The Museum of Desire

Chapter 41

I was playing guitar when Milo phoned just after nine p.m.

“More Nazi stuff, like it wasn’t weird enough? I put in a call to the Holocaust center, maybe they can tell us something. Still watching Okash’s locales, still nada. Meanwhile, I need your help. Got a call from Haley Moman — Crispin’s mom. While she’s talking to me, the kid’s screaming at her in the background. Apparently he decided he needs to convene with us again, won’t say why. Mom told him no, he had a fit. She has no idea about what, just that he’s freaking out. I told her I could send a psychologist — that she already met you. She said why didn’t you tell me that in the first place, what, you assumed my son’s mentally ill? I said given Todd and Shirin’s complaint, it seemed the cautious way to go. That shut her up for a second then she says I don’t need your shrink, Crispin already has one. Meanwhile, the kid’s ranting in the background. I said maybe the two doctors could collaborate. That didn’t go over well with the lad, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs, wants ‘the Dumas guy.’ Even after Haley told him you were a shrink. Kid says, ‘Even better.’ ”

“Rigid and repetitious. That’s consistent.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Anyway, Haley called the kid’s therapist and she said nice things about you so everything’s set up. Sooner would be better than later, though I’m not convinced the kid really has anything to say. Probably just craves attention.”

I checked my calendar. Custody interview in the morning. Third-time meeting with a cranky, resistant father. I’d warmed him up a bit but more needed to be done.

“I’m free around one.”

“Great, I’ll tell her,” he said. “The kid’s at home all day, don’t imagine you’ll need an appointment.”

At twelve fifty-five, I pulled up to the white Georgian. On the way, I’d slowed and glanced at Clearwater Lane — a quick scan. No cars in front of the blue house.

Haley Moman opened the door, hair combed out, her face coated with full makeup. Cosmetics couldn’t mask weary eyes and worry lines.

“So you’re a therapist. You couldn’t tell me that?”

“It didn’t seem necessary.”

“Honesty’s always necessary... lucky for you, Dr. Sontag says you’re solid. A professor.”

“I do some teaching.”

“Yeah, yeah, at the med school crosstown,” she said. “I looked you up. You worked with kids with cancer. That had to be depressing.”

“For the most part, it was rewarding.”

“Was it? Anyway, you’ve been vetted and approved so I’ll allow you to talk to my baby, let’s get this over with.”

“Any idea what Crispin wants to tell me?”

“As if.”

Crispin sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the massive aquarium. Gaudy fish glided through a coral forest, pecking and browsing and nose-jabbing one another. Bubbles carbonated and broke the surface of the water, setting off glints of light.

Haley Moman cleared her throat.

Crispin waved his hand dismissively. “Go.”

She flinched. Took her shame out on me with a kill-the-messenger glare.

“Go, Haley!”

Fighting back tears, mother fled son.

I walked toward Crispin, evoking no reaction. He wore the same green, old-guy poly jumpsuit and the out-of-place black wingtips. His pageboy was a mess, beige hairs spiking in odd directions. His skin had broken out, what looked like a crop of miniature pomegranate seeds on the cramped pallid face.

“Hello again, Crispin.”

“Sit or stand.”

I got down beside him.

“Just as I thought.”

“Pardon?”

“You want to establish rapport so you sat. I knew you would. I gave you a fictitious choice.” He continued to stare at the aquarium. But not at the fish; no eye movement. “Alexander Dumas Delaware. Writers are professional liars. Apparently so are psychologists. You’re named after a professional liar. Was your mother dishonest?”

I laughed.

He said, “Do you think I’m funny or are you still trying to establish rapport?”

“That was pretty funny.”

“That your mother was a liar?”

“That you see the world in an interesting way.”

“That sounds like rapport-building. I have a supposed therapist. She’s always pretending to be nice.”

I knew his therapist. Genuinely nice.

A few seconds passed. He said, “Don’t bother with what I think of you. I could think you were dog excrement and I’d tell you what I brought you here for.”

“Okay.”

“Aren’t you going to ask what that is?”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

He half turned toward me. Regarding me with purplish eyes, narrowed and impermeable. Returning to the aquarium, he set about picking a zit. Drew blood and transferred the activity to a ring finger cuticle and raised a crimson thread that traced the bottom of his nail.

“I lied,” he said.

“About...”

“Complete the sentence. Add an object. About...?”

“You lied about what?”

“Good,” he said. “You’re being cooperative. People don’t like to cooperate with me. People don’t like me.”

I said nothing.

“Good,” he repeated. “You didn’t argue.” He uncrossed his legs, extended his feet straight out, wiggled the tips of the black shoes. “When you were here with Milo Bernard, I lied about what I saw. Ask me why.”

“Why did you lie?”

“I don’t know. That applies to much of what I do and think. I have trouble coming up with easy explanations. It makes me more interesting to me.”

I said, “You prefer questions that can’t be answered.”

“Are you ridiculing me?”

“Nope.”

He got to work on an index finger cuticle. Thicker blood trail. He licked it. “I sometimes drink myself. Recycling.”

I said, “Was your lie false information or incomplete information?”

