The Cure

by Loren Schechter

  “Wait, I need that,” said Winkish.

  “Why?” she asked. “He sent it to me. It’s the only letter I’ve had from him in my entire life.” If you can lie, I can, too, she told herself.

  “Reprehensible,” said Dean Switley. “Surely you can let her keep it.”

  Deep lines appeared in the agent’s forehead. He hesitated. “Sure.”

  Rose made a show of looking at the paint under her fingernails. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to clean up before I came here. I think I better go change into my uniform before my next class.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said the Dean. “I’ll give you a pass. Just answer the gentleman’s questions.” She offered the agent a cold smile. “I do hope there won’t be many more.”

  “Not many… Rose, did Dr. Quintz give you any gifts this past year?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked down at her feet as if trying to remember. No, my sneakers look too worn for him to think them a gift. But the barrette’s practically under his nose. “Not physical gifts. He gives me spending money.”

  “And helps pay your tuition,” said Dean Switley.

  “Oh yeah, that too. But that’s out of guilt for giving me up. I don’t count that as a gift.”

  “What about birthday and Christmas presents?” asked the agent.

  “I ask him to pay for subscriptions to a few art magazines and a membership to the Museum of Fine Arts. Why are you asking me about gifts?”

  “We ask about everything,” said Winkish.

  She shrugged. ”I’m sorry I don’t have better answers.” CQ made sure of that. He could’ve told me straight out what I was getting into – especially who to trust. He didn’t say anything about Homeland Security.

  “Do you mind if we look through whatever electronic equipment you have?”

  Stupid question. She pursed her lips. CQ said whoever came would ask that because he was doing ground-breaking research that people wanted to steal.

  “If they ask to look at your laptop or cell phone, protest a bit, then let them have them,” he’d said in the restaurant. “If you don’t, they’ll get a search warrant or just steal them long enough to copy the files and put in recording devices. Take this cell phone. It’s a new phone number. Copy the important numbers out of your old one by hand, then throw yours into the reservoir. I don’t want them knowing how often we’ve talked.” He’d moved the teapot aside, then had placed his fists on the white tablecloth and leaned forward. “This is really important, Rose. If they find what they’re looking for, I become expendable.”

  She’d been dumbfounded. “You mean they’d kill you?”

  “More likely they’d lock me away forever.” His lips had come together as if sealing in his emotions. “I’ll get back to you in person as soon as it’s safe.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “The draft of a paper I wrote. And data to support the findings. Just don’t tell them we’ve had this talk.” He’d reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “I haven’t done anything wrong, believe me. You’re safer not knowing anything more.”

  Am I? I should’ve pushed to get some answers.

  “So? How about it?” asked Winkish.

  “What? Oh, I do mind,” she told the agent. “That’s my private stuff in my phone and laptop. Why do you need to look at it?”

  “Do you suspect her of complicity in some crime?” asked Dean Switley.

  “Not at all. Dr. Quintz has applied for a higher security clearance, and we need to see that he’s not shared classified information with anyone.”

  Totally bogus. “So look at his computer and emails. He wouldn’t share any secret stuff with me.”

  She resisted giving up anything until Mr. Winkish promised to return all her electronic equipment before bedtime. Then she handed him her new smart phone but rejected his offer to accompany her to get her iPad and laptop.

  “I’ll bring them over,” she told him. “Men aren’t allowed in the dorm.”

  “Unless they’re fathers of students,“ Dean Switley clarified.

  The agent’s chair creaked as he shifted his weight. “You don’t understand. I’m here in an official capacity for the United States government.”

  “I understand perfectly,” said the Dean. “Our government would be better served by hiring more women. Rose, get your computer, and please change into your uniform. I fully expect never to see that bargain-basement tee shirt again. Mr. Winkish, you can wait in the reception area.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Rose leaped up from her chair and was out the door before Winkish had a chance to say anything. As she headed back to the dorm, she tried to imagine what CQ had done to get in trouble with Homeland Security. Had all his talk about DNA been a cover for developing a dinosaur baby? A nasal spray for birth control? Had they locked him away in some prison until he confessed? Would they arrest her? If they sent her back to her mother and the Captain, which of them would be most unhappy? At least in prison she could pick her friends.

