by Chris Abani
Well, earlier this evening I received a call to assist a park ranger out by Lake Mead. When I got there, it appeared as though two suspects were trying to commit suicide or murder.
Which is it, Sunil asked, thinking Salazar seemed more polite than he remembered. He must want something pretty bad, he thought.
I don’t know, Salazar said. The suspects were in the water. The tall one, whose name is also Water, was bent over. The smaller one, named Fire, on Water’s side, was submerged. The ranger says he had to ask Water to come out of the water—oh, fuck it; he had to ask the suspect to come out of the water several times.
Sounds like the park ranger could have handled it by himself.
Well, he called it in, so I came to his assistance.
All right, Sunil said. But why a psych evaluation, why not just arrest them?
There are no bodies, just drums of blood.
But you said the body dumps had started again, Sunil said.
I had to say something to get you here, Salazar said.
Sunil sighed with relief. So this is not really a straight-ahead psych eval, he said. You want me to help you hold them for seventy-two hours while you search for the body or bodies?
Yes. I’m also hoping you might find out for me where they might have dumped the bodies.
If there still are any, Sunil said.
How do you mean?
A quick memory flashed through Sunil’s mind. A hillside with stubby grass, a quickly dug shallow grave. A body. Male. Teeth extracted, ground to powder earlier. Overhead a hawk circling. Heat shimmering. Then powdered lime poured over the body. Then that horrible sizzling, soft almost, like effervescence.
Anyway, he said, to Salazar. If I recall from two years ago, the killer dumped the bodies out in the open. If the twins are the killers, shouldn’t there be bodies in plain sight?
Salazar shrugged. Fuck, nothing’s ever that easy, he said.
Is there anything else I should know, Sunil asked. Anything you tell me is bound to help, even the slightest thing.
Well, the small one is kind of feisty, but sounds college-educated, and the tall one looks normal but is kind of like Rain Man.
Rain Man?
You know, like the movie. He never says anything directly, only mumbles weird facts, like someone on Jeopardy!
Interesting, Sunil said. Anything else?
Just a feeling.
What kind of feeling?
I don’t know. They’re pretty odd-looking, but there’s something else off about them. Look in their eyes.
Sunil nodded as Salazar walked away, down the hallway.
Twelve
Alone with the twins, Sunil drew the green cubicle curtain closed behind him. There was a dark stain on the fabric just below his left elbow that Fire seemed to be staring at.
My name is Dr. Sunil Singh, he said. You must be Fire, he said to Fire, and you must be Water.
Dr. SS, Fire said, and laughed.
Sunil smiled wanly. Please don’t call me that, he said. You may call me either Sunil or Dr. Singh. Sitting down, he pinched the crease of his pants between two fingers and smoothed it out.
I’ll just call you Doc, Fire said.
I wish you wouldn’t, Sunil said, but Fire showed no sign he had heard him. Sunil studied the twins. Water was sitting on the examination table, feet nearly touching the floor. He was wearing pants and a shirt that was unbuttoned but no shoes, and Sunil wondered whether his shoes had been left at the scene. Fire had pushed the left panel of the unbuttoned shirt behind his head and Sunil could make out his caul draped like a thick fleshy scarf. Why hadn’t they had it removed, he wondered.
Have you been treated well, he asked.
No worse than usual, Fire said.
Are you used to being treated badly?
Look at us, Doc, Fire said. Of course we are.
And when you say “we,” are you speaking for your brother, too?
Yes, Doc.
Is that true, Water, Sunil asked.
Twins have an unusually high incidence of left-handedness, Water said.
Sunil smiled. This must be what Salazar meant; Water avoided direct questions. Sunil tried a different approach. I didn’t know that, he said. But did you know that polar bears are left-handed?
Bats always turn left when they exit a cave, Water said.
Don’t get him started, Doc, or we’ll be here all night, Fire said.
Does Water talk like that often, Sunil asked him, glad to have drawn a response.
Yes, Fire said.
The voices of people settling into the next cubicle came over the curtain. Across the room a baby was crying. Medical personnel walked back and forth; their shadows against the curtain looked like a puppet show. Fire looked Sunil over, taking in his three-hundred-dollar shoes, his gold pen, the Rolex, and the tailored suit pants.
You don’t look like a county employee, he said.
I’m not, Sunil said.
Who do you work for?
I’m here to conduct a psychiatric exam, he said. Do you know what that is?
Conjoined twin, Fire said sarcastically, not retarded.
Good, Sunil said, unfazed. Do you mind if I conduct a basic physical? Check your vitals?
“Vital” is from the Latin for “life,” Water said.
Yes, Sunil said, careful not to indulge Water. May I examine you?
Fire nodded.
Water?
Water nodded.
Sunil conducted a brief but thorough exam and with the exception of telling them what he was going to do from time to time, and asking them to clamp down on thermometers or open their mouths, the process was conducted in silence and the twins surrendered with ease to Sunil’s quiet authority.
