Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

"Nice of your father to put them up all this time," I said.

She and Ben exchanged looks.

"They kind of invited themselves," she said. "Dad's a soft touch. Apparently, she's quite a prominent researcher."

"What about him?"

"He works part-time for some wildlife organization with a shoestring budget. Studying some fungus or other. I get the feeling he's having trouble finding grant money. I guess it's difficult… Dad should be here any moment."

She passed the bowl.

"Is it true?" I said. "About the Navy cutting off contact with the village with a blockade?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"It's the military," said Ben. "They live in their own little world."

"Dad's working on it," said Pam. "Wrote to Senator Hoffman because the two of them go back a ways. And Hoffman knows Aruk from personal experience; he was Stanton 's commander during the Korean War."

"The gourmet?"

She nodded. "He used to come up here with his wife, sit right on this terrace and play bridge."

"Sounds like a good contact," I said. The senator from Oregon had been discussed as a presidential candidate.

Ben put his napkin down and stood. " 'Scuse me, got to pick up the kids. Anything you need for tomorrow, Pam?"

"Just more disposable needles. And vaccine if it's running low."

"Already there," said Ben. "I set up before dinner."

He shook our hands and left quickly.

"He's terrific," said Pam. "Really knows what he's doing. He found KiKo on the docks, dying of infection, and nursed him back to health." She smiled. "KiKo's short for King Kong. He sleeps in a cradle in Ben's house."

"Dr. Picker said monkeys can't be housebroken."

"I'm no primatologist, but sometimes I think animals are a lot more tractable than people."

The sound of a car engine drew my eyes down toward the road. Darkness had set in, obscuring details, but a pair of headlights shone through.

"… one of the most levelheaded people you'll ever meet. Dad wouldn't mind if he went on to med school; the island could use a younger doctor. But the time commitment- he's got a big family to support."

"In his letter to me," I said, "your father mentioned retirement."

She smiled. "I don't imagine he'll ever fully retire, but with three thousand people on this island, he could use some help. I've been pitching in, but…" She put her spoon down.

"You asked before if I grew up on Aruk and I said not really. I was born here but boarded out very young. Went to Temple for med school and stayed in Philadelphia. I kept thinking I should come back here, but I grew up a city girl, found out I like the city."

"I know what you mean," said Robin. "Small towns are great in theory but they can be limiting."

"Exactly. Aruk is wonderful; you guys will have a great time. But as a permanent place to live, it's- how shall I put this? At the risk of sounding elitist… it's just very small. And the water all around. You just can't go very far without being reminded of your insignificance."

"We lived on the beach this last year," said Robin. "There were times the ocean made me feel invisible."

"Precisely. Everywhere you turn, it's there. Sometimes I think of it as a big, blue slap in the face."

She nibbled more fruit. "And then there's the pace. Cross the international dateline and for some reason everything moves slow- ly. I'm not the most patient person in the world."

Gladys and Cheryl arrived with a rolling tray and coffee, cleared the dishes and poured.

Pam said, "Everything was delicious, Gladys."

"Tell your father to show up for dinner. He needs to take better care of himself."

"I've been telling him that since I got here, Gladys."

"And I've been ignoring it, mule that I am," said a voice from the house.

A very tall, very homely man stood in the double doorway. Stooped, gaunt, clean-shaven, bald except for white dandelion puffs over his ears, he had a narrow, lipless mouth, a thick, fleshy nose and a long face bottoming in a misshapen, crinkled chin that made me think of a camel. His cheeks were hollow and limp, his eye sockets deep and pouched. Sad blue eyes- the only physical trait he'd passed on to his daughter.

He wore a cheap-looking white shirt over baggy brown pants, white socks, and sandals. His chest looked caved in, his arms long and ungainly and spotted by the sun, the flesh loose on thin bones. Plastic eyeglasses hung from a chain. His breast pocket drooped with pens, a doctor's penlight, a pair of sunglasses, a small white plastic ruler. He carried an old black leather medical bag.

As I stood, he waved and came forward in an ungainly, headfirst lope.

Not a camel. A flamingo.

Touching his lips to Pam's cheek, he said, "Evening, kitten."

"Hi, Dad."

The narrow mouth widened a millimeter. "Miss Castagna. A pleasure, dear." He gave Robin's fingertips a brief, double-hand clasp, then took my hand, sighing, as if he'd been waiting a long time to do it.

"Dr. Delaware."

His hand was dry and limp, exerting feeble pressure, then slipping away like a windblown leaf.

"I'm bringing you dinner," said Gladys. "And don't tell me you grabbed a snack in the village."

"I didn't," said Moreland, putting his palms together. "I promise, Gladys."

He sat down and inspected his napkin before unfolding it. "I trust you've been well taken care of. Any seasickness coming over?"

We shook our heads.

"Good. Madeleine 's a fine craft and Alwyn's the best of the supply captains. She used to belong to a sportsman from Hawaii. Runs fine on sails, but Alwyn upgraded the engines and he really makes good time. He babies that boat."

"How many boats make the run?" I said.

"Three to six, depending on orders, circulating among the smaller islands. On the average, we get one or two loads twice a month."

"Must be expensive."

"It does inflate the cost of goods."

Cheryl returned with two plates piled high with everything we'd eaten but the chicken. Beans had been added to the rice. She set the food in front of Moreland and he smiled up at her.

"Thank you, dear. I hope your mother doesn't expect me to finish all this."

Cheryl giggled and scurried off.

Moreland took a deep breath and raised a fork. "How's your little bulldog faring?"

"Sleeping off the boat ride," I said.

Robin said, "Matter of fact, I'd better go check on him. Excuse me."

I walked her to the stairway. When I got back, Moreland was looking at his food but hadn't touched it. Pam was sitting in place, not moving.

Moreland's eyes drifted up to the black sky. For a moment they seemed clouded. Then he blinked them clear. Pam was fiddling with her napkin ring.

"I think I'll take a walk," she said, rising.

"Good night, kitten."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Delaware."

"Nice to meet you."

Another exchange of pecks and she was gone. Moreland took a forkful of rice and chewed slowly, washing it down with water. "I'm very happy to finally meet you."

"Same here, doctor."

"Call me Bill. May I call you Alex?"

"Of course."

"How are your accommodations?"

"Great. Thanks for everything."

"What did you think of my Stevenson quote?"

The question threw me. "Nice touch. Great writer."

"Home is the sailor," he said. "This is my home, and it's my pleasure to have you here. Stevenson never made it to the northern Marianas but he did have a feel for island life. Great thinker as well as a great writer. The great thinkers have much to offer… I have high hopes for our project, Alex. Who knows what patterns will emerge when we really get into the data."

He put the fork down.

"As I mentioned, I'm particularly interested in mental health problems because they always pose the greatest puzzles. And I've seen some fascinating cases."