A small, quickly stifled “Oh!” of astonishment came from the shadows to Doctor Alcazar’s left. He bent lower over the crystal.
“The image is growing brighter. The mists have gone... But still I see only the rope and the post... Wait... wait! There is something strange about the post. It doesn’t look like timber at all now. It looks — it looks— But I cannot see — the light is fading. The mists are closing in again...”
Doctor Alcazar sat back in his chair, his shoulders sagging.
“I am sorry,” he said wearily. “The image has faded...” He smiled sadly. “But I feel impelled to tell you, Mrs. de Vries, that I think we were being — misled, shall I say?”
“Misled?” The small woman was staring at Doctor Alcazar with extraordinary intentness. “Because what you saw wasn’t anything to do with Lily?”
“Exactly.” Doctor Alcazar sighed again.
She jumped to her feet and came close to him. She said, “It was wonderful, all the same! It wasn’t about Lily — but it was about me!”
Doctor Alcazar frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
She said, “Wait!” — and went quickly across to a corner and flipped on another light, bent down and opened a cupboard beneath a bookshelf, and took something from it which she held behind her back as she marched towards him again.
“Look!” she said, and whipped her hand from behind her and held under Doctor Alcazar’s eyes a roll made up of many sheets, obviously smoothed-out after use, of violet-colored wrapping-paper tied around with multiple windings of green-and-gold string.
Doctor Alcazar sat straight in his chair. He took the roll of paper from her with a murmured, “Permit me,” and held it under the light of the desk-lamp where he studied it with wondering concentration.
Doctor Alcazar said, “Yes... Yes...” and looked at her. He said, “Your psychic projection must be strong — enormously strong!” He eyed the paper and string again. “Has this any particular significance, Mrs. de Vries? Any — emotional meaning?” He reached out and switched on the other desk-lamp, so that he could see her face.
An odd change came over it. She smiled — but it was a different sort of smile. A shy smile, like the smile of an embarrassed girl. She said, “Well... yes, I suppose it has. In a way...” And then she said, “I’m going to tell you all about it. It’s nothing to do with poor Lily — but it’s so amazing, so extraordinary the way it... it sort of popped in!... It’s all to do with George.”
“George?” said Doctor Alcazar. “That is your husband’s name — middle name?”
“No, no! George is — an old admirer of mine. Of Gloria Druce’s — not Gloria de Vries’...”
Doctor Alcazar smiled — and waited.
“But — I’ve never seen him! I don’t even know his name. ‘George’ is just what I call him.” She took the roll from Doctor Alcazar’s hand. “This paper and string is what he always wraps my presents in... It’s really quite romantic — that’s all I get from him, gifts. There’s no note with them, ever; no address; nothing! Except in the very first one — that was about two years ago — there was an old program for The Green And The Gold, with a picture of me on the front when I first played it in New York... That’s how I knew he was an admirer...”
She looked at Doctor Alcazar and her smile faded, and she said, almost somberly, “You don’t know how much it means to an old actress, Doctor, when someone remembers...”
“Yes,” said Doctor Alcazar. “Yes...” He said, “What sort of gifts does he send you?”
“Oh...” She made a little gesture. “All sorts. Books — and perfume — and odd little knick-knacks — everything! And they’re always delightful!”
“No candy?” said Doctor Alcazar, smiling a smile which, in the circumstances, cost him effort to produce.
“Oh, yes! Every third or fourth package. Heavenly liqueur chocolates!” She put the paper down on the desk again and said, in quite a different voice, “But all this is keeping us from poor Lily...”
Doctor Alcazar rose to his feet. He said, “I’m afraid, Mrs. de Vries, that it would be useless just now.” He picked Lily Morton’s compact from the table. “But I will take this, if I may — and resume my efforts tonight, alone...”
In spite of his hostess’ disappointment, he took his leave. He had to.
Doctor Alcazar had detected still more death in the air — and he wanted to think...
It was five thirty when the Cadillac rolled out of the imposing gates and onto Fairbanks Drive.
At five thirty-five, in obedience to directions from Doctor Alcazar, it pulled up only two blocks away, at the far end of a road which petered out in unexpected trees and heath-land.
Doctor Alcazar got out of the car, and so did Avvie who looked around him and said, “Where’s this — and what gives?”
“And you’re the one who read the papers,” said Doctor Alcazar. He took Avvie by the shoulder and pointed to illustrate his words. “That is the back fence of the de Vries property. This road, here, is part of the short-cut Lily Morton took from Sunset Boulevard the night she was killed. This vacant lot, between us and the de Vries’, is the rest of the short-cut. And that tree—” he pointed to a lone, tall, twisted eucalyptus — “marks the spot where she was killed!... Now clam up — and let me alone.”
Doctor Alcazar then strode away from Avvie and the car. His eyes turning this way and that, he walked all around the little strip of barren earth — and then, making his way to the tree, stood underneath it, looking up as if he were studying its branches.
And then he came back to the car. He got into it and said, “Okay,” to Avvie and leaned back on the cushions.
“That’s great!” Avvie turned to regard him sourly. “Where to now — the morgue?”
Doctor Alcazar seemed deep in thought. He said vaguely, “No — to eat. There used to be a little place on Pisanta Street. Mexican. Good. Very reasonable...”
The little place was still there and an hour later Avvie finished his last tortilla, refilled his coffee-cup, and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, Doc,” he said, “when d’ya start talkin’?”
Doctor Alcazar lit a cigarette. He said, “After you have,” and grinned at Avvie. “So — what gives with Clinton de Vries, Esquire?”
Avvie said, “Gotta lotta stuff — but I don’t know if it helps. Clint’s around forty — forty-five. From a picture I seen, he goes around a hundred an’ sixty-two. Bin married to the dame around five years. Makes like a playboy some — but a right guy by the general concentrus. Him and the missus rub along okay, but no heart-throbs: he’s got the polo horses, she’s got the dough.”
Avvie picked up a fork and began to probe at a hindmost molar. But he put the fork down almost at once and looked at Doctor Alcazar again.
“Somep’n I forgot,” he said. “The guy’s got the varicose vein in his leg. Wears one o’ them rubber socks. I seen a spare on the line an’ ast about it.” He began to ply the fork again. “For what it’s worth,” he mumbled.
Doctor Alcazar regarded him with almost avuncular pride. He said, “Avvie, you did a very nice job in the time. But,” he added, “I must ask you one or two questions.”
Avvie finished with the fork and set it down. He said, “Hold it, hold it — I ain’t through yet. Now, as to said Clint’s recent movements: he’s got a cabin up to Big Bear. Went up there the morninga the day this Lily got blotted. The missus called him when they found her next day an’ he come right down to help. It eventuates there’s nothin’ he can do — so he goes right back. Comin’ home tomorra, time for dinner.”