Skull Duggery (14 page)

In the end it was Tony himself who came to Gideon’s rescue, interrupting himself in the middle of a sentence. “Hey, Jamie, why the long face, as the bartender said when the horse walked into the bar? You look like you just lost your best friend.”

“Oh-sorry, Tony. It’s nothing. I was just thinking…”

Jamie was much as Julie had described him, a skinny, narrow-shouldered man with Woody Allen glasses and a sad-sack, permanently worried, Woody-Allenish demeanor to match. Gideon couldn’t help smiling, thinking of the wonderfully apt Yiddish word his old mentor, Abe Goldstein, would have used to describe him: nebbish. He had an aluminum cane hooked on the back of his chair, and it was obvious that he was still in some discomfort from his knee operation.

“Come on, little brother, out with it,” Tony said amiably.

Jamie hunched his shoulders. “Well, it’s just that I’ve been thinking about what you were telling me about on the way down, your new… installation. I put some working figures together, and honestly, I don’t see how we can make it work. I mean, I’m not criticizing-”

“Oh yeah,” Tony cried, “I was gonna get around to that.” He removed his arm from Gideon’s shoulder and rearranged himself in his chair. “Everybody listen to this now,” he said, hammering on the table with freshened enthusiasm. “Jamie thinks I’m out of my mind, but you’re gonna love it. This is Preciosa’s idea, actually, and I think she’s really got something this time.” He looked proudly toward the foot of the table where Preciosa, his “current sweet patootie,” sat smiling.

Only “sweet patootie” didn’t come close to conveying Preciosa’s looks. A tall, languid woman in her forties, exotic in a long-nosed, high-cheekboned way, over-made-up and overjeweled (six of her long, thin fingers bore rings, three of worked silver, and three with amethyst stones that closely matched her purple lipstick and eye shadow), she put Gideon in mind of one of those big wading birds, a heron or an ibis, exaggeratedly slow-moving and studiedly graceful. And, like a heron, endowed with an extraordinarily long and sinuous neck, so that her narrow head gave the impression of bobbing slightly on its slender support. As a physical type, she was as different from Tony as two people can be. Tony was one of those people who seemed to take up more space than he was entitled to, and to be made of something denser and heavier than plain flesh. The supple, lissome Preciosa seemed as if she could conform to any space available, like jelly, like smoke.

Gideon could see that identifying her as the originator of the idea to come did nothing to increase the receptiveness of Carl, or Josefa, or Jamie; instead, there was a flurry of exchanged, wary glances and even a few rolled eyes. Annie’s feelings about her “harebrained schemes,” it appeared, were widely shared. Like Tony, however, Preciosa seemed oblivious to the reception, responding to Tony’s tribute with a slow, refined nod. Gideon had the impression that she might have enough English to get bits of the drift of what was being said, but not much more.

At this point Dorotea’s nieces brought out chopped salads of avocado, corn, tomato, and jicama, along with bowls of cumin-scented dressing. Tony waited for them to finish setting them out, then made his announcement. “We-get ready for this-are gonna put in a temazcal .” He looked around with an expectant grin, but the only response came from Carl, and it wasn’t what Tony was hoping for.

“A what?”

Tony shoulders sagged. He looked at Carl disgustedly. “Aw, Carl-a temazcal, for Christ’s sake. It’s like sort of a-it’s hard to-it goes way back to the Aztecs, it’s-you tell them, Gid, you’re the anthropologist.”

Gideon put down the forkful of salad-the first-that was on its way to his mouth. “To tell the truth, it’s not anything I’m all that familiar with, Tony, but I do know it’s something that was found in a lot of Pre-Hispanic cultures-Aztec, Mayan, Zapotec, Mixtec-a kind of ritual sweat bath or sweat lodge, something like what you still see in some Native American groups. It was probably in use right here in the Valley of Oaxaca. I seem to remember that herbs were involved, and that the rituals were basically connected to healing. Is that the kind of thing you’re talking about?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Tony cried, his exuberance having returned.

“No, my love, that is not exactly what I had in mind,” said Preciosa, whose English was just fine-better than fine: Smooth, coldly formal, and elegantly accented. “Yes, of course we will have the traditional elements of fire and water and curative plants,” she said with a boneless wave of her fingers, “and people will sit naked on woven petate mats to drink herbal teas and meditate. But there will also be a more modern focus on the healing powers of crystals and aromatherapy, both of which, I might add, will provide a welcome avenue to the sales of many a high-profit item.”

