Beautiful to the Bone (The Enuis Trilogy #1) (23 page)

In the taxi, streetlights coasted across her face and returned her to darkness, over and over. Her fatigue smothered any conversation, even as we slipped on our bathing suits. As my one-time guest she could swim free, and though I could see that the chemical smell of the place displeased her as it did me, once she was in the water she matched me lap for lap until I pulled out, sat on the pool’s edge, and watched her swim another twenty. The woman was strong.

“I needed that,” she said pulling herself next to me on the edge, obviously revitalized. “Thank you for letting me tag along.”

I handed her a towel.

“You’re thinking of leaving, aren’t you?”
Teenage vulnerability returned to her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Remember, about three months ago, I said you reminded me of someone?”

“Someone in your family.”

“My sister, the only one I got along with. She was very beautiful. Some said
too beautiful
.”

“Too beautiful?”

“So beautiful, my parents said, that no one would be worthy of her. But that didn’t stop the men from trying.”

“Your parents must have both been pretty gorgeous to have the two of you.”

“Well, she drowned.” Nan stared into the pool’s viridian depths. “She went swimming, a river we both loved. She’d been swimming there a lot with a boy she’d been seeing. One evening, she didn’t come back.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why having you around has been so special to me. It’s not just the physical—”

“No.”

“It’s you. The companionship, especially with Levi gone so often.”

I took her hand. “How do I remind you of her?”

“Quiet. Magnetic.” She stopped short. “Please don’t leave, not for a while. I don’t have many friends.”

I had never thought of her exactly as a
friend
. And there hadn’t been a lot of companionship, the little I knew about that. I was just a familiar, though intimate, tenant. One who was staying comfortably low profile from the cops. But the loss of family resounded deep beneath my heart. She was sore, and I was touched. “What about all those people who come to the parties —Marguerite, Maurice, all of them?”

“They’re toys. You need to have plenty of toys so everyone can play with something.” She quickly closed down. “Come on,” she said, helping me up. “Let’s go home and open some wine.”

I wouldn’t be able to stay —not much longer— even with my concerns about the police. But I could be her friend, maybe even be a surrogate sister. And I loved the idea of us being confidantes.

***

On the evenings when the television was off, two or three nights a week, I roamed the shipboard palace until the nightly festivities began. I was taken care of. Often pampered, like a favored pet. Nan didn’t offer to wash my hair, but I was baptized nightly in the large Moroccan tub in sweet smelling emollients of almond and clove or cardamom. Washed anew with bricks of laurel soap, Aleppo, Nan called them, and finished by ointments of rose or cinnamon or light vanilla, fit for Amphitrite. Then wrapped in a thick, oversized Turkish towel to marinate. No more chest tremors, no more voices. I wondered if that was evolution.

“You got a package.” Nan turned the small carton over several times.

“Yes, I ordered it. I was hoping you could help me out.”

“What does that mean?”

“I want you to be my standard for beauty.”

Her eyes flickered with confusion. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You want to take photos of me?”

“I want your DNA. I want to inspect your code. It could be the basis for generations of beautiful children.”

“What’s in this box?” It was as much a challenge as a question.

“A sampling kit. Painless.”

“Show me.” She handed me the box. I hadn’t lost her yet.

I spread out the kit. It was pretty benign: an untreated cotton paper swab with plastic handle, a transport pouch with desiccant to keep it dry, sealing tape, gloves, ink strip, alcohol pad, and forms.

“I’m not giving you my fingerprint.”

“No, no. That’s for suspected criminals. I don’t need your prints.”

“I’m not sure about this coding thing.”

“Your beauty could become the standard. You could be the mother of all beauty.”

Her mouth fell open, ever more sumptuous mystified. “I like being unique. I need to think about this.”

So, week after week, I waited for her answer. I studied. I put my thesis down on paper. I tore it up and started again. I asked her, “What about your sample?”

“Still considering.”

Forbearance. Not my best quality.

Checking the Internet for new research had become dull labor, a task lacking results. I counted the days to the conference. I was almost always slow to wake, the thickness of the air lulling away anticipation. I swam more and allowed myself the luxury of touching and being touched. I was something of a celebrity, although occasionally I’d catch Nan watching me with what appeared to be disapproval, her mouth hard, her eyes frozen. But I could have been imagining.

“Are we okay?” I asked her after one evening encounter and the apartment had cleared out. “You seem unhappy with me.”

“No, don’t be silly. What did he say to you?” She straightened a few things on the coffee table and cuddled next to me on the sofa.

“The doctor?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“You know he was with me too?”

“I didn’t, but I have no special rights.” The attachments wonderful but temporary.

“No, you don’t.” She smiled. “But what did he say?”

“He was pleasant. Smart. Not a great lover. But pleasant.”

“Well, he was very taken with you, and I just thought maybe he said something to you.”

“About what? What would he say? We talked briefly about why he got into medicine. I told him about my research. What did he say to you?”

She picked her teeth. She huffed. “He thought you were a beautiful person.”

