(16) Crucia

Ambrosia was sitting in a folding metal armchair at a round whitewashed metal table under a thatch umbrella, outside the Ammos bar.

The beach was more dirt than sand. Sprays of crusty soil and pebbles were scattered over the cement where she was reminiscently situated, gazing at the breakwater harbor where modest sized yachts were moored and jet skis frolicked in the open gulf.

There was an unexpectedly large crowd for a March weekend with a cooler than usual breeze. The salty air was full of children's shrieks, staticky music, and was rife with the smell of roasting meats.

She wore a light sweater and jeans, with open-toe sandals, minimal make-up, her hair gathered in a loose bun, and she saw everything through the amber tint of her sunglasses. She appeared relaxed. But her blood pressure was up.

She had talked to Christofer Agape an hour ago on her cell phone, during her drive to the Ammos. The topic had disturbed her.

"Marianne Limani was raving insanely about Berenice Chora," he had said. "She accuses her of hypnotizing Fabienne in some black magic nonsense."

"About what exactly?"

"That stone-stare absurdity."

"Ah, the Medusa thing!"

"Do you believe that ridiculous notion too? The little girl has asthma, not a black magic curse. But that's not the problem. Pegasus is sick."

"No, no, he's recovering, he'll be just fine by tomorrow, the doctor is certain of it."

"I do hope that's true, my dear woman. Our relationship is founded on the understanding that his life and yours are intertwined. You know what I'm talking about. He will begin to stud in June, and if what the scientist fellow predicts is true, the offspring of Pegasus will be super horses without the need of performance enhancement drugs. It will be in their genes. They will be a Thoroughbred breed superior to all others. No more need for cheating our way to the winner's circle. So let me make this clear to you. If you involve Pegasus in your Crucia activities, you had better not endanger him in any way."

"Well of course not! I wouldn't think of it! He is essential for the healing of Fabienne. It is part of the process. That girl has remarkable faith, but faith needs an object, and for her, it is Pegasus."

Now, sipping a Bloody Mary and nibbling on cheese sticks, Ambrosia tried to focus her thoughts on Sanguineus. To think of him was to think of Marianne. This combination had infused her lovemaking last night. It was as though she was a crucified Marianne being ravished to death by the executioner.

She smiled at the thought. It cleared away her concerns about the ritual and had her thinking of what could come of its conclusion, late at night with Sanguineus, blood on his hands and the healing of Fabienne on hers. He would make love to her with the ruthlessness of his nature, while her body glowed with the satisfaction of a twofold triumph: the girl's medusean talent within her grasp, and the man's hard stiff power in the purse of her loins.

A frosty bucket glass of pale lime color was set on the table by a sunbrowned hand.

Ambrosia looked up. The face of Sanguineus came down and they kissed.

She offered him a cheese stick when he had sat down to her right. He wore a faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, half unbuttoned, baring a swath of his chest. An old camo boonie hat shaded his eyes. That was providential, for the umbrella's shade favored her left side.

"I spoke with your foster father last night before I left the villa," said Sanguineus in a light conversational tone.

"Don't call him my foster father," Ambrosia said. She was emphatic, but at once smiled her forgiveness. "He isn't what he makes himself out to be. He's a puffed up old narcissist who killed his wife for doing what he himself has done with God knows how many college girls. His only worth is in dying so that a sick girl will be healed. There, let that be his restitution."

Sanguineus shrugged. "Why not. You needn't bother convincing me of his guilt. Our investigator has been digging up more bits of incriminating evidence of his dealings with a Sicilian mob. It tried, through his info fed to them, to muscle in on the super-horse scam. Agape's boys have been hitting back. Do with the goat whatever you like. We've got his payment to us secured. And we've enough evidence to justify our acquiescence of his death, should a prospective client ask any questions about it, which is highly doubtful. We don't publish our goals and methods in Business Weekly."

"I didn't think you did," Ambrosia remarked. Her mind was elsewhere. "I've been meaning to ask you a favor. It's something Christofer doesn't really want to handle. You know that Grigoris had an uncle in the Sicilian Mafia. Well, he has a cousin who's into it also. The uncle's dead, but his youngest son, Carlos, is going strong. He has been coming to see me ever since I inherited the vineyard. He's forty-seven. Divorced. He lives in Rome. He wants to buy half my property and wants me to live with him in Rome. He treats me nice, but he won't take no for an answer. I think Christofer is afraid to get rid of him for me. I suppose he sees it as an unnecessary risk. I'm just an employee of Christofer's, to tell you the truth. He thinks of himself as my lover, but that's just an ego thing. What he really wants of me is the care of Pegasus."

Sanguineus finished the cheese stick during her speech and was now rolling a smoke. "I don't normally do favors of that sort unless I'm returning one to a colleague who has done favors for me," he said. His mind was elsewhere also. "You might not be aware of this, but last night, while you and I were shaking the sheets, Fabienne tried to freeze Sally Anne Bern's heart. This Medusa look of hers. She might have succeeded had not Rolgo entered the scene. Why is this girl hellbent against Sally? Is this something you put her up to?"

"No of course not!"

"Then explain it to me."

Ambrosia pulled the elastic ribbon from her bun and shook out her hair. "Fabienne has a mean streak in her," she said, raising her glass to her lips. "All the kids are a little afraid of her. She's never really hurt anyone with her look, but the kids can feel it when she stares at them angrily. Oh, and I just found out today that Marianne accuses Berenice of developing the Medusa look in Fabienne. Why Berenice would attempt such a thing, I can't imagine, except that she's a crazy bitch strung out on drugs. Vaslo thinks she might have experimented with the super-horse drug! Just think of that!"

Sanguineus did. He lit his cig and said, "Bad shit happens. But when did Fabienne first begin manifesting this deadly skill?"

Ambrosia took a long sip. Her fingers, he noticed, were crawling along the stem of her glass like spider legs. A deception was coming.

"When she was old enough to ride Pegasus," she said, smiling at him. "It was her riding him that brought out the Medusa in her."

"Right," Sanguineus remarked with heavy skepticism. "I'm more inclined to think of it as a psychic gift perverted by her mother. There's something about her mother that she doesn't like. You said yourself that Berenice has abused her daughter."

"Well, all this black magic stuff that she keeps stuffing into Fabienne's head."

"And you're against that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You want this Medusa look for yourself. The girl's being pulled in two directions, by you and Marianne. But my guess is that Berenice has control of her. It may be that she's using you and Marianne to strengthen her hold on the girl, to help strengthen this medusean curse."

Ambrosia snatched her handbag and stood up. "I'm going shopping," she said with feigned gaiety. "Will you join me?"

Sanguineus sat looking at her thoughtfully. "I have a report to write," he said.

"What about this evening, then?" she asked, swinging her handbag like a schoolgirl.

Sanguineus nodded with the same thoughtful expression. "Meet me in the lobby of the Ephira Hotel, at seven. We'll have dinner someplace. Of my choosing."

Ambrosia, turned, looking back at him with a stilted smile, and said nothing.