Dr. Felix Gustave came into his waiting room where Val and her father were standing by the open french windows.
It was an impressive room. Nothing had been spared to give it an atmosphere of luxury and confidence.
Dr. Gustave was a large, heavily built man, immaculately dressed, with a bald, high dome of a head, fleshy jowls and clear, alert black eyes.
As Val and her father turned, he came across the vast room, his face expressionless as if he knew a smile wouldn’t be welcomed.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said. “Chris is in bed now.” He used the Christian name without affectation. Watching him, Vat felt a surge of relief that he really was on Christian name terms with her husband. “Before you see him I suggest we have a little talk about him.”
Travers said sharply, “What has he been doing all the time he has been missing?”
Gustave took Val by her hand and led her to a chair.
“Let’s sit down,” he said, and ignoring Travers’s hostility, he lowered his bulk into a chair near Val’s.
Travers hesitated, then he came over and sat by Val.
“You ask me what he has been doing?” Gustave said. “He doesn’t know. Later, he may remember, but at this moment, it is better not to ask questions. Periods of complete loss of memory are to be expected from time to time. Frankly, this nice person is for the moment very unhappy, and he has every reason to be. He has suffered serious injuries to the brain, and yet he has long periods when he is practically normal. Now this has happened, it may happen again, and he knows it.”
“Is there no cure then?” Travers said impatiently. “This state of affairs has been going on for nearly two years. We thought he was showing some signs of improvement... now this!”
“Daddy... Please!” Val said.
Travers made an irritable movement.
“My dear, if Chris isn’t going to recover, you...”
“A moment, Mr. Travers,” Gustave said quietly. “Nothing has been said about him not making a complete recovery. This is a matter of patience.” He moved slightly to look directly at Val. “While I talk to your father, you would like to see Chris, wouldn’t you?”
Val nodded.
“Then go up and see him. There’s a nurse in the hall. She’ll take you to him. He needs affection. You are the one to give it to him.”
Val got to her feet and went out into the hail. She heard a protest from her father, but she ignored it.
The elderly nurse who was waiting, took her up a flight of stairs and into a room where her husband lay in bed.
Chris Burnett was thirty-six years of age. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes, a firm mouth and nearly as tall as his father-in-law. Before the car crash he had been regarded by those in the know as a worthy successor to Travers’ financial kingdom.
Her heart beating painfully, Val paused in the doorway.
“Chris... darling.”
He looked up and her heart sank. His mild, indifferent expression and glazed eyes told her at once that this awful wall that had grown up between them was still there.
“Oh, hello, Val,” he said. “I’m sorry about this. We don’t seem to have much luck, do we?”
Vat moved into the room and closed the door.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, controlling her voice with difficulty. “Are you all right, darling?” As he said nothing, she went on, “I’ve been so worried.”
“It only wanted this, didn’t it?” he said listlessly. “Quite something to be brought to a looney-bin by two cops. Of course the real fun of it all is that I just don’t know what I have been doing. I’ve been blacked out for hours. I could have done anything... murdered someone... anything.”
“But you didn’t, Chris,” Val said gently as she moved to a chair by the bed and sat down. “You mustn’t worry.”
“That’s what Gustave keeps telling me. So all right I’m not worrying.”
She watched the nervous tick that kept twitching at the side of his mouth.
“Chris... do you want to come back to the hotel?”
He shook his head.
“I’m quite happy here. Gustave seems sensible. I rather like him. It would be better for me to stay here.”
“I thought you liked the hotel,” Val said, trying not to sound desperate. “Can’t we go back there together. This well, as you said, it was unlucky.”
“How’s your father?” Chris asked, looking away from her. “I suppose he knows about this?”
Val hesitated, then said, “Oh, yes. He’s downstairs talking to Dr. Gustave.”
The glazed eyes moved in her direction.
“You don’t mean he has dropped all his important work to come down here? How odd! He must be having a whale of a time. How he must hate me now!”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Val said a little sharply. “You mustn’t...”
“Oh, but I’m sure he does. He’s as bored to death with me as I am myself. Your father is a remarkable man, Val. He hasn’t got this soft centre that I have. You know what I mean... a soft centre? It’s something that can happen to anyone who is just ordinary. You think you are all right; that you are making a big success of life, that you have all the confidence, ambition and determination to beat the best, then suddenly the hard core that is in you, the hard core that you just must have if you’re to get anywhere in this life... suddenly turns soft. That’s what’s happened to me. It could never happen to your father. His core is made of steel.”
“Please, Chris,” Val said, her hands turning into fists. “You had this accident and you...”
“If it had happened to your father, he wouldn’t be acting the way I’m acting,” her husband said. “Val, I’ve been thinking. We’d better part. I mean this. It would be better for us both if we got a divorce and you forgot about me. I know this is what your father wants and he is absolutely right.”
Val sat motionless for a long moment while Chris stared impersonally at her.
“Could we wait a little while?” she said finally. “I don’t want to lose you, Chris. I think if we both have patience, it’ll work out.”
“That reminds me,” Chris said and he rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, “I’ve lost that cigarette lighter you gave me. I had it with me at the hotel. I’m not all that far gone not to remember that. I had it in my jacket pocket. When the police brought me here, they tell me I wasn’t wearing a jacket, so I suppose I’ve left it somewhere. I’m sorry about that lighter.” He looked away from her. “I’m sorry about everything. You’d better not keep your father waiting. You leave me here, Val. I’ll be fine. Talk to your father about a divorce. He’ll fix it. There’s nothing he can’t fix.”
“I don’t want a divorce,” Val said quietly. “I want to be with you always.”
“That’s odd... most girls would jump at the chance of getting rid of me. You think about it. I expect you’ll change your mind. I’m sorry about the lighter. It had memories for me. I remember when you gave it to me. We were happy then, weren’t we?”
“I’m still happy,” Val said.
“That’s fine. So long as one of us is happy. I want to sleep now. Do you mind? You talk to your father... he’s a wonderful fixer.”
He shifted further down in the bed and closed his eyes.
Val remained still, watching him. The man she was looking at wasn’t the man she had married; now he was a complete stranger. After a few minutes, she saw by his regular breathing that he was asleep.
She got silently to her feet and left the room.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Terrell said.
He and Beigler were in one of the vacant motel cabins. On the table was the blue and white suitcase.
Latimer, one of the Homicide men, had just completed an inventory of the suitcase’s contents. He stood back while Terrell and Beigler examined the various articles laid out on the table. They were few: a pair of green nylon pyjamas, stockings, underwear, a contraceptive and a green and gold embossed address book.