"Well, I've been through most of his complex. It seems Dr. Smathers has received grants to study certain forms of psychotic behavior. The equipment they use is very expensive, and there are potentially dangerous people on the fourth floor from time to time. That explains the need for tight security. Actually, Dr. Smathers was quite gracious."
"Chancellor, did my name come up?"
Barnum cleared his throat. "I'm afraid it did, Dr. Frederickson. Not that I'm indiscreet, but Dr. Smathers seems to have put two and two together. He jokingly asked me if I'd hired you to check up on him."
"Jokingly."
Barnum laughed nervously. "I didn't confirm or deny, but I think Smathers guessed. Actually, he seemed more amused than offended."
"Amused," I said. "I'm glad to hear that." I added a goodbye and hung up. The phone rang almost immediately. It was Garth.
"Hey, brother," he said. "Your phone's been busy for a half hour and it's only nine in the morning. What's up?"
"Somebody's been driving me batty. That's a punch line. Want to try and guess the joke?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Never mind. Have you got a line on Harley Davidson?"
He grunted. "Yeah, and it's bad news. If you want to get anything coherent out of him, every second counts. And I'm not kidding."
"What's the matter with him?"
"Your friend Davidson's a junkie, and it seems he's in a bad way."
"That doesn't sound like Bobby."
"Well, unless there are two rock stars going by the name of Harley Davidson, this is your man."
"How long's he been on junk?"
"According to my sources, about a year," Garth replied. "Once he started to go, he went downhill fast. I've seen it before. He hasn't sung a note in six months, and his band's broken up. No promoter will touch him, even if he wanted to perform, which I understand he doesn't. For a while he was moving around a lot, staying with friends. Now even they don't want him."
"Have you got a current address on him?"
"Try 38 Farrell Street. You know where it is?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling a little chill. "Off The Bowery. Thanks, Garth. I appreciate the information-and the speed."
"Let me know what you find out."
"Will do. Any further information on Daniel?"
"Still kicking ass, from what I hear."
"If the two of you cross paths, tell him I want to talk to him. About bats."
"What's with the bats?"
"I'll talk to you later, brother. Thanks again."
After hanging up, I eased myself over the side of the bed. The pain in my stomach had eased to a kind of dull throb; now it was my thumb that burned. I managed to get dressed; I needed a shave, but decided to save my energy for what looked to be a long day. I wanted to talk to Davidson, then start pulling together my other contacts.
I opened my apartment door and was startled to see April Marlowe, her hand raised as if to knock. We both jumped, then laughed. She was dressed as she'd been when I'd first seen her, in jeans and the steel-blue silk blouse. She looked tired, but still stunning.
"Robert!" she said breathlessly, reaching out and gently touching my right hand. "I saw Dr. Greene this morning and he told me what happened to you. Are you all right?"
"Just a little sore, April. Thanks."
"Sore? Dr. Greene told me you were in pain and that you'd probably be in bed all day!"
"I'm surprised you're not at the hospital."
April looked at me oddly; something like a cloud passed across the surface of her blue-gray eyes. "After all you've done for Kathy, I thought it was time you got a little tender loving care."
"Thank you," I said quietly, covering her hand with mine. As before, the touch of her flesh was like an electric shock, making it hard for me to breathe. This time she didn't draw her hand away. I squeezed her fingers, then quickly drew my own hand back, embarrassed by even this small intimacy. I felt like a shy schoolboy-even more so since Krowl's reading had made me intensely aware of just how much April Marlowe fascinated me. "I appreciate your coming to see me, April," I continued, resisting the impulse to look at my feet. "I know how hard it is for you to leave Kathy. You can go back now. I'm all right."
"They're running more tests on Kathy this morning," April said softly. "I told Dr. Greene I'd be here, so he knows where to reach me. I did want to get out of the hospital for a little while. I thought I'd come over and make you something to eat, and here I find you on your way out. At least you can let me take you out to breakfast."
The fact of the matter was that there was nothing I'd have liked better than to spend a leisurely hour or two with April Marlowe; but it was also a fact that the depth of my feeling toward her was beginning to frighten me. I was, when all was said and done, a dwarf. I didn't want to make a fool of myself. It wasn't that I lacked self-confidence: I didn't lack for female company, platonic or otherwise. But April was different; she was creating an emotional climate in me that I feared was blowing out of control. I didn't want to do or say anything that might jeopardize our relationship-whatever that relationship might be.
April was a woman I wanted badly-and could love.
"Uh-I can't hold anything down, April. And I have to keep moving; I have to find somebody."
"It has something to do with Kathy, doesn't it?"
"Maybe; I'm not sure. I feel like I'm chasing a ghost, if you'll pardon the outrageous analogy, but I have to keep after this Esobus. At the moment, I'm trying to get more information on John Krowl. I'm on my way to talk to a man by the name of Bobby Weiss. You may have heard of him as Harley Davidson."
"The singer?"
"He used to be a singer. Right now he's on the skids."
"Robert, may I go with you? I. . really don't want to be alone today."
"Where I'm going isn't exactly Park Avenue, April. It's ugly; very ugly."
She shook her head. "I'd still like to go-as long as you don't think I'll be in the way. I'll wait in the car; just as long as there's a phone nearby so I can check in with the hospital."
Against my better judgment, very conscious of Krowl's reading of the tarot cards, I nodded my assent.
I drove across town on 72nd Street, turned south on the East River Drive and exited in lower Manhattan on Houston Street. The pain in my stomach persisted, as though Joshua Greene had left part of the needle there; but my weariness had vanished, chased by the excitement of being near April Marlowe. The late morning and afternoon no longer loomed as a nightmare of forced endurance; the woman beside me made everything all right, and I had to remind myself of the seriousness of the errand I was on.
Cars were jammed up in the left lane, waiting to get onto the entrance ramp for the Manhattan Bridge. Krowl, of course, lived just across the river, and it occurred to me as I pulled into the right lane to pass that I was driving at a right angle to the problem. Looking up Bobby Weiss in order to get information on the palmist and tarot reader might well be a waste of precious time. I felt a surge of rage at Krowl for holding out on me-if he was holding out on me.
April must have had similar thoughts. "How did your reading with John Krowl go?" she asked. "Ummm."
"What does 'ummm mean?"
"It means you were right: I was impressed."
"How did the two of you get along?"
"Not too well." I glanced over at her. "I think he knows something about Esobus, but he isn't likely to tell me what it is. The man I'm going to see had his hand cast on Krowl's wall; I want to find out what it takes to get into the Inner Sanctum, and what it means once you get there. By the way, your former husband's cast was there too."