Your companion has removed his jacket. Beneath it he is wearing a collarless cotton shirt, fancifully stitched about the neck and cuffs. You would guess it to be African in origin, and while it is not much of a fashion statement, its motif blends reasonably well with your own more expensive, more elegant tribal print suit. He is drinking a tequila sour, but with less reckless gusto than you might have expected.
Everything I know about Q-Jo Huffington could fit in this peanut dish (there goes your hiding place) and have enough room left over for a balanced meal. You seem to think her vanishing act has something to do with me, so Im going to walk us through my two meetings with her, as brief as they were. Im going to include everything I remember because some tiny thing I barely noticed at the time could turn out to be a clue. Okay? Goethe said, and some famous architect built a career on it, God is in the details. Maybe Q-Jos there, as well.
SEVEN-FIFTY P.M.
Id like to ask you one thing first?
He subjects you to his cynical smile, the one that suggests that Q-Jo might not be at the tippy-top of your personal agenda. Does your question concern business trends or gainful employment?
You shake your head.
Then fire away.
You might safely conclude that as a subject for conversation your job status fails to entrance him-not a favorable omen, Gwen, not a favorable omen. Yet, given the right circumstances, you can always change his mind. Meanwhile, you do have a question of a different order. Well, you begin, you got us in here tonight by punching a key pad. And Ive been thinking: there must be lots of clubs in Seattle and around the country which a person can only access if they have the entry code. So, does being on the pad mean youre a member of an elite social group that knows the codes to punch in on all the right key pads? Or-you hold your breath for a beat or two-does it refer in some way to Sirius, Sirius A, that is, and how the Bozo say its sitting like a frog on a lily pad?
You havent the remotest idea what youre talking about, of course. Just a couple of stabs in the dark. For the effect it has on Diamond, however, you might have been wielding a pitchfork at high noon. Impaled, he regards you with astonishment and grudging respect. And he regards you at considerable length before replying, Youre playing games with Uncle Larry, sweetheart. Thats okay, Uncle Larry enjoys a nice game-providing the stakes are high. Uncle Larrys instincts tell him youre bluffing: he doesnt think you know jackshit about Sirius and the Bozo. But somehow you know enough to connect the two, and to recognize that the subject interests him, which indicates youve got a smear of jam on your toast. So hes going to take your question at face value and answer it honestly, even though he finds the first half of it insulting and the second half fiddle-fucked.
Well, gee, Uncle Larry, theres no reason to mince words.
What kind of low-IQ, low-blood-sugar, pathetically insecure, socially desperate cockroach would hallucinate that there was something more meaningful than a chicken poot in the fact that he or she has the entry code to an exclusive club? The whole idea of being on the pad is a conceit, I admit, but its not a shallow conceit. At least, I hope it isnt. As for the Bozo, their name for Sirius A is sima kayne, which translates literally as sitting trouser. Yeah, thats correct, heh-heh, sitting trouser. Even the animal outfitters at Disney dont put pants on frogs, so I dont know where you dug up that piece of misinformation. But there is a link between Sirius and amphibians, youre warm on that one, and you may be getting warmer. Some of this stuff will leak out as we talk, whether we want it to or not, so I suggest we just push forward. Unless youve got another fascinating question that wont wait until Q-Jo… . I can tell that you do.
No, no. Forget it.
Go ahead. I insist.
Well. Were you raised in the Midwest by any chance?
Why would you think a thing like that?
Your accent. The way you speak. You kind of sound like W. C. Fields.
W. C. Fields was from Philadelphia.
SEVEN FIFTY-THREE P.M.
So far, the other customers in the Bull&Bear are leaving you and Diamond alone, although some of them, particularly Ann Louise, cannot resist looking your way. The waiter takes your order for another spritzer. Diamond stands pat. I went to see Q-Jo Huffington because I couldnt eat mushrooms, he says.
