"Second childhood? Why, she's still not out of her first one."
Ann stopped laughing and glared at Mrs. Weather, but Gladys couldn't really have meant it. If she did, she still had a lot to learn about her stepdaughter. Maybe I did too.
Jay came in just then and said, "Hello, Shell. How's the head?"
"Pretty good. I'd forgotten about it."
Ann said, "Forgotten your head?" As I turned to look at her I saw her mouth open. Apparently she'd just noticed the patch at the back of my skull. She got up and walked over to me.
"My gosh," she said. "I hadn't noticed that before. What happened?"
"A guy hit me on the head."
"Does it hurt?"
"No," I said. "It's okay now."
She said, "I know why I didn't see it before. I couldn't see the back of your head because you were always looking at me." She'd been gently touching the patch and she let her hand trail off and whisper across the nape of my neck.
"Damn fool girl," Jay said to me. "Thinks she's Mata Hari." But his voice was warm and he smiled at her. "She oughta be spanked," he added.
Ann turned around and walked slowly back to her chair. As she turned I chose that moment to look, being me. She did need a spanking, and she was pretty much of a pain, and the thought of spanking her wasn't a revolting idea at all.
Jay said, "You mean you've been here all this time and nobody's fixed you a drink? Come on, Shell."
He'd hit it right on the head: I needed a drink. I followed Jay through a couple of big rooms and into a den at the back of the house. The den was Jay's pride, and he'd fixed it up well, but it was more bar than den. Against the right wall was a completely equipped home bar with glass top, and four bamboo stools. I perched on the end stool while Jay began mixing a Coke-high for himself and a rum and soda for me.
I asked, "Jay, haven't you said anything at all to Gladys and Ann about the parrot? Or about the business deal?"
He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Afraid ... you know, afraid they'd figure I was nuts or something."
"Believe me, Jay, I'm positive it's nothing like that."
He smiled a little. "Hypnotism again?"
"What about the hypnotist who was here Saturday night?"
"Oh, that," he said.
It surprised me a little bit. I'd been expecting him to say, "What hypnotist?"
He went on, "I been thinking since I saw you and I figured that might get you. There was one here, all right, but it was just a party. Had some friends in. No parrot. It can't have any connection."
"The hell. You remember what you did?"
"Well, not exactly. Gladys and Ann have been kidding me about it a little. Seems I made a big speech."
"Uh-huh. Listen to this—a man can be hypnotized and told he won't remember anything about what he did, and he won't remember. Isn't it worth checking?"
He looked at me for several seconds. Then he nodded slowly. "Maybe you're the crazy one, but I guess so."
He stirred the liquor gently with a swizzle stick and handed me my drink. I had a swallow, then said, "How about doing me a personal favor? Come down tomorrow and talk to that psychiatrist friend of mine." I added quickly, "I mean so he can explain the hypnosis angle I've been trying to pound into your head. Maybe he can get rid of your bird."
He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Okay, Shell. Come on, let's go back."
"One other thing, Jay. Do you mind if we go over this deal with your wife and daughter? There's something screwy going on. Besides, it might do you good to get it off your chest."
He pursed his lips. "Well, let's let it out for tonight," he said. "Wait till I see that brain doctor."
I let it go. I decided not to say anything to him about the theft of the bill of sale, because it seemed to me he had enough on his mind for now. There was little point in giving him more worries. I grabbed my drink and followed him back into the living room.
When we went in I noticed Ann wasn't in sight. Gladys still sat on the divan and I asked her, "Did Ann take off?"
"Yes. She's always in and out, going or coming."
If Ann had gone ahead to Frankie's, she must have been pretty sure I'd meet her. She hadn't done anything to make me think she wasn't pretty sure of herself. I sat down in the chair and Jay joined his wife on the divan. There is no room so crowded as one that contains a woman, her husband, and her lover, and for five minutes conversation was strained. Then Jay asked me if I felt like playing a game of chess.
"Guess not, Jay. I'll beat it pretty quick." I turned to Gladys. "Say, this hypnotist. He an amateur?"
