Dr. Magus sighed. "Many little things, Miss Plackett. Not the medical details nor anything that could be considered confidential. Perhaps - Do you know my son is dead?"
"I know the police came here a few days ago and asked questions about him. They didn't tell us why."
"Because he was killed only hours after he left here. I am told that he returned immediately to the carnival he worked for and met his death there that same night."
"I am sorry to hear that, doctor." She wasn't, really. But she would be after he got into the song and dance Dr. Magus hadn't started yet. But it was about time he did.
He said, "Thank you. I - Miss Plackett, I'm sure you'll be able to help me better if I explain fully to you just what my interest is - and it's really a bit complex, almost impossible to tell you briefly. Nor would I blame you for not wanting to answer my questions until I have explained. I wonder - Will you forgive me if I ask you to have dinner with me? It will give us time to talk."
"Why, I-"
"I'll appreciate it greatly, Miss Plackett. And there is so much to tell you before I even know what questions I want to ask."
"Well, I believe I can, doctor. Thank you."
He waited while she got hat and handbag, then asked her to choose where they should go, since he was a stranger in town. There was a nice restaurant, she said, only a block from the hospital. They walked there.
He was pleasantly surprised to be able to talk her into a cocktail before dinner.
"I should perhaps explain, Miss Plackett, that I am not a doctor of medicine. My doctorate is in philosophy. I am a professor of psychology at U. S. C. - University of Southern California." He smiled. "Psychology is a field which, in all modesty, I can say I know thoroughly - with one reservation. For whatever reason, I failed with John."
"John?"
"My son. I understand he is on your records as Mack Irby; his full name is, or was, John MacGregor Irby. He ran away from home at the age of eighteen, eleven years ago. Just two months after he completed high school. I have not seen him since, nor heard of or from him until yesterday when I was told of his death, and what is known of the circumstances surrounding it, by the Los Angeles Police Department."
"But how did they know? I mean, if he'd changed his name and-"
"Through his fingerprints, taken as a matter of police routine after his death. They were sent to Washington and found to be those of my son which were on record because he'd been arrested several times during the last year he was still living at home.
"So the Los Angeles police were notified and notified me. They didn't have many details but I telephoned the carnival they said he'd been with and talked with a Mr. Wiggins there - he seemed to be one of the partners who own the carnival - and learned all I could learn from him, which included the fact that John had just returned to the carnival after having spent seven weeks here. I made immediate arrangements to fly East to learn more about the matter. Since Glenrock is west of Bloomfield, I decided to stop here first to see what I could learn at the hospital before I continue on to the carnival."
"I - see. But there's nothing-"
"Miss Plackett, my son was murdered. But I am not investigating his murder. The murderer has already been apprehended. He was another employee of the carnival, a knife thrower. He was arrested for another crime but my son's money, definitely identified, was found concealed in his trunk. That money was the motive and there is no mystery in connection with my son's death."
"But then what - I don't understand, Dr. Irby."
"The mystery of my son's life. Until he was fourteen years old, John was a normal, happy, healthy boy. Something happened then - or possibly a delayed reaction to something that happened sooner - that changed him. He began to rebel against authority - mine, the school's, the state's. He began to steal and to - to do other things. I tried my honest best to find out what had happened to him. I tried to talk to him but he was sullen and uncommunicative; he grew farther and farther away from me. And at eighteen he ran away from home.
"I tried to trace him every way I could. But the news I got yesterday - the news that he is dead - was the first word in eleven years. And now - but I suppose you see what I'm getting at, Miss Plackett?"
"Why - not exactly."
"I want to know where I made my mistake in dealing with my son, what happened to him inside, what kind of a man he became and why. You see, I've got to know. Aside from parental love, there is the fact that I am supposed to be a psychologist. God help me, the university has been wanting me to conduct a seminar in child guidance. How can I, and not feel dishonest, when I still do not know where I went wrong in guiding my own son?
"For the sake of my professional pride as well as for the sake of my own conscience and my integrity as a teacher of others, I must find the answer."
Dr. Magus took a deep breath. He was hitting his stride now, beginning to feel the role. And he had his audience with him; Miss Plackett's nose was still sharp but her eyes weren't. They looked at him understanding, compassionately. She asked, "But how can I help you, doctor? We didn't get to know him well, certainly not well enough to hazard a guess as to - to what you want to find out about."
Dr. Magus didn't answer directly. He said, "How long it takes me doesn't matter. I am due for a sabbatical year. I had planned to take it year after next, but I shall make arrangements to make it this coming term, if necessary. I am going to find and talk to every friend he had, every woman he knew. I am going to trace back and back to every place he lived or worked, until I find the answer. Somewhere along the line he must have talked to someone about his early life, must have said something which - combined with what I already know - will give me the key to that hidden room in his mind.
"He had a good home, Miss Plackett. He was an only child. We were far from wealthy but he had everything he needed, as much as the boys he went to school with had; there was no reason for him to feel inferior to or jealous of his contemporaries. I was not too severe with him, I am sure, nor do I believe we spoiled or pampered him. His mother was an angel-" Dr. Magus stared off into space. His eyes watered.
