Firefly. Part 7

She did not see the others, so took a moment to explore, hoping they would not mind. The short hall at the base of the stairs led to the kitchen, replete with elegant wood cabinets on three sides and a counter that opened to the family room beyond. She checked the refrigerator and saw the groceries: milk, lettuce, bacon, orange juice, bread in the bin below, frozen staples above. In the adjacent cabinet were cans of beans, soup, applesauce, and the like. It would do. Who had paid for this?

She went into the family room and saw beyond it into the pool. The water was clear and blue and looked horribly inviting. It had been so long since she had gone swimming! But of course this would be off-limits for her; she was supposed to stay in her quarters, and sneak down to eat every so often, not disturbing the premises. She would do that, keeping her fancies to herself. She had been a poor housekeeper, but that was because she had had no reason to be good; neither her husband nor her son had cared. Now, in this new, clean, perfect residence, she would be the perfect housekeeper. Perhaps, in her fancy, that was why she had been brought here: to maintain the environs of the King of the Middle Kingdom. No, not King; Emperor. Whatever.

She continued her tour, discovering a small library room lined with books. At least she would be able to read! It really didn't matter what books were available; her tastes were eclectic, though she had a weakness for s.e.xy romance, which she was sure would not be in strong supply here. Still, she noted a matched set of the works of George Bernard Shaw; that would do nicely for a time.

She circled back to the front door and crossed the hall to the living room, where the carpeting resumed. Adjacent to it was the dining room, and beyond that was another short hall whose floor was wooden squares-what were they called?-parquet. That led to both a front and a back exit, and to another closed door. Those closed doors lent mystery to the house, though they were surely innocent. Here was the beauteous, naive, newlywed wife, brought by her sinisterly handsome, rich, taciturn husband to this isolated estate and told that she had the run of it, except for that door. Naturally her curiosity burgeoned! But she knew she must not, for if she did, something truly awful would happen. Yet how long could she contain herself? Though it be the end of her, she had to know what lurked behind that one door!

Behind her, beyond the living room, the front door opened. none jumped. But her guilt dissipated as she turned and went to the front.

May and Mr. Demerit were back, both sweaty. They had evidently taken the bag somewhere and hidden it securely. Now their job was done.

May looked at her. "I will have to get you some clothing," she said matter-of-factly. "I'll do that now, and return in two or three hours. Will you be here, George?"

"I have to do my rounds," Demerit protested. "I delayed them this morning because you called."

"Four hours, then?"

Demerit looked out of sorts, but couldn't get out of it. "Yes."

May turned to none. "In the interim, you go to your room and sleep or something. Do not answer the door or the phone; you are nonexistent. George will leave the alarm system on, so that no intrusion from outside is possible."

"Is it all right if I read a book?" none inquired hesitantly. "I saw a set of Shaw-"

"You can't walk around the house," Demerit said. "You'll set off the motion detectors."

Motion detectors! The security was more sophisticated than she had realized! "Could I get a book now, before you turn it on, and read in my room?"

"Yes. Your room and the bathroom are all right. But don't go beyond, or open a window. If you set off the alarm while I'm away-"

"I understand!" she said quickly. That was the very, very last thing she wanted to do. The alarm would end her fancy before it was fairly started!

She went quickly to the library and took the first volume of Shaw. She didn't know what was in it, but was sure it would hold her. She went upstairs and to her room, carrying the book. She closed the door, sat on the bed, and opened the book to the first play. This was The Doctor's Dilemma, with the note "No Performance Recorded." Now that was interesting. Why write a play and never perform it? She turned the page and encountered a preliminary essay, "How These Doctors Love One Another!" It turned out that what was described was quite the opposite; these doctors hated one another. Maybe that was why it couldn't be performed: the AMA had squelched it.

Fascinated, none was soon oblivious to the rest of the world. Shaw could do that to her. What a writer that man was! How she would have liked to get him alone at night in a house like this! She was barely aware of the sound of May Flowers's car starting up outside the window.

* 12 - "MAKE SURE YOU are back," May told Demerit firmly. "I'll need to be let in, and she can't do it. I realize you don't want to be left alone with her, but some contact is inescapable. She can't even eat until you turn off the internal sensors."

"I'll be back," he agreed.

"Remember, she's been through a lot. You don't have to hold her hand, but try not to be insensitive."

"I'll try," he agreed, not smiling.

She went to her car. The faint lingering aroma of the body remained, inciting a pa.s.sing thought of s.e.x. What an imposition that was: to be handling a grotesque body and have to think of s.e.x at the same time. They had stashed it in the barn, up in the loft, behind some cardboard boxes, and stacked some boxes on top of it. No one should think to look for it there, considering that no one else knew it existed, or that it had been transported here. It should keep until Frank Tishner decided what to do with it. The barn had been sweltering, hotter in the loft than below despite the aeration provided by the soffit, and she had practically burst out with sweat. Demerit hadn't; he seemed to run cooler, somehow. Perhaps it was a function of his mental detachment.

