3
They watched her take soup from a spoon. She hadn't cared for the soup spoon, and so Constance had finally managed to satisfy her with a long-handled iced-tea spoon. The girl ate mechanically, her movements precise as a clock and exactly the same with every bit she sampled. They offered her toast points, and she ate each one in turn, crunching them methodically into non-existence. They asked if she was full and she looked at them strangely. "No."
"We have more soup," Constance mentioned, arising from the dining room table. "I'll heat it. Would you like more toast to go with it?"
The girl nodded, saw Pendergast frowning at her, and then amended, "Please."
When she returned, she was alarmed to find the girl alone. Constance moved toward the far exit and glimpsed Proctor there, studying the stranger. "He went downstairs. Said he'd be right back," the man explained.
Satisfied, Constance returned to the table and ladled steaming soup into Amanda's bowl. "It's very hot," she told the girl. "You may have to blow on it."
Amanda did not blow on it. She ate it the exact same way she had the first two bowls.
Intrigued, Constance took a little in her own empty bowl and lifted it to her lips with her spoon. She made a face when the liquid scalded her mouth and watched the teenager in incredulity. Reaching for her hand, she halted her progress. "Please indulge me," she said, using a forefinger and thumb to pry the other girl's lips apart. Her flesh appeared unscalded from lips to gums. "May I see your tongue?" Amanda opened her mouth and the woman tilted her head to make certain of what she was seeing in the fading afternoon light.
"If you'll excuse me," Pendergast said, re-entering the room with his stethoscope dangling from his ears.
"Do you believe the soup has warmed her heart?" Constance joked.
"Still eating?"
Amanda watched him.
"Do continue. As before, if my actions bother you, then by all means instruct me to stop."
"What are you going to do?" Constance queried.
"I want to listen to her abdomen."
Amanda, with a small sigh, resumed her meal while the man crouched at her side and lifted the hem of her shirt enough to slip a hand beneath it. He gazed toward Constance as he pressed the disc-shaped end to the teenager's cool flesh, just beneath her rib cage and listened. Every bit of soup sounded like a trickle. The toast made a soft plop shortly after she had swallowed it. He gently pushed against her and heard the liquid move. Then he lowered the stethoscope to her belly and listened, but never heard any further gastric activity.
"This is her third bowl?"
Constance nodded.
Pendergast asked the woman to refill her water glass from the sweating pitcher on the sideboard. It was done and he encouraged the girl to drink. "Is there any more soup?"
"There is a case in the pantry. Are you trying to make her-"
He waved off the last word before it was spoken. "Keep filling her glass," he said, listening as it was downed.
Amanda had consumed three bowls of romaine soup, eight slices of toast, and a pitcher plus one glass of cold water.
"Full yet?"
The strange look reappeared.
"Would you care for some dessert?" Constance asked her.
"Okay," came the response.
The other female departed and Aloysius pulled a chair close to the girl's. "When you need to relieve yourself, would you be willing to fill a cup for me?"
"Relieve myself?"
"Evacuate your bladder?"
"When I what?"
"When you need to use the restroom…the toilet specifically."
Her look grew more skeptical with every attempt to make her understand. "For what?"
"I…only wish to run a couple of tests. As you saw, my laboratory is minimally stocked at best-"
"Test…what?"
"Your waste. Your urine."
"No," she said, shaking her head and smiling at him as if she was relieved.
"Forgive me, I have asked too much," he said, replacing his chair and seating himself upon it.
"No," she said, extending a hand toward his. "Never."
"Never…ask too much? I could never…is that what you're saying? Or is it that you would never allow me to test your urine?"
"No," she replied, smiling beatifically at him.
He released a soft sigh. "Does everyone have such a difficult time conversing with you?"
"Yes."
Constance beckoned from the doorway and he excused himself to join her in the brief corridor between the dining room and kitchen. "I feel I must inform you, Aloysius, that you seem to be taking things too far."
"It occurred to me that she has never asked for a restroom since she's been here. I only wished to ascertain-"
"How long has she been here?"
