I sat again. Forced myself to be calm, and said, "Tomlinson, something's happened to me. I'm not sure what. But my brain has begun to… has begun to." I realized that I was focused on the telephone sitting atop the icebox. The phone was melting. As it did, drops of beige plastic turned to black and jumped around like grease on a griddle. "My brain, Tomlinson… it's my brain. It isn't translating information the way it should."
Now my heart was pounding, and sweat was streaming down my face. I felt my friend's hand pat my shoulder, trying to comfort me. "It's okay, Doc, after I explain, you'll understand. What I want to tell you right off is this: psilocybin mushrooms are illegal in forty-nine of the fifty states. Know what the good news is? Florida is the fiftieth state. So it's legal, rest your mind about that. We're not breaking any laws. What you're feeling right now is legal. Isn't that great!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you saying that the mushrooms on the snapper are psychedelic mushrooms?"
"Shrooms we call them. Friendly little guys who know just how to mix with a natural chemical in the brain. Think of them as tour guides. It's a chemical called serotonin. Kind of a cool, masculine name, huh? It's Jim."
I was looking at him, trying to remain calm. "Oh shit." Then I said, "Okay, okay… I would never have consented to this. But I've got to deal with it, so… so when I see something crawling around your neck… something that appears to be a scarlet boa constrictor-like now, for instance-I should assume it's bad information altered by chemicals?"
Tomlinson pulled the snake away from his neck, and it became a Vietnamese flag, red backing, single yellow star. "Yep, see! It's really just a scarf."
"Right, that explains it. File this away, Tomlinson. If you ever do this to me again, leave psychedelic food lying around, I will personally grab you by the neck…"
I lost my train of thought. Realized I was gazing at the shell mobile hanging from a locker. It really was rather pretty. Nice earth colors on scallop shells that were wonderfully formed with precise ridges. Reminded me of Arizona where I'd seen petroglyphs on red stone high above Tempe…
My wandering inattention starded me. I straightened myself and said, "Help me out of this damn boat. I need to get up. I'm going topside and try to make myself puke. Is there an antidote?"
"An antidote?" Tomlinson was shaking his head, slinging colors against the bulkhead. "Doc, you know how to take the fun out of everything."
"I want this to be over. I hate it. Isn't there something I can take to make it go away?"
"You're speaking, like, heresy, man. Good shrooms are hard enough to find as it is. Why would anybody want an antidote?"
Five minutes later, Tomlinson pressed the phone to my ear, saying, "Put a smile on that mug of yours. Guess who just answered her cell phone? I explained things to her. She understands."
I heard Nora's voice say, "Doc? Are you okay?"
My heart was still pounding in my ears and I was hyperventilating. "Are you at the ranch? Are you with Ted? I want you to get out of there right away. I mean it. Get Delia and run."
She was laughing. "Oh sweetie, I wish I was there to see you. Marion Ford on psychedelics! I don't think the world's ready."
"Please, listen to me. I'm probably wrong, but if I'm right-"
"You're not right. Believe me. The shrooms are getting to you, babe. I've been through it. Just hang on, stay calm, you'll be fine and so will I. Ted's one of the nicest men I've ever met. I'm going to work in his campaign. Don't worry, though. He doesn't have your magnetism. But he's genuine. He's making cocktails for Delia and me right now."
"Don't drink it. Don't eat or drink anything he gives you."
"Marion. Calm down. Depending on how the hurricane goes, we'll be home tomorrow. I want you to take some long slow breaths. I'm not going to hang up until you feel better."
"Are you there with him alone?"
"No. His father's here, too. What could be safer?"
Did that make any difference? I couldn't analyze it; couldn't make my brain function properly. "You have your cell phone? You have the number here?"
"Of course."
I was shaking my head; couldn't seem to clear it. "Okay, here's what I'd like you to do. Indulge me, okay?" I had my billfold out. Found Gary Parrish's card with his home number scribbled on the back. "The moment we hang up here, I want you to call Detective Parrish. Do it in front of Ted and Ivan, make sure they know what you're doing. Talk to Parrish or leave a message. Tell him where you are, who you're with and when you plan to leave."
"Marion, there's no need!"
"I'm asking you to do it as a personal favor, Nora. Please."
"It would be so rude."
"Blame it all on me. Tell them I'm crazy, obsessive, whatever you want. Neither of them will have any trouble believing that."
Her tone softened slighdy. "It would make you feel better?"
"Yes, absolutely. Promise me you'll call Parrish immediately and I'll feel a hundred-percent better. It'll let me concentrate on dealing with this damn drug that's in me."
"If that's what it takes to give you some peace of mind, I'll do it. But, believe me, I'm not in any danger. With the security system they've got at this ranch, I'm probably the safest I've ever been."
"I'm going to wait right here by the phone. I expect to hear from you in no less than ten minutes."
A few minutes later, the phone rang and I heard Nora's voice say, "Okay, Jimi Hendrix, I got Parrish's recorder. I left a detailed message. That ought to put a smile on your face."
"Did both Bauerstocks hear you?"
"I made the call from the great man's own desk. I don't think Ted approves of you. He said he thought you were a bit obsessive."
"Uh-huh. I don't like you being there. I don't trust either one of those guys."
Nora's voice was intimate and patient. "I know what you're going through. Relax. Enjoy it. The first time I did shrooms, I was panicky and goofy as hell. So hang on, I'm here for you. I won't be happy unless I see you tomorrow. There! That ought to take the panic away."
The last thing she said to me was, "Oh, Marion. You are such a big lug!
Tomlinson said, "Know what we could do? Hop in the truck, drive up the island to Card Sound. Stop at Alabama Jack's, have a couple beers. Sit outside and maybe a saltwater croc will come along. I haven't seen a croc in a couple years. That'd be a nice break. Not many tourists go through Card Sound. Or maybe Ocean Reef. Have a cocktail at the pool bar and meet some rich girls."
It was just before dusk. I was jogging, stopping to do push-ups, deep knee bends, trying to increase my heart beat and hurry the chemical through my system. We'd run along Marina Road among mangroves and gumbo limbos past Poi-sonwood to A1A, then south, facing traffic on the divided highway. Jogged past the Koni Kai and a Tom Thumb convenience store; running on the road's shoulder, white coral rock crunching beneath my feet like bone.
I said, "Last thing I need is alcohol in my system. Are you nuts?"
It seemed as if Tomlinson didn't hear. "Or we could drive down to Summerlin, hang out with Bob and Jo Anne Boast at Sherman's Marina. I haven't been there in a while. Or hell, shoot the wad, go clear to Key West, man. Sit under the ficus and play checkers with my old buddy Shine Forbes. Then stop by Blue Heaven, or the Green Parrot."
Tomlinson was struggling to keep up, running in sandals, still wearing his black Hawaiian shirt with the hula dancer on the back. I couldn't bear to look at her. The pinks and greens of her skirt were so penetrating they hurt my eyes. Also, if I looked at her for more than a second, she became a live person, attached to Tomlinson's back but openly lascivious.