Imola (3 page)

Donnie lowered his voice to a whisper. “She was a good mom.”

Jason relaxed his stern look. “Did you ever stop tothink that you might have contributed to her heart attack?” The comment was a familiar refrain, about 90 percent joke and 10 percent probability.

“What do you think the weed is for? Dad wrote me off a long time ago, both figuratively and in his will. Mom never did.”

Jason turned his gaze out the adjacent window. “I know.” Were the smudges on the inside or outside? Probably both. He turned his focus loose. “She always spooned out the love based on who needed it most. For the longest time I thought she liked you best. But when Eugenia dumped me, Mom was there with a ladle. Before I even told her about it. Poor woman. Maturity isn’t a long suit in our family, and she had to put up with you, me, and Dad. Peter Pan cubed.”

“I miss Eugenia,” Donnie said. “You screwed up big time to let her get away.”

“Nice sarcasm.” Jason leaned forward in the chair and had to shift again to get away from the spring. “In case your mind is in some kind of drug-induced haze, she dumped me. After the wedding invitations were made out and stamped. She was seeing someone else. You do remember that, don’t you? All that salad hasn’t turned your brain to mush yet, has it?”

“Relax, little brother. I’m just serving you a wad of goo.”

“It’s all still pretty raw, asshole.”

“Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you she came on to meonce, about a year ago.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I didn’t do anything. That’s not something I’d do to my brother.” Donnie cleared his throat. “Besides, she said she was on the rag. I’m not into earning my red wings.”

Jason slumped back in the chair and covered his eyes with his open hand. “She’d rather screw a donkey. I think she used those very words to describe you once.”

“Relax, Jason. More goo.”

“Well, poke the open wound, why don’t you? Your humor sucks.”

Donnie pulled his left leg up so the knee was close to his ear. “That reminds me. I have a new favorite quote. ‘You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever.’ I think some baseball player said it.”

“That’s inspirational?”

“Yeah. It is to me.” Donnie picked something from his big toenail. “So, is Dr. Leahy shaping up into something for you?”

Jason leaned back farther and interlaced his fingers behind his neck. The spring didn’t counterattack. It was a good question. Was she shaping up into something? He was comfortable with her. But was there more? “Not really.”

“Seems to me you aren’t having too much trouble getting Eugenia out of your system. You’re working on collecting a harem.”

“A harem?” Jason sat up straight. “What the hell isthat supposed to mean?”

“You’re screwing Dr. Leahy,” Donnie said. “And you can’t get that killer out of your mind, either. Right? What’s her name?”

Jason slumped back into the chair. “Agnes.”

“Yeah. I can see that one in you. You’re that transparent.” Donnie slid his hands from his foot to his knee. “Falling for someone who’s impossible to obtain is my gig. Are you horning in on my deficiencies?”

“I care about her, but without expectations. Nothing like that, anyway. I got really close to her during the investigation. I think she’s as much a victim as the men she killed.”

“I can think of several families who’ll disagree with you on that.”

Jason pulled his hands down to his lap and leaned forward a little. “Do you know anything about dissociative identity disorder? Multiple personalities?”

“No. And neither do I.”

“I’m serious. I ran into Agnes once when Lilin was in control. She was a totally different person.”

“Lilin?”

“You know the story, don’t you?”

Donnie pinched the thumb and forefinger of his right hand next to his lips and inhaled an imaginary joint. He held his breath and exhaled with a shrug.

“Lilin and Agnes were twin sisters. The real Lilinwas killed by their father, Eddie, when the twins were four years old. And there was abuse before that. April thinks Agnes saw it all. And that’s not all. Eddie was also Agnes and Lilin’s grandfather. He molested his own daughter. She was the twins’ mother.”

“Who’s April?”

“Dr. Leahy. I thought you were up on this, Mister Information Merchant. Anyway, Lilin is Agnes’s other personality—the one who did the killings. She’s a piece of work. Sexy as hell. And twice as deadly. When the murders first started, they called her the menstrual murderer. For some reason, she only killed when she was menstruating. Slit the men’s throats and cut off their dongs. You remember that part, don’t you? Every man in northern California thought twice before approaching a woman in a bar.”

Donnie grabbed his crotch and nodded.

“They think she used the severed part for a final orgasm.”

“Now that’s what I call PMS.”