"She arrived…this morning?"
"You seem uncertain."
"I…." He inhaled sharply. "I should tell you how I met her, how she came to be here."
"Maybe you should."
He asked, "Is there a dessert?"
"Be patient. I'll bring one out soon."
With a weak smile, he returned to the dining room where the girl remained, seated and still. "I believe it may be ice cream."
"Okay."
"What is your favorite flavor?"
"Dunno."
"Have you ever tried ice cream?"
"Yes."
Everyone had a favorite flavor! "They let you eat some in the laboratory?"
"No."
"Is there a parlor you enjoy visiting?"
"A what?"
He tried, "An ice-cream parlor or shop? Or, do you prefer a store-brand?"
"Eat at home," she told him.
"Is it home-made? Does someone cook for you? Do you cook, Amanda?"
As he watched her eyes grew larger but dimmer as with some memory, and her jaw went a little slack.
"Are you all right? Do you need to use the restroom?"
"Um…I'm all right. Uh…sometimes take-out…sometimes cooks…."
"Cooks?" he repeated, leaning forward with interest. "Who cooks for you?"
"My…partner."
The pale man's eyebrows wrinkled. "Your…work partner? A…a romantic interest?"
"Yes," she answered, meeting his gaze again.
"Do you…love him? Or her? Or, does he or she love you?"
"…yes," she answered slowly, and he could see she was having difficulty with his phrasing.
"Is it a he or a she?"
"He."
"Your partner is a male?"
"Yes."
Constance arrived with three small tulip-shaped stemmed bowls on a tray. "Perhaps this spoon will suit you," she said, placing a dessert spoon in the girl's hand. She set a bowl heaped with ice cream before her, then served Pendergast and finally herself, using the tray to carry the spent soup bowls and used spoons to the sideboard.
Pendergast looked askance at the nearly overflowing decadence she had set before their guest, then at his own very small scoop and Constance's mere spoonful. The woman caught his glance and smiled.
"Is it butter pecan?" he asked, lifting his spoon.
"It is peach cobbler."
"Peach cobbler ice cream?"
"It's very nice," she told him.
Amanda dug into it and consumed it in the same efficient, almost robotic manner as she had her soup. The pair waited for her to say something about the dessert, but she was as silent as she had been when she'd consumed her main course.
"Thank you," he pointedly told the woman sitting across from him.
"You are very welcome," she replied.
They both looked Amanda's way, but she merely put down her clean spoon and sighed over her empty bowl.
"Would you care-" Constance began, but her benefactor gestured for her to not go there.
"Too far," he said softly, shaking his head.
She allowed herself a slight smirk.
"Are you full?" he asked the teenager.
"No."
"Do you ever feel full?" Constance tried.
"No."
"Oh." Now she made a face of consternation. If the girl could not feel pain, heat, or cold, then perhaps she also lacked the ability to feel satiated after eating or drinking. "We did not mean to encourage you so," she said, looking worried.
Amanda looked back at her and said nothing.
Aloysius rolled his eyes innocently. "Amanda says she has a partner."
"What kind of partner?"
"Big," the girl told them.
"A big male," Pendergast clarified.
"A big male what?" Constance asked, feeling a little silly.
"He cooks for her, I think," Pendergast told her.
"Oh, a chef?"
"Used to be," Amanda said, but looked uncertain.
"Your partner…is a former chef?" The special agent appeared intrigued in the manner he might with someone he suspected of telling bald-faced lies. "How interesting. What was his specialty?"
Pale blue eyes roved the linen tablecloth. "Steak."
"Ah," said Pendergast, nodding brightly at his ward, "steak."
"Mmm," Constance hummed agreeably, also suspecting they were being lied to.
"If you'll pardon the interruption," Proctor suddenly spoke from the doorway, "You have a visitor, sir."
For a moment, Pendergast faltered, fearing that someone had come to claim his fascinating visitor. "Have they identified themselves?"
"It is Lieutenant D'Agosta, sir."
