Blood Test by Kellerman, Jonathan

ivory skin, raven hair now streaked with silver, and

brooding gypsy eyes. Beverly Lucas had called her

a hot number who’d lost it but that seemed unfairly

bitchy. Perhaps knowing the woman’s true age would

have softened the critique.

S.he looked a well-preserved fifty but I knew she

was at least sixty-five.

She hadn’t made a film since 195 l, the year I was

Desiree Layne, Queen of budget films noirs.

There’d been a revival of her movies when I was in

college, with free screenings during finals week. I’d

seen them all: Phantom Bt/de, Darken My Doorstep,

The Savage Ptace, Secret Admirer.

An eon.ago, before my early retirement, I’d been

a frantic, lonely man, with little free time. But one

of the few pleasures I’d allowed myself was a Sun-

day afternoon in bed with a tall

a Desiree Layne flick.

It hadn’t mattered who the leading man was

long as there were lots of closeups of those beautiful

evil eyes, the dresses that looked like lingerie.

The voice husky with passion…

She emitted no passion now, sitting statue-still,

white-garbed, smiling vacantly. So goddamned

harmless.

The place was really starting to spook me. It Was

like walking through a wax museum …

“Noble Matthias told us you. have questions,”

said Baron.

Ӵes. I just wanted to hear more about your visit

to the Swopes. It could help explain what’s hap-

pened, aid in locating the children.”

They nodded in unison.

I waited. They looked at each other. She spoke.

“We Wanted to cheer them up. Noble Matthias

had us pick frttit–oranges, grapefi’uit, peaches,

plums–the best we could find. We put it all in a

basket, wrapped it with gay paper.”

She stopped talking and smiled, as ff her narrative

had explained everything.

“Was your graciousness well received?”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh yes. Mrs.-SWope said she was hungry. She

ate a plum–a Santa Rosa plum–right there. Said

it was delicious.”

Baron’s face hardened as she prattled on. When

she paused he said, “You want to know ff we tried

to talk them out of treating the boy.” He sat ps-sively

but there was a,, aggressive edge to his voice.

“Matthias told me you didn’t. Did the subject of

medical treatment come up?”

She complained about the plas-

– tic room, said she felt cut off from’ the boy, that the

family was being divided’,”

“Did she explain what she meant ?”

“No. I assumed she was ta/king about the physi-ca/separation–not

being a/lowed to touch him with-

out gloves, only one person in the room at a time.”

De/ilah nodded in assent.

“Such a cold place,” she said. “Physically and

spiritua/ly.” To illustrate she gave a little shudder.

Once an actress…

“They didn’t feel the doctors treated them Like human

beings,” added Baron. “Especially the Cuban.”

“Poor man,” said Delilah. “When he tried to force

his way in this morning I couldn’t help feeling

sorry for him. Overweight and flushed red as a

tomato—he must have high blood pressure.”

“What were their complaints about him ”

Baron pursed his lips.

“Just that he was impersonal,’; he said.

“Did they mention a doctor named Va/croix”

Delilah shook her head. ‘

Baron spoke again.

“We didn’t talk about much of anything. It was

just a brief visit.”

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there,, recalled

Delilah. “Everything was so’ mechanical.”

“We dropped off the fruit, left, and drove back

home,” Baron said with finality.

“A sad situation,” she sighed.

A GROUP of Touch people were sitting yoga-style on

the grass when I came out, eyes closed, palms

pressed together, faces glowing in the sun. Houten

leaned against the fountain, smoking, eyes drifting

idly in their direction. He saw me coming, dropped

the butt, stomped on it, and tossed it in an earthenware

trashbasket.

“Learn anything?”

I shook my head.

y , ne cocked his head toward the

meditators who had now started to hum, “strange

but harmless.”

I looked at them. Despite the white costumes, the

sanda/s, and the untrimmed beards, they resembled

participants in a corporate seminar, one of

those glossy pop-psych affairs promoted by management

to increase productivity. The’faces gazing

heavenward were middle-aged and we/l-fed, suf-‘

fused with an executive look that bespoke prior

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