“It’s what I call a thrill kill. And Agnes is this mousy, innocent introvert. The exact opposite of Lilin.”

“Lilin sounds like fun.” Donnie bobbed his head up and down. “You got the hots for Agnes or for Lilin?”

“Lilin swiped a razor within inches of my neck the one time I met her. I was nearly one of her sex toys.” Jason felt the chair spring and shifted on the seat again. “And I’m not attracted to Agnes. I just want to make sure she gets better.”

“Yeah. Right. Does Dr. Leahy know you’re porking her just so you can stay close to Agnes?”

Jason lowered his hands onto the chair arms. He felt something sticky on his left forearm. He lifted the arm to inspect it. “I can see Agnes with or without April.”

“Then why’s your face so red? You know I can see through you like you’re a Baggie. It’s been five months now. Dr. Leahy is going to start hassling you pretty soon, if she hasn’t already. You can’t hump a woman more than two or three times before she starts thinking about wallpaper and children’s names.”

Jason lowered his arm. “You’re an expert? When was the last time you were with a woman more than two times?”

“Getting laid regularly doesn’t solve all the world’s problems, little brother.”

“It beats the alternative.”

“Maybe I’m saving myself for the perfect one-night stand.”

Jason looked at his watch. “I rest my case.”

Donnie crossed his legs again and straightened his back. “Hypothetical, little brother. If you had to choose, who would you take? Me or Agnes?”

“Get real.”

“I’m serious. Who would you take if you had to choose?”

Jason sat forward in the chair, his butt on the edge of the seat cushion. “Is this about Eugenia again? I know how you must have felt about her. I know she didn’t like you. She did a pretty good job of driving a wedge between us. I was working on straightening it out with her, though.”

“She wouldn’t have changed,” Donnie said.

“I disagree. She wasn’t as bad you thought.”

“You were only weeks from marrying her. That would have been the end of me in your life. And you would have gone through with it if she hadn’t run out on you.”

Jason felt a tightness in his belly. “You’re right. I would have gone through with it. But I told you. I was working on it. It wouldn’t have come between us.”

“And if she came back to you now? What then?”

Jason flicked his hand like he was shooing a fly. “I’m past her. It still hurts, but she’s long gone to me.”

“And replaced by Agnes the killer.”

“Why are you getting so weird about Agnes? I only visit her. I’ve slept with April Leahy.”

Donnie leaned back, his arms straightened backward to support his upper body. “For some reason, I’m not worried about Dr. Shrink. But this Agnes chick gives me the willies. I just have a feeling that if it came to me or her, you’d pull a Eugenia on me.”

“For the last time, that was going to change, Donnie. I was going to lay it out to her.”

“Don’t blow farts in my face, little brother. I was sinking fast from in-law to out-law, and you know it. Now it seems like you just come around here because you don’t have anyone else.”

“I come around here because you’re family,” Jason said. “Nothing will change that. No one will change that. If you’d given me time, I would have straightened that out with Eugenia. And as I recall, you didn’t do much to help the situation. What was it you called her? Eugenics? Right to her face, no less.”

“The woman had a plan. There was no limit to her arrogance. What the hell did you see in her anyway? Was she that good in the sack? She was a total yuppie, you know.”

“She wasn’t a yuppie. Her parents had money, but she wasn’t like that.”

“As blind men see the elephant.” Donnie sat up straight again. “You were turning into a yuppie before my eyes. You were becoming her.”

“Bullshit. I would never be that shallow.”

“You can’t have it both ways, little brother. You have this deep-seated hate for the yuppie lifestyle, but you drive a Volvo and wear those shirts with the little embroidered polo player.” Donnie leaned over and pointed to the floor. “Looks like dog shit.” He picked up an imaginary pile and brought it to his nose. “Smells like dog shit.” He brought his hands to his mouth. “Tastes like dog shit.” He flicked his hands toward the floor. “Eww. Glad I didn’t step in it.”

“A bit melodramatic, don’t you think? And, I’m not a yuppie. Just look at my apartment, how I live. I drive the Volvo because it’s the safest car out there, and I log a lot of miles on my job. And I have to wear nice shirts. Would you prefer I wear a coat and tie?” Jason made the sign of the cross with his two index fingers, then dropped his hands in his lap. “And I come around here because you’re family, and no woman will ever change that. You’re important to me. So don’t worry. You’re still sole beneficiary in my will.”