"No," she said. "He's a professional; that's his business. He has an office downtown."
"Could you give me his name and address?"
"Why, certainly, Mr. Scott. His name is Borden, Joseph Borden, and his office is in the Langer Building on Olive."
Jay looked at me and shook his head as if he were trying to tell me again that I was barking up the wrong tree.
I glanced at my watch. It was five after eight, and if Ann were at Frankie's she might be getting impatient.
"Thanks," I said. "Think I'll take off. See you tomorrow then, Jay?"
He nodded and got up. As I left him at the door I said, "Bet you five you don't have any more trouble after tomorrow."
I didn't know how right I was.
Chapter Six
FRANKIE'S was a small place with pleasantly dim lighting, and table service only—no bar or stools. Drinks were brought from some place in back. Tables filled the center area of the club, and plush, black-leather booths lined all four sides of the room.
A slim young man played, almost idly, on a piano surrounded by tables in the middle of the room, and every few minutes he'd sing. At least he was billed as the singer, though he might well have been called the chanteuse. The songs consisted mainly of his breathing delicately into the microphone a few inches from his expressive face. Once in a while you could catch a word like amour, but the real thrills were the gasps and sighs and moans. He was sexy.
I'd never been in here before and I paused inside the entrance, until I saw a white handkerchief being waved back and forth above a blond head at a booth in a far corner. I nodded at a tall, slim chappie who danced up, then walked by him and to the booth.
Ann's green eyes twinkled and she patted the black leather cushion at her side. I said, "Hello, baby," and sat down opposite her with the small round table between us.
"Hello," she said, then got up, marched around to my side of the booth and squeezed in beside me. "You took your time."
"I'm here. Almost didn't come."
She laughed delightedly. "I'll bet. I'll just bet."
"Why here, of all places?" I asked her.
"Here you'll really appreciate me, Shell." She was all of a foot away from me, and she locked her hands behind her head, arching her back, looking at me. "You do appreciate me, don't you, Shell?"
"Sure, child. Let's get down to business."
She unclasped her hands, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled herself to me. "All right," she said softly just before she kissed me on the lips.
It jarred me. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised, but I was, and my eyes were wide open as she leaned forward and pressed her lips on mine. The long brown lashes fluttered softly an inch from my eyes, then she opened her eyes and looked at me steadily as her plump, smooth lips moved gently, with a practiced expertness. For just a moment she was content and serious, then her lids crinkled and I could feel her mouth smiling under mine.
I reached up automatically and pushed her away from me. Out of my mind, I guess.
She said, "Fresh," and looked down at my hands.
I dropped them quickly and said, "Woman, what are you trying to prove?"
"Woman." She smiled. "That's better. And I'm not trying to prove anything. I wanted to kiss you."
"So you kissed me. This is hardly the place." I sounded stuffy.
She grinned. "Oh? Where would you like to be kissed? Anyway, this is
a perfect place. A woman could be raped in here and not a soul would notice the woman."
I had to grin at the little witch. "Tell me, Ann. Did you really want to talk to me, or is this some kind of psychological experiment?"
"It's an experiment. Not psychological, though. And I did want to talk to you. First I was going to lure you here, and if I needed an excuse I was going to tell you it was because Gladys was lying to you."
"Lying?" I couldn't figure this girl. She'd reeled that out as if it were nothing. "You need an excuse," I told her. "Lying about what?"
"You're some date," she said. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink?"
"I'm not a date, but I'll buy you a drink."
"I'll have a French Seventy-five. What'll you have? Acid?"
I ignored her and caught our waiter's eye. I gave him the order and when he'd left I looked at Ann. "Spill. What did Gladys lie to me about?"
Conversation had stopped while I got the waiter and ordered and I hadn't been watching Ann. Now I noticed that she was staring at me, not just looking, but staring with an odd kind of intentness at my lips, and her own lips were pressed tightly together. She didn't look cute, as she had before; she looked older and, somehow, more mature, almost animal. Ann looked very much as Gladys had sometimes looked. I had to repeat my question.
