money, the red diamonds and the bug, the black sand-a how far away are
some of those places? Really far away?'
"And who is he?"
Clint asked.
"Frank Pollard from El Encanto Heights."
"But I mean, who is that?" Clint thumped one fist again the steering
wheel.
"Who the hell is Frank Pollard from El canto?"
"I think what you really want to know is not who he is. More important
... what is he?" By SURPRISE Bobby came to visit.
Lunch was eaten before Bobby came. Dessert was still in Thomas's mind.
Not the taste of it. The memory. Vanilla ice cream, fresh
strawberries. The way dessert made you feel.
He was alone in his room, sitting in his armchair, thinking about making
a picture poem that would have the feeling of eating ice cream and
strawberries, not the taste but the good feeling, so some day when you
didn't have any ice cream or strawberries, you could just look at the
poem and get that same good feeling even without eating anything. Of
course, you couldn't use pictures of ice cream or strawberries in the
poem, because that wouldn't be a poem, that would be only saying how
good ice cream and strawberries made you feel. A poem didn't just say,
it showed you and made you feel.
Then Bobby came through the door, and Thomas was so happy he forgot the
poem, and they hugged. Somebody was with Bobby, but it wasn't Julie, so
Thomas was disappointed. He was embarrassed, too, because it turned out
he'd met the person with Bobby a couple times before, over the years,
but he didn't remember him right away, which made him feel dumb. It was
Clint. Thomas said the name to himself, over and over, so maybe he'd
remember next time: Clint, Clint, Clint, Clint, Clint.
"Julie couldn't come," Bobby said,
"she's babysitting a client." Thomas wondered why a baby would ever
need a private eye, but he didn't ask. In TV only grownups needed
private eyes, which were called private eyes because they looked out for
you, though he wasn't sure why they were called private. He also
wondered how a baby could pay for a private eye, because he knew eyes
like Bobby and Julie worked for money like everyone else, but babies
didn't work, they were too little to do anything. So where'd this one
get the money to Bobby and Julie? He hoped they didn't get cheated out
of their money, they worked hard for it.
Bobby said,
"She told me to tell you she loves you even more than she did yesterday,
and she'll love you even more torn row." They hugged again because this
time Thomas was giving hug to Bobby for Julie.
Clint asked if he could see the latest scrapbook of poe He took it
across the room and sat in Derek's armchair, who was okay because Derek
wasn't in it, he was in the wreck room Bobby moved the chair from the
worktable, putting it close to the armchair that belonged to Thomas. He
sat, and talked about what a big blue day it was and how nice the
flowers looked where they were all bright outside Thomas's room.
For a while they talked about lots of things, and Bobby funny-except
when they talked about Julie, he changed.
was worried for Julie, you could tell. When he talked about her, he was
like a good picture poem-he didn't say his words but he showed it and
made you feel it.
Thomas was already worried for Julie, so Bobby's worry made him feel
even worse, made him scared for her.
"We've got our hands full with the current case," Bob said,
"so neither one of us might be able to visit again this weekend or the
first of the week."
"Okay, sure," Thomas said, and a big coldness rushed from somewhere and
filled him up. Each time Bobby mentioned the new case, the one with the
baby, his picture of worry was even easier to read.
Thomas wondered if this was the case where they were going to meet up
with the Bad Thing. He was pretty sure it was.
thought he should tell Bobby about the Bad Thing, but couldn't find a
way. No matter how he told it, he'd sound I the dumbest dumb person who
ever lived at The Home. It better to wait until the danger was coming a
lot nearer,TV to Bobby a real hard warning that'd scare him into looking
out for the Bad Thing and shooting it when he saw it. Bob would pay
attention to a sent warning because he would know where it came from,
that it came from just a dumb person.
And Bobby could shoot, too, all private eyes could shoot because most
days it was bad out there in the world, and you knew you were going to
meet up with somebody who was going to shoot at you first or try to run
you down with a car or stab you or strangle you or, once in a while, try
to throw you off a building, or even Try To Make It Look Like Suicide,
and since most good guys didn't carry guns around with them, private
eyes who watched over them had to be good shooters.
After a while Bobby had to go. Not to the bathroom but back to work. So
they hugged again. And then Bobby and Clint were gone, and Thomas was
alone.
