Part 12 (1/2)

The coolness of the white beauty mask calmed Allander. He saw the flas.h.i.+ng red lights ahead and slowed the Mercedes to a halt before maneuvering it into the lineup of cars.

A young policeman with a mustache was peering intently into each car before clearing it with a thumbs-up. They always have a mustache, Allander thought.

He heard the officer shouting above the noise of traffic up ahead. ”Yes, ma'am. No problem, ma'am. We're just on the lookout for somebody. No, you shouldn't be concerned.”

Allander's eyes peered out from behind the beauty mask and he counted the cars in the line in front of him. There were four. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Allander wore a white terry-cloth bathrobe over a long nightgown that ran up to his chin. He had stacked two sets of shoulder pads and taped them to his chest to make an outline of b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath the folds of cloth. He wore thin leather gloves to conceal the wound on his finger, and the white beauty mask over his face had hardened slightly. His hair was tightly curled in rollers.

He rolled down his window as he approached the young officer, and switched the radio to a soft oldies station. Smokey Robinson's voice wailed through the speakers singing ”The Tears of a Clown.” Allander hummed along.

The officer peered in and pressed his lips together to avoid smiling at the ridiculous outfit the woman was wearing. Allander smiled amiably at him.

”Go ahead, lady,” the officer said, his voice hinting at both disgust and amus.e.m.e.nt. He waved the Mercedes through with his baton, shaking his head as Allander sped away on the open highway.

The young officer's walkie-talkie squawked, and he picked it up. ”Yeah. All clear so far. I will, I will.”

25.

T H E wooden door swung open as Jade rang the bell, and he felt a sudden rush of humidity on his face. The air was thick with the scent and feel of food, like a heavy stew.

A pleasant-looking man with graying hair stood, barely visible in the darkness of the house. Jade knew from his research that he was in his early sixties, but he appeared much younger.

”Like to keep the lights off when it gets hot out. Keeps the house cooler,” he said, smiling. His lips were full, and Jade noticed the distinctive curve of his Cupid's bow. It matched Allander's exactly.

The man had on a well-worn ap.r.o.n that proclaimed, ”Freeman Jobbers Real Estate. We put the OWN in HOMEOWNER.” The ”OWN” in ”HOMEOWNER” was colored red, in case the puzzle proved too much for some people.

The man looked down at Jade's white b.u.t.toned-up s.h.i.+rt. ”I hope you're not selling any of those study books because our little one's already gone and moved out.”

Jade covered his smile by scratching his nose. ”No, sir. No, I'm not. But I did actually want to talk to you about your 'little one.' ”

The man's face darkened. ”G.o.dd.a.m.nit, I told you hounds to keep away. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

The door started to swing shut, but Jade caught the handle and pushed. The man stumbled back, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

”Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to stay for a while.” Jade pulled his badge from his back pocket. ”Jade Marlow, FBI.”

The concern on the man's face lessened. ”Oh. Thought you were one of those fellows from A Current Affair or Hard Copy. They've been calling all morning.”

”I can imagine,” Jade said. ”I just need a few minutes of your time.”

”Well, I suppose I should invite you in. I'm Thomas Atlasia. You like soup?”

”You keep the lights off to keep the house cool and then you cook soup?”

The man laughed. ”If you eat hot, your body cools.”

Jade nodded politely at his logic, or lack thereof. ”I see. But I think I'd better pa.s.s.”

Thomas showed Jade to the living room. Brown furniture and thick brown carpeting made the room darker than it should have been; it seemed to devour all the light let in by the windows.

The fireplace was composed of large white-and-beige rocks that stuck out at strange angles to form an uneven surface. A Haydn symphony played in the background, the roll of a drum momentarily filling the air.

Jade sat in a large brown chair, sinking in until he felt as if his knees were touching his chin. Mr. Atlasia sat down on the hearth. Apparently, he wasn't bothered by the jagged edges of the rocks.

”Now,” he said, then paused as if summoning his courage before turning his mind to the subject. ”My son. I would like to reiterate that my son has not tried to contact me. I haven't visited him or spoken to him in over eleven years, nor has my wife.”

”Deborah?” Jade asked, just to break up the rehea.r.s.ed speech.

”Yes. Darby. She just went to the store. She'll be back soon. What exactly can I do for you?”

”Mr. Atlasia-”

”Please. Call me Thomas.”

”Okay. Thomas. What was he like before his childhood incident?”

Mr. Atlasia paused and cast the line of his memory back, disturbing still waters. Jade watched his face to see if he told everything that was dredged up.

”I'd like to say that he was a normal boy. Well-adjusted.”

”You'd like to or you are?”

”I'd like to. You see, he was always extremely sensitive. We used to joke that he was trouble from the first because he was a C-section delivery. Made him more . . . fragile, I guess. One foot still in the womb, so to speak.”

He raised his head and smiled. ”I remember when he was in kindergarten, one of the beefy kids called him 'The Salamander.' He used to come home crying even though he didn't know what it meant.”

Allander the Salamander. Kids' true brilliance shows in how effectively they hurt each other, Jade thought.

Thomas laughed a sad, hollow laugh. ”I still don't know what the h.e.l.l it means. But anyway, Mr. Marlow, he would react to everything. He was very fragile and very alive.”

Jade was impressed that Thomas had remembered his name from the informal and rude introduction he had forced at the door.

Thomas continued. ”You see, we're simple people, Mr. Marlow. We believe firmly in education and hard work. We had that boy reading from the day he could stand up. By kindergarten he was at the reading level of a sixth-grader. And what a voracious reader he was. He used to go to the library every other day and stack the books right up to his chin.”

His eyes sparkled fondly at the memory. ”The librarians used to tease him that he would have read everything in there by the time he finished high school.”

He paused for a moment reflectively, then chuckled. ”Well, he never finished normal high school, but I'll be d.a.m.ned if he didn't read every book in that library by the time he was sixteen. That was before . . . before he left, you see.”

”We got hold of some of Allander's IQ tests from before he was committed,” Jade said.

He noticed Thomas tense up as Allander's name was said aloud. It was as if Jade had released it into the stagnant air of the house for the first time in years. So far, Thomas had used only euphemisms for his son's name.

Jade continued with his question. ”Was he always so bright?”

Mr. Atlasia smiled, the side of his mouth twitching slightly. ”He takes after his mother's father. That's whom he was named for. Allan Darby, G.o.d rest his soul. He was a kind man, a brilliant man. He taught English literature at the state college here for a number of years. His students loved him pa.s.sionately. He died the week before Allander was born. Heart attack.”