Whoa. Wait a second. You scheduled a tarot reading to help you overcome a food allergy?
Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to. In the future, Ill try to gear down to your speed.
Dont slow down, just make sense.
If you insist. Heres the story. Ive recently had my brain redone. A little cognitive redecorating. Started in Timbuktu and continued after I got back; remodeling always takes twice as long as its supposed to, you know how that goes. Its turned out real nice, but some days I wake up and look around at the new furniture, the new carpets and draperies and paint, and its a minute or two before I know where I am; it just doesnt feel like home. Ever had that sensation?
No.
I wasnt fully integrated into my new cerebral space, you might say. Well, when it comes to reorientation, nothing aligns the old ontological gyroscope like fifteen or twenty milligrams of psilocybic fungi. However …
Youre talking about drugs!
Plants, Gwendolyn. Gods own sweet baby plants. However, Ive, uh, Ive had some medical problems, physical problems, lately, and the fellow whos treating me advised against mushrooms. Theyre like squirrels, he said: you can learn a lot from them but they chatter too much. Wearing on the immune system, I think is what hes getting at. At any rate, I was in the market for a nonchemical alignment process, and when I heard that your friend Q-Jo was the Northwests most gifted psychic, I decided to give her a whirl.
Youve hardly touched your drink. Are you actually ill or something?
Ut, ut, Gwendolyn. No hard-luck stories, remember. If your miserys craving company, go talk to one of those bookies at the bar.
All right, Mr. Difficult. Suit yourself. How did you get along with her?
With Q-Jo? Famously. Famously. Although the reading itself wasnt exactly Nostradamus on ice. For example, she said the Lovers card in the seventh position was indicative of impending romance, but since Id already met you the previous evening, that came as no great surprise.
Ha! You are so busy blushing, Ha! is all you can say, but you are thinking, Mister, when you redecorated your brain room, you hung the pictures upside down.
The Five of Pentancles popped up, indicating poor health, as if I needed a reminder. I got the Tower in the fifth position, which signals upheaval or major change in my past. Hey, the Towers been my permanent address. I wouldnt live anywhere else. So, there wasnt much headline news, but I was entertained when right next to the Lovers, the Fool appeared. Big as life. Position number three, the current-influence position. Q-Jo wasnt sure if the Fool in that spot was me or if it was the new woman in my life. Me or you, Gwen? What do you think?
Its painfully obvious.
Yeah, I think its you, too. Didnt you pull the Bozo and Sirius out of that sack youre carrying? Theres some amazing stuff in that Fool bag. If youd just take it out and examine it, maybe this relationship of ours could evolve beyond the level of mere physical attraction.
What relationship? Would you just get on with it! Jesus, Larry! At the Exasperation Olympics, this guy would win all the gold medals.
On the other hand, the Fool might be Dr. Yamaguchi. Except he never returned my call.
Sorry to hear that. Would you please get on with it. If Diamond had any idea how often you had drawn the Fool card in recent months, you fear he would dive across the table to embrace you or else run for cover.
As Ive indicated, it was a routine reading. No clouds parting, no veils dropping, no urgent faxes arriving from the Other Side. However, if we arent learning something from a new experience, its usually because we arent paying attention. Or were following the wrong libretto. So I shifted my perspective on the cards, and the first thing that hit me was how much water they contained.
Wat
er?
H-two -O. At least a third of the cards in the deck have got some image of water on them. An ocean, a lake, a pool, a river, a creek, a fountain: the whole aquatic repertoire. The Ace of Cups has got a nice crop of water lilies. Youve expressed an interest in pads, if Im not mistaken. Therere fish, too, including a lobster that could scare the steak off of every surf-and-turf platter in the city. The Page of Cups …
Dear ol Dad, you mumble under your breath.