She sat back, regal and smiling, like an opera star surrounded by adoring fans.

“Uh… did you say ‘naked’?” Carl asked.

“Yes,” said Preciosa, “it’s the traditional way, but”-a condescending shrug-“if some people are too closed-minded for that, they can wear swimsuits if they choose. And don’t look so worried, Carlos, my dear, there won’t be any orgies. It’s not at all like that.”

“If you say so.” Carl looked far from convinced.

“But what”s it going to cost?” Jamie asked anxiously. “Have you taken into consideration the kind of facility it would require? You’re not just talking about some simple concrete-block cube. The specialized plumbing requirements, the ventilation-”

Tony aimed a finger at him. “A new facility will not be necessary, my man. You know the empty room at the end of the storehouse that we don’t use for anything-well, cleaning supplies and stuff? Well, Preciosa checked it out and says it’d be perfect: no windows, solid stone walls, and stone floor And the rest of the building”s already plumbed, so how much could it cost to run pipes to it?”

“And ventilation?”

“Ventilation? We knock a couple of slits in the walls, high up.”

“ Slits in the walls? The health inspectors would never-”

He was cut off by a contemptuous laugh from Tony. “Hey, I can take care of the health inspectors, trust me. Look, the thing is, Preciosa says these things are making a comeback all over the place-but not here in the Valley, not yet. I checked it out for myself, and she”s right, there isn”t one; this would be the very first. It’ll be a hell of an attraction, a hell of an income stream. Do you have any idea of what these weirdos pay for that aromatherapy crap? And it costs next to nothing to get. So-what do you all think about it?”

Not much, apparently. Tony”s question received no answer at all for a good five seconds, until Carl spoke.

“It”s your money,” he said with amiable resignation. “As long as you don’t expect me to take my clothes off and get into it myself, it”s fine with me. One question, though-who”s going to run this thing? I mean, you can’t just have naked people running in and out and sitting around meditating together.” He frowned. “Or can you?”

“Ah, that”s the beauty part,” Tony said. “Preciosa knows this healer, or teacher, or curandero, or whatever the hell you call him-they’re actually certified-who’ll run the sessions for us for half of what we charge, which is going to be a hundred and twenty bucks a pop. Valderano, his name is.”

“ Valeriano, mi gordito,” Preciosa corrected.

“Whatever. The point is, we don’t have to worry about it, we just rake in the money.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, anybody else got anything to say-anything positive to say?”

“Who”s supposed to keep it clean?” was Josefa’s mumbled comment. “Gonna need more help if you think it”s gonna be me.” Josefa, short, square-faced, square-bodied, and scowly (Gideon, seemingly in an animal-metaphor rut, was reminded of a slow, grumpy, old bulldog), was a woman in her sixties with a way of speaking that seemed not to be directed at any particular person, and rarely in response to any particular comment. She was like a radio that went on and off of its own accord.

“Aw, come on, you guys,” Tony pleaded, his arms spread, palms up, “how about a little enthusiasm? Jamie, I showed you the figures. It”s doable, isn”t it?”

“I have serious doubts about those figures, Tony. This place isn”t in the financial condition it was two years ago, you know. The exchange rate on the dollar, the money we put down the drain on the swimming with the Fishes-”

“You wouldn’t have lost money if you’d done it the way I said,” Preciosa said hotly.

“And then the bad publicity we got on the mud bath fiasco; that didn’t help. We’re still paying damages on that.”

Preciosa impaled him with a ferocious look. “There wouldn’t have been any fiasco, if you had just listened-”

“Knock it off, you two,” Tony intervened. “How about letting me worry about all that crap, huh?”

“I was under the impression that worrying about ‘all that crap’ is what you pay me to do,” Jamie said bravely.

“And you do a hell of a job, bro, a hell of a job,” Tony said, but he was obviously getting bored with the subject.

Jamie wasn’t interested in compliments. “I have to tell you, Tony,” he said with a fretful, frowning shake of his head. “We are not in good shape, not anymore. I have my doubts about this. I have my grave doubts.”

