Flash and Filigree

by Terry Southern

  At the approach of Dr. Eichner, who was to pass directly by Babs and Ralph, the girl, without taking her eyes off the Doctor, reached out a hand as if to detain Ralph, though certainly, there had been no indication that he would attempt even to get the Doctor’s attention. Dr. Eichner may have looked at them as he passed, but he obviously took no notice. He resumed his place by the side of the stand and waited for Judge Lester, mounting the high presidium, to be seated.

  The Jury was still in a mood of recess, with whisperings and coughings among them, while Judge Lester shifted the papers about before him.

  On the far side of the Jury box, a spectator was standing in conversation with one of the Jurors. They were both young men, talking lightly, with many smiles and gestures between them. The Doctor had mounted the stand and was looking interestedly around, in his expression no hint of anxiety, when suddenly he started forward clutching the rail, and in an instant, his face seemed suddenly to go ashen with bitter incredulity.

  “If you please!” he said in a harsh voice to Judge Lester and, facing the Jury box, he pointed a severely accusing hand at the young man who was speaking to the Juror. And it was none other than Felix Treevly.

  For the moment, the Doctor seemed beside himself with speechless contempt, and, as though his accusing hand were itself enough to confiscate the man, kept it stiffly extended, quaking in mute condemnation of Mr. Treevly. “What, in God’s name, is that man doing here?” he demanded then, managing to assert some control over himself. “This is a closed session, is it not? Your Honor, I am forced to challenge the integrity of this Jury!”

  This outbreak caused great consternation in the courtroom. Almost everyone in the Jury sat agog, and the young Juror to whom Mr. Treevly had been talking, glared with open hostility at the Doctor, whereas Treevly himself, in acknowledging Dr. Eichner’s remarks, merely smiled with strained politeness and nodded. “The Doctor isn’t telling all he knows,” he said then in a very quiet voice, his lips formed by the pained smile that did not leave them throughout the incident. And, so saying, he turned his face slightly to profile, striking an odd pose, but also showing a glimpse of the small white patch on the back of his head.

  “Yes, I know!” countered the Doctor at once. “I know that abrasion! What have you packed it with? Spider-eggs? Good Lord!” He leaned heavily pale against the railing, as if he were going to be sick.

  “You would like to think so, wouldn’t you, Doctor?” replied Treevly, only his mouth carrying the fantastic smile, for his dull eyes were a flat dead gray. “Or would it upset you? Would it upset you—and your very-special-knowledge?”

  Judge Lester raised his gavel, but before he could strike, Mr. Treevly softly repeated the phrase: “The Doctor isn’t telling all he knows,” whereupon Dr. Eichner, recovering, spoke out so plainly that Judge Lester held the gavel, suspended as it were, above the Doctor’s words.

  “I will tell this much,” he shouted, “this man is a serious mental case: a vicious pederast, in a state of advanced paranoia!”

  “That’s slanderous!” cried Treevly’s friend in the Jury box, half standing now, looking wildly to Judge Lester for corroboration.

  “It is slanderous,” said Judge Lester, striking with his gavel, “and I advise you, Doctor—”

  “Let the charge be Slander!” cried Fred Eichner. “The defense will be: Truth!”

  “I advise you, Doctor,” said Judge Lester in a very loud voice, “that you may be liable to contempt of this Court!” And he struck deafeningly with his gavel. “I’m going to insist upon order here!” And as the courtroom grew quiet again, only Dr. Eichner’s voice was heard speaking to one of the officials sitting near. “Detain that man. I want to question him.” He spoke in such confident undertones, however, that it is doubtful if the official, one of the record clerks, even heard him. In any event, he confronted the Doctor with an ice-cold silence. Judge Lester had heard, however, and was quick to react. “I said, order, Doctor; I’ll not warn you again!” He fixed Dr. Eichner in a hard, formulative gaze, which remained unbroken for fully half a minute. The Doctor however, no longer seemed to be with them. His aggressive presence had given over to an obviously deep preoccupation; his eyes stared into the Jury without focus, brow furrowed, wholly reflective, as if in his mind’s-eye now he would thread the loosened strands of an intricate pattern.

