Fine, then. That was it. She was going over to Sunil’s. Better people than her had made fools of themselves for love. If they hadn’t, the world wouldn’t be full of sad love songs and Fellini movies. Still, she thought, selecting a big pair of glasses and a giant scarf to cover her face and head, no need to be caught on his building’s security cameras doing it.
Thirty-eight
Asia pulled out of the Bellagio’s parking lot and made a left onto the Strip. In less than ten minutes she would be pulling up at Sunil’s apartment complex.
After the attack, she had woken up in an office deep in the bowels of the hotel. She was lying on a massage table with an IV drip attached to her arm.
Hey, a pleasant voice said.
Hey, Asia croaked through cracked lips. Her nose was burning and as she touched her face gingerly, she could feel it was swollen like a melon.
The woman with the pleasant voice came over. She was wearing white scrubs and a name tag that said Kim.
Hello, Adele, Kim said.
Asia flinched at her name, a name she used only for legal reasons. The name on her ID, the name from the past she was trying to escape. From the man who had turned out to be a traitor, a word she had tattooed on her arm when she got to Vegas. But the tattoo shop was less than reputable, and the guy who ran it spoke bad English, and so she had ended up with Trae Dah.
You took quite the beating there.
Asia nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. Chicago would always remain in the past.
You were unconscious when we found you. Mr. Richie, head of security, thought it would be best if we dealt with this in-house. You understand?
Asia nodded again. Casinos went to great lengths to keep from getting bad publicity, especially in a depressed economy.
A doctor examined you, and it doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but you do need to be careful. He left some pain pills for you. Here, let me disconnect the drip. Can you sit up? Yes? I’ll help you. There.
Asia sat up and gasped as the room swam into focus.
Kim handed her the bottle of pain pills. Those are pretty strong. Use them carefully, she said.
Thank you.
Don’t thank me. Mr. Richie says he’s an old friend of yours. There was a bit of steel in her voice.
Asia nodded.
Do you want me to call someone to come get you?
Who could she call? Who did she want to call? She nodded, and when Kim passed her her bag, she fumbled for her cell, took a deep breath, and dialed Sunil’s number.
I’ll be back in a little bit, Kim said.
Five times over the course of an hour she called Sunil and each time it went to voice mail, and each time she left a message. Kim returned intermittently, and when Asia shook her head, she would leave. But each time she came, she brought something for Asia: tea, then water, finally a giant soda. The last time she came in, she had a regretful face and a clipboard in one hand.
I’m afraid Mr. Richie says you have to leave now, Kim said.
Asia nodded and stood up. She was a little light-headed and her face still throbbed but otherwise she was fine. The ice packs that Kim had pressed onto her face while she was out, and which she had renewed with every visit, had visibly reduced the swelling.
Mr. Richie also needs you to sign this, Kim said, pressing a pen and the clipboard into Asia’s hands. It’s a release for the hotel, you understand?
Asia nodded and signed. She hadn’t expected them to treat her as nicely as they were, even if she had given Mr. Richie a couple of complimentary dates. Fifteen minutes later, here she was, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for Sunil’s. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted him to hold her. There were no other women in his life, she was sure, but still, it was a risk going to him uninvited.
Thirty-nine
Brewster gasped for air, choking silently. He moved quickly, replacing the oxygen tank in his pocket. In a few seconds his breathing returned to normal.
Brewster was sitting at his desk, studying the MRI image of the twins on his computer. He could see that a band of tissue connected the twins, but they didn’t share lungs or a heart or any major organs. They could very easily have been separated at birth. It’s confusing why they weren’t. Maybe their parents couldn’t afford the operation. But he knew so many surgeons would have performed the procedure for free, just to get papers out of it. Even more confusing was that on the little one there was no brain activity showing up. He appeared brain dead.
It would be interesting to hear Sunil’s take on all this. He was far more qualified on matters pertaining to brain scans. He’d have to make up for the whole zoo thing. Honestly, when were these blacks going to stop being so sensitive? Best to call and get it over. Brewster picked up his cell phone.
Forty
Fred held the cigar in her palm, barely moving her hand, as though gauging its weight. Then she let it roll up and down her palm a few times, watching it critically. Pinching it between forefinger and thumb, she brought it up to her nose and ran it across the ridge of her upper lip, inhaling deeply, eyes closed. Satisfied, she put the tapered end in a guillotine and deftly snicked the end off. She took out an old Zippo with the emblem of the Atomic Testing Commission on it, held the flame away from the rough edge of the tobacco leaves, and inhaled deeply as the cigar caught fire. The smoke ran out of her nostrils as she puffed. Satisfied it would stay lit, she leaned back in the Adirondack.
Gentlemen, help yourselves, Fred said through the smoke, pointing to the humidor.
Both Salazar and Sunil declined.
Best Cubans this side of the Mississippi, she offered.
No, thank you, though, Sunil said.
Well, cheers, Fred said, raising her beer bottle.
The men raised theirs. It was growing chilly on the porch, high up as it was, like a bird’s nest. A blue orb on the wall behind them attracted and zapped the whirling insects. Without it, the setting would have been almost bucolic.
So tell me, why do you have Fire and Water, Doctor, Fred asked. Are they hurt?
He’s a shrink, Salazar said. We got them undergoing psychological evaluation. We think they are serial killers.
Serial killers, Fred asked, sitting up. You have to be joking.
I should add that I am not sure yet whether they are guilty of a crime, much less whether they are serial killers, Sunil said.
They don’t have it in them, Fred said.
That’s what the neighbors of every serial killer say when the police come by, Salazar said. He was such a nice guy, blah, blah, blah.
I’m afraid he’s right there, Sunil said. Most serial killers are high-functioning people who go by unnoticed for a very long time.
And why are you here, Fred asked. You, Doctor, specifically. What is your interest?
Please call me Sunil.
Fine. So tell me, Sunil, what’s your stake in all this?
Freaks and serial killers are his specialty, Salazar said. Best in the country, that’s why I had him hold them for seventy-two hours. So I’m in charge here, so you talk to me.
Fred took a long drag from her cigar and blew smoke slowly into Salazar’s face. Turning her head, she said: Sunil?