Naked Tao (13 page)

My jaw dropped, but I managed to snap it shut before saying, “You posed for Playboy?” 

She looked embarrassed. “Yes, at first I was rebelling against my mother, but when they asked me to do more shoots, I realized I could use the money to expand the business. I built a factory in Brazil and hired women from the ghettos after I was named Playmate of the Year.” 

“Playmate of the Year,” I repeated incredulously. 

She paused for a moment and looked me in the eyes. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” she asked. 

“I’m sure.” 

“My first date was with a cute frat boy,” she said. “He took me to a party and introduced me to his friends. We did some shots of tequila and then he asked me if I wanted to see the rest of the fraternity house.” 

God, I knew where this was going. Truth is, I actually wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it. Something told me I was not going to like it. 

“I was naïve and didn’t know he meant his bedroom,” said Ginny. “As soon as the bedroom door closed behind us he stuck his tongue down my throat and started undressing me. I wasn’t feeling any chemistry, but I was curious about sex, so I didn’t stop him. Once we were undressed, he pushed me down on the bed and climbed on top of me.” 

She stopped and looked at me as if she was gauging my reaction. I kept my face neutral, so she continued.

“When he tried to enter me it hurt, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know how it was supposed to feel,” she said. “After the third failed attempt he must have realized I had never been with anyone, because he stopped and told me how awesome it was that I was his first virgin.  He seemed pretty excited about that. Thirty seconds later I felt something wet on my thighs and it was over.  Since he did not penetrate me, I was still technically a virgin.” 

My throat was dry, but I felt like I should say something. Nothing came to mind, so I asked, “So, how was it?” 

“Disappointing,” she answered. “I kept thinking, doesn’t the girl get to enjoy it too? I mean it wasn’t pleasurable at all, let alone earth shattering. Afterwards, I decided it wasn’t worth it and made up my mind to never repeat it.” 

“You stopped dating?” I asked. 

“No, I dated,” answered Ginny. “I just didn’t plan to have sex again.” 

“Considering the lifestyle you’ve chosen for yourself, that plan obviously changed.” 

“Really!? If you must really know, I love sex. I learned to enjoy it as a natural part of life, but have yet to find one person who can satisfy all of my needs. I have a big appetite, Grant. So what happened to you to make you hate it so much?” 

“I don’t hate it…I just don’t make it the central focus of my life,” I said. “There are other things that are much more important to me.” 

“More important than sex…it’s the prime directive of all life,” she said. “Name one thing that’s more important than insuring the continued existence of your genetic blueprint.” 

All of the things that came to mind seemed superficial…things like money, career …so I said half-jokingly, “World peace.” 

“World peace,” she said with a snort. “Have you ever heard of the Bonobos?” 

I shook my head. 

“They are humanity’s closest genetic relatives,” she said. “Some people call them the hippie apes, because they have no sexual boundaries. Unlike their violent cousins, they live in peace. Even the remotest possibility of conflict is resolved with sexual contact. There’s no time for fighting when you’re busy having orgasms. Their free love lifestyle is the best path to world peace.” 

“You think these promiscuous animals should be held up as a model of behavior?” I asked incredulously. 

“Absolutely…unless you prefer violence over pleasure,” she answered. 

“What about family and children?” I asked. 

“Their community is a family. It is more loving than any human family I’ve ever seen. Even the children are treated as equals,” she answered. 

“You can’t treat a child as an equal,” I said. “They have to be raised…taught to behave properly. They must belong to someone who takes responsibility for them.” 

“They belong to themselves,” she said. 

I remembered how rebellious I felt after my dad died. Even though I was only eight, there was something about losing my father that made me a man. I didn’t like being treated as if I was incapable of taking care of myself. Maybe there was something to be said for the Bonobo approach to children and I was about to concede it to Ginny when Uncle Jim rejoined us. 

“What are you two love birds talking about?” asked Uncle Jim. 

“We’re solving the world’s problems,” answered Ginny. 

“Good luck with that,” said Uncle Jim. “Speaking of problems, we have something more immediate at hand that requires our attention.” 

