A Movement Toward Eden

by Clark Howard

  “Good evening. I’m Reverend O’Hara. What can I do for you?”

  Devlin met the man’s eyes. They were deep, dark, strong; unwavering, like his own. Eyes, Devlin knew at once, that had seen much of life: many places, many people. They were sharp, knowledgeable eyes, recording sight for what Devlin was certain was an alert, perceptive mind.

  He cannot be toyed with, Devlin decided in that instant in which their eyes held. He is not the sort of man from whom information can be extracted by subtle plying. He must be attacked frontally; suddenly and viciously.

  “Reverend,” Devlin said quietly, not moving from the door, “what have you and Dr. Fox done with J. Walter Keyes?”

  O’Hara’s lower jaw dropped in surprise and his face drained of color. Devlin’s gaze, unswerving, watched him as closely as if he were under a microscope. Twice O’Hara’s frank eyes faltered and blinked, and twice a muscle throbbed spastically on one side of his throat. A frown—almost a shocked frown—clouded his entire countenance. He was a man trapped.

  Trying to exert control over himself, the reverend moistened his lips and parted them to speak, but Devlin’s own words stopped him.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Reverend,” he said in the same quiet tone. “I won’t force you to lie about it—and I don’t expect you to tell me the truth. It’s enough for now just to know that you understand the question.”

  Shifting his eyes from O’Hara, knowing instinctively that no amount of prodding or coercion would make the man elaborate on his involuntary admission, Devlin turned to the door and walked out.

  Ten

  “They were such a nice young couple,” the soft, drug-inspired voice of Abigail Daniels spoke from the tape recorder. “He was handsome, she was pretty, they both were very talented and—well, they just fit, do you know what I mean? They looked good together, they liked the same things, they enjoyed being with each other, they—it was like they had actually been born just so they could meet and be together. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, of course I do,” said the voice of Dr. Damon Fox. “I understand you very well. Please go on.”

  “They both were clients of Walt’s—Mr. Keyes—I do wish I could remember not to call him Walt anymore, it sounds like I’m still—well, familiar with him—”

  “Don’t let that disturb you,” Dr. Fox told her. “You know and I know that you aren’t familiar with him any longer. We both know that you have nothing whatever to do with him, and even if you left the hospital today I’m sure you never would have anything to do with him again. ”

  “Do you really believe that, Doctor?” she asked. It was almost a plea.

  “Yes, of course I believe it, dear. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it, you know that. Now, go on with what you were telling me. You were talking about Molly Carlyle and Dan Merritt. They both were clients of Mr. Keyes, you said?”

  “Yes. That was how they met. Dan had been a client for several years. He had been a child actor, you know, very successful, and then there was a period during his adolescence when he didn’t do much and he was pretty well forgotten. Then all of a sudden he was back again, grown up, very handsome as I told you, and obviously just as talented as he had been as a child. He landed one or two choice roles in strong dramatic films and before long everyone was talking about him and predicting a long and successful career. It was a good time for him, really; the industry had lost James Dean in that awful auto accident, and Marlon Brando, of course, had progressed to much more mature roles, so there wasn’t anyone on the scene to really capture the imagination of the younger set. Then Dan came along, or came back rather, and fit the bill perfectly. ”

  “What sort of person was he, in your opinion?” Dr. Fox asked. “Besides being handsome and talented.”

  “Oh, he was very nice,” the girl said enthusiastically. “He wasn’t anything like a lot of the—well, types, you know, that you see around. If you hadn’t known him, known who he was, I mean, you’d never have suspected he was an actor at all. For one thing, he was a perfect gentleman all the time. He was well-mannered, polite, courteous; he was never on the make for the girls in the office like Hal O’Brien and some of the others were. And he always dressed very neatly, conservatively, none of the movie star stuff like tight pants and built-up shoes; he wore nice business suits and plain ties, the kind of clothes a young bank executive might wear. I think that was one of the things that Molly found attractive about him: the fact that he didn’t look Hollywoodish.”

  “I see. And what kind of girl was Molly, how would you describe her?”

  “Well, just like Dan, I guess; female version, I mean. She was quiet and pretty—not Hollywood pretty, not glamorous, but kind of small-town pretty, college girl pretty; fresh, I guess you might say—and she was just, I don’t know, simple. A fellow didn’t have to take her to Trader Vic’s and play the Hollywood big shot; she was happy just seeing a movie and having an ice cream soda after. A real sweet kid, that was Molly.”

  “Yes, fine,” said Dr. Fox. “So they were both clients of Mr. Keyes, and they met and fell in love, is that the way it went?”

  “Yes. They met and Dan asked her out, and then after that first date they just kind of naturally started going steady. Once they had found each other, it seemed that neither of them cared to go out with anyone else.”

  “They were happy with each other, then?”

  “Oh, yes. Marvelously happy.”

  “And they planned on being married, did they?”

  “Yes. They went together for awhile and then became formally engaged.”

  “And they did ultimately marry, did they not?”

  “Well, yes, after—well, yes, they did.” The young woman’s voice slowed, growing almost hesitant. Dr. Fox’s tone remained the same—calm, precise, well—modulated—as if he had not detected the change.