She started the motor and felt the blessed air conditioning. She pulled around the loop. As she headed away from the house, she saw Demerit emerge and close the door carefully, and get on his red bicycle, which was parked near the side entrance. He certainly didn't want to be near the Brown woman! But this was a necessary thing, hiding the woman; it would protect both her life and the privacy of this estate.

She reached the gate and touched the OPEN b.u.t.ton. A person could not get in without either knowing the access code or having a special beeper or being let in, but it was easy for anyone to get out. Of course, a truly determined person could simply crash his car through the gate, flattening it. But that would set off the alarm, and shortly the police and the fire department would arrive. There was no percentage in that, for an intruder!

She pa.s.sed through, and watched the gate close after her in the rearview mirror. This certainly was a secure estate, and she liked that. Mid did things right.

She was about to drive south into Inverness, but changed her mind; why would a portly woman like her buy dresses for a much smaller frame? She had sized Jade Brown up by eye and had a fair notion what would fit her. The woman was actually better structured than the casual observer would think; she might be a mouse, but she could be a sleek one in the right fur. So May turned north on 200, heading for the river and the next county. She would do her shopping this time in Ocala, which was larger, and where no one had seen her around. She would put it on her charge card, which Mid would replenish; he had known when he agreed to let the Brown woman stay that there would be expenses.

Let's see: several simple, light print dresses should do, and some jeans and blouses for outside; she knew the woman would not stay cooped up inside all the time. Just so long as she remained concealed from anyone who came in.

She returned with an excellent wardrobe. There was a certain joy in such shopping, even though it was not for herself, and she had rather overdone it. Perhaps it was the thought of that woman, abused emotionally if not physically, with so little to look forward to. Then the monster coming and wiping even that out. It was so easy to identify with her hopelessness; May had been through it herself. Someone needed to do something nice for her, and this was May's pretext. The rest of the time she would be her usual tough, businesslike self, getting her job done, and actually Jade Brown was now part of that job. But in this one thing she was indulging herself, doing her bit to rehabilitate a forlorn woman, if only for a week or two.

Demerit was back, because the gate opened as she buzzed. She drove on in and to the house. Then she started unloading.

The man came out. "Carry this up to her room," May said, handing him an armful of dresses. He did not protest; he simply took them and went back in.

May hauled out her bags of shoes, underclothing, and accessories. She had even splurged to the extent of jewelry. It was cheap-there were, after all, limits-but attractive. The subject might not be much, but modern cosmetics and foundations could do more than many men and some women believed. It was said that clothes made the man, but it was even truer for women. They were going to make this woman.

Was she being foolish? Yes, certainly. But an inner need had been evoked, and she would play it out.

Jade Brown appeared. "This-what-?"

"You can't occupy a house like this in clothing like that," May said emphatically. "Suppose the owner came here unexpectedly, and you looked like that?" There was, of course, little if any logic in this, but it sounded authoritative, and Jade did not challenge it.

May bustled up with the bags and set them on the floor in the room. "Now, you survey this stuff tonight, and put some on tomorrow. I will be by to help you if you need it. Don't ask George; he won't know a thing about it. Now, have you eaten?"

Wordlessly, the woman shook her head.

"Well, you're surely competent there; go and fix yourself supper while I hang this stuff up in your closet." She smiled fleetingly. "Don't worry, I won't pry into any of your things, or steal anything."

The woman turned and walked down the hall, as submissive as the man. May was bullying her, she knew, but it really was better to get this set up, and if the woman ate while May was here, at least she could be sure that she was fed. Demerit was unlikely to think of anything like that. What he did at night she didn't know and was hardly curious about; for all she knew, he could live on wild berries and sleep in the swamp. She intended better for Jade Brown; she meant to see that things were properly organized.

She felt, actually, somewhat like a fairy G.o.dmother.

In twenty minutes she had everything put away. She went downstairs and found the woman completing a perfectly competent can of lentil soup. Well, that might not be ambitious, but it would be filling.

"I have other errands," she announced. "But you should be all right for the night. Don't be concerned about George." She glanced back to be sure the man was not near. "He's impotent. He won't bother you. But if you care to talk to him, I think he'll listen."

Actually, it was not her way to blab people's secrets, but in this case she felt it was appropriate. The woman had just lost a philandering husband, and would be dependent to a considerable extent on a strange man who controlled access to the house. She would naturally be concerned about his possible s.e.xual approach, especially considering her own history of abuse as a child, and this would rea.s.sure her. Demerit was not an ordinary man, but he was no molester of women.

"Remember," May admonished in conclusion, "you must be invisible. Do not answer the doorbell or the phone. When anyone other than Demerit or me comes, you hide. Don't leave any of your things outside your room."

"I understand," the woman said meekly.

"And tomorrow I want to see you in one of those new outfits. They should fit you, and they're adjustable."

