The Gorgon Festival Read Free Page A

say, “The fallacy of the police mentality lies in its tacit assumption of the father role.”
    “I deny paternity charges,” Cabroni answered. “The bastards are not of my making.”
    Cabroni was handling the dialectics, all right, Ward decided as he moved up beside Ester and said, “Carrick’s giving me a qualified ‘No.’ He wants me to publish or work with a staff. Either way, he figures to find out what I’m doing.”
    “Guard Cabroni’s flank,” Ester said, “and I’ll try my hand with Carrick.”
    Ward decided on a diversion. Turning, he tapped Cabroni’s shoulder.
    “Joe, I’d like to make a statement. To me, the initials P-I-G stand for pride, integrity, guts. In the continuing dialogue with youth, certain concepts must be stressed, and nothing stresses a concept so much as a billy club…”
    Moving away, Ester sensed her husband’s political tactics and applauded him. Alex was diverting the anti-police bias of the group by offering himself as a sacrificial goat. Ester was proud of her husband and delighted by the image of Alex as a goat.
    When excited, Alex had the most sensual walk in the world. On his blunt-toed feet extended from long legs swung slightly forward on his pelvis, he pranced toward her like the front half of a goat pulling a cart on every other Tuesday, and Ester always tingled when he walked.
    Carrick stood near the bar with another professor talking of nucleotides. Ester caught his eye and pointed toward the front door with a swing of her shoulders. Without a word, she walked through the living room and onto the front porch. Shortly thereafter, Carrick stood behind her.
    “I know you’re interested in horticulture, Fred, and I wanted to show you my geraniums.”
    Carrick had no interest in horticulture, but he was gallant. “Ester, I’ve always wanted to take a good peek at your geraniums.”
    She took him by the hand and led him to the steps, where they paused. She took a single step down from Carrick and turned toward one of the boxes flanking the steps on concrete abutments. The geraniums flared pink in the sunset.
    “Aren’t they gorgeous, Fred?” she said, looking down at the flowers.
    “Never saw anything like them before,” Carrick agreed.
    “I wish you could see them in broad daylight.”
    “Ester, they’d be beautiful at night, especially at night.”
    She averted her eyes to the flowers to let Carrick peek unseen. Academic men were shy and she had a technique, Alex called it antiphrasis, which she used on shy men.
    “Fred, you’re a handsome, impressive man with your lion’s mane hair and your Phi Beta Kappa key dangling. Do you ever think of taking time off from your grubby old office?”
    “Some times more than other times, but I’m an administrator with a staff that’s more willing than able, and it’s hard to keep my staff on an even keel.” His voice trailed off.
    From years of practice, Ester had learned to read a man’s conversation on a subliminal level. Carrick had a mild case of impotency, she decided.
    “You might find someone who could handle it for you. Perhaps a woman. Some women have capacity you men never suspect.”
    “I’ve got all kinds of problems,” he said.
    “I specialize in problems.”
    “Some are confidential.”
    “I can keep a confidence.”
    “Even from Alex?”
    “Especially from Alex. Why don’t you drop by Wednesday for lunch? That’s the maid’s day off and Alex always takes lunch in his laboratory. We can discuss our problems.”
    “Do you have problems, Ester?”
    “Alex is my greatest problem. He’s at the laboratory so much of the time; there’s no staff to take care of things.”
    “Why does he like to work alone?”
    “He says other people’s world lines warp his world lines and he can’t concentrate.”
    “What’s he doing down there in the annex, anyway?” Carrick’s voice sounded peevish.
    Out of loyalty, Ester never spoke of Ward’s work, knowing his love of secrecy. “Carpentry