He went to the window. Looked out. The day was good, better than
night. But even with the sun pushing most darkness out past the edge of
the world, and even with the rest of the darkness hiding from the sun
behind trees and buildings, there was badness in the day. The Bad Thing
hadn't gone out past the edge of the world with the night. It was still
there, somewhere in the day, you could tell.
Last night, when he got too close to the Bad Thing and it tried to grab
him, he was so afraid, he pulled away quick like. He had a feeling the
Bad Thing was trying to find out who he was and where he was, and then
was going to come to The Home and eat him like it ate the little
animals. So he pretty much made up his mind not to get real close to it
again, stay far away, but now he couldn't do that because of Julie and
the baby. If Bobby, who never worried, was so worried for Julie, then
Thomas needed to be even more worried for her than he was. And if Julie
and Bobby thought the baby should be watched over, then Thomas had to
worry about the baby, too, because what was important to Julie was
important to him.
He reached out into the day.
It was there. Far away yet.
He didn't get close.
He was scared.
But for Julie, for Bobby, for the baby, he'd have to stop being scared,
get closer, and be sure he knew all the time where the Bad Thing was and
whether it was coming this way.
JACKIE JAxx did not arrive at the offices of Dakota & Dakota until ten
past four that Tuesday afternoon full hour after Bobby and Clint
returned, and to Julie's annoyance he spent half an hour creating an
atmosphere that found conducive to his work. He felt the room was too
bright so he closed the blinds on the large windows, though the
approaching winter twilight and an incoming bank of clouds the Pacific
had already robbed the day of much of its light. He tried different
arrangements with the three brass lam each of which was equipped with a
three-way bulb, giving what seemed an infinite n
umber of combinations;
he finally one of them at seventy watts, one at thirty, and one off
completely. He asked Frank to move from the sofa to one of chairs,
decided that wasn't going to work, moved Julie's chair out from behind
the desk and put him in that, then ranged four other chairs in a
semicircle in front of it.
Julie suspected that Jackie could have worked effectively with the
blinds open and all of the lamps on. He was a former, however, even
when off the stage, and he could resist being theatrical.
In recent years magicians had forsaken fake shows like The Great
Blackwell and Harry Houdini in favor of names that at least seemed like
real ones, but Jackie was a throw back. Just as Houdini's real name was
Erich Weiss, Jackie had been baptized David Carver. Because he
preferred comic magic, he had avoided mysterious-sounding names.
because, since puberty, he had yearned to be part of the night club and
Vegas scene, he had chosen a new identity that, him and those in his
social circle, sounded like Nevada royal While other kids thought about
being teachers, doctors, realestate salesmen or auto mechanics, young
Davey Carver dreamed of being someone like Jackie Jaxx; now, God help
him, he was living his dream.
Although he was currently between a one-week engagement in Reno and a
stint as the opening act for Sammy Davis in Vegas, Jackie showed up not
in blue jeans or an ordinary suit, but in an outfit he could have worn
during performances: a black leisure suit with emerald-green piping on
the lapels and cuffs of the jacket, a matching green shirt, and black
patentleather shoes. He was thirty-six years old, five feet eight,
thing, cancerously tanned, with hair that he dyed ink-black and teeth
that were unnaturally,ferociously white, thanks to the modern miracle of
dental bonding.
Three years ago Dakota & Dakota had been hired by the Las Vegas hotel
with which Jackie had a long-term contract, and charged with the sticky
task of uncovering the identity of a blackmailer who was trying to
extort most of the magician's income. The case had many unexpected
twists and turns, but by the time they reached the end, the thing that
most surprised Julie was that she had gotten over her initial distaste
for the magician and had come to sort of like him. Sort of.
Finally Jackie settled on the chair directly in front of Frank.
"Julie, you and Clint sit to my right. Bobby, to my left, please."
Julie saw no good reason why she couldn't sit in whichever of the three
chairs she chose, but she played along.
Half of Jackie's Vegas act involved the hypnotizing and comic
exploitation of audience members. His knowledge of hypnotic technique
was so extensive, and his understanding of the functioning of the mind
in a trance state was so profound, that he was frequently invited to
participate in medical conferences with physicians, psychologists, and
psychiatrists who were exploring practical uses of hypnosis. Perhaps
they could have persuaded a psychiatrist to help them pierce Frank's
amnesia with hypnotic regression therapy. But it was doubtful that any
doctor was as qualified for the task as Jackie Jaxx.
