Queen of Angels (21 page)

Youll turn him over to the pd then? Albigoni nodded. Well arrange it so that pd intercept him. His face was tight and bloodless. Right now theyre searching for him in Hispaniola. Were not sure why. Martin looked at the others in the room. Were as ready as ever. Give us the word, Mr. Albigoni. Albigoni looked puzzled. Tell us to begin. Youre the boss here. Albigoni shook his bead then lifted his hand. Go to it, he said. Lascal suggested he should take a nap. Youre looking very tired, sir. Albigoni went through the observation room door. Walking down the hail, they heard him say, Im coming out of shock, Paul. God help me. Its starting to hit me now. Martin closed the door, lifted his watch and tapped it. Its four oclock. We can question Goldsmith for an hour, break for supper, resume this evening. Goldsmith was exercising slowly in the patient room. Bend and twist, leg lifts, touch-toes. Lascal knocked on his door. Goldsmith said, Come in, and sat on the bed rubbing his hands on his knees. Behind Lascal came Margery and Erwin wearing ageless white lab coats, unfailing stimulators of patient assurance. Wed like to begin, Mr. Goldsmith, Margery said. Goldsmith nodded to each of them and shook the hands of all but Lascal. Im ready, he said. David, Karl, Carol and Martin sat before the screen in the observation room. Martins eyes narrowed. Something missing. Why isnt he worried? he murmured. He hasnt got anything to lose, David observed. Either that or hes ashamed. In the patient room, Margery sat in one of the three chairs. Erwin sat next to her but Lascal remained standing. You dont have to stay if you dont want to, Paul, Goldsmith said softly. I believe Im in good hands. Mr. Albigoni wants me to watch everything. Thats fine too, Goldsmith said. Margery began. First were going to ask you a series of questions. Answer as truthfully as you can. If youre too embarrassed or upset to answer just tell us. We wont force you to answer anything. All right. Margery held up her slate. What was your fathers name? Terence Reilly Goldsmith. And your mothers name? Martin watched the timer in the lower left corner of the screen. Maryland Louise Richaud. Maryland, like in the state. R-I-C-H-A-U-D. Her maiden name. She kept it. Did you have any brothers and sisters? Tom knows all this, Goldsmith observed. Didnt he tell you?" Its part of the procedure. No brothers. I would have had a sister, but she was stillborn when I was fifteen. Medical mistake, I think. I was an only child. Do you remember being born? Goldsmith shook his head. Erwin asked a question now. Have you ever seen a ghost, Mr. Goldsmith? All the time, when I was ten. I dont try to convince anybody else, of course." Did you recognize the ghost? No. It was a young boy, younger than me." Did you miss having a brother or sister? Yes. I made up friends. I made up an imaginary brother who played with me until Mama told me that was sick and I was acting crazy. Martin made a note: Early access to personality modeling leveLs through projection. Do you ever have recurring dreams? Erwin asked. Like, the same dream? Yes. No. My dreams are usually different. How do you mean, usually? There are places I come back to. Theyre not always the same, exactly, but I recognize them. Can you describe one of these places to me? Ones a big shopping center, an indoor shopping center like they used to have. I sometimes dream Im going into all the shops. The shops are always different, and the colors, but.. its the same. Any other places that repeat in your dreams? Several. I dream Im going back to my street in Brooklyn. I never quite get there. Well, thats not true. I got there once a long time ago. Mostly I go and never quite reach it. I get lost on the subway or in the streets, or I get chased. Martin itched to break in and ask Goldsmith what he saw when he returned to his old home and what or who chased him but that would break procedure. His fingers fairly danced over the slate keyboard, making notes. Do you have any vision or image that you use to calm yourself when youre upset? Margery asked. Goldsmith paused. The pause continued for several sends. Martin noted the time precisely. Yes. Its sunset and snow is falling in San Francisco. The snow is golden. The entire sky seems to be a warm gold color and the wind isnt blowing. The snow is just falling. He dropped his hand in a slow lazy wobble. Did you ever see that? Oh, yes. Its a memory, not something I made up. I was in San Francisco visiting a woman friend. Wed just broken up. Her name was Geraldine. Well, thats what I called her later. Doesnt matter. Id left her building in the old downtown area and stood on the streets. It snowed that year. It seemed so incredibly peaceful to me. A pause of ten seconds. Goldsmiths eyes became unfocused. Finally he said, I still think of it. Do you ever dream about people you dont like, people whove treated you badly or people you think of as enemies? Pause. Lips working steadily as