Hard Case Crime: Shooting Star & Spiderweb (30 page)

It was fascinating to watch the spectacle. There was only one difficulty: I kept wanting to go outside and vomit.

Now here was Mr. Caldwell and
his
problem. Edgar Clinton Caldwell, 54. Wealthy. A “successful businessman.” A typical example of middle-class respectability and sublimated anal eroticism.

Doctor Sylvestro had referred him to me. “Nerves.” Also hemorrhoids and constipation.

“But there are some things you can’t even tell a doctor—you understand that, Roberts. Like the string. Sounds silly, and I wouldn’t even mention it to Mrs. Caldwell. But I save string. Every bit. I have boxes full of it down in the office. In the safe. It’s just a habit. I know it’s nothing serious. But why do I do such a thing?”

I knew why. But I didn’t tell him. I let him do the talking during this first session and at the next. I booked him for twice a week and let him gabble for a while before I took over. First with a routine probing. Then with a gradual, almost imperceptible hypnotic technique. That’s something I was picking up from Professor Hermann. I suspected he used it on Miss Bauer and that he’d always tried it with me.

It worked with Caldwell. He grew to depend on our sittings. And I kept taking notes. Notes about him. Notes about his business dealings. I wasn’t quite sure what angle we’d use for the payoff yet. That I’d leave to the Professor.

When I thought I had enough, I took my material to him and asked his opinion.

Professor Hermann read, listened, twirled his monocle. Then:

“Get him to retire. Liquidate his holdings. We’ll need cash for this.”

“Retire? But he loves his business—I can’t take that away from him. Oh, I can probably force the issue, but the results will be bad. He’ll just go to pieces. Inside of six months, he’ll be a wreck.”

“And we’ll be rolling in his money.” The bald head bobbed, the monocle twirled. “Get him to retire.”

So I went back to Caldwell and approached the subject. He listened, then exploded.

“But I don’t want to retire, man! It isn’t that I don’t place any faith in you, Roberts. You know better than that. But here I am, in the prime of life—with a fine position—I own better than fifteen percent of the airline stock. I’ve worked years to get where I am, and now you advise me to get out. Why?”

“Because you’re not happy.”

“Damn it, man, who says I’m not happy? I’ve got a net worth of upwards of two hundred thousand, and no debts. Got a house here in town and one at the beach. Marge and I get along great. The sex part doesn’t bother me. You know, I told you about Eve—”

“You’re not happy.”

“Don’t keep saying that! Just because of those goddamn piles and a few dreams—”

“I’m sorry to keep interrupting you, Mr. Caldwell. I’m sorry to keep repeating myself. But you are not a happy man. And you know it. Your very defensive attitude reveals it. Happy men are under no compulsion to save string. Happy men do not wash their hands until the flesh is red and chafed, the knuckles constantly rubbed raw from frequent cleansing with strong abrasive soaps. Happy men do not require as sexual stimulation, that their mistresses—”

“Please, let’s not mention that part again. I wish I hadn’t let that slip out.”

“You will be thankful some day that you were utterly frank with me. And you will be thankful that I am utterly frank with you.” I leaned forward, confidentially. “I want you to retire. These sessions are stimulating, but they are not enough. In order to remake your life, you must devote your life to the task.

“Your present habit-patterns and associations keep you chained to the very reflexes and conditioning which make you unhappy. You will never be free, never emancipate your personality, until you are willing to start fresh and clean.

“I don’t wish to be an alarmist, Mr. Caldwell, but unless you undertake the step soon, it may be too late to ever escape. You aren’t getting any younger, you know. What you can do today, voluntarily, you will be unable to do five, three, or even one year from now. This is perhaps your last chance.”

“I don’t see it, Roberts. Don’t see it at all. You talk as though I were a sick man. Just because I get down in the dumps once in a while, same as everybody else—”

“Are you the same as everybody else, Mr. Caldwell? Can you say that honestly to me, and to yourself? After what we both know about those dreams, about your relations with Eve, about what happened at the fraternity initiation years ago in college—”

“That was an accident!”

“But your impulses, your desires, were not accidental. They were fundamental, implicit in your disorder.”

“You can’t frighten me, Roberts.”