“Let me guess,” I said. “The police have a witness and they are planning to charge me with John’s murder.” 

Uncle Jim looked surprised. “How did you know?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “I bet its John’s secretary.” 

“They didn’t say,” he replied. “We need to clear this up as quickly as possible. It’s always best to nip things like this in the bud.” 

“I’m trying,” I said. “I even returned to the office late last night to see if I could find the necessary evidence to clear my name.” 

“What did you find?” 

“Nothing,” I answered. “The documents were gone. All I found was a slip of paper.

“What did the paper say?” asked Uncle Jim. 

“Oh shit!” I said. “The paper, I never read it. What did I do with it?” 

“Are you okay, Grant?” asked Ginny. 

I shoved my hands into my pockets, but all I felt was my iPhone. Of course it wouldn’t be there, because these are different pants. I remembered it was in my ruined suit trousers. I needed to see what was written on that paper. 

“Do not wait for answers.” – Ch’ing

Ginny refused to be left behind. To my dismay, she insisted on seeing where I lived. I have to admit I was not looking forward to showing her my crappy apartment and tried every excuse I could think of to avoid it. None of them worked. I learned she can be very strong willed, and must confess that I caved in when it became apparent she intended to get her way. 

To soften the blow, I took the long route through Cherokee Park. It was designed in the late 1800’s by Frederick Law Olmstead after he finished work on New York’s Central Park.  As you can imagine, it’s a world class park and unlike my apartment, it is beautiful.  I hoped it would fill Ginny’s mind with nature’s images and leave very little room for hookah bars and beat up second hand furniture. 

Once inside of the apartment, she stood in the middle of the room and took it all in. After what seemed like a ridiculously long inspection she said, “Living above a hookah bar does have a certain charm.” 

In that moment, I knew I loved her all over again. The place was a dump and we both knew it. She was trying to alleviate my embarrassment, and that meant a lot to me.  Relieved I said, “When I left Cynthia, I needed to find a place to stay. This was never intended to be more than temporary.” 

“Are you still married?” she asked. 

“Yes, but…” 

I was interrupted by a harsh male voice coming from the doorway behind me. “He doesn’t give a shit about marriage.” 

Standing at the threshold was a big hairy guy with the Harley Davidson logo tattooed across his chest. He was wearing dirty jeans and a black leather vest worn over bare skin. A pack of Marlboro’s jutted from his jean’s pocket. The vest displayed the colors of Dragon’s Gate motorcycle club.  His black motorcycle boots showed signs of heavy wear at the heels and toes. 

Huge hands hung at his sides, opening and closing spasmodically. His finger nails were outlined with black grease. Hard eyes glared at me from a weather beaten face. He was a rough looking man wearing an unhappy expression. This did not bode well. 

“Who are you?” I asked. 

“I’m your worst nightmare,” he growled. 

“Maybe, but a man who doesn’t know his enemy is doomed to a life of regret…assuming he manages to survive his ignorance,” I said. 

He sneered. “What kind of stupid mother fucker are you anyway?”

“I’m the guy who may have to decide whether you live or die,” I answered calmly. 

Doubt flashed in his eyes and then passed quickly. His right hand swept to his low back, but I didn’t wait to find out what kind of weapon he had. Instead, I closed the gap between us in an instant and jabbed him in the solar plexus. The air left his lungs, and he crumbled to the ground desperately trying to catch his breath. 

I rolled him over and removed the 9mm jammed down the crack of his ass. I didn’t stop there and quickly found the knife hidden in his inner vest pocket and the snubbed nose revolver stashed in his boot. Once I was satisfied he was disarmed, I sat him up, and rubbed his back behind the heart until he calmed himself and found some air. 

“Once again, who are you?” I asked. 

“My name is Gil,” he answered. 

“Why are you here Gil?” I asked. 

“Because you slept with my wife last night,” he answered. 

“Why do you think that?” I asked. 

“Because she came home without her wedding ring,” he answered. 

