by Georgia Byng
“We have to find somewhere quiet.” Then her eyes brightened.
“I know where.”
Twenty
“But Molly, I can’t just loiter in the gents’,” Rocky complained. “There aren’t many cubicles, you know. Everything happens right there in front of you, if you see what I mean. Can’t I come with you and Petula?”
“Shh, Rocky, of course you can’t. Look, this idea is good. The toilets are probably nice and quiet. You can at least have a go at dehypnotizing some male stars. I’ll cover the ladies’ room.”
“But I’m not as good as you. I need to talk for quite a while for my voice to have an effect.”
“Rocky, have a go. Please. You’re really charming. You can ask them lots of long questions about themselves.”
Reluctantly, Rocky set off for the men’s room on the other side of the foyer. Molly and Petula went into the ladies’ powder room.
It was very brightly lit. A white-tiled, circular chamber with basins and mirrors led to a long, thin corridor lined with silver cubicles that housed the toilets. A few women were touching up their makeup. They didn’t notice Molly, who sat herself on a stool by the door, or Petula, who perched politely under the dressing-table ledge.
Molly knew that sooner or later, some of the stars on her list would come into the room. And when they did, she would be ready for them.
The bathroom attendant came out of a cubicle where she had been arranging the roll of toilet paper so that its loose end was folded into a neat triangle. She was dressed in a starched stripy uniform with a small white apron, and her fair hair was carefully coiffured in tight curls. She was a big woman who could eat two tubs of ice cream in one sitting, but tonight she was too tense and excited to eat anything. This was the greatest night of her forty-year career as a Los Angeles bathroom attendant. She was enormously proud to be wiping toilet seats after famous bottoms had sat on them. Whenever a guest came out of a cubicle, she shot in after them to clean and polish.
She was so obviously enjoying her work that Molly felt it was a shame to stop her. But the hypnotizing had to be done, and Molly got to work.
She was soon in command of the attendant.
“You won’t notice me hypnotizing people,” Molly whispered. “You will simply ignore me and get on with your work. After I’ve gone, you’ll forget I was here.”
The cleaner nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Brenda—Cartwright,” said the woman slowly.
“Well, Brenda, after tonight you will feel that you did the best job you possibly could and everyone loved you. Don’t be nervous. Enjoy it.”
Brenda nodded, smiled dreamily, and floated off, humming a song from the musical Hello, Dolly!
To Molly’s surprise and delight, the next person to come into the powder room was Suky Champagne. Now she could get down to business.
Miss Champagne was dressed in an extraordinary mermaid outfit. It was green and silver with velvety sea flowers dangling from it. It had small teardrop shapes of net all over it, a halter neck, a very low front, and a circular gap at stomach level revealing Suky’s emeraldstudded belly button. The skirt of the dress narrowed so tightly at the knees that her legs could take only tiny steps, then it flowed into a train, making it look as if she was dragging a swathe of seaweed behind her.
She leaned toward a mirror and took a lipstick from her evening bag. She gave herself her special look—as if the breeze from a breaking wave had just caught her by surprise and made her take a sharp intake of breath. Satisfied with her beauty, she touched her curtain of hair. That was when she saw Molly’s reflected green eyes looking at her.
In a few seconds, Suky Champagne’s mouth was hanging open and her lipstick had dropped into the basin.
“Now,” said Molly, talking as quickly as possible. “You are under my power. Completely, utterly, all of that.”
The powder-room door swung open again. Molly sucked in a breath and sank back as Gloria Heelheart swayed past her, moving rather like an eel in her golden coils. Seeing Suky Champagne, but not pausing to look at her, Gloria Heelheart headed for her own mirror.
“Suky, darling, congratulations,” she drawled. “Congratulations on being a nominee! What a very special night for you.”
Molly watched as Gloria opened her golden evening bag and pulled out a picture of some Pekingese dogs, which she kissed.
Suky Champagne, still in her trance, stared at herself in the mirror as if she’d had her brain removed.