"Was?" asked Miss Packett softly.
"Yes, she died five years ago. And he loved his mother. I know that. Yet after he left home eleven years ago he never wrote her once, not so much as a postcard. She died not knowing what had happened to him.
"Yet he loved her. Can you not see how puzzling that fact alone is, how strongly indicative that there was something, some factor which I hope is not beyond my understanding, which I can learn about and, having learned, understand my own son?"
"I - I understand, doctor, fully. I don't know how I can help you, but I'll gladly try."
"Thank you. And I believe you understand now why I came here first - not only because geographically it was on my way to the carnival, but because except for the last few hours my son spent the last seven weeks of his life in your care. And what do I want to know about those seven weeks?" He gestured helplessly. "I don't know, specifically. So I want to know everything you can tell me. I want to know what my son was like, after eleven years. I want to know who his friends were so I can look them up. I want to know what he read, how he spent his time. Who may have visited him or written to him, or to whom he may have written or telephoned while he was at the hospital. I want to know what his personality was and how he impressed people. And please do not spare my feeling on any of it because nothing but the truth, however unpleasant, can help me."
"I understand, doctor. I - I hardly know where to begin, though; you're asking so many questions at once." Dr. Magus sighed deeply. It had been the most beautiful song and dance he had ever performed. A long one, but worth it. It had convinced and it covered his asking every question he could possibly think of to ask.
He said, "Please start at the beginning, the night he was brought in. Wait, before you start and lest I forget to ask this later, is there anything you can tell me about the man he was with? A Mr. Flack, I believe the name was, also a carnival employ
ee. Did he reach the hospital alive and if so, did he, ah, say, anything before he died, about the accident or about anything else?"
"He died after admittance to the hospital, doctor. But only minutes after and he never regained consciousness. A mercy, considering how terrible his injuries were."
"I see. And my son - was he conscious when admitted?"
"No, but he regained consciousness shortly after. While Dr. Kramer was examining him, just after the policemen left."
"The police brought him there?"
"Our own ambulance brought him, but on a call from the police. Here's how it happened that way. A state police car with two-way radio happened to be right behind the car Mr. Flack was driving and the policemen saw the accident happen. They had to slam on brakes to keep from being part of it. They radioed right in to headquarters for an ambulance - but the police ambulance was out on another call and ours was much nearer anyway so they phoned us to send our ambulance."
"I see. And John wasn't conscious when he was brought in. How soon did he recover consciousness?"
"About the time Dr. Kramer was finishing his examination and taking care of minor injuries first before setting the leg, which was the only serious injury."
"I promised not to ask about medical details, but wouldn't he have taken care of the serious injury first?"
"Oh no, not in that case. There were quite a few minor cuts from glass that were still bleeding, and a wound that's still bleeding takes priority. There's no immediate rush about setting a broken leg when it isn't a compound fracture. And - oh, yes, I remember a minor complication; there was a fairly severe cut on the leg itself at a place where it would have to be covered by the cast. Naturally that had to be taken care of first and the doctor had to be extremely sure that bleeding was completely stopped and wouldn't start again and that there wouldn't be any infection before he could put the cast on. He didn't put the leg in a cast until the next day; that night he just set it and used splints."
"What did John say when he regained consciousness?"
"Mostly, I'm afraid, he just used profanity."
"He asked no questions?"
"Oh yes, of course. As soon as he calmed down, he asked the usual questions - how bad his injuries were and how long he'd be in the hospital. He seemed very disturbed when he was told it would probably be six to eight weeks."
"Didn't he ask about his companion?"
"Yes, that was his next question. And when Dr. Kramer told him Mr. Flack had died, I remember his reaction seemed strange to me at the time. He said, 'My God!' softly, in a funny kind of way. I - I can be wrong, but I got the impression that it pleased him, as though he'd just got wonderful news."
Dr. Magus nodded. Damn right Mack Irby had just got wonderful news, he thought; he'd just learned that all the loot from that bank robbery, the whole forty-two grand, was his. Not just a cut of it, all of it. And it would have taken more than the pain of a broken leg to keep him from being quiet and doing some heavy thinking after that.
And Dr. Magus had something already - confirmation or at least a strong indication, that one of his deductions had been correct, that the money, wherever it was, hadn't been divided up as yet. If it had been, neither would have let the other know where he'd stashed his share and news of Charlie's death wouldn't have had that effect on Mack.
He said, "Thank you; Miss Plackett. I see that you are very observant. It is little things like that which are most helpful; even though I do not see their significance now, I hope to learn. When I reach the carnival, I'll inquire closely into the relations between my son and this Charles Flack. But go on."
"I'm not sure you understand, Dr. Irby. It's easy to misinterpret a tone of voice, to read something into it that isn't there, especially when a man is in shock and in pain. But that's the impression I had at the time."
"Did he ever mention Charles Flack again?"
"Not that I know of, all the time he was with us. His main worry, the first few weeks, was as to whether he could get back to the carnival before its tour ended."
"Did he ever say why that was important to him?"
"Yes, when I asked him. He said that if he didn't get back before the season ended he wouldn't be able to line himself up a job for next year."
