He reached inside the folds of his robe and brought out a set of keys. Quinn recognized them, with a shock, as the keys to the ignition of his car. He said, “You intended to keep me here?”
“No. I merely wished to be able to control the time of your departure. I didn’t realize then that Haywood had a family and friends, and that his death would have to be investigated by someone from the outside. You’re free to leave now, Mr. Quinn. But before you do, I want you to realize that you are doing us an incalculable amount of damage, and we, on our part, have offered you nothing but kindness, food and drink when you were hungry and thirsty, shelter when you were homeless, and prayers though you were an infidel.”
“I’m not entirely responsible for the course of events. I didn’t intend to make trouble for anyone.”
“That’s a matter you will have to settle with your own conscience. Your lack of intention changes nothing. A flooding river does not intend to overflow its banks, nor an iceberg to ram a ship, yet the farmlands are ruined by flood and the ship sinks. Yes, the ship sinks... And the people on it, they all die. Yes, yes, I see it quite clearly in my mind.”
“I’d better leave now.”
“They are screaming for me to help them. The ship is broken in two, the sea is boiling with anger... Don’t be afraid, my children. I am coming. I will open the gates of heaven for you.”
“Good-bye, Master.”
Quinn walked away, his heart pounding against his rib cage as if it were trying to escape. His throat felt swollen and there was a taste of old vomit in his mouth, shreds and pieces of the past too fibrous to be swallowed.
He saw Karma running toward him between the trees awkwardly, as if she had not yet become accustomed to her new body.
She shouted at him, “Where’s Master?”
“I left him at the Tower.”
“Sister Blessing’s sick. Oh, she’s terrible sick. And Brother Tongue is crying and I can’t find my mother and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
“Take it easy. Where’s the Sister?”
“In the kitchen. She fell on the floor. Oh, she looks bad, she looks dying. Please don’t let her die. She promised to help me get away, she promised just this morning. Please, please don’t let her die.”
Quinn found Sister Blessing on the floor, doubled up with pain. Her mouth was drawn back from her teeth, and a thick colorless fluid flowed from both corners, too much of it to be ordinary saliva. Brother Tongue was trying to hold a wet cloth against her forehead but she kept twitching her head away and moaning.
Quinn said, “How long has she been like this, Karma?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it before lunch, after lunch?”
“After. Maybe half an hour after.”
“What did she complain of?”
“Cramps. Very bad cramps, and a burning in her throat. She went outside and vomited and then she came back and fell on the floor, and I screamed for help and Brother Tongue was in the washroom and he heard me.”
“We’d better get her to a hospital.”
Brother Tongue shook his head, and Karma cried out, “No, no. We can’t. The Master won’t let us. He doesn’t believe in—”
“Be quiet.” Quinn knelt beside Sister Blessing and felt the pulse in her wrist. It was feeble, and her hands and forehead were hot and dry as if she had lost a great deal of body fluid. “Can you hear me, Sister? I am going to drive you to the hospital in San Felice. Don’t be frightened. They’ll take good care of you. Remember that hot bath you told me you wanted? And the fuzzy pink slippers? Well, you’ll be able to have all the hot baths you like, and I’ll buy you the fuzziest pink slippers in the country. Sister?”
She opened her eyes slightly but there was no recognition in them, and a moment later the lids dropped shut again.
Quinn got to his feet. “I’ll bring the car as close to the door as I can.”
“I’m coming with you,” Karma said.
“You’d better stay here. See if you can get her to swallow a little water.”
“I tried to and so did Brother Tongue, only it didn’t work.” She followed Quinn outside and down the path, talking nervously and glancing over her shoulder as if afraid someone was watching. “She was so happy this morning. She kept singing about how there was a good day coming. She couldn’t have felt sick or she wouldn’t have been singing like that. Why, she even said she—she felt full of life and hope. Only then she got mad at me because I told her you were coming back to bring the lotion for my acne... Did you?”
“Yes, it’s in the car. She didn’t like the idea of me coming back?”
“Oh no. She acted scared, sort of, and she said you were our enemy.”
“But I’m not your enemy, or hers. In fact, Sister Blessing and I got along very well together.”
“She didn’t think so. She said you were back at the gambling tables in Reno where you belonged and I wasn’t to take your promise seriously.”
“Why was she scared, Karma?”
“Maybe because of O’Gorman. When I mentioned his name she looked ready to throw a fit. It seemed like she didn’t want to be reminded of you or O’Gorman—you know, like she thought things had been settled and didn’t want to hear about them anymore.”
“Like things had been settled,” Quinn repeated, frowning. Only one thing had been settled, the fact that O’Gorman had been murdered. “Is mail delivered to the Tower, Karma?”
“Three miles down the main road, where you turn off to the neighboring ranch, there are two mailboxes. One of them is ours, but the Master only goes to it about once a week since nothing important ever comes.”
“If mail is delivered, it must also be picked up.”
“We’re not allowed to write a letter unless it’s real important, such as to right a wrong we committed.”
To right a wrong, Quinn thought. To confess a murder and make peace with God and conscience. He said, “Did Sister Blessing ever talk about her son?”
“Not to me. I know she has one, though.”
“What’s his name?”
“I guess the same as hers used to be, Featherstone. Maybe Charley Featherstone.”
“Why maybe?”
“Well, when Brother Tongue came in after she’d fallen on the floor she looked at him and said ‘Charley,’ like she meant him to tell Charley she was sick. That’s how it sounded to me.”
“Could she have been addressing Brother Tongue as Charley?”
“That wouldn’t make sense. She knows as well as I do that his name’s Michael. Michael Robertson.”
“You have a good memory, Karma.”
She blushed and made an awkward attempt to hide the blush with her hands. “I don’t have much to remember. The only reading I do is the Master’s record book when I’m looking after Mother Pureza. I read it aloud to her sometimes like I would a story. It keeps her quiet except when she interrupts to ask if the people lived happily ever after. I always tell her yes.”
It was to Quinn a strange and touching picture, the girl earnestly reading a list of names and the deranged old woman listening, hearing a fairy tale: “Once upon a time there was a woman called Mary Alice Featherstone and a man called Michael Robertson—” “And did they live happily ever after?” “Oh yes, happily ever after.”
He said, “Is Charles the real name of any of the Brothers who are here now?”
“No. I’m sure of that.”
They had almost reached the car. The girl ran ahead of Quinn and opened the door. With a cry of triumph she picked up the bottle of lotion that was lying on the front seat and held it against her face as if it could work its magic even through glass.
She whispered, half to herself, half to Quinn, “Now I will look like other girls. And I’ll go to Los Angeles and live with my aunt, Mrs. Harley Baxter Wood. Isn’t that a beautiful name? And I’ll go back to school, and I’ll—”