Dazed at the sudden realization of a hundred daydreams, she did not fail to give the driver a low-lidded, sexy smile as she said: "Why, thanks!" and climbed in. He wasn't no Cary Grant, but he had all his hair …kind of small, but so was she …and jeez, the convertible had leopard-skin seat covers!
The car was in the stream of traffic, purring down the avenue. "It's a lovely day," she said. "Really too nice to work."
The driver smiled shyly, kind of like Jimmy Stewart but of course not so tall, and said: "I feel like playing hooky myself. How would you like a spin down Long Island?"
"Be wonderful!" The convertible cut left on an odd-numbered street.
"Play hooky, you said. What do you do?"
"Advertising."
"Advertising!" Dolly wanted to kick herself for ever having doubted, for ever having thought in low, self-loathing moments that it wouldn't work out, that she'd marry a grocer or a mechanic and live forever after in a smelly tenement and grow old and sick and stooped. She felt vaguely in her happy daze that it might have been cuter, she might have accidentally pushed him into a pond or something, but this was cute enough. An advertising man, leopard-skin seat covers …what more could a girl with a sexy smile and a nice little figure want?
Speeding down the South Shore she learned that his name was Michael Brent, exactly as it ought to be. She wished she could tell him she was Jennifer Brown or one of those real cute names they had nowadays, but was reassured when he told her he thought Dolly Gonzalez was a beautiful name. He didn't, and she noticed the omission, add: "It's the most beautiful name I ever heard!" That, she comfortably thought as she settled herself against the cushions, would come later.
They stopped at Medford for lunch, a wonderful lunch in a little restaurant where you went down some steps and there were candles on the table. She called him "Michael" and he called her "Dolly." She learned that he liked dark girls and thought the stories in True Story really were true, and that he thought she was just tall enough, and that Greer Garson was wonderful, but not the way she was, and that he thought her dress was just wonderful.
They drove slowly after Medford, and Michael Brent did most of the talking. He had traveled all over the world. He had been in the war and wounded—just a flesh wound. He was thirty-eight, and had been married once, but she died. There were no children. He was alone in the world. He had nobody to share his town house in the 50's, his country place in Westchester, his lodge in the Maine woods. Every word sent the girl floating higher and higher on a tide of happiness; the signs were unmistakable.
When they reached Montauk Point, the last sandy bit of the continent before blue water and Europe, it was sunset, with a great wrinkled sheet of purple and rose stretching half across the sky and the first stars appearing above the dark horizon of the water.
The two of them walked from the parked car out onto the sand, alone, bathed in glorious Technicolor. Her heart was nearly bursting with joy as she heard Michael Brent say, his arms tightening around her:
"Darling, will you marry me?"
"Oh, yes, Michael!" she breathed, dying. .
The Mindworm, drowsing, suddenly felt the sharp sting of danger. He cast out through the great city, dragging tentacles of thought:
"…die if she don't let me …"
"…six an' six is twelve an' carry one an' three is four …"
"…gobblegobble madre de dios pero soy gobblegobble …"
"…parlay Domino an' Missab and shoot the roll on Duchess Peg in the feature …"
"…melt resin add the silver chloride and dissolve in oil of lavender stand and decant and fire to cone zero twelve give you shimmering streaks of luster down the walls …"
"…moiderin' square-headed gobblegobble tried ta poke his eye out wassamatta witta ref…"
"…O God I am most heartily sorry I have offended thee in …"
"…talk like a commie…"
"…gobblegobblegobble two dolla twenny-fi' sense gobble …"
"…just a nip and fill it up with water and brush my teeth …"
"…really know I'm God but fear to confess their sins …"
"…dirty lousy rock-headed claw-handed paddle-footed goggle-eyed snot-nosed hunch-backed feeble-minded pot-bellied son of …"
"…write on the wall alfie is a stunkur and then …"
"…thinks I believe it's a television set but I know he's got a bomb hi there but who can I tell who can help so alone…"
"…gabble was ich weiss nicht gabble geh bei Broadvay gabble …"
"…habt mein daughter Rosie such a fella gobblegobble …"
"…wonder if that's one didn't look back…"
"…seen with her in the Medford restaurant…"
The Mindworm struck into that thought.
"…not a mark on her but the M. E.'s have been wrong before and heart failure don't mean a thing anyway try to talk to her old lady authorize an autopsy get Pancho—little guy talks Spanish be best …"
The Mindworm knew he would have to be moving again—soon. He was sorry; some of the thoughts he had tapped indicated good …hunting?
Regretfully, he again dragged his net:
"…with chartreuse drinks I mean drapes could use a drink come to think of it…"
"…reep-beep-reep-beep reepiddy-beepiddy-beep bop man wadda beat…"
" JS,(pfo,, *,)-£»(*„ aj, What the Hell was that?"
The Mindworm withdrew, in frantic haste. The intelligence was massive, its overtones those of a vigorous adult. He had learned from certain dangerous children that there was peril of a leveling flow.
Shaken and scared, he contemplated traveling. He would need more than that wretched girl had supplied, and it would not be epicurean.
There would be no time to find individuals at a ripe emotional crisis, or goad them to one. It would be plain—munching. The Mindworm drank a glass of water, also necessary to his metabolism.
EIGHT FOUND DEAD IN UPTOWN MOVIE; "MOLESTER" SOUGHT
Eight persons, including three women, were found dead Wednesday night of unknown causes in widely separated seats in the balcony of the Odeon Theater at 117th St. and Broadway. Police are seeking a man described by the balcony usher, Michael Fenelly, 18, as "acting like a woman-molester."
Fenelly discovered the first of the fatalities after seeing the man
"moving from one empty seat to another several times." He went to ask a woman hi a seat next to one the man had just vacated whether he had annoyed her. She was dead.
Almost at once, a scream rang out. In another part of the balcony Mrs.
Sadie Rabinowitz, 40, uttered the cry when another victim toppled from his seat next to her.
Theater manager I. J. Marcusohn stopped the show and turned on the house lights. He tried to instruct his staff to keep the audience from leaving before the police arrived. He failed to get word to them in time, however, and most of the audience was gone when a detail from the 24th Pet. and an ambulance from Harlem hospital took over at the scene of the tragedy.
The Medical Examiner's office has not yet made a report as to the causes of death. A spokesman said the victims showed no signs of poisoning or violence. He added that it "was inconceivable that it could be a coincidence."
Lt. John Braidwood of the 24th Pet. said of the alleged molester: "We got a fair description of him and naturally we will try to bring him in for questioning."
Clickety-click, clickety-dick, dickety-click sang the rails as the Mindworm drowsed in his coach seat.
Some people were walking forward from the diner. One was thinking:
"Different-looking fellow, (a) he's aberrant, (b) he's non-aberrant and ill. Cancel (b)—respiration normal, skin smooth and healthy, no tremor of limbs, well-groomed. Is aberrant (1) trivially. (2) significantly. Cancel (1)—displayed no involuntary interest when …odd! Running for the washroom! Unexpected because (a) neat grooming indicates amour propre inconsistent with amusing others; (b) evident health inconsistent with …" It had taken one second, was fully detailed.