“Are you all right?” asked the Queen of Hollywood, frowning—although she couldn’t really, because she’d had so many antifrown Botox injections in her forehead. She dabbed at her wide mouth with a scarlet lipstick. “You don’t seem all here, darrrling.”
Suky’s tongue popped out of the corner of her mouth.
“Dddth, dde dotha,” she said.
Quickly, Molly tapped Gloria Heelheart on the shoulder.
“She told me she’s feeling wonderful. Are you getting an award tonight?” she asked. Gloria turned imperiously to see who dared to speak to her—and as Molly’s eyes met the famous actress’s, Molly zapped, her too. Gloria Heelheart stood like a drugged animal. Her pogo-stick neck drooped and she dropped her clutch bag.
“Right,” said Molly, eyeing the door and hoping that no more Hollywood creatures would enter. “You are both entirely under my power, and I want you to do something for me.”
The two nodded.
“Think about Primo Cell,” she said. “He hypnotized you, didn’t he?”
Both women nodded. Molly’s heart jolted with excitement.
“I want you to remember what Primo Cell ordered you to do.”
Again there were nods.
“Okay. I have power over and above Primo Cell’s. And I now order you to forget all Primo Cell’s orders. You must erase his instructions from your minds. From this day on you are free to do as you please. You will never again obey Primo Cell. In fact, you won’t go near him.”
She paused. Gloria Heelheart and Suky Champagne were shaking their magnificent heads of hair.
“Can—not,” said Gloria in a monotone.
“I—can—not—o—bey,” echoed Suky.
“You will,” said Molly sternly, feeling like a schoolmistress dealing with disobedient pupils. “I won’t have any of this nonsense.” She had to sort these actresses out before anyone else came in.
She turned up the force of her eye glare until Gloria Heelheart’s head began to twitch and Suky Champagne’s body began to sink to the ground, her stiletto shoes twisting beneath her. Petula whined. Molly didn’t really like to see them like this, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Tell me what Primo has ordered you do,” she ordered Gloria.
“Top—secret,” stated the Queen of Hollywood.
“Listen, Gloria,” said Molly, astonished and worried that none of her instructions were working. “If you know what’s good for you, you will tell me now.”
“I can—not tell you—anything,” croaked Gloria, starting to quake. “It—is—im—possible.”
Both stars were resisting Molly’s pressure. Normally people submitted completely to this sort of hypnotic power. Cell had hypnotized them so completely that even Molly’s strongest efforts couldn’t free them. How had he done it?
“All right,” she said, giving up and wanting to put the pair into a more dignified state. “In a minute, when I click my fingers, you will forget that you have been in a trance and you will continue as usual.”
At that moment, Molly saw an irresistible opportunity staring her in the face. Even though she couldn’t break Primo Cell’s hold on them, Molly could still change these people’s lives—or ask them to do anything for her. Why, she could make them invite her and Rocky to their houses for lunch. She could ask them to insist that she, Molly, star with them in their next movies. She could tell Suky Champagne to campaign to help save the rain forests.
Instead, hearing Brenda Cartwright humming happi
ly, and in a sudden gesture of generosity, Molly said, “Suky and Gloria, you will both notice tonight how brilliant the bathroom attendant, Brenda Cartwright, is. In fact, you’ll write to her afterward and tell her your evening wouldn’t have been the same without her amazing work. You will even invite her over for tea. You will both feel that she is the most memorable thing about the Oscars. Now, whenever I say, er, ‘Powder Puff,’ you will both be under my powder, I mean my power, again.” Molly clicked her fingers once more, and both women came around.
“I said, are you all right?” repeated Gloria Heelheart, picking up where she had left off.
“Of course. You know I’m a nominee tonight for my role in Blood of a Stranger?”
“Yes, darling, I just congratulated you.”
“Did you?” Suky Champagne couldn’t understand how she hadn’t heard Gloria’s greeting. Then she let out a strange low cry—the sort of noise a moose burping might make.
“Oh, nooo! I dropped my lipstick and it’s snapped off. That’s a bad omen! Willomena Dreiksland created that lipstick color for me. See, it matches the water flowers on my dress perfectly. Oh, heavens above, I don’t think I’ll win that Oscar now.”
