Chapter 24
Gorilla.
Boone had said 'gorilla' and that made me think of Josey. Beneath the Dermafix she had grown hair, like an ape. Did Boone know the effect that Dermafix had on humans?
"Miss Fleetsmith?" Charlie was standing at the door to my study. "Did Mr. Boone say something about a gorilla?" he asked.
"Mmm, sounds reminiscent of Josey, eh? Charlie, Boone is coming over for lunch. Could you fix us something? For three. Stay and eat with us. I'd like you to hear what he has to say about gorillas. Apparently there was gorilla hair at the motel where two of the bodies were found. And keep Josey and Penny out of sight. As far as Boone knows, Josey's missing. And whatever happens, don't say a thing about Josey's hairy appearance. The less he knows about our gorilla, the better."
"Taciturn is my middle name, Miss Fleetsmith."
"By the way, where is Penny? I haven't seen her for a while."
"She remains in her room, studying."
"Studying?"
"The language, Miss Fleetsmith. I have set up a VCR in Penny's room and she watches language videos much of the day. She is coming along remarkably well."
"Mmm, I can imagine. And Josey? How's she getting along?"
"Quite well. She has taken to working in the garden, with a shawl covering her face. I am afraid the growth of facial hair is becoming quite noticeable."
I had a theory, about the Dermafix, the hair, the ape-like characteristics—and I desperately needed to talk to somebody about it. I had thought of Professor Unger but felt it was outside his area of expertise. Perhaps one of my microbiology profs—but I didn't want to extend the circle of people-in-the-know. After some thought I decided that Charles was perhaps the only person I could discuss it with. He may not have the theoretical background but he had a keen mind, full of ideas. Maybe my own thoughts would crystallize if I spent an evening explaining my theory.
"Charlie, remind me to talk to you about a theory I have—about Dermafix and men and apes."
"... and cabbages and kings," Charles muttered as he left for the kitchen, grinning.
When the doorbell rang I was in the small study, humming, leaning back in my chair and staring at the ceiling. Recently, I seem to spend more time than usual in that pose. I heard Charlie greet William Boone at the door.
"Mr. Boone, Miss Fleetsmith is expecting you."
"Thank yuh kindly, Mr. Curry," Boone said. "Mr. Charles Curran," he added.
I shouted: "Texas! In here!"
Boone appeared at the door to the study, tall and self confident, a sort of animal swagger to his gait. I pointed to a chair and he slid off his hat, swung his leg over the back of the chair and sat.
"Have I told you the one about the four foot Texan?" I said.
"Well, ma'am," he began immediately, ignoring my remark, "ah'd like to talk to y'all 'bout the gorilla hair found at the Flanagan."
"Flanagan?"
"The motel, ma'am, where two bodies were—"
"Yes, yes, the motel. What about it?"
"Well, ma'am, Ah reckon they's a connection between the hair and thet Dermafix stuff and Ah figured y'all could help me with the facts." Boone leaned back, making himself comfortable as though this was going to take some time. "Ah got me a theory," he said, "'bout the connection 'n all—"
"Miss Fleetsmith?" Charlie poked his head in. "Lunch is served."
"Okay, cowboy, let's eat." I jumped up, left without waiting for the tall Texan, and headed for the kitchen. Since Pops died we rarely ate in the dining room; too stuffy by far. Charlie had prepared one of my favorite lunches: a large bowl of Caesar salad, toasted tuna sandwiches with melted cheese and a cool and sweating bottle of Chablis. Three large plates of Rosenthal china were arranged on one side of the large oak table. Cosy. I slid into the middle chair. Charles waited for Boone, then slid into the chair closest to the fridge.
"Shoot, cowboy," I said, pushing a large helping of salad onto my plate.
"Well, ma'am, Ah have this theory. Ah figure thet the weed from Brazil has some kinda power thet kin change a fella into a gorilla." He paused. I stopped with my mouth full of tuna and Charles began to choke.
"Surely you're kidding," I said, swallowing hard and pounding poor old Charles on the back.
