Your Eyelids Are Growing Heavy (14 page)

“Everybody wants to beat the traffic snarl-up,” she puffed, doing her own version of hurrying.

“What traffic snarl-up?”

“The one that's going to bust out when all these people get to their cars at the same time.”

“What about Megan?”

“She'll meet us at the car. Come along, Gus—it's all part of the ritual.” She ducked away from two adolescent boys who were using their elbows as weapons. “Somebody told me the trick to this was to get a rhythm and keep it going.” She grunted. “Can't be done.”

They reached their parking lot and dodged two speeding cars that seemed determined to occupy the same lane at the same time. “Confess, Gus,” Snooks said. “You had a good time, didn't you?”

“Well, hahn, yeah, I guess I did.”

“Much better than sitting around mooning about hypnotists, wasn't it?”

“Hypnotists?” he said innocently.

“Yes, hypnotists,” she said with a touch of asperity. “You know—like the guy who zapped Megan?”

“Oh, yeah, him.” His voice was suspiciously high. “Hadn't thought of him all day.”

What!?!
Snooks started to call him on it, but just then Megan waved to them from the car.

It was after midnight when Snooks dropped Megan and Gus off in Shadyside and drove on to her own home in Squirrel Hill. The Pirates had won, Megan had lost something of her pinched look, and Gus had finally managed to get caught up in the game. On the surface of things, the evening should go down as a success.

But there'd been something more than balls and strikes going on during the game. An intangible something that Snooks had first sensed even before the game started. There was an air of complicity between Megan and Gus, a tacit agreement to keep it light, to steer all conversation away from the serious problem that had brought them all together. Why? It could mean only one thing: they had decided to go after the hypnotist.

And they'd also decided not to tell her about it.

CHAPTER 9

Gus's one class at Allegheny Community College met at 9
A
.
M
., so by 10:05 he was on a bus heading toward Oakland.

He was discouraged. He'd checked every hypnotist listed in the phone book without raising so much as a flicker of recognition from any of them. So far it had been a fruitless and time-consuming effort. That meant he'd repeatedly had to go into his classes unprepared; it discouraged him even more to find that none of the students had noticed the difference.

Gus was beginning to feel he was on a wild goose chase. His “simple” test was now beginning to appear simple-minded. Hoping to catch so sly and devious a man as Megan's weekend hypnotist on the basis of a reaction to a photograph—foolishness, just foolishness. He might have already talked to the man and didn't even know it; the guy was probably an expert in hiding his reactions. Gus was thinking more and more that he'd never find the right hypnotist this way. But what else could he do?

Megan had been to the AMA and obtained a list of hypnotherapists practicing in Pittsburgh. Some had been listed in the yellow pages and Gus had already checked them. But a good number still remained, and the majority of them were concentrated in the Oakland area. Gus had already learned he couldn't just drop in and ask his questions the way he had with the razzmatazz hypnotists. He pulled out a notebook and checked his appointments for the day.

Appointments had to be paid for, and Megan had assumed that burden. She'd also insisted on repaying Gus for what he'd spent on the detective's investigation of Bogert. “You're spending all your time on this,” she'd said. “The least I can do is spend a little money.” Gus was glad she was bankrolling him. He didn't mind spending his own money; it was just that he didn't have much and his search was beginning to grow a bit expensive.

His first appointment of the day worried him a little. Dr. Gerald Pierce had an office in the Pittsburgh Psychiatric Clinic, the same place where Snooks was located. The clinic was a big place and Snooks would probably be shut up in her office with” a patient anyway—but still he worried. If she saw him wandering through the halls and he wasn't on his way to see her, she'd demand to know why he was there. Gus wasn't sure how well he'd hold up under a grilling as administered by Dr. Henrietta Snooks.

The woman at the reception desk told him how to find Dr. Pierce's office. The first time Gus had to change corridors, he put his back to the wall and peered cautiously around the corner to make sure Snooks wasn't in sight. Nobody there except one man, who seemed to find Gus's behavior most interesting.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Uh, I have an appointment with Dr. Pierce,” Gus said.