  “But, of course,” he said, “their marriage was not a successful one, was it?”

  “No,” Abigail muttered, reluctantly.

  “Why was that, I wonder? Two young people obviously well suited to each other; both talented, both nice looking—they seemed to have had everything in their favor. What was it that upset the balance for them—do you know?”

  “Yes, I know.” She muttered again, her voice almost petulant now.

  “Tell me then,” Dr. Fox said.

  “I don’t want to. I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Oh. I see. All right then; what would you like to talk about?”

  “It’s not that I have a guilty conscience or anything like that, you understand. I mean, I had nothing to do with it; I didn’t even know about it until after it was done.”

  “It?” said Dr. Fox. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “The abortion,” Abigail said impatiently. “I didn’t know about it until it was all over, two or three days later.”

  “I see. And how did you happen to learn of it then?”

  “The same way I found out about everything else,” she said. “He told me.”

  “Mr. Keyes?”

  “Yes.” She sighed heavily, almost wearily. “I suppose I can tell you about it if you want me to,” she decided. “Do you still want me to?”

  “Yes, of course, but only if you feel up to it.”

  “I’m all right. Where do you want me to start?”

  “Wherever you like.”

  The tape fell silent for several moments, the ensuing quiet of the Blue Room being disturbed only by the snap and hiss of a cigarette lighter as Damon Fox ignited a fresh bowlful of tobacco in his pipe. A cloud of pungent smoke rolled up to the low ceiling as the voice of Abigail Daniels resumed speaking.

  “I already told you that they became engaged, didn’t I? Yes, I remember I did. Well, both of them began working on a picture right after that; that is, they each began working on separate pictures, at the same time. Molly was doing THE HELEN CAIN STORY and Dan was in that one that was taken from the English novel—I can’t remember the na
me of it—but anyway, they both had pretty long shooting schedules, something like seven or eight months, so they decided to plan their wedding for right after that, when they would have some time to get away together. And, of course, it wouldn’t be so bad waiting that long because they both were busy shooting during the day and they could still see each other nights. But then, of course, they saw each other one night too many, I guess, because Molly ended up pregnant.

  “Well, now they had a problem. Both of them were under contract, both about three months into a picture, their announced wedding still five months or so away, and Molly expecting. A couple of kids, really, that’s all they were; too crazy in love with each other to stay out of bed and too dumb—or maybe just too proud, I don’t know—to use the proper protection, so—well, they’ve got a problem. They don’t want to go to either of their families with it, naturally. They can’t breathe a word of it to their so—called friends because one of them would certainly spread it around. Neither of them wanted to approach their agent with a problem that delicate because they hadn’t really had their agents that long and didn’t really know them that well. So they ended up going to Walt—Keyes, I mean—their business manager. And that’s when their trouble really started.”

  “Did they go to him with the intent to inquire about an abortion?” Dr. Fox asked quietly.

  “Oh, no, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t think it ever would have occurred to them to go to Keyes for a thing like that; I mean, at that stage of the game they probably thought he was as lily-white and pure as most everybody did. The man has a spotless reputation, you know; he is considered to be one of the most upright men in the business. There were only a few, like Hal O’Brien, who knew what kind of person he really was.”

  “I see. What do you suppose they had in mind when they went to see him?”

  “The same thing any two kids in love would have in mind in a situation like that,” Abigail answered with conviction, “getting married right away, as soon as possible, the quicker the better. They wanted to elope.”

  “Did they feel that eloping would solve all their problems?”

  “Well, it certainly would have solved the big one: the baby. Then, after a month or so, Molly could have told her director that she was expecting and he could have rearranged the schedule to shoot all of her scenes early, before she began to show. And when the baby came she and Dan could have just said that it was premature. Half the babies in Hollywood are premature anyway, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes. Well, it seems like a sound enough plan all around. Tell me, what was Mr. Keyes’ reaction to it?”

  “Livid, that’s what his reaction was. Of course, he didn’t show it, not to them. To them he was the kindly father confessor, the wise and dependable advisor, you know; but inside he was seething. He kept seeing all that capital going down the drain. ”

  “What did he do about it?”

  “Talked, mostly. That’s what he’s best at: talking. He spoke to them of their professional images and intimated that if they were suddenly to elope, after already announcing a future date for their marriage, that the public would suspect that they were doing it because Molly was pregnant. And that, of course, when the baby did arrive, even if they said it was premature, everyone would then have proof of their earlier suspicions.

  “This argument seemed to impress them a great deal; probably they both had already worried about whether their story about the baby being premature would be believed. And naturally Keyes suspected that this was the weak spot in their whole scheme: he had an amazing knack for picking out other people’s weaknesses—and making good use of them to suit himself. So when he was talking to them he made a big issue of this possibility of their reputations being damaged. He pretended to be very aggrieved at the mere thought that the ‘kids,’ as he kept referring to them, would be ruining themselves in the eyes of all their fans, their wonderful public, and would end up in the same class with some of the more notorious members of their profession: those who had been married three or four times, those who were always in and out of court on maternity suits, things like that.

