Swinging her feet from beneath the covers, Marsha sat on the edge of the bed. So as not to bother Victor, she stood up, wiggled into her slippers, and pulled on her robe. As quietly as possible she eased open the door to the bedroom and equally as quietly, pulled it shut.
She stood in the hall for a moment, thinking about where she should go. As if pulled by some unseen force, she found herself walking the length of the hall, heading toward VJ’s room. When she got there, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Marsha quietly pushed the door open wider. A gentle light was coming through the window from the post lamps lining the driveway. To her relief, VJ was fast asleep. He was lying on his side facing her. Sleeping, he looked like an angel of a boy. Could her darling baby really have had a hand in the dark events at Chimera? She couldn’t bring herself to think of Janice and David, her beloved first son. But with horror, a vision of David in his last days, his skin yellowed from the disease, flashed upon her.
Marsha stifled a cry. All of a sudden her mind conjured up a horrid image of her taking a pillow and pushing it down on VJ’s peaceful face, smothering him. Horrified, she recoiled from the thought and shook herself. Then she fled silently down the hall, running from herself.
Marsha stopped at the guest room door, which had temporarily become Philip’s room. Pushing the door open, she could make out Philip’s massive head silhouetted against the stark white of the bed linens. After a moment’s thought, Marsha slipped into the room and stood next to the bed. The man was snoring deeply, his breath softly whistling on exhale. Bending down, Marsha gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. “Philip,” she called softly. “Philip!”
Philip’s closely set eyes blinked open. Abruptly, he sat up. A look of momentary fear flashed across his face before he recognized Marsha. Then he smiled, revealing his square, widely spaced teeth.
“Sorry to awaken you,” she whispered. “But I need to talk to you for a moment.”
“Okay,” Philip said groggily. He leaned back on an elbow.
Marsha pulled a chair over to the bed, turned on the light on the nightstand, and sat down. “I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to VJ,” she said.
Philip’s face broke out in a wide smile as he squinted in the light. He nodded.
“You must have been a great help in setting up the lab,” Marsha said.
Philip nodded again.
“Who else helped with the lab?”
Philip’s smile waned. He looked around the room nervously. “I’m not supposed to say.”
“I’m VJ’s mother,” Marsha reminded him. “It’s all right to tell me.”
Philip shifted his weight uneasily.
Marsha waited but Philip didn’t say anything.
“Did Mr. Gephardt help?” Marsha asked.
Philip nodded.
“But then Mr. Gephardt got into trouble. Did he get angry at VJ?”
“Oh, yeah!” Philip said. “He got angry and then VJ got angry. But VJ talked with Mr. Martinez.”
“What’s Mr. Martinez’s first name?”
“Orlando,” Philip said.
“Does Mr. Martinez work at Chimera, too?”
Philip’s agitation began to return. “No,” he said. “He works in Mattapan.”
“The town of Mattapan?” Marsha asked. “South of Boston?”
Philip nodded.
Marsha started to ask another question but she suddenly felt a presence that sent a shiver up her spine. She turned to the door. VJ was standing in the doorway with his hands on the jambs, his chin jutting forward.
“I think Philip needs his sleep,” he said.
Marsha stood up abruptly. She started to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead she hurriedly brushed by VJ and ran down to her room.
For the next half hour, Marsha lay there, terrified that VJ would come into their bedroom. She jumped every time the wind blew the oak tree branches against the side of the house.
When he didn’t appear, Marsha finally relaxed. She turned over and tried to sleep, but her mind would not stop. Her thoughts drifted to the mysterious Orlando Martinez. Then she began to think about Janice Fay. She thought about David, feeling the familiar sadness. She thought about Mr. Remington and the Pendleton Academy. Then she recalled the teacher who tried to befriend VJ and the fact that he died. She wondered what he’d died of.
The next thing she knew, Victor was waking her to tell her he was leaving with VJ.
“What time is it?” Marsha asked, looking at the clock herself. To her surprise, it was nine-thirty.
“You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” Victor said. “VJ and I are off to his lab. He’s going to show me the details of the implantation work he’s done. Why don’t you come along? I have a feeling this is really going to be something.”
Marsha shook her head. “I’ll stay here,” she said. “You can tell me about it.”
“You sure?” Victor questioned. “If this is as good as I think it will be, maybe you’ll feel better about the whole situation.”
“I’m sure,” Marsha said, but her tone was doubtful.
Victor planted a kiss on her forehead. “Try to relax, okay? Everything is going to work out for the best. I’m sure of it.”
Victor went down the back stairs, literally shivering with excitement. If the implantation was real, he could surprise the other board members with the news at the Wednesday board meeting.
“Mom’s not coming?” VJ asked. He was near the back door with his coat already on. Philip was standing next to him.
“No, but she’s calmer this morning,” Victor said. “I can tell.”
“She was pumping Philip for information in the middle of the night,” VJ said. “That’s the kind of behavior that disturbs me.”
After the car pulled out of the drive, Marsha went to the upstairs study and got out the Boston phone book. She sat on the couch and looked up Martinez. Unfortunately, there were hordes of Martinezes, even Orlando Martinezes. But she found one Orlando Martinez in Mattapan. Taking the phone in her lap, she called the number. The phone was answered, and Marsha was about to start talking when she realized she was connected to an answering machine.
The message on the machine told her that the office of Martinez Enterprises was open Monday through Friday. She didn’t leave a message. From the phone book she copied down the address.
Marsha took a shower, dressed, made herself some coffee and a poached egg. Then she donned her down coat and went out to her car. Fifteen minutes later, she was on the grounds of Pendleton Academy.
It was a blustery but sunny day with the wind roughing the surface of the puddles left by the previous day’s rain. Many of the students were in evidence, most of them going to and from the obligatory attendance at chapel. Marsha pulled up as close as she could to the tiny gothic structure and waited. She was looking for Mr. Remington and was hoping to catch him out and about.
Soon the bells in the bell tower tolled the eleven o’clock hour. The doors to the chapel opened and rosy-cheeked kids spilled out into the fresh air and sunshine. Among them were a number of adult staff members, including Mr. Remington. His heavily bearded profile stood out among the crowds.
Marsha got out of the car and waited. Mr. Remington’s path would take him right by her. He was walking with a deliberate step. When he got about ten feet away, Marsha called his name. He stopped and looked at her.
“Dr. Frank!” he said with some surprise.
“Good morning,” Marsha said. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Remington said. “Something on your mind?”
“There is,” Marsha said. “I wanted to ask you a question which might sound a little strange. I hope you will indulge me. You told me that the instructor who tried so hard to befriend VJ died. What did he die of?”