by an indigenous wasp. Duplicating the
process requires painstaking hand pollination
pollen from the anthers of one flower is brushed on
the pistils of another. Time of day is important as
welt, for the plant undergoes fertility cycles. Garland
babied the trees almost as if they were human
infants.”
Maimon took off his glasses and wiped them. His
eyes were dark and unblinking.
“Two weeks before harvest a killing frost borne
by frigid air currents crept up from Mexico. Thered
been a rash of tropical storms that had battered the
Caribbean and the frost was an aftershock. Most of
the trees died overnight and the ones that survived
dropped their fruit. There was a frantic attempt at
rescue, Several of the people I met in Florida had
been there to help. They described it to me: Garland
and Emma running through the groves with
smudgepots and blankets, trying to wrap the trees,
warm the soil, do anything to save them. The little
girl Watching them and crying. They struggled for
three days but it was hopeless. Garland was the
last to accept it.”
He shook his head sadly.
“Years of work were lost in a span of seventy
BLOOD TEST 251
that he withdrew from horticulture
and became a virtual hermit.”
It was a classic tragedy–dreams savaged by the
Fates. The agony of helplessness. Terminal despair.
I began to catch a glimpse of what Woody’s diagnosis
must have meant to them:
Caneer in a child was never less than monstrous.
For any parent it meant confronting a sickening
sense of impotence. But for Garland and Emma
Swope the trauma would be compounded, the inability
to save their child evoking past failures.
Perhaps unbearably …
“Is all of this well-known?” I asked.
“To anyone who’s lived here for a while.”
“What about Matthias and the Touch?”
“That I couldn’t tell you. They moved here a few
years ago. May or may not have found out. It’s not a
topic of public conversation.”
He smiled the waitress over and ordered a pot. of
herb tea. She brought it, along with two cups, which
she filled.
He sipped, put his cup down, and looked at me
through the steam.
“You still harbor suspicions about the Touch,”
he said.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “There’s no real rea-
son to. But something about them is spooky.”
“Somewhat contrived ?”
“Exactly. It all looks too programmed. Like a
movie director’s version of what a cult should be.”
“I agree with you, Doctor. When I heard Norman
Matthews had become a spiritual leader I was rather
amused.”
“You knew him?”
“By reputation only. Anyone in the legal profes-
sion had heard of him. rle was the quintessential
Beverly Hills attorney–bright, flamboyant, aggressive,
ruthless. None of which jibed with what he
presently claims to be. Still, I suppose odd, er trans-
ormations have taken place.”
‘gomeone took a pot shot at me yesterday. Can
you see them doing that kind of thing?”
He thought about it.
‘Their public face has been anything but violent.
If you told me Matthews was a swindler I’d believe
it. But a.murderer…” He looked doubtful.
I’ took a different tack.
“What kind ‘of relationship was there between
the Touch and the Swopes?”
‘None, I would imagine. Garland was a recluse.
Never came to town. Occasionally I’d see Emma or
the girl out shopping.”
“Matthias told me Nona-worked for the Touch
one summer.”
“That’s true. I’d forgotten.” He turned away and
fiddled with a container of unfiltered honey.
“Mr. Maimon, forgive me if this sounds rude, but
I don’t see you forgetting anything When Matthias
talked about Nona, the sheriff got uncomfortable,
as you just did. Broke in with a comment about
what a wild kid she was, as if to end the discussion.
You’ve been very helpful until now. Please don’t
hold hack.”
He put his glasses back on, stroked his chin,
started to lift his teacup-but thought better of it.
“Doctor,” he said evenly, ‘you seem a sincere
young man and I want to help you. But let me
explain the position I’m in. I’ve lived here for a
decade but still consider myself an outsider, I’m a
Sephardic Jew, descended from the great scholar