Gloria Heelheart wasn’t listening. As she’d bent to pick up her bag, she’d caught sight of Petula.
“Oh, what a cuuuuuute dawg,” she drawled. “Is she yours?” she asked Molly. “I’m not usually partial to pugs. I’m a Pekingese person, but what a wonderful dawg.” She bent down, cupped Petula’s head in her hands, and kissed her nose. Petula was quite overwhelmed by her perfume and very glad when Brenda Cartwright came out of a cubicle and Gloria’s attention was diverted.
“Brenda, darrrling,” Gloria enthused. “You’ve done the most marrrrrrrrrvellous job tonight. You should be getting an award.”
Brenda was too overwhelmed to speak.
After a few more pats of Petula, more thank-yous to Brenda for her fine work, and several squirts of perfume, the two actresses were gone.
Molly sank onto her stool. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been able to dehypnotize the two stars.
In The Book of Hypnotism, there had been nothing about hypnosis that couldn’t be undone. Molly thought everyone who was ever hypnotized could always be released. Somehow Cell had locked his hypnosis in permanently, just as Lucy Logan had guessed. Molly didn’t know how he’d done it. She felt as if she was facing a solid steel door fastened with an iron padlock, and she didn’t have the key. She began to see the true extent of Cell’s power.
If he could keep them under his control for as long as he wanted, he was invincible. This thought was very frightening. He’d get more and more powerful and richer and richer. And he’d control more and more people all over America—all over the world, probably. Primo Cell knew mountains more about hypnotism than Molly did. And he was probably in the building right now. Molly felt scared.
Outside, Molly heard a loudspeaker call people to their seats in the auditorium. A few more people hurried into the powder room to use it before the ceremony began. Molly decided not to give up hope. Maybe other Cell victims would walk into her web—others who perhaps weren’t so severely hypnotized. She must try to learn more about what had happened to them.
But as the evening wore on, her hopes were dashed.
Molly met major and minor film stars, as well as three directors, four producers, five screenwriters, a camerawoman, and a costume designer. She found that the more famous the women were, the more likely they were to have been hypnotized by Cell. He had hypnotized two of the directors and a producer. Again all his instructions to them were firm and unmovable.
The evening purred by for the Academy Awards audience. They watched clips of the year’s best films. Oscar after Oscar was awarded. Thrilled and emotional people stepped up to collect them. Petula whined, wishing that she could go and watch.
Eventually there was a tap on the powder-room door. It was Rocky. He was very disgruntled. Everyone who’d come into the men’s room had been in too much of a rush to talk to him.
“It’s been really embarrassing,” he said crossly.
Molly told him what she’d discovered.
“But how’s it done?” Rocky asked.
“I don’t know. It’s like he’s sealed it inside them. Screwed the lid on it. It’s weird.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“I’ve had enough,” said Molly. “Let’s go home.”
Twenty-one
To Petula’s delight, they ventured out into the empty foyer. There they could hear the muffled hum of the people inside the theater. Molly and Rocky decided that they had to take a quick look before they left. Silently, they slipped inside and hid behind a curtain at the dark edge of the auditorium.
The place was enormous—like a cavernous red mouth lined with toothlike seats. On these teeth sat hundreds of people in their tuxedos and gowns and jewels, watching, listening, applauding, and enjoying themselves.
From the sides of the auditorium, swooping cameras on metal arms scanned the audience. They were filming the celebrities for their reactions as each winner was announced. Every star was aware of the millions of people watching all over the world.
The ceremony had reached the award for Best Actress in a Leading Role. The giant screen showed a clip of Tanya Tolayly starring in Into the Wilderness, and then it split into five. The live cameras zoomed in on the five actresses nominated for this Oscar, and their expectant faces, six feet high, loomed above the stage. Suky Champagne was, of course, one of them.
The presenter of the award, a Spanish actress in a winged dress that looked as if it was about to take off, held the sealed Oscar envelope. She tore it open, pulled out the card inside … the audience held its breath … and she announced, “And the veener ees … Suky Champagne for Blood of a Stranger!”