… features a guy holding an ornate sort of golden chalice, and theres a fish in the chalice or goblet or whatever the hell it is, theres a live fish that looks like its talking to the guy, like its trying to tell him something. In addition to all this aquatic stuff, theres the celestial stuff, the moons and suns and stars; and the place where the aquatic intersects with the celestial is where Ive been hanging out this season, intellectually speaking. I know that the tarot pictures represent an ancient, highly evolved symbol system of apparently European origin, and the fact that these pictures, this system, contains images that suggest the same themes, some of the same themes, as the Bozo in Africa, as the people on the pad, if you dont object to my conceit, this gave me a little buzz, which I shared with Q-Jo.
And Ill bet she told you to back off and quit analyzing.
You know her well. Yeah, she reminded me that the tarots like our dreams, it comes to us from a level beyond the reach of reason. The tarot figures are creatures of the imagination, she said. The cold light of intellect will send em scurrying back underground. Since Im convinced imagination creates reality and not the other way around, I could accept that, although underwater might have been a better word. But my buzz persisted, and when I began elaborating on my enthusiasms, she tuned in with both ears: Im assuming she has ears underneath that turban. She fished a key out of her bosom-how she found something as small as a key in there Ill never know: talk about cleavage! I couldve parked my scooter in the slot between her tits.
Please!
She fished a key out of her-where does one buy undies to cover the Andes? …
Please!
… and unlocked an ebony box and showed me a Fool card from a French deck thats four or five centuries old. In the lower left corner there was an alligator, or rather, a crocodile. Are you aware that the Bible refers to crocodiles as the eyelids of dawn? No? Anyway, there it was, a full-fledged amphibian in the tarot. Both of us are excited now—
Physically excited?
Please!
You blush and urge him to continue.
We have an animated conversation, during the course of which I grab her marking pens and impulsively mark up the Star card, to show her how things might be if… . Never mind that now. We could have flapped our jaws for another hour, but she had a previous engagement to look at somebodys travel photos for a fee, she said, and when I heard that, I offered to hire her to peruse my slides of Timbuktu; I thought she might provide another viewpoint, you know what I mean. She wasnt sure she could make it before next week; she said shed phone later and confirm, but less than an hour later, she called from an ice cream parlor and announced shed stop by Thunder House at three. Guess Id aroused her curiosity.
Was that the only thing you aroused?
Diamond pulls himself to his feet. Gwendolyn, Im going to the mens room to give you an opportunity to wrest your mind out of the gutter. If you fail, you can always follow along and join me. I assure you, it wouldnt be the first time a couple ever consummated their love in one of the Bull and Bears stalls.
Leaving you to boil in your own isochronous juices, he limps off to the restroom, from which he does not emerge for fifteen minutes.
EIGHT TWENTY-NINE P.M.
You think: He must have run into a former colleague, and theyre chewing over the market.
You think: Hes doing drugs in there.
You think: He may have slipped out through the kitchen, which is fine with me.
You think: If he doesnt come back, what in Gods name will I do?
You think: Did Washingtons choppers contract in the bitter cold at Valley Forge?
You think: Here he comes! The bookies are waving, but he wont acknowledge them. He never limped that much before.
Are you okay? You never limped this much before.
Its because Ive been riding the scooter. The vibrations aggravate it.
Aggravate what ?
Old wound. Pork Chop Hill. Battle of the Bulge. Dien Bien Phu. I cant remember which. I dont like to talk about my war experiences. As a woman, you wouldnt understand.
You think: Hes putting me on. But he knows that I know hes putting me on. So in terms of his overall veracity, I guess its acceptable.
I want to address, he says, what appears to be a concern of yours. The world is a very different place than ninety-eight percent of its inhabitants think it is. Q-Jo and I understand and appreciate that. If there was any bond between us, that was it. Not one mote of sex pollen was released in the atmosphere around us. How could there be, Gwendolyn, when I only pollinate for you?
Yeah? So what was that pixie dust you were sprinkling around the coffee shop this afternoon?