  At the dorm, she punched in the code to unlock the door and climbed the stairs to her room. Oh crap,what now?

  The girl sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of her door looked up and smiled. She’d draped a black sweatshirt over a backpack on the floor beside her.

  “Are you Rose Blood?”

  Rose knew the girl couldn’t be a student. Not with a silver nose ring. “I don’t believe I know you. Are you from Homeland Security?”

  “You kidding?” said the girl. “I’m your cousin Angela from Idaho.”

  22

  Cousins

  “I didn’t know I had a cousin Angela. Or any cousins in Idaho,” said Rose.

  “I’m not surprised your dad never told you.” The girl popped up from the carpet. Under shaggy black hair and a toothpaste ad smile, she wore a taupe turtleneck shirt with the collar almost to her chin, fancy stitch jeans and Western boots. “We’re a part of the Quintz family your father wouldn’t want to talk about. My father Bart is his first cousin on his mother’s side, once or twice removed. He ran away to Idaho after he got into trouble that embarrassed the family. But he turned his life around and became a doctor like your dad. That’s who I’m on my way to see, but I thought I’d stop off and meet you.”

  “You’re going to visit CQ?” asked Rose.

  “What’s CQ?”

  “My father. Carson Quintz. His friends call him CQ.” Wouldn’t this girl’s father know that? Maybe he didn’t mention it. “Why do you want to see him?” asked Rose.

  “It seems I have a defective gene. My dad said your father is a geneticist and could give a second opinion — like tell me what the risks are.”

  “What kind of defective gene?”

  Angela frowned. “For some weird disease that can cause blindness and retardation in my kids, if I ever have any. My mother says guys won’t want to marry me if I tell them about it. I hate to lie, don’t you? So I have to find out what the risks really are.” She exhaled as if the explanation had taken all her energy. “Look, I don’t have money for a motel. Can I crash with you tonight? I’ll go see your dad tomorrow.”

  “Does he know you’re coming?”

  “I called the hospital. I left a message on his answering machine.”

  “I don’t think he’s there. I’m not sure where he is.”

  “Oh, then I really would appreciate staying with you. Just for tonight.”

  Rose shook her head. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you can’t stay here. The school doesn’t allow overnight visitors, and there’s a bed check. Don’t you have a credit card or something?”

  “No. And I’m really, really tired. How about if I just rest in your room for a few hours.”

  Rose rubbed the back of her neck. How do I know she’s really my cousin? She could be working with Mr. Winkish. “I’m sorry, but you’ve come at a bad time. I hate to be a jerk, but I really don’t know you and I’ve got other problems I have to deal with. There’s a g
uy over in the office who wants to see my laptop and iPad right now. Do you know Harry Winkish?”

  “Never heard of him. Who is he?”

  Rose shrugged. “He says he’s from DHS, Homeland Security. If I don’t give him what he wants, he’ll probably come up here and go through all my things. So I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here. Could you please move out of the way?”

  “The school will let him search your room?” Angela sounded incredulous. “You hiding drugs?”

  “No. They expel you if they catch you using.”

  “So what are they looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Look, if you come with me to the office, maybe I can lend you enough money from my account so you can stay tonight in a motel. Your parents can buy you a ticket on-line to return home.”

  Angela extended her hands, empty palms up. “I can’t contact them. They’re off in Africa somewhere. You must have some idea what this guy is looking for.”

  She’s less worried about her situation, than about mine. “No, no idea. Excuse me, I have to change into my uniform and get back over there. Will you please let me get by?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Angela stepped aside. “I’m so worried about tonight I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rose used her key card to unlock the door. Angela edged closer.

