!” She said with a look of surprise on her face at the sight of the box.
“He sleeps too much,” he told her and took hold of the box.
“I thought you buried that last night?” She frowned and opened the door for him.
“It’s like an old habit. It keeps coming back,” he told her and walked out the door with the dirty box.
To his surprise, she followed him in her slippers and bath robe.
“I had thought we might discuss the differences between the spontaneous activity as compared to the planned activity,” she said, sounding almost disappointed as he balanced the box on the bumper and opened the trunk. “I believe that the spontaneous exercise was far more appealing... scientifically speaking, of course. There was a certain element of surprise.”
“You think so?” He asked and laughed.
“I did find the stairs a bit... awkward.” She watched as he placed the box in the trunk and slammed the lid. “I may have some trouble cleaning the coffee from the risers.”
The Pandora Effect Page 47