The big lug started to sob. I comforted him as best I could and when the sobbing finally stopped said, “I didn’t…” 

I was interrupted by Ginny, who held a gold wedding band in her hand and asked Gil, “What is engraved inside of her ring?” 

“True love,” he answered. 

Ginny handed him the ring. She turned to me and said, “The one thing I can’t tolerate is a liar.” 

Then she walked out. Gil stood up, brushed himself off and followed her. But he stopped for a moment, turned, and looked at me with big sad eyes, before shaking his head and walking away with more dignity than I could have mustered under the circumstances. I was stunned to say the least. 

It took a few minutes for me to process what had just happened. When I finally realized that Ginny didn’t understand that I had never slept with Eve, I started after her, but the minute my foot stepped outside the door I was slammed faced down onto the ground and my arms were pinned behind my back. I felt a knee jam into my spinal cord as handcuffs were roughly slapped onto my wrists. 

When I tried to get a look at my assailant, he pressed my face into the floor and barked for me to stay still as all hell broke loose around me. Armed men stormed the stairs and poured into the hallway. Doors were opened and then slammed shut as they yelled things like “clear” to each other.  I realized I was in the middle of a full-on swat team raid. This could not be good. 

They packed me into a paddy wagon with four armed guards and hauled me downtown to Louisville Metro Police headquarters. I was left alone for about an hour before the interrogation began. I have to say, it’s a lot easier to ask the questions, than to answer them. The interrogation was grueling. They came at me in waves… men, women, young and old with assorted titles from the CDC, Homeland Security, and Louisville Metro Police. Why was I being treated like a terrorist? 

Of course, no one would explain why the CDC and Homeland Security were interested in a homicide. Instead, they poked me with needles, drawing several vials of blood, which seemed weird, and repeatedly threatened to throw me into prison. When that didn’t work, they offered me leniency if I told them everything. That was easy since I knew nothing. I had nothing to hide, but I also knew they could muster enough evidence to convict me, if they wanted to. 

It would have been smarter to hold my tongue until I had an attorney present. Even I had enough sense to know that I couldn’t represent myself, but I really wanted to help find the killer. So, I held nothing back. Well almost…they didn’t need to know about Eric’s kinky friends. 

Still they weren’t satisfied, so they threw me a curve ball. When detective Rose Bloom entered the room, it sent me reeling into the past. 

***

I flashed back to myself sitting in the third row of Sister Mary John’s class. Her thin frame was swallowed in a nun’s traditional black habit. During the first week of school she told us she was married to Jesus, but I did not believe her. Because of her hawkish nose and shrill voice, I was certain she was the Wicked Witch of the West and who would want to marry her? Definitely not Jesus, who I’d been taught was some kind of superhero. 

With a spooky air of mystery she told us, “God knows all things. That means you don’t have any secrets from God. He knows when you’ve been good or bad.” 

Danny’s hand shot up. Danny’s hand was always shooting up. “Is God Santa Claus?” 

She sighed, “Daniel, wait until you are called upon before you speak. God is more than Santa Claus. This means that God is omniscient.” 

She paused dramatically, as if she had revealed a great secret to us that needed time to sink in. Then she added, “He is also omnipotent. Does anyone know what that means?” 

We stared at her with blank faces. Even Danny’s hand stayed down. She sighed once again. Sister Mary John was always sighing in disappointment. “It means God is all powerful. He can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants.” 

Danny’s hand shot up once more and he said, “Does that mean he leaps tall buildings like Superman?” 

“God does not leap over buildings. He uses his power to create. God created everything, even you Daniel. Last but not least, God is Omnipresent. That means God is everywhere at the same time. God is even in each one of you.” 

I thought, if God is in me, then maybe I have super powers too. Maybe I can be smart like Einstein or a superhero someday. As I sat there pondering this amazing realization, Sister Mary John’s class was interrupted by a knock. Her eyes shot daggers toward the door and then quickly softened. The principal stood in the doorway apologizing for interrupting her class. She then asked Sister Mary John to excuse me from class. 

I was being called to the principal’s office. I had never stepped foot in the place before because, as everybody knows, only the bad kids are sent there.  I went from superhero to scared little boy in seconds. I was terrified. It got worse when I saw the police woman with her. 

