The Memory Artists - Jeffrey Moore [129]
“Right you are. Hey, it’s the Noelmeister! Join the party, dawg. I’m about to make some announcements. Four in total. All good. Let me just turn this off. Right. Number one: we’re forming a club, with us five as members, with our headquarters here at Mrs. B’s. This will qualify us for some very sweet municipal grants. The Alzheimer Alchemists is the name I propose for our club. All those in favour, say—”
“JJ,” said Norval.
“Yes?”
“Get on with it.”
“Number two: federal and provincial grants all lined up—for mortgage payments for our new clubhouse, lab equipment, medications, and for generally easing any … financial embarrassment. On one of the grant applications, by the way, I had to say we’re making a feature-length documentary. Which will bring the private sector on board to fill our coffers—because with my film experience I’m going to handle the PR and funding! And you know what? I’m going to sue the companies that stole my film tagline—for general, punitive and aggravated damages—with all proceeds going to the club. We’re going to reach an amount that only astronomers can make sense of!” Here JJ stood up and raised his arms, as if trying to start a wave.
A few seconds of puzzled silence followed, which Samira filled with an “All right! Good for you, JJ!”
“And the good news,” said JJ, “keeps coming! Number three: CBC4, the satellite channel, is auditioning contestants for a quiz show. In May. I’m sure you’ve all seen it: Tip of Your Tongue!” He looked directly at Noel. “But it gets even better. Guess what the subject is for the month of May.”
“The subject doesn’t matter,” said Norval. “Noel will memorise everything ever written on whatever it is. Right, Noel?”
“No, that’s not right,” said Noel. “I’m not going on television. That would … not be possible.”
“What’s the subject, JJ?” Samira asked.
“Are you ready for this? The subject is … poetry. Poetry, can you believe it? It’s destiny! Opportunity rocks!”
“What’s the top prize worth?”
“If you go all the way, fifty g’s! And Norval has a plan, a real humdinger. Totally foolproof.”
“Foolproof depends on the size of the fool,” said Norval.
“Veux-tu continuer, boss?”
“A few years ago a British army major won the million-pound jackpot on the British version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. It turns out he was helped by an audience member, who used a system of coughs to help him answer correctly. You must have heard about it. Well, if Noel refuses and I have to go on—assuming I qualify—then we’re going to do something along the same lines. Not with coughs, that’s hare-brained, but with a supersonic hearing device. Any questions I can’t answer will be answered by Noel, who will give me signals with a dog whistle.”
“And Norval will be wearing my watch-transponder!” said JJ. “Is that brilliant, Noel?”
But Noel was preoccupied; he was juggling coloured letters in his head, anagrammatizing supersonic into percussion.
“To proceed,” said Norval, “Noel will tell me if the answer is a, b, c or d by one, two, three or four blasts of the whistle. Very simple. So, unless there’s anything else, I move we adjourn.”
“Not so fast,” said JJ gruffly, letting seconds tick by for dramatic effect. “One last topic. Number five. Arson.”
“God, I almost forgot about that,” said Samira. “Was there much damage, Nor?”
“Some furniture, a few paintings singed—I was getting tired of them anyway. All insured—with enough to cover JJ’s place.”
“Who do you think did it?” asked Samira. “The same person that set the other one?”
“This is what we’re about to find out,” said JJ. Norval’s insurance offer had no effect on his expression, which remained detectival. “My gut tells me … that somebody in this room is responsible for both fires. And nobody’s leaving until we find out who.”
The room fell silent. Samira nodded, struck by the inherent logic of the assertion. Could it have been Noel? Tracked down by one of his lunatic research patients? Or Stella, when wandering, unaware of what she was doing? How many times has she set off smoke alarms? But that’s impossible. No, it must be Norval