Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

Jonestown?”
    DeDe nodded. “I saw them meeting together one night. Jones and this guy. I could barely tell them apart. The plan—according to Marceline—was for the imposter to run the operation until Jones could get to Moscow for medical treatment. A week at the most, she said. He would do most of his work on the loudspeaker system, with occasional walkthroughs to keep people in line. The man was briefed on everything, including the suicide drills. Jones was so sick, of course, that no one expected him to sound like himself … or even to actively participate in the day-to-day life of the camp. He just had to be there, a figurehead to prevent an insurrection.”
    “Then … this happened? Jones left?”
    “I don’t know. Two days after the imposter arrived in camp, Captain Duke told me about the cyanide. I didn’t stick around to find out. For once in my life, I missed out on the action and was damn glad of it.”
    “So you left … when?”
    “Two days before the congressman and the others were murdered at the airstrip.”
    “Meaning that this man … the imposter … may have been the one who ordered the mass suicide?”
    “Yes.”
    “And may have been the one who …”
    When Mary Ann faltered, DeDe finished the sentence. “The one who died.”
    “My God!”
    DeDe simply blinked at her.
    “That’s … DeDe, that’s grotesque.”
    “Isn’t it, though?”
    “But … surely … the government must’ve checked those bodies at the time. Somebody must’ve … I don’t know … what do they do? A blood test or something?”
    DeDe smiled patiently. “There were nine hundred bodies, remember?”
    “I know, but …”
    “One of those bodies was lying in front of the throne with its head on a pillow. Bloated as it was, it looked like Jones … and it was probably carrying his identification. Do you think they stopped to check his fingerprints?”
    “Wasn’t there an autopsy?”
    “There was,” said DeDe, “and I’ve been trying like hell to find the report. That’s why I needed time, don’t you see? If someone could prove to me conclusively that he was really dead …”
    “What about those Temple members?”
    DeDe grimaced. “They were useless. They wanted no part of it. They treated me like I was crazy or something.”
    Mary Ann said nothing.
    “Mary Ann … please … don’t write me off just yet.” DeDe looked at her imploringly as her eyes filled with tears. “I haven’t even gotten to the crazy part.”
    Mary Ann took her hand. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’m listening.”
    “I don’t know what to do,” sobbed DeDe. “I’m so damn tired of running …”
    “DeDe, please don’t. It can’t be as bad as you …”
    “I’ve seen him, Mary Ann!”
    “What?”
    “Yesterday. At Steinhart Aquarium. Mother was driving me crazy, so I drove to the city … just to walk around. I went to a concert in the park … and later I went to the aquarium … and I saw him there in the crowd.”
    “You saw … Jones?” Mary Ann was thunderstruck.
    DeDe nodded, her face contorted with fear.
    “What was he doing?”
    “Looking …” She was almost incoherent now. Feeling her own lip begin to quiver, Mary Ann squeezed DeDe’s hand even tighter.
    “Looking?” she asked guardedly.
    DeDe nodded, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “At the fish. The same as me.”
    “It’s awfully dark in there. Are you sure you …?”
    “Yes! He was thinner looking, and much healthier, but it was him. I knew the minute I looked into his eyes.”
    “He saw you?”
    “He smiled at me. It was awful.”
    “What did you do?”
    “I ran all the way back to the car and drove home. I haven’t left the house since. I know how this sounds, believe me. You have every right to …”
    “I believe you.”
    “You do?”
    “I believe it’s real to you. That’s enough for me.”
    DeDe’s sobs stopped. She glared at Mary Ann for a moment, then jerked her hand away angrily. “You think I’m hysterical, don’t you?”
    “DeDe, I think you’ve been incredibly brave …”
    “Brave? Look at me, goddamnit! I am scared shitless! Do you think I don’t know what the police would say about this … what the whole goddamn world would say about that poor little rich girl who went off the deep end in Jonestown? Look how you’re acting, and you’re supposed to be my friend!”
    “I am your friend,” Mary Ann said feebly.
    “Then what am I gonna do? What am I gonna do about my goddamn