Every one of my misdeeds ran through my mind. Maybe the Fat Lady told the policeman I was a perverted child molester and they were taking me to jail. I didn’t want to go to jail. My legs didn’t seem to work so good as I shuffled toward the police woman. I kept my eyes on the floor, not daring to look into her face. 

“Grant, look at me,” said the police woman. 

When I looked into her face, she did not look angry. Instead I saw something different in her face, sadness. When she spoke it was with a gentle voice. She told me her name was Rose and she had some bad news…my mother was hurt and in the hospital, but my dad was in heaven now. 

***

Rose Bloom had been that young police woman and was now in her mid-forties. She had aged well. Her auburn hair shared space with a few streaks of grey at the temples, and her grey eyes were framed by a faint hint of crow’s feet, but she was still a beautiful woman. She no longer wore a patrolman’s uniform. Instead she was dressed in jeans and a navy blue sport jacket over a white blouse. 

Rose looked grief stricken and angry, which didn’t quite mesh with the situation, unless I was missing something. It occurred to me that she almost seemed to be in shock, but was making a tremendous effort to keep it together. 

“How have you been Grant?” asked Rose. 

“In the last two days I was served with a petition for dissolution of marriage, lost my job, saw two people die horrible deaths, and someone shot me,” I answered. “Not to mention a lack of sleep, having all my blood sucked out of me, endless interrogation and really bad coffee.” 

She caught the blood-sucker joke and attempted to smile, but her eyes were glassy as she said, “Sorry about the coffee.” 

I shrugged. “Did Uncle Jim call you?” 

“I still love the crazy bastard,” she said. “Too bad it didn’t work out.” 

“Yea, too bad,” I said. “I miss you.” 

She didn’t say anything, but I could see in her eyes that this was a painful subject, along with whatever else was going on with her, so I changed it. “I didn’t kill Tiny.” 

“Did you kill John Biggs?” she asked. 

“No, I found him hanging in his office,” I answered. 

“When did you last see him alive?” she asked. 

Time had warped on me. It left me disoriented, so I did some quick mental math. It had been a day and a half since I sat in John’s office. A lot can happen in thirty-six hours. John had really hurt me, but I sure didn’t want him dead. I knew that wouldn’t matter to the police. They would see the termination of my employment as motive to murder John. I was so screwed. 

Trusting Rose I answered, “I guess it has been nearly two days since we spoke.” 

“Is that when he fired you?” 

This was not going well, but I answered honestly, “Yes.” 

“Grant, tell me why you were fired?” 

“We argued about a client matter.” 

“Specifically, what client matter?” asked Rose. 

“It’s confidential. If I tell you, they will disbar me.”

“You’re looking at two murder charges,” said Rose. “I think disbarment is the least of your worries.”

She was right of course. Besides I had already told Eric, Uncle Jim and Ginny. The only reason to withhold this information from the police was the official nature of the disclosure. I could trust my friends and family to keep the disclosure secret, but once I went on record with the police, there was no hope of plausible denial that I had violated attorney client privilege. I would be committed to a course of action and held accountable. 

Rose pressed on, “His office wasn’t touched, but yours was ransacked.  Do you know what they were looking for?” 

I thought I had a pretty good idea, but shook my head. 

Rose kept pushing, “Grant, people are dead. What did you argue about?” 

She was right. So what if I got disbarred. I had never really wanted to be a lawyer anyway. It was time to tell her about the documents. 

“I discovered evidence that Pathogen is developing a bio-weapon…a deadly virus and I asked John for advice. He was more worried about the firm’s profitability than the risks of such a horrific weapon. He took the documents and then fired me.” 

The blood drained from Rose’s face. She sat across from me in shocked silence, not breathing. It seemed like an eternity before she caught her breath. 

Finally, she asked, “Do you have another copy of these documents?” 

“No. It was the only one.” 

“What do you remember about them?” 

“They seemed to be mostly internal memos written by a scientist working on the weapons project,” I answered.