if he were chewing something or struggling to say two things at once. No. I dont make enemies. Can you describe your worst nightmare when you were thirteen years old or younger? Horrible nightmare. I dreamed I had a brother and he was trying to kill me. He was dressed like a monkey and he was trying to strangle me with a long whip. I woke up screaming. How often do you dream about having sex? Margery asked. Goldsmith chuckled softly. Shook his head. Not often. Do you find much inspiration in your dreams? For your poems or other writing I mean, Margery continued. Not very often. Have you ever felt isolated from yourself as if you werent in control? Erwin asked. Goldsmith lowered his head. A long pause, fifteen seconds. He kept swallowing and pushing his palms together between his knees. Im always in control. Do you have dreams where you arent in control, where somebody else is compelling you to do things you dont want to do? No. What do you see when you close your eyes now? Margery asked. Do you want me to close my eyes? Please. Eyes shut, Goldsmith leaned his head back. An empty room, he said. Martin turned away from the screen and said to Karl and David, Ive asked for some leadership questions. I think theyre next in the sequence. Were going to ask you to pick out your favorite word from some groups of words, Erwin said in the observation room. This all seems very primitive, Goldsmith commented. May I give you the groups, and you pick a word you like? The best word. All right. Erwin read from his slate: Sparrow. Vulture. Eagle. Hawk. Pigeon. Sparrow, Goldsmith said. Next group. Boat, dinghy, yacht, tanker, ship, sailboat. Sailboat. Next. Slaveway, freeway, road, path, trail. Path. Next. Pencil. Pen. Scribe. Typewriter. Eraser. Goldsmith smiled. Eraser. Hammer, screwdriver, wrench, knife, chisel, nail. Nail, Goldsmith said. Next. Admiral, captain, corporal, king, jack, lieutenant. Pause, three seconds. Corporal. Last group. Lunch, dinner, hunting, farming, breakfast, foraging. Foraging. Erwin put away his slate. All right. Who are you, Mr Goldsmith? . Pardon? Erwin did not repeat himself. They watched Goldsmith patiently. He turned away. Im not a farmer, he said, and Im not an admiral. Are you a writer? Margery asked. Goldsmith twisted around on the bed as if looking for the camera. What is this? he asked softly. Are you a writer? Of course Im a writer. Thank you. Well take a break for dinner now. Wait a minute, Goldsmith said. Are you accusing me of not being a writer? A queer smile. No anger; flat. No accusations, Mr. Goldsmith. Just some words and questions. Of course Im a writer. Im not an admiral thats for sure." Thank you. If its all right with you well come back and ask more questions after dinner. Youre very polite, Goldsmith said. Martin turned off the screen. Lascal, Margery and Erwin entered the observation room a moment later. Lascal shook his head dubiously. Whats wrong? Martin asked. I dont know what those questions are supposed to mean, Lascal said. But he didnt answer all of them fully. Yes? Ive read all his books. He didnt answer the question about pleasant places to think about. Meditate on. He didnt answer it completely. What did he leave out? In a letter to Colonel Sir John Yardley about five years ago he described a place hed been dreaming about, a place that seemed like paradise to him. I cant quote exactly but be said he thought about it often when he was upset. He called it Guinand he said it looked something like Hispaniola and something like Africa, where no white man has ever set foot and blacks live free and innocent. We can find the reference, Carol said. Why wouldnt he tell us about that? Martin gestured for Margery to hand him her slate. Next round ask him this series, he said, typing quickly. They ate dinner in the second floor cafeteria using an older model nanofood machine. The input was a bit stale and the result was filling but not tasty. Lascal commented on the lack of comforts but nobody paid attention. The probe was on; quarry was afoot. Definitely flat affect, Margery said. Its like hes disconnected. Hes pleasant and doesnt want to make trouble. Flat affect can be a mask, Carol observed, content for the past few hours to be quiet and make copious notes. He could be fully integrated, all agents speaking to each other, but deciding on a humble posture. After all, hes not psychotic; we know that much. Hes not obviously psychotic, Martin said. He knows hes done something very wrong. It would be almost impossible for him not to mask. But I agree with Margery. The flat affect seems genuine. We got several interesting pauses, Erwin pointed out. When we asked about pleasant images, a long pause... That could be connected with Mr. Lascals observation, Carol said. And when we asked who was in control. That could point to a schism of routines. Maybe even separation of subpersonalities. Martin shrugged. His word choices point to camouflaging. He doesnt want to be conspicuous. From what