  “It is conceivable,” Judge Lester began, after clearing his throat, “that, had developments here taken another course, your challenge of the Jury might be well taken . . . these are closed-sessions, and I will have something to say to the Guards responsible for the admission of unauthorized persons . . . However, it has been decided that the issues and the evidence in this case are, at the present time, too vague and too incomplete to indicate a definite finding. Therefore, a second hearing will be in order. I am going to set this hearing for ten days from today, that is Monday, May 2nd, by which time, it is probable, the District Attorney’s Office will have carried their investigations to a more conclusive point—so that the issues and evidence will be a great deal more clear.

  “The present Jury will not be called again. The principal party will receive summons on the day previous to the Hearing.” Judge Lester paused and looked at the Jury before speaking seriously to them. “Jury service is the duty and privilege of every good citizen. Our democratic tenets greatly depend upon honoring this duty, safeguarding this privilege. On behalf of the government and people of the County of Los Angeles, I would like to express gratitude then to those of you here today for your sacrifice and co-operation.

  “The Court is dismissed.”

  “What does it mean?” Babs whispered to Ralph squeezing his hand as though accidently, and looking helpless again, when they rose with the others. He squeezed her hand in return, to show understanding, and they both looked around for Dr. Eichner. But the Doctor had already swept past them and, as they saw now, was disappearing out the door, trying to overtake someone ahead. Apparently it was Felix Treevly he was after.

  Chapter XII

  BABS AND RALPH LEFT the Courtroom, in silence, a part of the milling crowd. On the steps of the Records Building, no longer holding hands, Ralph took the girl’s arm, pressing it gently, whereupon she edged away, raising her eyes with the quick look of a small friend betrayed.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Ralph, letting his annoyance show. He should have been in the library, of course, studying for his examination.

  When Babs didn’t answer, but instead allowed her preoccupation with bigger things be suggested, the boy at once became sulky and morose; so, at the bottom of the steps, Babs suddenly touched his sleeve, to detain him, while she looked anxiously around, as though she expected someone to be waiting.

  “Listen. What is this Eichner to you, anyway?” asked Ralph, putting his hands on his hips. “A particular friend or something?”

  Babs gave a start. “Who, Fred?” And she turned her blue eyes up on him like saucers of hope and confusion. “Why, no! Why?” She said it in such a way that he could not possibly have believed her—though, actually, it was true—and she gave him a long, inquiring look, shifting it from one part of his face to another, as if searching for a meaning beneath the words.

  Ralph had seemed ready to say good-bye and turn on his heel. Now that she was looking at him though, he stood firm, and responded with an appreciative gaze of his own. Babs had raised one finger to her cheek and held it there in an attitude of studied curiosity.

  “I don’t know,” said Ralph finally, looking hurt again and half turning away, “you seemed pretty interested.”

  “Silly!” she cried, touching his arm and moving her head back with a little laugh.

  “Well, let’s have a drink,” said Ralph, at a complete loss now, and too, as if looking at her made him thirsty.

  “Coffee for me, thank you very much!” Babs said archly, and followed it with a knowing smile.

  So they began to walk again, though this time, for the moment at least, Ralph careful
ly avoided touching her, even when they crossed the street. But at the opposite side, he put his hand on her elbow as they stepped up the curb.

  “Thank you,” said Babs and gave him a mischievous smile, to show she knew perfectly well what he was up to.

  Chapter XIII

  BACK AT THE CLINIC, behind the closed door of his consultation room, Dr. Eichner was having a talk with Martin Frost, private detective.

  “I’m badly mistaken if there’s a connection between them,” Fred Eichner was saying, “but one thing is certain—however, let me persist in offering you a drink.”

  Martin Frost raised a hand. “Not when I’m on the job, thanks, never touch it. You say he’s a pervert?”

  Dr. Eichner poured himself another brandy, turned the glass thoughtfully in his fingers. “I wouldn’t give the point too much emphasis. The fact is, I brought it out as a . . . a character sidelight, so to speak. These deviations usually have their parallel, social or otherwise, you see.”