“Please. I’m not trying to frighten you. Have I ever resorted to any mumbo-jumbo or trickery, since the first time you came to me? Have I ever been anything but straightforward and sincere? I haven’t preached or lectured or put on any of the cheap front you despise. I haven’t attempted to delude you in any way. That’s what makes it so hard for me to impress you now. But you must be impressed with the importance, the necessity of taking this step. Or else—”

“Or else what? What are you driving at?”

“There’ll be a psychosomatic reaction, to begin with. The old-fashioned ‘nervous breakdown.’ You’ve seen it happen to others, many times. In your case, with an anal fixation, it will be most painful. And Eve will take over. She’s almost done so already. From what you’ve told me, she’s practically blackmailing you right now, as it is. And suppose your wife were to find out? Suppose something else happens. In your circumstances, it could easily enough. Then what? Do you remember the Arbuckle affair—”

When a fat man trembles, his flesh quivers all over. Acres of gray jelly, quaking and oozing perspiration.

“But what do you want me to do? Suppose I retire, then what?”

“I’m going to take you back forty years. We’ll start all over again. We’ll go back to the time before the initiation and the scandal, before you had to leave school. You know what your ambitions were then. We’ll recapture that personality, make it dominant once more, make a young man of you, a new man.”

“How?”

“I’ll work with you personally. Every day. Oh, nothing spectacular and nothing drastic entailed. You love Marge and the boys—I won’t do anything to affect those feelings. But you must make a major alteration and adjustment. You need help.

“And you can afford it. Even if you weren’t so badly in need of treatment, I’d advise retirement on the general principle that any man who is financially independent should retire from business and begin living. You’ve tried to retreat from life into your work, and it isn’t successful. So now you must retreat from work into life again.”

“So that’s it, eh? I can afford it, you say—meaning here is where you make a killing. Big fees, is that the angle now, Roberts?”

“Please. You’re antagonistic—not to me, but to the truth. You know my fees. Twenty dollars a consultation. That is not exorbitant. I shall not be able to give you more than three sessions a week. Our program will take about a year. Say three thousand dollars, at the most. I assure you I do not need your money, nor would I particularly care to undertake this treatment if the prognosis were not favorable. Besides, frankly, I have a personal interest in your problem, Mr. Caldwell. And you know I can help you.”

“Yes, I do. I’m going to think over what you said, think it over very seriously. It would be worth it, just to get rid of Eve. Do you think—?”

“That you will be strong enough to give her up? Yes, I can definitely promise you that, Mr. Caldwell. Quite definitely. Eve England is on her way out.”

There were empty glasses and filled ashtrays all over the small apartment. I could smell scotch and smoke and Tabu and stale food and Lysol—everything but fresh air. Fresh air wouldn’t have suited Eve England, anyway.

I didn’t exactly suit her, either. I sat facing her on the sofa, pretending to examine my drink while I sized up the tall blonde with the brunette’s complexion. Her hair was dark at the roots, her eyes were red at the corners, her mouth was lined at the edges where the lipstick tapered off.

She gave me a look that would have made her a fortune as a glass cutter and said, “Well, now that you’re here, what’s the big idea?”

“No big ideas. Just little ones.”

“Cut the cute stuff. Speak your piece and get out.”

“That’s no way to handle a customer.”

“Say, what is this?” She stood up, bracelets jangling.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Afraid? Listen, you—”

She began to impugn my character and reputation in rapid, monosyllabic fashion, and that told me all I wanted to know. She was not a clever woman. Just a pushover. And I knew how to handle her. I kept my voice loud, made it harsh.

“You’ve come up in the world, haven’t you? This Caldwell must treat you all right. Of course, he goes for your little tricks. Where’d you pick up those fancy ideas? When you worked Las Vegas?”

Her earrings quivered and danced. “So it’s a shakedown, huh? Well, let me tell you—”

“No. I’ll tell you, instead. This isn’t a shakedown at all, Edith.”

“Eve.”

“Edith Adamowski. You see, I know your name. I know all about you. But don’t get excited. If you want to know who told me, it was Caldwell himself.”

“Caldwell? What kind of a gag is this, anyway?”

I told her what kind of a gag it was. She sat down, after a while, and drank her drink. She even nodded. I went right on talking.