  “I guess what he accomplished in the end was making them think they were above that sort of thing; he had a knack for that, too: making somebody feel special in order to get his own way with them. That’s what he did with me, you know. That’s how he turned me into—into—”

  “All right now,” Dr. Fox said gently, “we don’t want to go into that again right now, do we? We want to concentrate on Molly and Dan and their problems for now.”

  “I know, I know, ” Abigail said, her voice beginning to falter, “but everytime I think of how he used me, the things he made me do, I feel like—like—”

  “All right then,” the doctor quickly agreed, “perhaps it would be better to forget them for the moment and talk about you.” Then, confidently and professionally, he guided her away from the very subject he had agreed to discuss. “Before we get into it, however, I wonder if you’d mind clearing up one detail for me? It will only take a second. I can’t understand Mr. Keyes’ motive for making people feel special, as you termed it. What did he hope to accomplish by doing that?”

  “That was his way of making a person feel obligated to do something,” she explained. Her voice still wavered, but her attention was focused now on helping the doctor understand something which, though she was unaware of it, he probably understood better than anyone she would ever meet. “Don’t you see how he worked it? With Molly and Dan, he convinced them that they were better than other people who had the same problem; made them believe that they couldn’t run away and elope and then have a ‘premature’ baby, because that’s what the common people would do. He made them think that they had more to protect, that—well, he just built up their egos to the point where they couldn’t possibly consider letting themselves down by resorting to some scheme that obviously was far beneath their dignity and status.”

  “I see, yes. Well, thank you, dear, you explained that very well. I suppose that’s how he persuaded them to agree to an abortion?”

  “Yes, after he tricked them into completely abandoning their original plan, they were left with the same problem and no solution. Then Keyes was in a position to provide the solution that suited him best.”

  “How did he do it?” Dr. Fox asked casually. “I mean, how does one go about suggesting to two very nice youngsters like Molly and Dan that they should abort their child?”

  “Well, first of all,” Abigail replied knowingly, “when Keyes got through with them, they weren’t just two very nice youngsters anymore; they were stars, Doctor. They were personalities. Do you have any idea what that means? They weren’t ordinary any longer; they weren’t human beings like the rest of the creatures that walk upright and wear clothes. They had been transformed into something of a higher order: Dan was a god, Molly was a goddess. They existed to be worshipped, adored, idolized. What possible comparison could there be between retaining that lofty status and the mere destruction of an unborn child?

  “How did Keyes go about it, Doctor? He merely suggested it, that’s how. Suggested it in passing—and they pounced on it like a miser going for a penny.”

  “I see,” Dr. Fox said thoughtfully. “I presume that in suggesting such a step that Mr. Keyes knew he could arrange it.”

  “Oh, yes; good god, yes,” Abigail answered emphatically. “He knew more about setting up a kitchen table job, as he called it, than anybody around. He used to pride himself in things like that, things that most of the other business managers in town wouldn’t even consider doing. Keyes called it giving his clients that little extra touch of personal service that endeared him to them. Actually, he was simply putting them into a position where they’d never be able to leave him for another manager. He was insuring his future.”

  “He’d done this sort of thing before, then?”

  “Yes, he had. A number of times. You remember what I told you about Hal O’Brien, about him going around with his t
rousers half unzipped? Well, Anita Atkins wasn’t the only girl he got himself into a fix with. There was another one, too, also a waitress—he seemed to have some kind of thing for going to bed with waitresses. Anyway, the other girl, I forget her name, was easier to handle than Anita had been. She took the easy way out; got rid of her package and got paid off. Keyes arranged that one, I know. Then there was Cassandra Boland, you probably never heard of her; she’s the daughter of Floyd Boland, the character actor; anyway, she’d been running around with some sailor and he was getting into her and she got pregnant. Well, Boland came to Keyes with his sad tale and Keyes fixed that one too. And there were others, quite a few others.”

  “I suppose,” Dr. Fox commented, “that he used unlicensed doctors for these illegal operations?”

  “Oh, come now, Doctor,” Abigail chided, “dont be so naive. He used a couple of the most reputable doctors in Beverly Hills; his own wife’s doctor was one of them—Dr. Bain Holmes, maybe you know him.”

  “No, I can’t say that I do, fortunately. But these reputable doctors, as you call them, weren’t they all hesitant about their abortion patients knowing who they were?”

  “The patients never knew. You see, the girl or whoever it was that was getting rid of the baby, would simply move into an apartment that had been rented for her and then the next night a nurse would show up and get her ready, you know, shave her and everything, and then put her to sleep. After she was out, the doctor would arrive and do the job on her. Then the nurse would stay on for a couple of days to make sure everything was all right—and that was it. If there were complications, of course, the patient would be sent to see the doctor at his office—the same one that did the abortion, only she wouldn’t know that, of course—and he would take care of her just as if it had been a natural miscarriage. Lots of times they became steady patients of the doctor after that, never realizing that he knew all about them and what they had done with whom. Keyes found that part of it very amusing. Maybe the doctors too, I don’t know.”