There was a shriek from the auditorium as Suky realized she had won. On the screen the four other actresses tried to hide their disappointment. The audience clapped wildly.
Trembling, Suky stood up. She kissed the people beside her—her sister and the director of the film, Gino Pucci—gathered up her mermaid gown, and tried to glide gracefully down the aisle. When she reached the stage, she put her hand over her mouth in astonishment. All her life, she’d fantasized about this moment, and now she could hardly think straight.
“Vell done, vell done,” congratulated the Spanish actress, thrusting the golden Oscar into her hands and pushing her toward the microphone.
Suky Champagne felt the cameras on her face. She smiled, aware her parted lips were on millions of TV screens around the world.
Back at the Château Marmont, Mrs. Trinklebury was weeping with joy at Suky Champagne’s victory.
“She deserves every inch of that little statue,” said Mrs. Trinklebury. “Oooh, what a wonderful day for her. I expect her mother’s so proud.”
“Maybe she’s an orphan,” said Gemma.
“I wonder what she’ll say,” said Mrs. Trinklebury. “She looks awfully nervous.”
On the television, Suky’s small face looked as if she was waiting for the applause to subside. In fact, she was desperately trying to remember the speech she had prepared. The shock of winning had emptied everything from her head.
Mrs. Trinklebury dabbed at her eyes.
“Thank you,” began Suky Champagne, combing her brain to find her lost speech. At last she found it.
“Yes,” she sighed, “I want to thank everyone who made this film possible for me. It was a fabulous experience, and without you all I wouldn’t be up here today. So thank you. But most of all, my thanks are due to the marvelous Brenda Cartwright, who is here tonight. She keeps the Kodak Theatre powder room so perfectly that I could have spent the whole evening in it. I’ve never seen such beautifully polished toilet seats. Yes, Brenda, thank you—you’ve made my evening a complete pleasure.”
“What a lovely girl,” said Mrs. Trinklebury.
The audience wondered whether or not to laugh, and some of them did
. Others sympathized with Suky Champagne. They knew that she must be deeply moved by her victory, so they began to clap. A few directors marked Miss Champagne down as a much more eccentric and interesting actress than they had thought.
Suky Champagne smiled bewilderedly and left the stage.
Rocky looked sideways at Molly.
“Strange behavior. Don’t suppose it had anything to do with you?”
“I didn’t mean her to say that,” said Molly guiltily.
From behind their curtain, Molly, Petula, and Rocky watched the ceremony roll by. At last it was all over, and excited, babbling crowds poured out to fill the foyer and the corridors. Jostled this way and that, Molly caught the edge of a conversation about the Davina Nuttel abduction.
“Do you think it’s a kidnaping? I mean, why hasn’t the Nuttel family received a ransom demand?” one man asked.
“All I know,” his companion replied, “is that I’ve hired a bodyguard to accompany my children to school. I’m not letting them go out by themselves anymore.”
Molly and Rocky suddenly felt they should have left earlier. To avoid the cameras, they decided to leave through the caterers’ entrance. It was then that a hand tapped Molly on the shoulder.
She swung around. The tall, commanding figure of a gray-haired man towered over her. Molly lurched sideways and she just managed to stifle a scream.
Primo Cell smiled. “I’m so sorry to make you jump,” he said. Molly tried to wipe the horror off her face. Cell was looking straight at her. Molly recognized his eyes, with their different colors. One was turquoise, the other a strange shade of brown.
“Glad to catch you,” he said in a warm, friendly voice. “You’re Molly Moon, aren’t you? My name’s Primo Cell. My son Sinclair here has been telling me all about your shooting-star time in New York. Apparently you’re the star of the twenty-first century.” Behind Cell, Molly could see Sinclair. He was fair haired, blue eyed, fit, and tanned. Molly knew instantly that Sinclair was the same man who’d walked into Cell’s office that night they’d hidden under the desk. She stepped in front of Petula to hide her.