I need to take some pictures, he said. Is that okay?
Whatever, Doc, Fire said.
Good, Sunil said, reaching for the Polaroid camera in his coat pocket. Please stand against the wall.
Water shrugged off his shirt and did as he was told. Sunil lifted the camera to his face and took a picture.
Turn to your left, Sunil said to Water, who turned, bringing Fire straight into focus.
Please put your shirt back on and sit, he said to Water.
Water sat and arranged the shirt so Fire was visible, hanging off his side; clearly they had done this before. Sunil waved the Polaroid around to dry, and something in the movement looked like he was fanning away a bad smell.
You don’t have to do that anymore, Fire said. They dry by themselves.
Sunil ignored him and took a manila file from his briefcase and flipped it open. With extra care he stapled the photos to a blank sheet of paper.
How odd, Sunil said, rubbing the photo where Water’s mouth was. He looked up at Water. Is your mouth always slightly open?
I call him Lizard Mouth sometimes, Fire said. His tongue flicks.
Why is that?
Probably some birth defect, Doc, I mean, look at us.
And what is this tattoo, he asked, pointing in the photo to Water’s chest, over his heart. These lines—looks like a Chinese character.
It’s a hexagram, Fire said, from the I-Ching. It means Fire and Water.
A hexagram is a combination of characters for the elements, Sunil said. It can mean many things. Isn’t that the point of the I-Ching? Precision is important.
Even at the risk of sounding like an asshole, Fire said.
Even then, Sunil replied, reaching for the hole-punch on a medicine cart. He lined the paper up exactly and punched two clean holes and then threaded the paper onto the metal clasps. When he looked up Fire was studying him intently. Their eyes met; Fire smiled, Sunil flinched. Fire’s teeth were rather canine looking.
You should get a tattoo, Fire said.
No, I don’t wa
nt a chup, Sunil thought, returning in his mind to the slang of his youth.
In Vegas you can get a tattoo on your eyeball, Water volunteered.
Sunil thought about Asia and the tattoo on her shoulder. No, he wouldn’t be getting one anytime soon.
I’m just going to ask some questions. May I record the session?
The twins nodded.
Good, Sunil said, setting a digital recorder between them.
Full names, please.
Water Esau Grimes and Fire Jacob Grimes.
Date of birth?
December twenty-first, 1969.
Address?
No fixed abode, Fire said.
Where do you live, then, Sunil asked. Did the police not ask for ID?
We live off the grid. Don’t believe in IDs, Fire said.
So what did you tell the officer?
He didn’t press it. He was too busy trying to get us here.
I see, Sunil said, not seeing at all. You must be staying somewhere.
Motel over by Fourteenth, Fire said.
Sunil asked for and wrote down the address. Maybe he could get Salazar to search it.
Occupation, he asked.
King Kongo the African Witchdoctor, Fire said.
Circus act?
No, Fire said. Sideshow.
Marital status?
Single, Fire said.
Fred loves me, Water said.
What is your sexual orientation, Sunil asked.
Fred is a girl, Fire said.
Are you married to her, Water?
Water shook his head.
I would still like you both to answer the question regarding your sexual orientation.
Water here is straight, Fire said. And I have no penis.
Iguanas have two penises, Water said.
Thank you, Sunil said. Have either of you had any trouble with your mental health before?
No, Fire said.
Water shook his head.
Have either of you seen a psychiatrist or been admitted to a psychiatric facility before?
No, Doc.
Sunil nodded at Fire, then looked pointedly at Water.
Charlie Chaplin once won third place in a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest, Water said.
Sunil shook his head, irritated. Do you have any problems with your physical health, he asked.
No, Fire said.
Water shook his head.
In the past?
Yes, Fire said. I get burned regularly in my work. I’m a fire wizard.
A fire wizard?
A very good fire wizard, Water said.
Just to clarify, Sunil asked, is this part of your act?
Yes.
So outside of your act you don’t think you are an actual wizard?
Like in Lord of the Rings?
Yes.
No, no, I don’t, Doc, ’cause I’m not suffering from dementia.
That’s the wrong term for what you would be suffering from if you thought you were a wizard, Sunil said. And you, Water, are you a fire wizard too?
Wrong element, Fire said.
Sunil ignored him. Water, he pressed.
A cockroach can live for nine days with its head cut off, Water said.
Good to know, Sunil said to him. Is either of you currently on any medication?
No, Fire said.
Water shook his head.
Have you taken medication regularly in the past for any condition?
No, Fire said.
Water shook his head.
As far as you know, has anyone in your family ever had any problems with mental health?
The twins shook their heads. One head was where it should be, at eye level; the other, hanging halfway off Water’s side, made the otherwise banal action disconcerting.
Do either of you suffer from any hallucinations—visual or otherwise?
No, Fire said.
Water shook his head.
Would you tell me if you did?
Neither brother spoke.