Besides, no matter what fantastic things Jackie learned about Frank, he
could be counted on to keep his mouth shut. He owed a lot to Bobby and
Julie, and in spite of his faults, he was a man who paid his debts and
had at least a vestigial sense of loyalty that was rare in the me-me-me
culture of show business.
In the moody amber light of the two brass lamps, with the world
darkening rapidly beyond the drawn blinds, Jack smooth and
well-projected voice, full of low rounded tones an occasional dramatic
vibrato, commanded not just Frank's attention but everyone else's as
well. He used a beveledrop crystal on a gold chain to focus Frank's
attention, a suggesting that the others look at Frank's face rather than
the bauble, to avoid unwanted entrancement.
"Frank, please watch the light winking in the crystal, a soft and lovely
light fluttering from one facet to another, facet to another, a very
warm and appealing light, was fluttering. - -." After a while, lulled
somewhat herself by Jackie's calculated patter, Julie noticed Frank's
eyes glaze over.
Beside her, Clint switched on the small tape recorder he had used when
Frank had told them his story yesterday afternoon.
Still twisting the chain back and forth between his thumb and forefinger
to make the crystal spin on the end of it, Jack said,
"All right, Frank, you are now slipping into a very relaxed state, a
deeply relaxed state, where you will hear my voice, no other, and will
respond only to my voice, other...." When he had conveyed Frank into a
deep trance and finished giving him instructions related to the
interrogation ahead, Jackie told him to close his eyes. Frank obliged.
Jackie put the crystal down. He said,
"What is your nam "Frank Pollard."
"Where do you live?"
"I don't know."
Having been briefed on the phone by Julie earlier in the day, aware of
the information they were seeking from their client Jackie said,
"Have you ever lived in El Encanto?" A hesitation. Then:
"Yes." Frank's voice was strangely flat. His face was so haggard
deathly pale that he seemed almost like an exhumed corpse that had been
sorcerously revitalized for the purpose of serving as a bridge between
the members of a sayonce and those whom they wished to speak in the land
of the dead.
"Do you recall your address in El Encanto?"
"No."
"Was your address 1458 Pacific Hill Road?" I. 'i A frown flickered
across Frank's face and was gone almost as soon as it came.
"Yes. That's what... Bobby found...
with the computer."
"But do you actually remember that place?"
"No." Jackie adjusted his Rolex watch, then used both hands to smooth
back his thick, black hair.
"When did you live in El Encanto, Frank?"
"I don't know."
"You must tell me the truth."
"Yeah."
"You cannot lie to me, Frank, or hide anything from me.
That is impossible in your current state. When did you live there?"
"I don't know."
"Did you live there alone?"
"I don't know."
"Do you remember being in the hospital last night, Frank)"
"Yeah."
"And you... disappeared?" :'They say I did." 'Where did you disappear
to, Frank?" Silence.
"Frank, where did you disappear to?"
"I... I'm afraid."
"Why?"
"I... don't know. I can't think."
"Frank, do you remember waking up in your car last Thursday morning,
parked along a street in Laguna Beach?"
"Yeah.
"Your hands were full of black sand."
"Yeah." Frank wiped his hands on his thighs, as if he could feel the
black grains clinging to his sweaty palms.
"Where did you get that sand, Frank?"
"I don't know."
"Take your time. Think about it."
"I don't know."
"Do you remember checking into a motel later...
napping... then waking up with blood all over yourself.?"
"I remember,"
Frank said, and he shuddered.
"Where did that blood come from, Frank?"
"I don't know," he said miserably.
,It was cat blood, Frank. Did you know it was cat blood?"
"No." His eyelids fluttered, but he did not open his eyes. "I just cat
blood? Really?"
"Do you remember encountering a cat that day?"
"No." Clearly, a more aggressive technique would be require get the
answers they needed. Jackie began to talk Frank!" ward in time,
gradually regressing him to his admission to hospital yesterday evening,
-then farther back toward the moment when he had awakened in that
Anaheim alleyway in the early hours of Thursday morning, knowing nothing
but his name Beyond that point might lie his memory, if he could be
induced to step through the veil of amnesia and recover his past.
Julie leaned slightly forward in her chair and looked Jackie Jaxx,
wondering how Bobby was enjoying the show.
figured the spinning crystal and other hocus-pocus would peal to his
Koontz, Dean R. - The Bad Place Page 32