“You're headed in the right direction. Straight down this corridor and to your left. Dr. Pierce is a good man. You can trust him.” The man nodded pleasantly and went his way.

Gus glared after him. He made it to Dr. Pierce's office without further incident.

It wasn't so roomy and fine an office as Snooks's, and the one small window looked out on nothing in particular. Dr. Pierce himself was youngish in comparison to most of the people Gus had talked to, early or mid-thirties. He listened wordlessly to Gus's story about a friend who couldn't remember one day in her life but then held up a hand just as Gus was fishing out Megan's picture.

“One moment. Why did your friend not come see me herself?”

“This is my idea. She hasn't even considered hypnotism, so far as I know. I just wanted to find out if it might help before I suggested it to her.”

“Then she doesn't know you're here?”

“That's right. You see, she's a little embarrassed by what happened and doesn't really like to talk about it.”

Dr. Pierce gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Hypnotism won't help without her full and willing cooperation. If you have to talk her into it—”

“Oh, I don't think it'll come to that,” Gus said hastily. “It's just that she hasn't thought of hypnotism, that's all.
Can
hypnosis bring out suppressed memories?”

“Quite frequently,” the hypnotherapist said. “But no two human minds are exactly alike, and what works for one might not work for another. Nevertheless, hypnotic suggestion has proved to be an effective form of treatment in many cases of memory loss. Assuming there's no organic cause, of course.”

“Of course,” Gus said—and quickly slid Megan's photograph onto Dr. Pierce's desk. “That's my friend.”

Dr. Pierce casually picked up the photograph and squinted myopically—and then did a double take only a blind man could have missed. Gus felt the hairs rise on his arms. The hypnotherapist looked from the photograph to Gus, clearly astonished. “
This
is your friend? The one who lost her memory?”

“That's the one,” Gus said, trying not to let his excitement show.

Dr. Pierce looked at the photograph a moment longer and then abruptly dropped it on the desk. He swiveled his chair so that he was staring out the window. Gus pocketed the photograph and wondered whether to say anything or not.

Finally Dr. Pierce spoke, still staring out the window. “You say she doesn't know you're here?”

“That's right.”

“She didn't send you?”

“No, Dr. Pierce, she didn't send me. I told you this was my idea.”
Oh my
, Gus thought with a mixture of glee and fear.
This is the guy, oh yes
. Take a little risk? “Is something wrong?”

The question brought Dr. Pierce back. He swiveled around to face Gus and said crisply, “I'm sorry, Mr. Bilinski, I won't be able to take your friend as a patient. Recalling lost memories is an unpredictable undertaking. We might get it in the very first session, but sometimes treatment can stretch out for months. My current case load makes it impossible for me to take on any more long-term patients.”

Gus was reluctant to let him off the hook. “You could see her once, couldn't you? For a diagnostic session?”

The doctor shook his head. “She'd just have to repeat the session with another therapist. I'm sorry. I can give you some names—”

Gus assured him he already had some names, and understood Dr. Pierce wanted him to leave. He accepted his cue.

Out in the hall Gus wasn't able to restrain himself; he indulged in a little soft shoe dance. He glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching, and then successfully sneaked back the way he'd come. He wanted a telephone.

The nearest one was in the reception area of the clinic itself, but it wasn't enclosed in a booth; the receptionist would hear every word he said. He waved goodbye to her and plunged through the double doors.

Henrietta Snooks looked out her window to see a familiar scarecrow figure bobbing its way along the sidewalk. Now what the hell was Gus Bilinski doing here?

“Megan Phillips,” she answered the phone.

“Megan, I think I've found him.”

Her intake of breath was audible over the line. “What's his name?”

“Dr. Gerald Pierce. A highly respectable practitioner in the field of hypnotherapy,” Gus announced with elation.

“Jerry Pierce? Did you say Jerry Pierce?”

