The Web

I couldn't handle it?'

'I didn't think it was necessary to expose you to every disgusting detail.'

She didn't answer.

'I wasn't patronizing you, Rob. But this was supposed to be a vacation. Would hearing about marrow being sucked out of leg bones have done you any good?'

'You know,' she said, facing me, 'when Pam started unloading, it was tough at first, but then it felt good. The fact that she trusted me. Breaking my routine and finding out my sympathies have been awakened isn't a bad thing. I've started to realize how much I use work to escape people.'

'I've always considered you great with peop-'

'I'm talking about relating in depth, Alex. Especially to other women. You know, I've never done much of that, growing up so close to my dad, always trying to please him by doing boy stuff. You always say we're an odd couple- the guy dealing with feelings, the girl wielding power tools.'

I got up and stood next to her.

'Being here,' she said, 'away from the grind, even for these few days, has been a… learning experience. Don't worry, I'm not going to give it all up to be a therapist. Two shrinks in one house would be too much to bear. But helping people gratifies me.'

She threw her arms around me and pressed her face against my chest. 'Welcome to Robin's epiphany- all that said, we can leave early if you're uncomfortable here.'

'No, there's no emergency- I'm probably letting my imagination get out of control, as usual.'

She kissed my chin. 'I like your imagination.'

'So you're okay with cannibals on the beach?'

'Hardly. But it happened half a year ago, and as you said, sex killers don't just stop. So I figure he is gone.'

'You're a tough kid, Castagna.'

She laughed. 'Not really. First thing I did this afternoon was check my shoes for creepy-crawlies. And if something else happens, you may just see me swimming for Guam.'

'I'll be right behind you. Okay, if you're fine, I am- hey, you calmed me down. You can be my therapist.'

'Nope.'

'Why not?'

'Ethical considerations. I want to keep sleeping with you.'

23

I went back to Moreland's bungalow. Locked now, and no one answered.

The next time I saw him was at the dinner table that evening. The bandage on his hand was fresh, and he acknowledged me with a smile. Pam stood in a corner of the terrace, hands at her sides. She wore a blood-red Chinese silk dress and red sandals. Her hair was pinned and a yellow orchid rested above her left ear. Forced festivity?

She turned and gave us a wave. Robin looked at me and when I nodded went over to her.

I sat down next to Moreland.

'How's the hand?'

'Fine, thank you. Some juice? Mixed citrus, quite delicious.'

I took some. 'There's a case I'd like to discuss with you.'

'Oh?'

'A man named Joseph Cristobal, thirty-year-old file. He complained of visual hallucinations- white worms, white worm people- and then he died in his sleep. You found a blocked coronary artery and gave the cause of death as heart failure. But you also noted an organism called A. Tutalo. I looked it up but couldn't find any mention of it.'

He rubbed his crinkled chin. 'Ah, yes, Joseph. He worked here, gardening. Looked healthy enough, but his arteries were a mess. Loved coconut, maybe that contributed. He never complained of any cardiac symptoms, but even if he had there wouldn't have been much I could have done. Today, of course, I'd refer him for an angiogram, possible bypass surgery. It's the humbling thing about medicine. Acceptable practice inevitably resembles medieval barbering.'

'What about A. Tutalo?'

He smiled. 'No, it's not an organism. It's… a bit more complicated than that, son- ah, one second.'

Jo had come out, Ben and Claire Romero right behind her. Moreland sprang up, touched Jo's hand briefly, then continued on and gave Claire a hug. Looking over his shoulder, he said, 'Shall we continue our discussion after dinner, Alex?'

***

Jo seemed different- eyes less burdened, voice lighter, almost giddy, praising the food every third bite, informing the table that Lyman's body had reached the States and been picked up by his family. Then, waving off condolences, she changed the subject to her research, pronouncing that everything was 'proceeding grandly.'

The sky turned deep blue, then black. The rain clouds were gray smudges. They hadn't moved much since morning.

When Jo stopped talking, Moreland strode to the railing where some geckos were racing. When he waved a piece of fruit, they stopped and stared at him; dinnertime was probably a cue. He hand-fed them, then returned to the table and delivered a discourse on interspecies bonding. Avoiding my eyes, I thought.

A bit of small talk followed before the conversation settled upon Claire Romero, the way it often does with a newcomer.

She was well-spoken, but very quiet. The Honolulu-born daughter of two high school teachers, she'd played violin in college and in several chamber groups and had considered a professional career in music.

'Why didn't you?' said Jo, nibbling a croissant.

Claire smiled. 'Not enough talent.'

'Sometimes we're not our own best judges.'

'I am, Dr. Picker.'

'She's the only one who feels that way,' said Ben. 'She was a child prodigy. I married her and took her away from it.'

Claire looked at her plate. 'Please, Ben-'

'You are immensely talented, dear,' said Moreland. 'And it's been so long since you played for us- last year, wasn't it? On my birthday, in fact. What a lovely night that was.'

'I've barely played since, Dr. Bill.' She turned to Robin. 'Have you ever built a violin?'

'No, but I've thought of it. I have some old Alpine spruce and Tyrolean maple that would be perfect, but it's a little intimidating.'

'Why's that?' said Jo.

'Small scale, subtle gradations. I wouldn't want to ruin old wood.'

'Claire's got a terrific old fiddle,' said Ben. 'French- a Guersan. Over a hundred years old.' He winked. 'In fact, it just happens to be down in the car.'

Claire stared at him.

He smiled back with mock innocence.

She shook her head.

'Well, then,' said Moreland, clapping his hands. 'You must play for us.'

'I'm really rusty, Dr. Bi-'

'I'm willing to assume the risk, dear.'

Claire glared at Ben.