“He said that?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

I shrugged. “So what? You’re a
really
beautiful person.” I put my arm around her.

She stiffened. “Yeah,” she said without enthusiasm and reached for the TV remote.

“Now stop,” I said grabbing the remote before she could. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull.”

She lunged for it. “Give me the fucking remote.”

I pulled back. “You’ve given me shelter, food, friendship. You’ve let me do my research. You’ve asked very little in return. I’m grateful to you. And to Levi, he’s a great guy.”

“Yes, I see you two are
pals
. Give me the remote.” She opened her right hand.

“Don’t twist this. I’m trying to let you know that you’re .  .  .” I waved the wand aimlessly. I searched for the word but the best I could come up with was “ . . . astonishing.”

She laughed, a blend of consent and lingering anger.

“Really,” I said and took her hand. “Really.”

She wriggled free. Her tongue snapped, a little like leather. “The remote.” Her hand open and waiting. Her smile distant.

“There’s a lot of buttons on these things, aren’t there?” I passed her the clicker, a familiar weariness settling along my chest. “You’re not going to give me your DNA sample, are you?”

“Probably not.” She pointed the wand and the screen surged to life.

I grew more excited about the upcoming conference.

One more extended weekend. I lifted the glass, and through its upturned bottom and its amber liquid I saw the newest crowd rippling in. Someone kissed my right cheek, clear of the birthmark.

“And this is our Eunis.” Levi’s strong gentle hands caressed my neck, drawing my hair away from my nape.

“Andy will take good care of her,” said Nan prying Levi’s hands off me and threading her own in my tresses. She gave my locks a sharp, painful tug. Touch no longer brought the exhilarating coolness of the Minnesota waters or Roddy’s warm hillside. No, now I was simply indulging Nan and Levi, preserving myself, with nothing more than a loss of feeling and a series of blind spots. Not sustainable.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It was one of those days when everything spills. Maybe because I’d never been in a space with 200 roaming
anything
, it made me extra nervous to think about being surrounded by 200 experts and interested genetastics. So I dropped my soap in the shower, I knocked my laptop off the bed, I splattered coffee over the kitchen floor. “Shoot!”

“
We’re
up early.” Nan said unfazed by the dark expanding puddle.

I crouched over my clumsiness with a towel. “I’m going out today.” I didn’t like being on my knees in her presence.

“Out? Where?”

“A conference.”

“A conference?”

“Genetics. New investigations, protocol, ethics, that sort of thing.”

“You seem nervous.”

“I am. I think you’d find some of it interesting.”

“I’m expected at the hospital.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I wish you’d mentioned it to us.”

“I did.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, it’s been almost a month.”

“Time goes fast here, doesn’t it?”

“Actually . . .” I wanted to be careful how I phrased this. “I’m not making the kind of progress I need to make.” I braced for incriminations.

“I can see that.”

“You can?” I never thought she noticed.

“Maybe
too
comfortable.”

Levi ambled in. “What’s too comfortable?” He assessed my ass. I looked back to her. She assessed him. I stood and rinsed the towel.

“Eunis is going to a genetics conference today.”

“Really.”

“I think it will be good for her. Time for her to get out, have other interests.”

“But you’ll still live here,” he said.

“I’m just going to a conference, hoping to find someone who might help take my research to the next level. But soon, I’ll need to—”

“Levi, it’s time to let the little girl fly.”

He gave her a sour glance. “Well,” he said turning to me as I inched to the door, “I like having you here.”

“You’ve both been great.” I checked my watch, slipped on my shades. “I’ve got to go.”

***

After verifying my pre-registration and clipping on my nametag, I put my head down and did my best to cut through the thicket of people, an aisle seat in mind. No such luck; only middle row seats available. I sat in the rear. Careful not to step on his feet, I acknowledged the guy to my left, studied the syllabus for the umpteenth time, and anchored my eyes on the empty lectern.

A young woman gave the welcoming introduction. She was easily ten years my junior. I contemplated leaving. I was in over my head. But wedged in left and right, I waited.

She reminded us of the closing keynote speaker and drew enthusiastic applause. Some in the auditorium scattered to other presentations. I didn’t move. Rolf Lund was speaking on Genome Integrity and the Healthy 46. I needed to learn all I could about those forty-six separate chromosome sequences in the human genome.

My main target, Lund was an expert in epigenetics, and a square man: head, nose, shoulders —all tall and square like a stack of children’s building blocks with a widow’s peak and crew cut.

“Professor Lund?” My heart pulsed; a series of dull heavy blows, someone striking an anvil. I’d waited till the rest of the admirers dispersed for coffee break prior to the next breakout sessions.

“Yes.”

“Like everyone else here I’m excited by your research. Really excited.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“And I’m wondering . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m wondering . . . I’ve been researching the coordinates of human beauty for a long time. I’m working in a research facility that’s tangentially studying attractiveness.”

“Different things, attraction and beauty.”

“Yes, precisely. I want to find the code, the Facial Beauty Code, whatever that mix is, and eventually make it available to the general population.”