Jade looked uncomfortable. "You know I can't pay-"

"I know. I did this on my own. Wear them."

She nodded, in much the way Demerit did. May exited, bracing herself against the heat, and went to her car. She would have to do something about that faint lingering odor of the monster in the car; it was disconcerting, to say the least.

* 13 - GEODE WATCHED MAY Flowers depart. He felt a thrill of nervousness. He was alone for the night with Jade Brown. Of course it didn't mean anything; she probably wouldn't even talk to him, and certainly he wouldn't bother her. But the idea of it was electrifying: a.s.sociation with a woman who was not on her way somewhere else. May Flowers had said Jade might want to talk. Probably that was just to keep him from forgetting her, from locking her in or out, but he would like it if she talked to him. He might have said so before, but had been too nervous to approach her, and his daily rounds did offer an excellent pretext to avoid the matter.

Now his round was done, and he had no pretext. But he still couldn't approach her.

He reentered the house and closed the door. He wouldn't arm the security system yet; he didn't want the woman setting it off by accident. Once he knew she was settled in her room for the night, he would arm it.

He turned-and there she was. She was, as the deputy had said, mousy, but that hardly mattered; she was a human being. "Mr. Demerit," she said hesitantly.

He tried to speak, and could not. He could relate to pushy people, like May Flowers, because they carried the ball right to him, but it was harder here. So he nodded.

"I-I borrowed a book from the library. Was that all right? I mean, I think you didn't say no, but May was there, and maybe I shouldn't have taken it."

Now he could talk; she had asked him a direct question. "Mid doesn't mind, if you don't hurt the books. I read them all the time." Which was about ten times as much as he thought he would say; it had just flowed out, like water under pressure.

"Oh, I was careful not to smudge it! I-I had to stay in my room, and I didn't have anything to do, so I took the first volume of Shaw and just started at the beginning."

"The Doctor's Dilemma," he said. He had read them all, and found them all fascinating.

"Oh, you do read them!" she exclaimed. "You weren't just saying that!"

"I have a lot of time to myself," he explained. She was interested.

"So do I. Even before-before my family went away. I read anything, but I love the great writers, and Shaw is one of the greatest."

"Yes. The essays too." No one had expressed interest in anything he was interested in, before.

"The essays too. The man had uncanny insight into everything he touched."

"Yes." She had said it better than he could have.

"But I must not keep you from your work," she said apologetically. "I just wanted to be sure-"

"My work's done." He wished he could just stay here, having her interested, and never do anything else.

"Well, your supper, then. You have been very kind, very nice about my intrusion, and I won't bother you further."

"I don't mind." So much was whirling in his mind, but almost all of it choked off at his mouth.

"But I know you have to eat, and-" She paused. "I am competent at cooking. May I fix you something? I would so appreciate being useful!"

"No need." He wanted to say yes, but didn't really know how to. He had not had a meal with a woman in a decade.

"Please, I'd like to, if you don't mind. I'm-the truth is, I don't like being alone, especially now."

To have a woman want to be with him! It was hard to believe this was happening-which meant that it might not be. He didn't want more trouble. How did he know what was polite and what was sincere? "I-I don't know," he stumbled.

"You have something special that you eat? I don't mean to interfere. I'm sorry if I-"

He could see no better way to do this than just to say it. That might be a mistake, but what else was there? "I don't know whether I'm supposed to accept or not."

"Supposed to?" she asked blankly.

"If you're being polite, and I'm supposed to say no."

"Oh, Mr. Demerit!" she exclaimed. "I'm not being polite! Please say yes!"

"It's all right?"

"Oh, yes! Why should you think otherwise?"

"People don't want my company. I don't know how to be with people."

"Well, I want your company, Mr. Demerit! I don't mind how you are with people."

It did seem all right. He took the plunge. "Yes."

"Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed, and he felt another thrill, as if something truly momentous had occurred. "Come, I'll see what I have. What do you like?" She led the way toward the kitchen.

"Anything." Anything she wanted to fix for him would be a novel experience.

"You are easy to please, Mr. Demerit! Should I call you that? Can we be less formal?"

He shrugged. "May Flowers calls me George."

"I couldn't call you George," she said. "Even if it is your name. Don't you have some other name?" She was bustling in and out of the refrigerator, doing things, female fas.h.i.+on.

"Why?"

"George is my brother's name. I don't like him."

The implication staggered him. She didn't want to call him by the name of someone she didn't like. Did that mean she liked him? "I call myself Geode."

"Geode! That's beautiful! A stone, so drab on the outside, all crystalline inside! Some people are like that, and surely you are too!"

What joy to have her understand! "It's from my name."

"Yes, of course. 'George Demerit' run together. But the image is the stone, isn't it?"

"Yes. The stone. Do-uh-"

She paused in her bustle. "Yes, Geode?"

"Do you want to see it? The stone?"

She actually clapped her hands. "You have a stone? A real geode?"

"Yes, in my room."