weve been told, he wasnt very humble, was he, Mr. Lascal? Lascal shook his head. I dont know many writers who are. The cafeteria had been built to hold thirty and seemed empty with just the seven of them dustered under two lamps. Carol sipped coffee and scrolled through her own notes, glancing at Martin occasionally as he twirled his fork in the remains of a pale gluey piece of mock apple pie. Finally she broke the general musing silence. He doesnt seem very charismatic, either. Lascal agreed. I dont see how he could have kept such a group around him, she continued. How he could have attracted them. He was much more dynamic before, Lascal said. Witty, sympathetic. Sometimes a real powerhouse, especially when he gave readings. Theres a piece Id like him to read out loud, Thomas Albigoni said, standing in the cafeteria door. His play about hell. Id like him to read that. Lascal got up from his chair and pointed to the facilities. Anything we can make for you, Mr. Albigoni? No thank you, Paul. I think Ill take a room in La Jolla tonight. Maybe leave in a few minutes. If you dont need me. All right, Martin said. Well do some more questioning this evening, but nothing else. I think you should be here for the first entry. I will be, Albigoni said. Thank you. As Albigoni left, Lascal resumed his seat. His heart isnt in this now, he said. Its hit him hard. I think until now he didnt believe Betty-Ann was really dead. Martin blinked. It was easy to lose track of the human element here. Carol regarded Lascal coolly, lips pursed. Clinical distancing, he thought. The others looked faintly uneasy as if they were intruding on a family tragedy, which they were. In the last session of the evening, with Erwin, Margery and Lascal in the patient room, Erwin asked most of the questions. As before, Martin, Carol, David and Karl watched the screen in the observation room. Erwin took Margerys slate and began with the questions Martin had written down. Its eight odock. How are you feeling, Mr. Goldsmith? Fine. A little tired. Are you unhappy? Well, I suppose, yes. Do you remember when this all began? Pause. Two seconds. Yes. Quite clearly. Id like to be able to forget. Distant smile. Do you think very often about Africa now? Erwin asked. No, I dont think much about Africa. Would you like to go there? Not particularly. Many American blacks think of it as their homeland, as others might think of England or Sweden.. I dont. Have you been to Africa? White folks history hasnt left much for me to go home to. Erwin shook his head. Would you like to go to Hispaniola? Id prefer that over going to Africa. Ive been to Hispaniola. I know what to expect. What do you expect in Hispaniola? I... have friends there. Ive sometimes thought about living there. Is it better in Hispaniola than here? Erwin was improvising now; there was only one more question in the list Martin had written down and the time was not ripe for that question. Hispaniola is a black culture. But John Yardley is white. A mere blemish. Again the same disengaged smile. Hes done so much for all Hispaniolans. Its truly beautiful there. Would you go there now if you could? (Martin half expected some sign of irritation ftom Goldsmith, but of course it did not come. Goldsmith maintained his pleasantly neutral calm.) No. I want to stay here and help you. You mean, you want to help us discover why you murdered those young people. Goldsmith looked away, nodded. Would you go to Guinif you could? Goldsmiths expression hardened. He did not answer. Where is Guin Mr. Goldsmith? Softly, Call me Emanuel, please. Where is Guin Emanuel? Lost. We lost it centuries ago. I mean where is your Guin Thats a name the Haitians, the Africans on Hispaniola use for their homeland. Theyve never been there. It isnt real. They think some people go there when they die. You dont believe in a homeland? (Martin smiled and tipped his head in admiration. Erwin was doing a better job than he himself might have at zeroing in on this associational knot.) Home is when you die. There are no homes. Everybody steals our homes. Nobody can steal whats left to you when you die. You dont believe in Guin Its a myth. Erwin bad leaned forward during the last few questions, staring at Goldsmith. Now he leaned back and relaxed. Glanced at Margery. Tag team, Goldsmith said. Casual, accepting. Who are you? Margery asked. Where do you come from? I was born in No, I mean, where do you come from? Excuse me. Im confused. Where does the person who murdered the eight young people come from? Eight second pause. Never refused to admit guilt. Here to accept responsibility. You murdered them? Pause. Five seconds. Again the hard expression, the glint of something beyond casual interest in Goldsmiths eyes; a carnivorous gleam, frightened cat. (Martin wished they had a body trace on Goldsmith at this moment; but that could come later if it was necessary.) Yes. Murdered them. You did. It isnt necessary to hound me. Im cooperating. Yes, but Mr. Goldsmith,