Free Crazy for Cornelia by Chris Gilson Page A

considering,” the sergeant said. “Like in a seafood restaurant.”
    “You have to give fish a lot of space. Usually people just crowd them together.” Cornelia got up off the edge of her bed dressed
     in her robe, since her wardrobe closet still had a padlock on it. She stood at the tank with Sergeant DiBlasi and pointed
     out the different varieties of exotic fish.
    “That’s Alice, the blue one wiggling her tail. She’s always poking around in the other fishes’ business. The big red one I
     call the Red Queen. See how she holds court? Other fish come to her.”
    “Alice in Wonderland,” Sergeant DiBlasi said, nodding. “You feel like Alice?”
    “Sure,” Cornelia said. “She couldn’t leave either.”
    Sergeant DiBlasi glanced around Cornelia’s room, probably seeking out telling details, though she would find none. The room
     was naked. Once she had personal things, the small pieces of crystal andother objects her mother had collected from Europe, Central America, Asia, all over the world.
    Then, one year ago, when she began her project, the Electric Girl had rolled up her sleeves and redecorated for efficiency.
     That way, she could just grab her hard hat every day and go to work with an uncluttered mind.
    She had stripped the walls and laid bare the tabletops to keep things simple and avoid distractions. She had given away her
     sound system, even very personal things like her yearbook from the Gramercy School. Then she redecorated in functional red
     and black like a car battery, for life simplification, but also to put off visitors. Cornelia left only one personal touch,
     a photograph of a woman with blond hair to her shoulders who pursed her lips in a little smile. The silver-framed photo sat
     on a metal table next to her bed.
    “Your mother?”
    “Yes.”
    “Divorced?”
    “She died.”
    “Sorry for your loss,” the sergeant told her, like a recording.
    Cornelia knew exactly when people she had just met made up their minds about her. Something settled in their eyes as though
     they had processed whatever data they needed, and would now treat her like a person they had just filed into inventory. These
     days, people formed their opinions about her more quickly. She observed that Sergeant Di-Blasi completed her mental file right
     after seeing her mother’s picture. She imagined the short form of the file would be
Spoiled Nutcase
with a few minor notations.
    It saddened her. At times like this, she would love to share her secrets with a strong person like Sergeant DiBlasi, who did
     important work and knew a lot about life.
    “What do you do in the police department?” she asked her.
    “Armed robbery interdiction. Professional crews that hold up stores.”
    “Don’t they shoot at you?”
    The sergeant gave her a hard look. “Only if you let ’em.”
    Yes. She admired Sergeant DiBlasi. Especially the way she spoke, in clipped sentences to avoid superfluous chatter. She smiled,
     seeingboth sides of the Alps in the sergeant’s face. She had a Germanic squareness to her features, but her coloring was olive,
     Italian, and her lips rather full. Her hair was clean and glossy, worn without any particular style.
    “Grounded tonight.” The sergeant smiled tightly. “See a problem with that, Ms. Lord?”
    “No.” That much was true. She would have no problem with Sergeant DiBlasi. “But please call me Cornelia.”
    She felt a passing wave of guilt for what she was about to do.
    Chester and Tucker Fisk settled into old club chairs, each angled slightly toward the fire O’Connell had built in Chester’s
     study.
    Tucker sipped mineral water. Then he flipped open the disk drive of his custom laptop, made by their business partner, Koi
     Industries. He intended to put on a show for Chester. With visuals.
    Chester watched Tucker’s agility on the laptop, feeling a ping of jealousy tinged with fear. The same model always jammed
     or crashed when he fumbled with it. He felt a clammy