Dr. Magus nodded gravely and inwardly exulted. It looked more and more as though the money must be with the carnival. Mack Irby, with even his own share of the bank loot, would not have been in the slightest degree interested in lining himself up a job for next season.
"His feeling that way," Miss Plackett said, "led to one definite advantage for us and for him. It made him an excellent and co-operative patient. He could, though, have left us a week earlier had he been willing to do so on crutches. But he was doing so well by then that when he learned he'd be able to walk within a week - as long as he limited his walking - with only the aid of a cane, he took the doctor's advice and waited. Of course he was sure by then that even in that case he'd get back well before the carnival ended its tour. Two weeks before, I believe."
Of course he wouldn't be in a hurry, Dr. Magus thought, once he was sure he would be back in ample time. Besides, the insurance company was paying his expenses, and Mack Irby would have hated showing up on crutches.
"I see," said Dr. Magus. "Did my son receive any mail while he was here, or send any?"
"He didn't receive any. I know because the police who were here asking about him Tuesday had me check that with the desk and with the other nurses. And as far as any of us can remember he sent out only one piece of mail, a postcard, about a week before he left. He gave it to one of the nurses, Miss Carger, to mail for him and all she remembers about it is that it was addressed to someone at the carnival."
That would have been the postcard he'd sent Burt, the one that had spread news of the insurance company's settlement around the lot.
Dr. Magus said, "Doesn't sound as though he had many friends, I'm afraid. Any telephone calls, telegrams?"
"No telegrams. One telephone call, only it wasn't exactly to him. The morning after the accident someone - What's the name of the carnival, Dr. Irby? Do you know?"
"Yes. Wiggins and Braddock Combined Shows."
"Wiggins, that's the name. I knew it was part of the name of the carnival. Anyway, the call was from Mr. Wiggins and he wanted to inquire about Mr. Irby's condition, whether it was anything serious and whether he'd be back. Dr. Kramer took the call."
"And told him what?"
She looked at him a bit strangely and he realized that the question had sounded peculiar. She said, "Told him the truth, I presume. That Mr. Irby's only serious injury was a broken leg and that he'd probably be released in six to eight weeks."
"I just wondered if he sent any messages, condolences or what not, to my son."
"Why, I don't know. Come to think of it, he probably would have left some message, to wish him good luck at least. But Dr. Kramer, if that was the case, no doubt gave the message direct to Mr. Irby."
"I see. Visitors? I suppose not, or you'd have mentioned the fact already."
"No, no one came to see him, unless you count the insurance adjuster. He came twice, the second time to bring the check for the settlement they made."
Dr. Magus frowned thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that doesn't give me many leads. I'd hoped to find out who his friends were, but apparently he hadn't many. Well, he thought enough of someone at the carnival at least to send a postcard. And I'll no doubt be able to find out who that was when I reach the carnival. Uh, what was his attitude toward money? In particular, before he knew for certain that there would be an easy settlement with the insurance company, including covering his hospital bill."
"Why, he didn't seem to worry about it. Naturally we check with a patient, since we're not a charity institution, as to whether or not he's going to be able to pay our bill. In the case of an emergency admittance like Mr. Irby's we do it, of course, after emergency treatment has been given. In Mr. Irby's case, the hospital superintendent talked to him about it
the following day. I happened to be in the room. Let's see, I'll try to remember as much of the conversation as I can."
She closed her eyes. "Dr. Harper, that's the superintendent's name, asked him first - I guess it's always the first question - whether he carried hospitalization or accident insurance, and Mr. Irby said he didn't. Dr. Harper then told him that if his hospitalization ran eight weeks the total bill would be close to a thousand dollars and that he'd have to pay it in cash before he could be released, and that if he didn't have that much money he should ask then to be transferred to a county institution. And Mr. Irby said - I think I remember exactly what he said - 'That's all right, doc. Don't let it worry you.' "
Dr. Magus nodded happily, his face grave. Not that he needed more proof of Irby's being in the bank robbery, but there it was. At the time Miss Plackett was telling about, Irby's winter stake had been nine hundred and fifty in postal savings and a little over a hundred in cash, yet he hadn't even thought twice about agreeing to use almost all of it to pay a hospital bill. And before he knew - at least before he could be certain - that he had a settlement coming from the company that had issued liability insurance to the driver of the other car.
Money, to the tune of almost a thousand dollars he might have had to pay himself, hadn't counted, against the importance of getting the best of care and treatment so he could get back to the carnival before the season ended. And leave himself without a winter stake just so he could make a connection for next season? Nuts, Mack Irby was a good enough talker that he could have made a connection any time he wanted to.
"I see," he said again. Well, he'd done pretty well, he figured. He was now completely certain Mack had had the forty-two grand. He was reasonably certain now that it was with the carnival. The time and expense of his trip to Glenrock had been worth while. But there was still a random possibility that he might get more.
He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid, Miss Plackett, that I've just about run out of specific questions. Suppose you just tell me anything more that you may remember about him, or things he said or did, however unimportant or irrelevant it may seem to you. It is just possible - Did he ever say anything that might have the slightest bearing on his childhood, for example?"
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