Serpent's kiss

The movie was Africa Screams and it was made long after Bud and Lou were hot and that was pretty obvious because of all the cheap sets and nowhere actors. Kathleen Fane had seen this movie when she was about Marie's age, a time of her life she was resolutely sentimental about (how shiny and fine most things are remembered or anticipated) and God knew she needed something to put up against the horrors of tonight, of her dear sweet precious daughter Marie who'd nearly been murdered a few hours ago.

Murdered. My God! What must that boy's family be going through right now?

The Chief now goosed Lou with a spear.

Lou looked into the big boiling pot and made a face.

Kathleen giggled.

It wasn't all that funny, of course-Bud and Lou were sort of like Jerry Lewis, once you got past fifteen they kind of lost their magic-but the face he made was so clean and childish and wholesome, so redolent of her innocence, that she giggled out loud.

And then immediately felt guilty.

What if she woke Marie up?

Kathleen was in the small room they used as a combination sewing room and den. There was a nice big bookcase filled with all the Doubleday Book Club editions she'd taken over the years (Book of the Month Club and Literary Guild were too expensive) and a wall full of photos of when there'd been three of them. Now, she got up and went to the door and looked out into the living room, at the frosty moonlight that fell through the window onto the couch. Marie was still asleep. Kathleen sighed gratefully.

She went back into the den and turned the sound even lower, pulling the rocking chair even closer to the screen.

As she settled back into the movie, she started thinking again about the anonymous caller. She was glad she'd called 911. Talking to the police officer had made her feel reassured. When she told him what had happened to Marie tonight, he got very sympathetic (even over the phone he had a bedside manner that many doctors would envy) and said that it was better to be safe than sorry (which actually sounded kind of cute coming from him, a manly cop) and that he'd have a car immediately begin cruising past her house and checking for anything untoward. That was the word he'd used. Untoward. It was a nice, strong word and helped reassure her even more.

Lou now started making his famous chittering noises (he only chattered when he was afraid) and shaking his head NO! when the Chief suggested he step into the pot and become the dinner for all these hungry natives.

She set her head back, feeling the blanket she'd knitted cosy and warm against her spine.

Everything had changed tonight. What Marie had witnessed would alter her in some irrevocable way forever. Every other event in her life would be measured-good or bad-against this one.

Thinking this, Kathleen felt a mother's fury pounding through her bloodstream.

She wanted to take the man who'd done this and-

The phone rang, startling her.

For a moment she had to gather herself. It was like coming up through water, the sunlight and sounds almost harsh on the senses.

She'd been so engrossed in imagining what she'd like to do to the man that-

The phone rang again. The fourth time.

She rose from the rocker and went to answer it.

'Hello,' she said.

A pause. A hesitation.

My God, it was the same caller who'd earlier-

'Mrs. Fane?'

'Yes.'

'It's me. Sergeant Milford. You called me earlier.'

A sigh so profound she felt her knees weaken. 'Oh, hello, Sergeant.'

'I just wanted to check and see how things are going.'

'He hasn't called back'

'Good. We're going to have a patrol car posted outside the apartment house the rest of the night.'

'Thank you. I appreciate that.'

'How's your daughter?'

'Sleeping.'

'That's the best medicine. For right now, anyway.'

'I suppose that's right.' She hesitated. 'Is it natural for me to be angry at a time like this?'

'Very natural.'

'I've never felt like this before.'

'I've got kids, too. I can't imagine what I'd be like.'

'I always thought I was against the death penalty. But that was just because murder had never touched me personally. After tonight-'

'People can get their minds changed about a lot of things, sometimes.' He coughed. 'If you'd like, I could try you again in a half hour or so.'

'Oh, that's all right. I'll probably be asleep by then. But I really do appreciate your interest.'

'Take care of yourself, Mrs. Fane. I'll check in with you tomorrow.'

'Thank you, Sergeant.'

She hung up and went back to her rocker. The call had the same effect on her as a glass of warm milk. She was very sleepy.

She had just settled into the last part of Bud and Lou's unlikely adventure when her daughter screamed.

10

It took Kathleen Fane ten minutes to calm Marie. The screaming that had summoned mother to daughter was enough to awaken neighbours. Kathleen wanted to walk through the corridors apologising to everybody. A very properly raised middle aged woman, she felt that the worst thing a human being could do was make a scene. But then, holding a trembling Marie in her arms, she decided she was being silly. There wasn't a single thing to apologise for-not given the circumstances.

They sat in the living room, on the rocker, Marie in her mother's lap as if she were a small child. The only sound was that of the rocker squeaking comfortably back and forth. Kathleen held her daughter tightly, and every few minutes pressed a handkerchief to the girl's forehead. Marie was sticky with sweat.

'I'm afraid he'll get me, Mom,' Marie said.

Kathleen felt momentary relief when Marie spoke. She'd secretly feared that Marie's shock was so deep, the girl wouldn't speak for a long time. Kathleen was a worrier-neurotic was the more precise word-and she tended to extrapolate the worst possible outcome of every problem.

'They've probably caught him already.'

Kathleen knew instantly it had been the wrong thing to say. False hopes that would only make the situation worse.

'You mean they have caught him?'

'Not yet. Not right this minute. But soon-I'm sure they will, honey.'

Marie stared up at her mother. She did not seem the least self-conscious about sitting in the chair with Kathleen, which pleased Kathleen greatly. Sometimes she wished she had a time machine and could go back to the days when their family had numbered three. Back when a pre-car-accident Marie had been a small, happy child of four, concerned mostly with pretty butterflies and old Woody Woodpecker cartoons on TV (she'd always liked to imitate Woody's laugh).

'You should have seen him,' Marie said. 'In the store-and in my nightmare. That's why I was screaming when you came in here.'

'I assumed that was why, darling.'