“Gerald Pierce, yes.”

“About six feet tall, dark-blond hair, gray eyes? He's—let's see—he'd be thirty-four now.”

“Fits him to a T,” Gus said, his elation beginning to seep away.

“So he went into hypnotherapy,” Megan said absently. “I didn't know that. He never showed any particular interest in it.”

“I take it you know him, then,” Gus remarked dryly.

“Used to. We dated in college—he was in pre-med then. Jerry Pierce, imagine that.” Suddenly she laughed. “That must have been a shock to him—your handing him my picture, I mean.”

“He did show a certain reaction, yes.” Gus was annoyed.

“I'll bet he did. You can forget about Jerry, Gus. It was strictly a personal reaction, I can assure you. Jerry and I once skittered up to the very edge of marriage, but we both thought better of it.” She laughed again. “Jerry Pierce!”

“His name was on the AMA list you gave me, Megan.”

“Oh, I didn't read it. I just handed it to you.” There was still a laugh in her voice.

“I'm glad you're getting so much amusement out of this,” he said peevishly.

“Oh, Gus—I'm sorry. You're disappointed, of course.” A slight pause. “I am too, come to think of it. Hell. But it wasn't Jerry. He just doesn't want to run into me again. Not too flattering, but understandable. It was a long time ago, but we didn't part on the best of terms.”

“Okay,” Gus sighed. “I'll keep looking.” He hung up and pulled out his notebook, checking to see where his next appointment would lead him.

“Megan Phillips,” she answered the phone.

“Megan, this is Snooks. What was Gus doing at the clinic?”

Pow!
“At the clinic?” Megan stalled.

“At the clinic. I saw him leave not more than ten minutes ago.”

“Why, I don't know, Snooks. He didn't stop in to see you?”

“No, he didn't stop in to see me. I wouldn't have to ask you what he was doing here if he'd stopped in to see me, would I?”

“Don't take my head off.
I
don't know why he was there.”

“You two are up to something.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean
you're up to something.”

“Snooks, we're not going to quarrel again, are we?”

“Not if you tell me the truth.”

“But I am telling you the truth! I don't know what Gus was doing there.”

There was a silence. Then: “All right. If you won't tell me, you won't tell me.”

The phone went dead in Megan's hand.
Oh, great
. Now she and Gus would have to think up some story to tell the psychiatrist.

Was Snooks going to be a problem?

A few days later, Gus was feeling more discouraged than ever. He was getting nowhere. He'd been able to cross seven hypnotherapists off his list without visiting them, because they were women. The voice on the phone had definitely been male. Two of the hypnotherapists had refused him appointments, saying they were accepting no new patients for the time being. Three others were on vacation.

He had only two names left; both therapists had given him appointments for Wednesday of the following week. They'd probably be just like all the others—they'd look at the photograph, smile politely, and hand it back. Then what? Where would he look then? There were still the medical doctors and dentists who used hypnotism in their practices. But how could he find out who they were? Did the AMA keep that kind of listing too? Probably not. Or the dentists' organization, the something Odontological Society. And hadn't Snooks mentioned a hypnotists' union? Maybe Megan could take care of all that. She was better at dealing with organizations than he was.

Even with those possibilities ahead of him, Gus still felt as if he'd failed. This wasn't just another puzzle to be solved; there was too much riding on the outcome. So much time he'd spent, and all he'd come up with was one of Megan's old boyfriends. How naïve he'd been, thinking he could go out and find the hypnotist just like that. Dumb. He deserved to fail.

Whenever Gus was in a masochistic mood, he liked to read the bulletin boards at whatever institution of higher learning he happened to be teaching in at the moment. The one he was staring at just then was on the ground floor of the grandiose Pitt building called the Cathedral of Learning.
Theses and dissertations in sociology, reasonable rates
…
Research papers, all humanities subjects
…
Choose from our stock of tested term papers, guaranteed B or better … Hypnosis and psychodrama …