Blinking at Constance as he dabbed at his lips with a linen napkin, he stole a glance at the teen before rising and excusing himself.
Vincent had wandered into the setting room and did not immediately turn around when he heard Pendergast approach. "Greetings, Vincent. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Business, I'm afraid," responded the New York City cop. He wore a half-grin, but his eyes were very serious. "Your name came up."
Pendergast thought about his rescue from Rat Island. "That does not surprise me."
"The first time it was a call-in from two cops on water patrol. Apparently they found you shipwrecked on Rat Island?"
"Shipwrecked implies a ship," the pale man informed him lightly.
"Or something of that nature," the larger man agreed. "You said you were on business?"
"Something of that nature."
The man's face looked taut. "I…really have no interest in getting involved in anything that I don't have to," he said.
Pendergast strode to a chair and sat upon it, crossing his legs. "I have no need of your services at this time," he told him.
"Right. But the other thing…was the complaint that came in. Not your name, specifically, this time, but your address."
"My…oh, yes. The taxi driver."
"The taxi driver," Vincent confirmed, his thumbs hooked behind his belt. "Was it, by any chance, Corrie you were with?"
Pendergast hesitated. "It was not."
"A relative? Neighbor's kid?" the policeman tried, wincing a little.
"You don't wish to get involved," the pale man said, extending his palms.
"Oh, no. No. I definitely do not. But…I still have a report to fill out. I think the cops called her Amanda?"
"Yes. That's what I told them."
The large man withdrew a notebook from a pocket and a pen from a different pocket. "What's the last name?"
"I have not yet discovered that."
"So, she's not here, right?"
Cutting his eyes toward the dining room, the agent said, "Yes. She is my houseguest."
"Is she a witness to somethin'? Part of a case?"
"Well, I could tell you that she seems to be her own special case."
"If…I was actually that interested."
Pendergast smiled thinly. "I've already researched several databases online, but if you could be so generous as to run a few more for me?"
Rolling his eyes, the big man asked gruffly, "Whaddaya want to know?"
"And there she is," Aloysius said softly, gazing toward the doorway. Amanda looked small as she stood behind the policeman, gazing up at him searchingly. "Please come in. Don't be afraid. Amanda, this is my dear friend Vincent D'Agosta."
She looked disappointed as he turned to stare at her. She looked behind herself, then stepped farther into the room to glance around.
"Hello, Amanda," Vincent grunted.
She regarded him unhappily. "'lo," she said, her gaze dropping. They watched her extend a toe and trace arcs on the hand-carved rug.
D'Agosta turned to gauge Pendergast's reaction. "And?"
"You want an explanation, and I'm afraid there is no easy one."
"I…just need to know there's nothing…weird," he said, wincing a little at the word, "going on."
"The taxi driver indicated that he thought I might be a kidnapper, perhaps a pedophile."
"That's why I'm here. I'd never believe it, but I gotta tell my supervisor somethin' definite, right?"
The girl stepped closer to the newcomer, looking up at him strangely.
"What?" he asked, extending his hands to either side. "You need to speak to me in private, Miss?"
Shaking her head, she moved past him toward Pendergast. Vincent was about to say something else, when she shocked both of them by attempting to climb onto Aloysius' lap. "I will forfeit the chair if you prefer it," Pendergast said quickly, rising to his feet and stepping away from her. She stood blinking at him uncertainly.
Constance had arrived in the doorway and paused there, uncertain if she was needed or not.
Amanda turned to glance at Vinnie, then looked back at Pendergast, her eyes never rising farther than his chest. He set his hands upon her shoulders. "It's all right. You…surprised me, that's all."
She smiled up at him, then turned to stand defensively before him.
"Okay," D'Agosta said, closing his eyes for a quick head shake. "What's the story?"
Constance chose a chair and seated herself. Vincent did a double-take when he went to find a seat of his own; he hadn't heard the young woman enter. Dragging the chair closer to his friend's, he slouched into it and waited. Pendergast gestured for him to put away the notebook. He did so, and the agent moved to the mantel to lean against it while he told the tale.