  “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait out here.”

  “Can’t I even see your room?”

  It’ll be hard to get her out. “That’s against the rules.” Even my lies sound wimpy. “I have to be careful because I almost got suspended last time.”

  “You let someone else in your room?”

  “No, I climbed up into the clock tower a couple of times. The light’s better for painting up there. Wait here!” Rose opened the door just enough to slide into her room, then shut the door firmly behind her and locked it. She resisted the urge to throw herself onto her bed and pull the white comforter over her head.

  CQ, Winkish, now Angela from Idaho – what have I gotten into? Has any one of them told me the truth? Exhaling sharply to vent her frustration, she turned to get her uniform from the small closet. Taped to the closet door, the large yellow eyes of Maud Lewis’ Three Black Cats stared at her as if they knew her predicament and were curious about what she’d do.

  One step at a time. She’d change clothes, give her electronics to Winkish, then get rid of Angela. Maybe everyone would leave her alone after that.

  Having donned the white blouse and the maroon pleated skirt and gray blazer of the school’s uniform, she took off her barrette and quickly brushed her hair in front of the mirror above the dresser.

  Hopeless. She tossed the brush down and took the mother-of-pearl barrette to her desk and the open window above it. She examined the barrette first in the sunlight, then under the intense light of her desk lamp. The dark slit would be easy enough to spot if someone suspected the barrette slid apart; otherwise, the slit looked like the border between two fragments of shell.

  What has CQ put in there? she wondered. A tiny key? A computer chip? Was it identical to the item he’d buried under the inner sole of one of the sneakers he’d given her? She berated herself for promising not to look, but he’d seemed to make sense at the time.

  “Even by your facial expression, you can’t reveal what you don’t know,” he’d said. “If someone threatens you, give up one item, but not both. And you can honestly say you didn’t know what it was.”

  Whatever. She returned to the mirror to fix the barrette in her hair. Truth is you didn’t look because if he found out, he’d never trust you again. Disappoint him like that, he’d probably disappear for another dozen years, maybe forever. So, would anything really be different? Get over it!

  Rose went back to the battered desk to collect her laptop and iPad. Holding them against her chest, she stepped into the corridor.

  “You ready?” asked Angela. She’d sat herself down on the carpet again and was texting from her phone.

  “Yes.”

  Tanya Lyskovitch was walking toward them on the way to the staircase. Even in uniform, the girl looked elegant.

  “I hate uniforms,” said Angela, stowing her phone in her backpack. “Not your fault, but that one is really blah on you, Rose.” She got to her feet.

  “It makes her look like a gray pear,” said Tanya, stopping an arm’s length away.

  Rose flushed. Why does someone so wealthy and beautiful have to be such a bitch? “Actually, I was born a Quintz, but I don’t suppose you know the difference between a pear and a quince.”

  “You talk nonsense, Rose.” Tanya raised her penciled eyebrows at Angela. “And you are?”

  Angela’s head inched forward. “Who wants to know?”

  “I am Tanya Lyskovitch. And you are?”

  “I’m Rose’s cousin, Angela.”

  Tanya’s eyes raked Angela from face to boots and back again. “I did not know Rose had an attractive cousin.”

  “Thanks,” said Angela. “I didn’t know she had a nasty friend.”

  Tanya’s expression darkened. She muttered something in Russian.

  “Sorry. We have to go.” Suppressing a smile, Rose turned and headed for the stairs, Angela close behind. They emerged from the dorm squinting against the sunlight. Rose walked a few paces, then stopped. “Thank you,” she said to Angela. “Nobody here stands up to her like that.”

  “What’s a quince?”

  “It’s a fruit in the same family.”

  Angela smiled. “You saying we’re a family of fruits?”

  “No, just nuts.”

  They turned as the door opened behind them. Tanya scowled and stalked by, heading up a path across the grassy quadrangle.