Tony responded with a snort of laughter. “You gotta excuse Jamie,” he told Gideon with a doting glance at his brother. “He can’t help it, that”s just the way he is. He was born that way; it”s in his genes. Remember that guy in the old Superman comics? Mr. Mxtlplx or something? With a little black rain cloud hanging over his head wherever he went? That”s my baby brother all the way. There”s always a disaster around the next corner.”

“You could… you could use a few more of those genes yourself, Tony,” Jamie ventured.

“I sure could!” Tony said happily.

“What are we all arguing about, anyway?” Carl asked. “You’re the boss, Tony. If you want it, I figure we might as well get used to living with it.”

More appreciative honking from Tony. “Damn right. Now you’re getting the picture.”

Clearly, he was used to having his parades rained on and perhaps was even amused by it. It was also clear that none of their opinions on the temazcal were, or ever had been, factors in the decision. The thing was settled, had been settled before he ever brought it up. The Hacienda Encantada would have the first temazcal in the Valley of Oaxaca, or more accurately the first temazcal in a thousand years or so. He would have preferred that they like the idea, but if they didn’t, he’d have no trouble living with the fact.

He looked up with interest as Dorotea herself led her nieces in bringing in more food. “Hey, here comes the main course,” he said, picking up a knife and a fork in his fists. “Whoa, look at that! Are you kidding me? Is that caguesa? My favorite dish in the whole damn world! Dorotea, you outdid yourself again.”

Dorotea responded with an ungracious shrug and said something in spanish; “You always did like peasant food,” Gideon thought it was. This was not a woman who went out of her way to butter up her boss. Or anyone else, as far as he could see. Presumably she got away with it on the strength of her famous cooking.

Indeed, the caguesa turned out to be a pungent and delicious stew of chicken, tomato, and toasted corn, perfectly flavored with garlic and served with melt-in-your-mouth fresh corn tortillas and rice. Once a few spoonfuls had been put away, individual conversations resumed. With Tony and Julie reminiscing about family matters and members unfamiliar to him, he tried conversing with Josefa, who was seated on his left. (“I understand Tony is your nephew?” “Are you originally from Teotitlan?” “Have you always lived here?”) But she was intently focused, first on cleaning her silverware with her fingernails and her napkin, then on eating her meal, and even when he tried the questions in Spanish, the only thing he got out of her other than si s and no s was an unsolicited comment about Preciosa:

“I bet she no back next year,” she said with satisfaction, jerking her head in that lady’s direction. “She getting old. Look at them hands, all them veins, all them bumps. She get all the face-lifts she want, she still an old lady. Always you can tell from the hands.” As before, the remarks were made, not quite to Gideon, but to some invisible person now a few feet behind him, now just in front of him, sometimes a few feet above him. He wondered if she might not be aware that she was expressing her thoughts aloud.

In any case, he had to admit (to himself), she did have a point. Preciosa’s veiny, arthritic hands were a good twenty years older than her face. It was the sort of thing he ought to have noticed, or so he thought, but somehow he never did. He revised her age upward to the fifties, probably the late fifties. Well, he’d always had trouble judging a woman’s age, at least when she still had flesh on her bones.

He gave up on talking to Josefa and tuned back in to the conversation between Julie and Tony. “I used to envy you all so much,” Julie was saying. “I would have given anything to have grown up here on the Hacienda, the way you and Jamie did.”

Tony, who had been guzzling steadily but seemed no drunker than before (nor any less, either), paused in shoveling stew into his mouth and gave a low, gravelly laugh. “Like Jamie, maybe, but not like me.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

Tony looked puzzled. “You mean you don’t know the story? Of my misspent youth? Sure, you do.”

“No, she doesn’t, Tony,” said Carl, who was sitting on Julie’s other side. “Don’t you remember? She was just a wide-eyed kid back when she was working summers here. We all figured there was no point in loading all that baggage on her. You did too. So no, she doesn’t know, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s still no point.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Disappointed, Tony went back to eating.

“Now, wait a minute, you two,” Julie said, putting down her fork. “Just you wait one cotton-pickin’ minute. I am no longer a wide-eyed kid, and I am certainly not innocent. I am a worldly, experienced, married woman. You should hear some of the things Gideon talks to me about. If there’s something about this family that I don’t know about, I want to hear it.”