Were you trying to commit suicide at the lake and, if so, have there been any previous attempts at suicide, Sunil asked.
No, Fire said. No, he repeated emphatically.
If you weren’t trying to commit suicide, what were you doing in the lake?
Swimming, Fire said.
Did you tell the police that you were swimming?
No.
Why?
Neither twin spoke.
Would you say either of you is impulsive, Sunil asked.
Hard to be impulsive when you are chained to someone’s side, Fire said.
Right, Sunil said. What about you, Water?
Water shook his head.
Can you explain the blood the police found?
No, Fire said.
You’re being completely honest?
Fire shrugged. He looked like a shuddering rat.
You know, Sunil said, in my experience it never pays to play with the police.
I thought you were evaluating our minds, Fire said. Now you just sound like you’re trying to solve the case for the police. We plead the fifth, Fire said.
In a medical exam, Sunil asked.
Fire drew his fingers across his lips, mimicking a zipping motion. Water copied him.
Sunil changed tack.
If I let you go now, would you try to harm yourself or anyone else?
Who can say, Fire said.
You can, Sunil said.
Fire looked away. Water was examining his nails.
Even if you didn’t kill anyone, attempted suicide is an extreme measure, Sunil said, voice softening. I am not convinced that it is in your best interest to release you. I think that a combination of medication and counseling could really help you. It is important that you are well enough to help the police resolve this matter.
So you think we are crazy, Fire asked.
Crazy is not a useful term. Now, at least for tonight, I’m going to recommend that you be put on a forty-minute-interval suicide watch. This is a county hospital; I am afraid that their facilities are limited, so I am having you transferred tonight to the institution where I work. The police, I am sure, will find that acceptable.
Anything has to be better than county jail, Fire said. I knew you weren’t a state employee, he added.
I work for the Desert Palms Institute. It’s a very nice facility with the best doctors. We’ll take care of you. Sunil hesitated for a moment. I can’t imagine how hard your life has been, but I do think that we can help you.
Neither twin spoke.
I am going to set up your transfer. The next time I see you will be at the institute, he said.
Tonight, Fire asked.
No, tomorrow morning, Sunil said. I’ll check you in tonight, but I won’t be there until tomorrow.
He stepped out of the cubicle, then went looking for Salazar to make transfer arrangements and to tell him to check out the motel. The curtain fell behind Sunil and the irregularly shaped stain that Fire had noticed before seemed to suddenly fill the green field of it.
I wonder if it is dried blood, Fire said, pointing at it. County, he scoffed.
A dark tree, Water said.
It was well after ten that night before Sunil finally left County Hospital.
Thirteen
Birds on a wire, a drunk leaning up against a Dumpster, a homeless man sprawled on a stained mattress in the corner between the drunk, the Dumpster, and the wall. Salazar slammed the car door and the birds took off. The wire dropped water in benediction. Fucked neighborhood, Salazar said under his breath, crossing the street to the run-down motel. THE PINK FLAMINGO, the sign said. A lone flamingo grew out of the roof of the office building. These kinds of
motels had once been so important to the city. Now they were reduced to being long-term residences for those on welfare or otherwise down on their luck. A sign outside the office window offered free lunch with a room. He shuddered to think what the lunch was made of. It was already past ten at night and he hadn’t had anything to eat, but he wouldn’t touch it.
The clerk behind the desk didn’t look so much old as resigned, his expression giving him the appearance of the archaic.
Hey, Salazar said, and put his shield down in front of the clerk’s face.
Hey, the clerk said, taking in the shield, expression unchanging.
Are there Siamese twins staying here?
The freaks? Yeah. Room 12, the clerk said. He took a key down from behind him and handed it to Salazar, in anticipation. That way, he pointed, losing interest. As Salazar turned to leave, the clerk looked up with what seemed like extreme effort. They checked out two weeks ago, though, he added.
Salazar stopped. Then why did you give me the key?
The clerk shrugged. Nobody’s been in there since, except the maid. I thought you police types like to do your forensics shit.
Salazar shook his head and handed the key back. The room would yield nothing and the CSI team would not come out for this. If there had been anything unusual, like a decomposing body or stuff like that, the clerk would already know. He walked back to his car. An old black man leaned against it, smoking. Salazar ignored him, got in and gunned the engine, and the old man moved off reluctantly. As Salazar drove away he reached for his cell and called Dr. Singh.
Have the twins talked yet, he asked.
Sunil struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice: Nothing you will find useful. How are your investigations going?
We haven’t turned up a body yet. But I am at the address you gave me.
Did you find anything interesting?
No, it’s just an old motel.
Did you find anything in the old motel?
No, they checked out of here two weeks ago. Fuck, Salazar said. Do me a favor, Doctor. Get them to explain what the fuck is going on.
All in good time. Good night, Detective.
Good night, Salazar said. Then under his breath, Fuck you very much.
He decided to head back to the station. Maybe he had overlooked something. He just needed to go over everything repeatedly until he found it.