He beams at you in the most infuriating way. Ah, yes-Natalie. What was I to do? The little pussy willow has an outgoing personality.
You think: How does he know her name is Natalie?
EIGHT-THIRTY P.M.
Q-Jo showed up at Thunder House about twenty minutes late. Shed stopped on the way for a meatball sub.
Sounds right.
I gave her a brief tour of the flat, like any genial host, and then I dimmed the lights and commenced to project the slides. You do understand, do you not, that the dimming of the lights was intended to enhance the definition of visual images on the screen, and not for—
Larry, let me make myself clear. I do not care in the slightest how you might express your basic urges with any consenting adult. Ive only inquired about … things of that nature-because-because Im trying to establish motives for what may or may not have happened to my … to Q-Jo.
Thats perfectly understood.
I just dont want you to get any wrong ideas.
My ideas are pristine, I assure you.
Well -all right.
Well, all right, then.
So why are you grinning like that?
Im smiling because Im merry and bright. In the circles you travel in, youve probably never met a man who was merry and bright. Gradually, his fractured smile rearranges itself into a fractured frown. Gwendolyn, are you by chance anxious about some upcoming dental work?
You shake your head. Im not even due for a checkup until July.
Mmmm. Interesting. Well, I suppose I ought to leave the telepathy to Q-Jo. He rakes his nails over the stubble on his chin. You know, if her mojo was up to speed, shed most likely be aware that weve been sitting around discussing her. At the very least, shed be cognizant that youre worried. Yes, you had wondered about that yourself, but you refused to consider that it indicated that she was dead, unconscious, or even incompetent. Q-Jo is a complex, difficult individual, not unlike present company. Why, oh why, is it that Fate gets a kick out of throwing you in with such people? Of course, Diamond continues, if the only thing shes picking up from you is a set of false teeth… .
Would you get on with it! You glare at your Rolex, as if you had somewhere else to be besides watching television news or scouring the back streets for a monkey.
EIGHT THIRTY-THREE P.M.
First off, I projected the slides Id taken in Bozo and Dogon villages. We talked some more about the Nommo phenomena that wed discussed at her apartment after the tarot reading. She seemed to be enthralled and asked lots of questions. I served her a plate of chocolate chip cookies and put on the slides from Timbuktu. I think she may have been surprised by how desolate it looks. Anyhow, she didnt have much to say after that. Could have been the desolation, could have been the cookies. I baked them myself and they were a wee bit charred. Come to think of it, they went very well with the desolation. About two-thir
ds of the way through the slides, pictures of the university-University of Timbuktu-started hitting the screen. She made me linger over each one, while she kind of mumbled through the carbon she was masticating. I had to go to the toilet then, I couldnt delay it any longer, so I left her staring at a group shot of the faculty. And when I came back, she was gone. No note, no nothing. There were two and a half cookies left on the plate, and she hadnt collected her fee.
You are ready for another wine spritzer, but since Diamond has not finished his first drink, you feel it might be unseemly to order a third. Running out on food and money, you say. Doesnt sound like Q-Jo. Let me ask you something, if I may. Lets see, how can I put this? Uh, just now, when you went to the washroom? You, uh, were in there quite a long time.
Relative to what?
Relative to how long it takes a normal human being to go to the damn bathroom.
Are you referring to number one or number—
I dont want to talk about it! Okay? Jesus! I just want to find out, I would like to know if you were in your bathroom as long as you were in the mens room here at the Bull and Bear.
Approximately, yes. I was—
No, stop. I dont care what you were doing in there. But can we safely say that Q-Jo was alone in your apartment for ten minutes or more?
Yes, but it didnt trouble me. Unlike the average American, she has an attention span longer than a Mormons orgasm.
What about the Indian?
You mean Twister? Oh, Twister has an extraordinary attention span.
Twister, Twisted, whatever his name is. Where was he during this time?
Twister was in his wigwam contemplating his investment.
His wigwam?