Pick, pick, lick. He rubbed his eyes for a long time. “Tell me what I told you the first time.”

“You went over to the party house Saturday morning close to three a.m., heard two adults talking, heard them drive away.”

“I went over intending...”

“To shit on the property.”

“Ha. Hahaha. Haha. Ha.” Nasal, barking laughter continued to burst from his skimpy mouth. Impersonal, like rounds from an automatic weapon. “Hahaha. Haha. Hahahah. Did I tell you I shit?”

“You said you didn’t.”

“Ha. I did. Not on the property. On the road. I found leaves for wiping.”

His smile was unsettling. Dealt a tough hand but he’d chosen to be mean.

I stayed silent.

He said, “You’re disgusted with me.”

“I didn’t see it or smell it, Crispin, so not really.”

His head whipped toward me. “Are you ridiculing me?”

“Same answer as the first time you asked.”

He pouted. “Alexander Dumas paid other writers to write for him.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re his namesake and you didn’t bother to learn about him?”

“Nope.”

“That is inappropriate,” he said. “When you have a name, you need to learn about it. ‘Crispin’ means ‘curly-haired.’ Haley didn’t know that, she just liked the sound of it, like you, she’s not curious. Saint Crispin is the patron of shoemakers. Saint Bernard is the patron of mountaineers. ‘Bernard’ means ‘bear-like.’ Haley didn’t know that. She named me after her grandfather. Milo Bernard is bear-like. Bernard fits him but not me. That makes me feel inauthentic. I’m more fox-like. I should be named Reynard. I looked up the origin of Milo. There are two opinions. It could be derived from a German word meaning ‘to pulverize’ or it could be Slavonic for ‘merciful.’ Milo Bernard looks more like a pulverizer than a merciful person. I didn’t know anything about Slavonic. I looked it up. It’s an Orthodox Christian church language. That’s esoteric. I felt better about not knowing, I can’t know everything though I try. At this moment, I’m satisfied with myself that I had the authority to summon you and you arrived. Are you intensely interested in what I’m going to tell you?”

“I’m here.”

“That is inferential not a direct answer.”

“I’m extremely interested.”

He stared at the aquarium and bloodied another cuticle. Suddenly he sprang up and tapped the glass hard. The fish scattered.

He sat back down. “The clown trigger was about to bite the dorsal fin of the heniochus. I can tell from the look in the clown trigger’s eyes and the way his body orients when he’s preparing to attack. When I see that, I scare him. That’s why I’m here watching. I plan to be here until the behavior is eliminated.”

I said, “Deconditioning.”

“Re-education,” he said. “Like Mao Tse-tung told the Chinese to do. He never bathed, just swam. He took young girls to an island called Hammer Island and raped them.”

I said, “Nice guy.”

“I read his red book, it’s inane but inane people still follow him.”

He hiked his knees to his chin. “The minor lie I told you was about not shitting, the major lie I told you is I didn’t see details. I did. They both wore dark clothes. He was tall with light hair. She was medium-sized with dark hair. I also lied when I said I didn’t see their car. I did. It was a white Rolls-Royce. He drove, she was on the passenger side. I thought they were spoiled-brat parents, driving a car like that, spoiled imbeciles breeding other spoiled imbeciles. I’m rich but I’ve developed independently because people don’t like me so I do what I want and think comprehensively.”

“What else do you want to tell me about the people in the Rolls?”

He pouted, unhappy at the topic shifting away from him. “Who says anything?”

“It’s up to you to say.”

“And I will,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I? Initially, they drove north then a few minutes later they came back down. I was on the side of the road wiping with leaves. That’s when I got a better look at them. They kept going south until I couldn’t see their taillights anymore. South is toward Beverly Hills, that confirmed my hypothesis.”

“Makes sense. This is extremely helpful, Crispin.”

“Because it adds to your data bank or because it confirms a prior hypothesis of yours?”

“Sorry, I can’t get into details.”

Surprisingly, no reaction to the refusal. Just the opposite; he created a near-smile. “It’s extremely helpful.”

“It is.”

“Love that love it love that. So I will be called to testify if you apprehend them based on my information and they’re taken to trial rather than settle with a plea.”

“We’re a long way from that, Crispin.”

“I understand that,” he said. “But given those contingencies, will I be called?”

“You want to testify?”

“Very much so. So I will be invited?”

“It’s complicated,” I said. “You’re a minor, your parents would need to—”

“By that time I likely will have reached majority and Haley and him will have nothing to say about it. Will I be allowed?”

“It won’t be up to me, Crispin. Why the desire to testify?”

“It would be interesting and recreational.”

I said, “A lot of people would be worried about testifying.”

“A lot of people are low-functioning automatons who care what other low-functioning automatons think of them. I want to get up in the witness box and be asked to swear on a Bible and refuse in a loud voice because I’m an atheist. Given the quality of my information, after a protracted debate among the lawyers and the judge, I’ll be allowed to affirm my truthfulness the way I see fit. Once that’s settled, I’ll inform everyone in the courtroom what I saw but I will fix my eyes on the two of them. I’m certain to be a star witness. What do you say about that?”

“I’m sure you’ll be convincing.”

“I will be,” he said. “I can make people think things.”