He whistled, a long low one. “That’s quite formidable. And the sequencing . . .”

I nodded. “I’m wondering if someone like you would be willing to take me under your wing and help me work to the next level. Be my molecular research mentor?”

“Well . . .” He pursed his lips and studied me, no doubt considering the enormity of such a project and the potential public scrutiny it might bring. “Do you have a background paper on this?”

I gulped. He was interested! “I do.” I shuffled clumsily through my briefcase.

“Eunis Cloonis?”

Professor Lund looked over my shoulder and up.

“Eunis Cloonis?”

Past her midsection, tilting my head up, up, she was the tallest woman I’d ever seen, maybe five inches short of seven foot. She stood much taller than Lund, with a forehead rising more than half her long face.

“Yes.”

“Detective Gergis, NYPD.” She showed me her credentials. “We need to talk.”

Professor Lund promptly excused himself.

“Sir? Professor . . . !”

He didn’t look back. A whirlpool sucked me down, consuming me.

***

On the way to the precinct Detective Gergis told me how she’d been to my apartment, left notes, had been calling for weeks. I lost much of her early babble, still fixed on Professor Lund’s square shoulders as he wandered away from me.

She was a neophyte vegan, distrustful of her building’s new superintendent, allergic to almonds, a big Mets fan. “You know Zoe Lowenstein.”

“A little.” It was one of those older precincts, reminded me of elementary school. Her desk, like Harold’s, was oak, but unlike his, was cluttered with papers, a Mr. Met bobble head, and three mostly-completed Royal Crowns.

“They have bone marrow, you know.” I pointed to the colas.

“Oh.” She gathered the bottles and dropped them into her wastebasket. “I’m not sure about this vegan thing.” She shuffled through some papers; picked up none. “An administrator at Hunter College says she spoke to you; you were asking about Zoe. Why?”

“She’s interested in some of the things I’m interested in.”

“Like?”

“Social science.”

“You tracked her down because she’s one of a million people in this city interested in social science?” She unclipped a pen from her shirt pocket.

“No, because of these.” Off came my shades then I replaced them. “If you’ve met her you know she’s very self-conscious about her lazy eye.”

Detective Gergis’ shoulder dipped, more of a spasm. Hang a basket around her neck and you could’ve used her forehead as a backboard. She waited for an explanation, pen suspended. She clicked it open. I was only seconds ahead of her.

“Why me and Zoe? I’d seen her and, if you must know, I thought she was cute. What did Zoe say?”

“That’s between me and Miss Lowenstein. You’re aware that someone hijacked a Times Square billboard.”

“I’d heard something like that. Saw the headlines. Didn’t sound too important.”

“Important to the billboard company. Twenty-seven minutes of Kate Upton interrupted.”

“Really.” I didn’t hide my disdain.

“It’s amazing what’s worth $5,000 today.” The detective hinting at accord.

“Five K for twenty-seven minutes of Kate Upton?”

“She’s more expensive. This was just for the lost media time.” She fixated on the Royal Crowns in the wastebasket. “You’re sure about the bone marrow?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Zoe Lowenstein.”

“What I know of Zoe, she’s a very nice person. I don’t think she was attracted to me. It’s not the first time.” I waited as she slid more papers around her desk. “Anything else?”

“Where were you that evening?”

“What evening?”

“Christmas Eve.”

“In my apartment.”

“Anybody with you? Anybody who can corroborate where you were?”

I had to think a moment. “Actually,” I said, marveling, “yes, the president of my homeowner’s association, a woman named Helen Dorward. I’m afraid she doesn’t think very highly of me. Also a man named Malcolm, a patient at the Metzinger Clinic.”

“Really,
two
alibis?” She jotted something on the back of her hand.

“Do you need anything else?”
Get me out of here
.

“Why would they need bone marrow?”

“Not my field of study.”

“What is your field of study?”

Now I’d done it! “Lab technician, pharmaceuticals. Anything else?”

A woman in uniform dropped a new stack of papers on her shale-shifting desktop. “Not for the time being. Answer your phone next time.”

She ushered me into the lobby; I didn’t look back, eyes straight ahead. I reached the street and began walking —not clear in what direction,
just get away
. My phone buzzed. My first thought:
she wants me to come back in. They found another link to me.
I considered letting the phone buzz —at least until I was several blocks away and could offer to come in
tomorrow
, while I sorted things out. But it was buzzing against my chest. “Shit.”

I stopped. People pushed past me in both directions.

“Yes?” I answered without even looking.

“Eunis, damn am I glad I found you girl. I need your help.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Lyle. Look, I can’t talk long, they said I only have three minutes. You’re my one call.”

“What?”

“I need a lawyer and I need you to bail me out. It’s bullshit. My dick boss thinks I took some cash, but I didn’t. I only borrowed it. I was gonna give it back next shift.”

“Your boss?

“I’ve been delivering pizza. Here in the city. Ya gotta bail me out. I’m at the 82
nd
Street precinct. Eunis?”

From one precinct to the next, venues I could do without. “Yes?”

“You gotta get me outta here.”