She blinked twice, slowly, then smiled. "I'm sorry, Shell. I was somewhere else, I guess. Gladys—she said she didn't remember what went on at the party."
"And she did."
"Of course she did. We talked about the party for an hour or more on Monday, and we both kidded Dad when he came home Monday night."
"What did he do?"
"Mr. Borden told him he was Hitler and had to make a speech, and he did it up brown. Funny thing. Dad had German in college but hadn't used it since. He gave the whole speech in fluent German. Isn't that funny?"
"Yeah." Ann's conversation was animated again, but she was pressed close to me in the wide booth and I could feel the tips of her fingers resting, perhaps by accident, against my thigh. I swallowed, "You don't like Mrs. Weather much, do you?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Simple. You drag me here and tell me she was lying."
She smiled. "I don't like her. And I didn't drag you here; you came running. And I got you here, didn't I?"
"But not for long. Has Jay seemed worried lately? Out of sorts?"
"Uh-huh. Something on his mind. Don't know what, but I could tell he's been worried."
"Gladys hadn't noticed."
"Or so she said. Anyway, she wouldn't notice if the moon fell down."
I sat quietly for a moment thinking about Jay and his damned parrot. He hadn't seemed to like the idea of spilling that story to his family, and hadn't believed me at first—maybe still didn't—when I'd told him I was convinced it was the result of hypnotism. I didn't like to see Jay going to pieces the way he was, and I meant to run his elusive bird down for a lot of reasons. Friendship and his trust in me and belief that I could help him; Gladys, too, of course. It seemed to me that I owed Jay a lot more now than I could pay back. But I couldn't help him much by keeping my mouth shut, and there were some screwy angles to this mess. I thought about it a minute longer, then gave Ann the story of Jay's parrot. I wound up saying, "So that's it. I'll see that guy Borden tonight if I can find him. Something smells."
She was completely serious and frowning now. "I didn't know anything about that, Shell. I know Dad's been worried this last week, but I figured it'd pass. Funny, there wasn't anything at the party about a parrot. Just some tricks like that Hitler thing, and a hypnosis lecture Borden gave."
"What sort of tricks? What else did he have Jay do? Tell me the whole story, will you?"
The waiter brought the drinks and I swallowed at my rum and soda while Ann talked. "We had dinner Saturday night—eight of us—and Borden showed up at eight o'clock. He gave a lecture, then demonstrated a falling routine with Dad—you know, where he'd stand up and Borden would say he was falling backward, falling back, back, and so on, then Dad fell and Borden caught him. He did a few more things with Dad, demonstrations like hypnopendulum, arm heaviness, and so on."
I interrupted. "You seem to know quite a lot about this. How come?"
"I was a psychology major in college. I still read the Journal of General Psychology and some of the others."
"Still?"
She smiled and said matter-of-factly, "I graduated top of my class over a year ago. I'm a brain. Really. I guess I'm practically a genius." She laughed.
"Last year? But you're only twenty-one now."
"Oh!" she said, exasperated. "Only twenty-one. If I'd started using heroin when I was fifteen, how old would I be now?" She tossed her head. "Anyway, when Borden finished that stuff he made us all relax and then attempted group hypnosis. Good results with Dad, Gladys, and Ayla. Then he took them one at a time and hypnotized them. He didn't leave till after midnight. Lots of fun, but it didn't work on me. I suppose it's my fault. I wanted to see what went on. Besides, I didn't want him to hypnotize me." She stopped and looked at me, sucking in her cheeks a little. Then she said mischievously, "I'd let you if you wanted to, Shell."
I ignored her and said, "And then what?"
"Why, I'd be completely in your power, darling."
"Damn it, you know what I meant. And then what happened at the party?"
She was looking at my mouth again, her cheeks still sucked in a little and her closed mouth moving gently as if she were biting easily on the insides of her cheeks. Her lips slid together, back and forth a fraction of an inch, over and over with a kind of kneading motion. Her fingertips still touched my leg and she slid them forward till her palm rested on my thigh, almost burning, as if it were on my skin.
