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