"No, ma'am. Ah reckon thet Mr. von Oerschott got hisself covered in thet fuzzy skin, all swole up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, but he don't come out like no butterfly. No ma'am, he comes out like a gorilla, yuh know."
I was astonished. That was my theory, sort of. A degeneration, from homo sapiens to—
"Now don't go thinkin," Boone continued, "thet Ah'm some kinda madman. Listen careful: Van Oerschott was usin' the Dermafix. He checks into the Flanagan Motel fer two nights, jest afore thet couple who got thesselves killed. His body gits taken to the morgue. His body disappears from the morgue, but the body-drawer is bashed out and the door to the room is bashed out. More'n thet, we got a witness who says thet a man, heavy set and hunched over, was seen headin' 'long Cranberry Road toward Hanover Beach, toward the Flanagan Motel. We find two bodies near the motel; one has his neck broke. Takes a mighty wollop to break a neck like thet. Back at the motel, thet fuzzy skin is found in the bathroom, everything sorta catty whompus ... and gorilla hair. Forensic verified thet."
Boone pauses and looks at Charles who has stopped choking on his tuna and is sitting on the edge of his chair.
"Mr. Boone," Charles said, somewhat hesitatingly, "why are you telling us this?"
"Because Ah thinks it's Ms. Fleetsmith's Dermafix that done it. Van Oerschott got hisself in a cocoon, came out a gorilla, ups and kills Hansen and Felman."
"Hansen and who?" Charles said.
"Them two at the Flanagan Motel, bodies was found nearby, neck broke in one, a dozen broken bones in t'other."
There was a moment of silence. Now seemed as good a time as any to enunciate my theory.
"Mr. Boone," I said, surprised at myself for calling him that, "I also have a theory and it's quite like yours. Indeed, it's quite remarkable that you could extrapolate from the meagre evidence you have to the devolution of the species."
"Beg pardon, ma'am?"
"Let me tell you my theory." I wiped my mouth, carefully laid the napkin on the table and leaned back.
"This fungus," I began, "which grows on the weed and eventually encases the body, this fungus invades the body's cellular structure and causes gross mutation of the genes. The chromosonal material is altered so as to reflect the more primitive aspects of the genes. In man's evolution—in woman's evolution—genetic changes occurred, we evolved, became erect, lost much of our body hair, developed a larger brain—some of us—and smaller canine teeth. These changes are embedded in our chromosones. Yet, the primitive characteristics are still present, though mostly dormant. Vestigial tails attached to a fetus, an appendix that might once have been a major organ. That's why man—note that I say man—can still act like a brute, raping, pillaging, slaughtering his neighbours. The beast is still there."
"Excuse me Miss Fleetsmith," Charles said, almost apologetically, "that seems a preposterous premise. I mean, genes coming back to life after a million years of evolution."
"Not so," I said emphatically. "I vaguely recall a similar manifestation of dormant genes. Didn't pay much attention in class so I've been poring over my old textbooks. There's an extremely rare condition called hypertrichosis. It's an atavistic genetic defect; a gene that's been suppressed during evolution. People who have this abnormal gene grow excessive hair, on the face and upper body. Hairy apes. Perhaps that's the origin of werewolf stories. Anyway, the gene that produced hairiness in ancient man is not lost, just held in abeyance. In the course of evolution, other modern genes have taken over—the growth of excessive hair is curtailed."
Boone was listening intently, as was Charles. I had intended to discuss this theory with Charles alone, but it was better this way.
"When the more recent evolutionary
changes are held in abeyance, by the action of this fungal cocoon, aboriginal man emerges, with all his savagery, all his antediluvian manners, an uncivilized barbarian." I paused for just a moment to be sure that I still had Boone's undivided attention. I did.
Then I said, in my most dramatic voice: "Charlie, bring Josey down."
Charles jumped to his feet. "I beg your pardon, Miss Fleetsmith?" he said.
"The lady says to bring Ms. Cowley down," Boone said, smiling.
Charles looked from me to Boone to me. I nodded my head and he left.