Randy White - Night Vision

Speaking of women as if they were festively wrapped presents-a metaphor that, for Tomlinson, made every new day a potential Christmas morning.

As I came into the house, though, Emily was sitting primly at the galley table, looking elegant in a copper blouse and white linen jacket, while Tomlinson talked about the phenomenon we had witnessed the night before-the two dolphins we had seen charging out of the mangroves. That was probably a good thing because he had been obsessing about the Guatemalan girl, who had yet to reappear. He had called me earlier that day to report no luck and that he was coming back. I wasn’t sure what else to do, but we had decided to keep the problem running in the backs of our heads to see if something came up.

“Sorry to show up uninvited, Doc,” Emily said as I knelt at the refrigerator, looking for a beer. “I should have yelled. Or rang the bell… or something. But I did knock-”

“I had my earbuds in,” Tomlinson explained, motioning to some kind of miniature device that played music. “I was listening to a new download. A four-hertz theta frequency, trying to get my head straight.”

Emily looked at him, interested, as she continued speaking to me, saying, “So I walked around to the back of the house because I could hear someone humming-”

Tomlinson interrupted, “Doc was humming?” as if he didn’t believe her.

I said, “Isn’t that what people do when they shower? Sing, hum. I was showering.”

Emily said, “Yes, you were,” sounding as if she approved, her eyes locking onto my eyes. “I hope you aren’t pissed-and you certainly shouldn’t be embarrassed. I was restless tonight-we had ourselves quite a day, didn’t we?”

Yes, we had. Emily and I had spent all morning together, waiting for the county forensic team to arrive, and then most of the afternoon answering questions, first from the authorities and then from a couple of reporters.

I avoid media types. It’s an old habit. Putting my name or face out for public scrutiny is unwise when you’ve lived the life I have lived. When a guy has determined enemies, he protects his privacy with determination.

The woman, though, didn’t have a problem with it. She had handled the reporters politely and with just the right amount of professional reserve. I was impressed.

“That’s why I had to get out and go roaming tonight,” she was explaining now. “I decided to risk surprising you to see the amazing Dinkin’s Bay”-she smiled-“where bottlenose dolphins walk by moonlight.”

The woman glanced at Tomlinson, and I could tell that she hadn’t expected me to have company-for good reason. I had dropped more than a few hints during our hours together, telling the lady that I lived alone, wasn’t dating anyone special, and that I usually worked late in the lab-if she ever happened to be in the area.

Not that I had anything sexual in mind.

Right.

Now here she was, and her uneasiness was palpable.

Tomlinson has an uncanny ability to read people. He helped the woman relax by making her laugh, saying, “Know what the weird thing is? When I tell people about the dolphins, they don’t believe me. But the moment Doc says it, it’s like gospel. I just don’t get it.” He leaned toward Emily. “From what I’ve heard, you’re an educated woman. Any insights into how some people can be so damn misguided?”

Emily laughed, then asked if we’d take her outside to see the area where the dolphins had come ashore. She was wearing hard-soled shoes, not heels, but I told her it was a bad idea.

“It’s all muck and mangroves,” I explained. “Your clothes would be a mess. Plus, the mosquitoes. It’s no place for a lady at night.”

That earned me a smile and another potent look. “Thanks for noticing. After the way I was dressed this morning, I went out of my way to look like a woman tonight.”

For an instant, I wondered if the woman wasn’t being a little too obvious, then decided it was okay. I liked her, she liked me and was letting me know it. Nothing wrong with that. “You succeeded,” I told her.

“Then I’ve already had a good night,” she replied. She held my gaze for a moment, then turned to Tomlinson. “Doc told me that you found pieces of crabs’ legs and carapace when you checked the area. But, to him, that wasn’t enough proof the dolphins were feeding. What do you think?”

Tomlinson had been doing some staring of his own, and I was relieved to hear him say, “I always defer to Doc in matters that require a brain but not much heart. But what I really think is, I need to get going. It’s sushi night at the Stone Crab. And Rachel told me they just got in some fresh conch from Key West.”

“But wait,” Emily said as she watched him get to his feet. “You mentioned something I wanted to ask about. Were you practicing deep theta-wave meditation? I wanted to hear more.”

Now she definitely had Tomlinson’s attention. “It sounds like you know something about the subject.”

“At home, I’ve got a few four-hertz theta tracks. But I prefer the higher frequencies.” She included me in the conversation with a look. “The higher frequencies are associated with brighter colors, feelings of well-being. After what we found in that gator’s stomach, I went straight home, showered and put the headsets on.”

Tomlinson was smiling, and I could sense that his determination to exit courteously had been replaced by a growing interest in Emily.

“Biofeedback and brain harmony,” he said. “We are chemical-electric beings, grounded only by spirituality. Kindness and passion in most of us. Lust in a few cases, too. Quite a few, from what I’ve seen in this part of the world.”

I said, “Lust?” aware that Tomlinson was an expert at planting subliminal suggestions into the heads of unsuspecting females.

Emily was laughing, a smart lady who apparently had pretty good antennae of her own because she took control of the conversation, saying, “I’ll discuss the subjects of passion and lust with Doc- if he’s interested. But not in mixed company, thanks. The thing I wanted to ask about is, if you were listening to a theta track, I’m guessing you’re upset about something. Doc told me a little bit about what happened last night. The gator attack and the girl disappearing. Not everything, of course. He’s a hard one to get to open up. He mentioned he had a best friend. That’s you, I take it.”

Tomlinson grinned, and said, “It requires someone who’s forgiving. And not easily bored.”

“Then it is you. How do you get him to talk?”

Tomlinson came close to winking at me as he replied, “I fed him psychedelic mushrooms once-by accident, of course. And once I got him stoned on some very fine weed-same thing, by accident. At best, even when high I would describe him as vaguely chatty. But in a very careful way.”

Emily was having fun with this, but I felt like they were teaming up when she asked, “You don’t smoke, Doc? Or is he kidding?”

I had opened a Diet Coke because all my beer was gone. Compliments of Tomlinson, of course. I shook my head slowly, no, took a sip and listened to Emily talk.

“I guess I’m surprised-that’s not a judgment, by the way. Personally, I can’t believe it hasn’t been legalized. It makes me feel all loose and relaxed. I laugh a lot. And act stupid. I think it’s good for people like us to act stupid sometimes. Don’t you… Doc?”

Now the expression on Tomlinson’s face was telling the world I’m in love, which is why I spoke up, saying, “You mentioned sushi night at the Stone Crab? They close at nine, don’t they? You’ve only got two hours.”

The restaurant was only five minutes away on a bike. He knew exactly what I was telling him.

Tomlinson countered, “We could all go. I could tell Emily about Tula. Maybe later we can even drive across the bridge to Red Citrus and have another look around. I like this woman, Doc. What’s your last name?”