“The important thing is, he doesn’t know anything about it. He mustn’t know. As I told you, he’s willing to pay five grand to get rid of you for good. He thinks he’s a new man, that he can frighten you into it. I advise you to let him do just that. Take the five grand and blow. Then stand by for further orders and maybe you can make more.”

“Well, I dunno. I got a good setup here.”

I walked over to her and sat down. I smiled into her eyes. “Do you mean to tell me you like it?” I asked, softly. “Do you really like it when—”

“Shut up! Don’t talk about it! I hate it. Why do you think I’m on the sauce all the time? He gives me the creeps, but—”

“Then do as I tell you. Take the money and wait for more.”

“How can I be sure you don’t double-cross me?”

“How can
I
be sure you don’t double-cross
me
and tell Caldwell I was here?”

She grinned. “Yeah, I never thought of that.”

I grinned right back at her. “Well, don’t start thinking of it, either. Because if you do sing to him, you’re going to have an awful sore throat.”

“Huh?”

“Come here.” I led her to the window, pushed aside the gray strand of a curtain that had once been white. “See that man down there? The big one, standing next to the car?”

She looked at Jake and nodded to me. “I see him. What about it, who is he?”

“I’m not going to introduce you. I hope I never have to. But he’s the man who has orders to see you if you don’t play ball.”

“So that’s it, huh?”

“That’s it. Are you in?”

Eve England gulped the rest of her drink. She drank fast, like a bar tramp, and that’s what she was. If Jake didn’t kill her, some cop or bum surely would. I watched her mouth dispose of the drink and waited for her to form the words I knew would come.

“All right,” she said. “Count me in.” And then, “When do I get the five grand?”

“Caldwell will have it for you,” I told her.

And he did.

I saw him just two days later. He entered, exuding exultancy.

“By God, Roberts, you were right! I did it!” His knobby knuckle slammed against the desk.

“I knew you would. Did you say what I told you?”

“Bet your life. And it was just the way you predicted it would be. She turned on the tears, and then she tried to threaten me. But I remembered what you said, and it worked out.”

“Good for you.”

“You know something? I almost couldn’t go through with it. At one time she almost had me backing out. But I didn’t weaken.”

“Did you pay her off?”

“That’s the important thing. She left town today. I gave her the money in cash.”

“That isn’t the really important thing.”

“No?”

“The important thing is what you’ve proved to yourself. That you have the courage to start over, start fresh. That you are already beginning to become the kind of man you want to be.”

I stood up and looked down at him. “I’m anxious to get started on our regular sessions. How soon will you be through winding up your affairs?”

“Be about three weeks more. They took it pretty hard down at the office, you know. And if it wasn’t for your suggestions, I’d never have been able to sell the retirement notion to Marge. But I’ll be a free man in three weeks.”

“Except for your stock.”

“You can’t talk me out of that one, Roberts. There’s one setup where I’m the expert. Dumping fifteen percent of the company stock on the market right now would sink them. The Imperial outfit is just waiting to close in and reorganize. Besides, as it is, the stuff keeps bringing in dividends. It’s a sound investment. And I won’t have to watch it, just let it sit. I’m going to be a free man.”

“That’s right,” I said. “In three weeks you’ll be a free man.” I stood up. “Meanwhile, we might as well begin our sessions. Suppose I meet you at ten tomorrow, corner of Wilshire and Western?”

“All right,” he said. “You’re the doctor.”

We stood on the corner the next morning, bucking the breeze. “What’s the big idea of the briefcase?” Caldwell asked. “I don’t get it.”

“You will, soon enough. Just follow me and obey orders.”

“Right. Oh, what the devil—”

His hat blew off. I watched it swirl away over the car tops, then spiral into the street. It rolled on its brim.

He started to rush after it.

I grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. Let it go.”

“Let it go? But that’s a twenty-dollar panama, I’m not going to—”

“Hold it. Your first lesson in living begins right now. Look, Ed. Never chase your hat in the street. You might be killed by a car. Besides, who wants to get sweated up and out of breath chasing a hat?”

“But—”

“Let the other fellow do it for you, Ed. Don’t you understand? There’s always somebody else who’s willing to chase your hat for you. Willing? He’s crazy to death to do it. It makes him a hero. And if you thank him for it, he’ll fall all over you.”