Donnie chuckled. “In that case, drive fast and don’t wear a seat belt.”

Jason stood. “Before or after I go to the bank?”

Donnie jumped to his feet. “After. I love you, little brother.”

Agnes stared at the Day Room door, then glanced at the clock on the adjacent wall. The second hand jitter-bugged up the slope to twelve, then ratcheted downward, past one. It wasn’t like Dr. Leahy to be late, even by seconds. Agnes leaned forward and gazed through the chicken wire-embedded safety glass panel in the door. Movement caught her eye. The familiar bounce of Dr. Leahy’s walk registered before her physical features came into focus. Agnes sat back and exhaled. The clock was probably wrong.

Dr. Leahy opened the door and paused. She squinted and wrinkled her nose.

Agnes knew the sensations. The fluorescent lighting was a little too intense, as was the antibacterial smell. The odor signature wasn’t like the sterile smell of a doctor’s officeor a hospital. It was more like an overdose of Pine-Sol.

Dr. Leahy took a deep breath, as if savoring a last gasp of hallway air, and bounced into the Day Room, her jaw working the invisible wad of gum.

Milo trudged across the room in front of her, and she had to wait to move past him. With each step, he slowly raised his foot and gave it a slight shake before carefully placing it back down. A high-pitched jingle accompanied each foot shake.

Dr. Leahy turned and watched him amble toward the hall. She pivoted and walked toward Agnes, shaking her head.

A sense of defense for her compatriots pushed Agnes from her chair. No need to play the stalling game today. “You’ve never shown much interest in my ward mates.” She pointed. “His name’s Milo. Milo McGuinn.”

A smile tickled her cheeks. Normally she’d stop at that, but for some reason she didn’t mind talking to Dr. Leahy. Things she usually churned in her mind tumbled out of her mouth like coins from a slot machine with triple cherries.

“He’s that skinny because he doesn’t eat much. He’s vegetarian. He’s here because he’s what they call an insatiable kleptomaniac. He got aggressive about it—started grabbing things from people, hurting them when they resisted. Some seriously. That’s what I heard, anyway. I find it hard to believe. He’s too passive. At least in here. No telling what medication he’s on, though.”

Dr. Leahy turned and looked again, just as Milo disappeared into the men’s hallway.

“I got the information from Marsha Herman. She says Milo’s as nutty as a pecan tree. I had to get the details from her in three different conversations: two with me, and one I overheard one day when she was talking to a coat stand. She tends to hallucinate.”

Agnes walked toward the conference room but stopped and faced Dr. Leahy.

“Anyway, Milo wears bells on his shoestrings. Marsha has a theory on that, but I just asked Milo about it. He said he read about it somewhere and thought it was a great idea. He doesn’t want to step on the microbes on the floor, so he gives them a warning. He probably imagines bacteria and viruses with little happy faces, complete with ears. I wonder if he realizes they’re all over the plants he eats, crushed between his molars with each bite.”

A young man with long, stringy hair crept up behind Dr. Leahy and paused. His hands opened wide and he raised them to chest level, but stopped and dropped them to his sides. A frown creased his brow. He looked down at her mid-thigh skirt and took a step back, bent at the waist, to his left, and tried to peek under Dr. Leahy’s skirt.

“Watch out,” Agnes said, more as an alert than a warning.

Dr. Leahy spun around and the man straightened up, put his hands over his crotch, and hurried toward the hall. He had to wait for Milo, who had reentered the Day Room.

“Eat some fucking meat,” the man said to Milo when he could finally pass. “You’d move faster.”

Dr. Leahy looked at Agnes and shrugged her shoulders.

“Stuart the Stud,” Agnes said. “That’s what he calls himself, anyway. His real name’s Stuart Guerin. When he comes up to us like that, he reaches around and grabs our breasts and pushes himself into our backsides. He does it to all of the women. You’re lucky. He must have thought you were one of the nurses.”

Dr. Leahy turned to look again. “Does he take it any further?”

“No. He hurries to his room and closes the door. It’s always dark in there.”

He masturbates
.

Agnes nodded her head. “He usually gets us all sometime during the week. He runs into his room like that about a dozen times a day.”