  Martin Frost was a very large, strong looking man in his late forties, apparently not given to facial expressions of any sort—a trait that may have accounted for the flaccid spread of his great face being, as it was, without a single line or wrinkle. “I see your point,” he said, merely lowering his eyes toward the floor to show the seriousness he felt for the case.

  “I want you to get a line on this man,” Dr. Eichner continued grandly. “Get-a-line-on-him. We’ll need to determine the exact nature of his association with that Juror, and so on. Naturally, you’ll want to document any evidence of perversion that may come up. If a slander case is brought, at least we’ll be ready on that head!”

  The prospect seemed to warm the Doctor all over, and he snuggled comfortably in his chair, gently rolling the crystal glass between four extended fingers.

  “By the way, what is your fee, Mr. Frost?”

  “I can give you a day-rate if you like, Doctor,” said Martin Frost, clearing his throat and trading the balance of his strapping bulk from one hip to another, “of thirty-five and expenses . . . I’m not handling any other cases right now, so I could give it the full day, which is the way I like to work actually—one case at a time.”

  “Good!”

  “Keep things straight that way,” Martin Frost looked at his powerful hands. “ . . . and concentrate.”

  “Just so! Yes. Tell me, what was your last case, Mr. Frost? If you’re at liberty to say, of course.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m not. Most of my cases are entirely confidential, you see. I don’t mind telling you, though, that I worked on the Beaton-Beaton case—you may have read about it in the papers not long ago.”

  “Oh yes. Yes, of course. I was wondering who broke that case.”

  “Well, naturally, I wasn’t alone in it. The police, I mean. Yes, there were a lot of spoons in the fire on that one all right!”

  Dr. Eichner sipped from the glass with contemplative ease before he spoke again.

  “Thirty-five a day? And expenses. Now, just what . . .”

  Martin Frost sat forward, a white giant, clearing his throat. “By expenses, Doctor, we mean any expense we would not ordinarily, or otherwise, incur—taxi-fares, tips, camera work, tapes, small bribes—which are sometimes necessary—and so forth, depending on the nature of the case, naturally. In this instance, I foresee no undue expense—though, of course, you would get an itemized account of these—and, naturally, we try to keep them at a minimum.”

  “We have ten days to break this case,” said Dr. Eichner emphatically, as though he weren’t listening. “That is the interval, you see, between today’s hearing and the next convening of the Jury.”

  “Well, Doctor,” Martin Frost began, looking down once more to his hands, which turned slowly above his lap like two heavy, spitted things, “I see no reason why it can’t be done.”

  Dr. Eichner stood and walked to the window, arms folded, hugging himself. Then he turned abruptly.

  “Will you take this case?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’d like to do this one.”

  Martin Frost showed no hesitation in his acceptance, nor any emotion, save a deliberate twist of one rope-thick finger across his foremost right-hand knuckle, which cracked then like the split of a great hollow nut.

  Chapter XIV

  BABS AND RALPH got back into the convertible and drove two blocks to a big fashionable Drive-In, where Ralph, with his right arm stretched along the back of the seat above Babs’ shoulders, ordered beer, and Babs, as she had threatened she might, a cup of coffee.

  “Do you like Boston Coffee?” she asked the young man brightly.

  “You mean coffee with a lot of cream?”

  “Half cream, half coffee,” she informed him.

  “Yes, I guess so. Do you?”

  “Love it!” She spoke with worldly defiance, as though they had been talking about hashish or heroin.

  “You could have had some now,” observed Ralph, too dryly.

  “Why, how do you mean?”

  “Well,” he explained, “you could have ordered that instead of plain coffee.”

  “Oh, not in the mood,” said Babs. “I forgot to tell you,” she confided smartly, “I’m moody!” And she beamed at him, her blue eyes all wet sparkles of starry promise.

  “Listen, Babs,” he suddenly began, a plaintive softness to his voice, while her own look turned to wide-eyed surprise, as if a girl never knew what to expect, and as he was about to let his arm down to touch her shoulder, the waitress appeared with their tray, and they both seemed to withdraw slightly with little sighs of relief.