  “Looks like she’s headed toward the admin building, too,” said Rose. “Let’s go and get you some money.” She started up the path. “I just have to stop at the Dean’s office first.”

  Angela walked beside her. “Can I see your iPad for a minute? I have a Samsung and I just want to feel the weight of yours.”

  “Sure,” said Rose, handing it over.

  “And the laptop, too,” said Angela.

  “What?” Rose turned her head and had a flash of Angela’s fist before it smacked into her nose, driving her head backward as pain exploded through it.

  The next thing she knew she was sitting on the grass with blood gushing from her nose and Tanya was bending down offering her some Kleenex.

  “Lie down and put this up your nose,” urged Tanya. “I go for the nurse.”

  Rose winced as she pressed the tissues against her nose. “My computer.” Her voice came out strange, her words muffled. “She took my laptop.”

  “Yes,” said Tanya as she straightened. “I am sorry for you. In Russia, I have cousins like that.”

  23

  The Crematorium

  From her jump seat in the hearse, Kathy saw the sign a half-block away.

  Bon Voyage Funeral Home

  Elegant Departures Since 1926

  Terrible name, she thought. But rather than the Gothic house of horrors she’d been expecting, the funeral home was an L-shaped, two-story building of tan stone that was given a rosy hue by the setting sun. Set back from the street, the long side was fronted by fenced-in flowerbeds. Kathy recognized plants her mother had grown back in Greenwich: grape hyacinths, pink and white bleeding hearts, and Lenten roses in front of emerging hostas. The statue of a contemplative Greek goddess presided over the garden. A stained-glass panel of a dove in flight highlighted the front door.

  “Looks like a fancy place,” said Kathy.

  In the front passenger seat, Vendetta nodded. “Chicago vampires have good taste. Not like those in New Jersey.”

  “If you didn’t like New Jersey, why did you live there?” asked Lionel.

  “My job paid well. I worked for a Family that appreciated my talents.”

  Bunny drove the hearse past the building and into a fenced-in parking lot that occupied the hollow of the L. Two pick-up
trucks and a black Lexus were parked close to the fence.

  “Over there,” said Vendetta, indicating a double-door receiving entrance in the smaller wing of the building.

  Bunny backed the hearse up to the gray doors and honked the horn. Seconds later, a man in a tuxedo and black fedora emerged from a door in the long side of the building. He flashed a thumb’s up sign and then walked toward the hearse. Bunny cut the engine.

  “That must be Frank,” said Vendetta. “He’s the one I talked to. We knew some of the same people when he worked for Capone. Wait here.”

  “Make it quick. We have to get back on the road,” said Bunny. “Bart’s going to beat us to the girl.”

  On his knees behind Kathy’s jump seat, Lionel was putting on his backpack. “While we’re here in Chicago, I want to call my mother.”

  “I need to use the bathroom,” said Kathy.

  Vendetta sighed and opened his door. “Pazienza. All things in their time.” He got out of the car, shut the door and walked over to Frank, who greeted him with a polite, fanged smile.

  As Bunny’s fingers tapped the steering wheel impatiently, Kathy watched the men confer, their hands moving in a midair duet of bargaining until their deal was closed with a handshake. Vendetta returned, opened the passenger door and leaned into the hearse.

  “Take all your things and follow Frank. The cremation will occur very soon. I’ve traded the hearse for an SUV with Illinois license plates, but it’s in use and we have to wait for its return. They have a wake scheduled for this evening, so we need to stay out of the way while they prepare. Meanwhile, I’ll give Lionel his lesson.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” said Bunny.

  “Yes, we do. Do you plan to arrive at a girls’ boarding school in a hearse? Lionel, pass my pack forward. Please be careful how you get out with the violin.” Vendetta took the backpack and lowered his voice. “Girls, stay close to Bunny. Frank and his partners probably employ a few front men for funerals, but vampire embalmers often drink on the job. Even Frank might relish a healthy girl for a change. So you girls stay with Bunny. She’ll take care of you.”