She said with a new, tighter pitch to her voice, "Forget that party, Shell. Let's talk about this party. Our party."
I was getting more confused by the minute. Ann seemed to have two alternating moods; she'd be bright and pleasant for a little while, apparently perfectly normal, and then she would seem affected, almost afflicted, with a kind of strangeness, or maybe passion. I simply couldn't figure her. Not yet.
"Look, Ann, honey," I said. "This ain't no party. See? Just a pleasant chat, and I need some info. Spill."
She sighed and then smiled a little. "Okay. I guess you're the boss." Listening to her voice, there seemed nothing different about it, nothing strained. But her hand, still on my thigh, was trembling a little and I could feel it in my spine.
She kept talking. "Borden had them all do various things. No parrots, though. He told Gladys that after he waked her, every time he touched his nose she'd stand up, clear her throat, and then sit down. She did, too. When Borden asked her why she was doing that she said she had a kink in her back and was trying to work it out. Isn't it funny the way they'll almost always figure out a reason why they're acting on the posthypnotic suggestion?"
"Sometimes not so funny. No parrot, huh?"
"None."
"Jay ever alone with Borden?"
"Let me see ... once, I think. I believe he went into the den with Dad for a drink. That was after everything was over, though, and they weren't in there very long. Why?"
"Just curious, Ann. I'm not sure of anything. Nothing else you can tell me?"
"Nothing I can think of. All through?" She grinned.
"No. How about writing down a list of the people who were there?"
She didn't answer for a moment, then her expression changed again; her green eyes narrowed and her tongue flicked over her lips. "I'll have to take my hand away," she said. "You've acted as if you didn't even know it was there, Shell."
I was surprised at how tight my voice was when I answered, "I knew it was there."
She smiled, her teeth pressed together, and her palm brushed against me gently, lingeringly. Then she reached for her bag and took a pencil and scrap of paper from it. There was a cottony taste in my mouth.
Just before she started to write, she glanced up
at me from under the long lashes and said softly, "Uh-huh. I guess you did know." Then, casually, she said, "Let's see, there were Dad and Gladys and me, and old long-underwear Arthur. Then Mr. Hannibal, Dad's lawyer—he's sort of a friend of the family, too. He was with Miss Stewart. And Peter Sault and Ayla Veichek. He's an artist and she's a model. You'll like her, I'm afraid." She scribbled on the paper as she talked.
"Why will I like her?"
"Because she's delicious. Don't you like delicious women?"
"Of course, but—"
"I'm delicious, too, but maybe she's more your type. You'd call her sexy, I imagine. Voluptuous-looking; even more than me." She paused and added, "Of course, she's a little stupid."
"Now I know I'll like her. But she might not like me."
Ann pushed the list across the little table to me and said, "If she doesn't, you'll know it." She grinned. "And if she does, you'll know that, too. Only one thing wrong with Ayla. She's top-heavy." She smiled at me and went on, as if she were deliberately trying to stimulate my imagination. "I don't know, though, if you were to see her without any clothes on, you might not agree with me. You might like it."
I couldn't think of anything to say.
She went on, "But you've never met Ayla. Be kind of hard for you to imagine what she'd look like nude." She paused and said more softly, "But you can imagine me, can't you, Shell?"
That was the trouble: I had been imagining.
"Try it, Shell," she said. "Look at me and try to imagine it." She leaned back away from me, resting against the side of the booth. "Right now, Shell."
I did look at her, at the soft swell and curve of her body beneath the wool that molded it. Then I remembered Gladys and Jay. I made myself look away from her and said gruffly, "For Christ's sake, Ann, give a guy a chance. Now knock it off and pay attention. What makes you think I'll see this Ayla? Or anyone else?"
She sighed, shrugged, and sat up straight. "Simple," she said finally, her voice a little dull. "You ask Gladys about Dad and the party. You pry me with questions. Then there's Dad's parrot. When you leave me you'll go around talking to everybody who was at the party—maybe to see if I'm lying, or if Gladys is lying. Isn't that right? You're a detective."
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