  “I’ll have half of it and then make it Boston,” Babs announced a minute later as she gazed up over her cup at the boy. Ralph smiled awkwardly but said nothing, drinking his beer in well spaced gulps, glancing at his wrist-watch once or twice. When he passed the cream to Babs, she let their fingers touch lingeringly, though without seeming to notice it herself, all the while maintaining a spritely commentary on things at hand. It was as though she had religiously drawn her idea of conversation from the radio commercials, and now feared anathema if dead-air were allowed. “You’re a funny boy,” she said, not unkindly.

  “How do you mean?” asked Ralph, trying to show some surprise.

  “Well, I don’t know,” said Babs, looking serious to gain time, “you’re so—quiet.” Then she laughed animatedly, touching his arm to reassure him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I mean, good night, the way I rattle on so it isn’t funny! And here I should be listening to you!”

  “Well—” Ralph began uneasily.

  “Eleanor Thorne—you know Eleanor, don’t you? Excuse me! I mean Miss Thorne—she says I’m just too precocious!”

  “Oh?” said Ralph, replacing his arm on the seat behind her.

  “Yes. You know Eleanor, don’t you?” asked Babs with a puzzled expression.

  “She’s the Head Nurse, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, and she’s really a wonderful person. So many of the girls don’t like her—they say she’s a holy-terror—but, oh, she’s just absolu—”

  Ralph had lowered his arm stealthily, and he leaned forward now in a half-hearted attempt to kiss the girl, exerting some pressure to bring her toward him. But Babs pulled away quickly, flushing and looking cross. “Oh, no,” she said, glancing furtively around at the other cars to see if she were being observed, then turning to look at Ralph as one bewildered and forlorn. “I’m afraid I’m not the kind of a girl you think,” she said and waited.

  “I only wanted to kiss you, Babs. You’re so—so beautiful,” he explained miserably.

  “Really!” said Babs, turning away to stare out the window like a sullen princess, actually quite pleased.

  “But it’s only natural, isn’t it, Babs? I mean, what’s wrong with it?”

  “Well, I like that!” she said, looking at him again. “I mean, it isn’t as though we’re on a date, is it?”

  “Well, let’s have a date,” suggested Ralph. “Tonight.”
>
  “What, so you can kiss me? Hmph! No thanks! Thanks a lot, but no than—”

  “No, I wouldn’t kiss you if you didn’t want to,” promised Ralph. “It’s just that I’d like to be with you and, well—I mean, we could have a lot of fun together.”

  “Tonight!” said Babs. “Honestly! Isn’t that pretty short notice?”

  “Not when two people like each other, Babs,” said Ralph, sounding wretched.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s how you do with your blonde girl friend, call her up the same day you want a date!” She eyed him keenly, then turned to stare out the window again. “Well, not everyone is like that, thank you,” she said and seemed about to cry.

  Ralph squeezed her shoulder gently. “Babs, please,” he begged. “I want to be with you so much—but listen, I have to go back to school now, for an exam, and, well, couldn’t I pick you up later and we could go somewhere?”

  “Honestly,” exclaimed Babs, “I think it’s simply terrible, asking girls to break dates. How would you feel if I broke a date on you?”

  “Oh, you already have a date then?”

  “Well, really!” said Babs, truly insulted at last.

  Ralph paid, and they silently drove away, after Babs, in seeming reluctance, had given him her address. A few minutes later she began to make bright conversation again, which Ralph interrupted, saying sullenly: “You just don’t like me.”

  “I do like you,” said Babs matter-of-factly, and then, with resentment, “but you’d think I was terrible, giving you a date on such short notice. I know how boys think!”

  “But I wouldn’t!” said Ralph, “I wouldn’t!”

  “Hmph!” said Babs.

  “Listen. Look at it this way. There’s a film I have to see in connection with a paper I’m doing in English Lit and, well, you could go along with me. That’s all. I mean, it wouldn’t have to be like an official date—just something we happen to do together, you know, like coming down to the Court House today? That wasn’t a real date, but still we were together, and it was nice. Do you see what I mean?”