Джеймс Чейз - The Flesh of the Orchid

Magarth nodded.

‘She’s pretty bad, isn’t she?’

‘I would have said her case was hopeless,’ Cantor returned, ‘but by the luckiest chance Dr. Kraplien, the greatest brain specialist in the country, visiting us at the moment, and he has decided to operate. He thinks he can save her.’

Veda gripped Magarth’s hand.

‘Dr. Kraplien doesn’t think any serious damage has been done to the brain,’ Dr. Cantor went on. ‘The fracture is severe, of course, but we believe the brain itself is uninjured. There is pressure there, due probably to the injury she received in the truck accident. If the operation is successful, the patient’s memory will be restored.’ Dr. Cantor gave Magarth a significant glance. ‘That will mean she will have no knowledge at all of what has happened to her since the truck accident occurred.’

Magarth looked startled.

‘You mean she won’t even remember me?’ he asked.

‘She’ll remember no one nor any event that happened after the truck accident,’ Dr. Cantor said. ‘Dr. Kraplien has taken a great interest in the case. He has spoken to Dr. Travers of the Glenview Mental Sanatorium, and has gone into Miss Blandish’s case history with him. He thinks her condition may be entirely due to cerebral compression, and that he may be able to cure her of these fits of violence.’

‘I do hope he does. She’s been through so much,’ Veda said, and bent and kissed Carol’s still white face. ‘But is it possible?’

Cantor lifted his shoulders. It was rather obvious that he wasn’t optimistic.

‘The operation will be in less than half an hour now,’ he said. ‘Perhaps, when you have seen the police, you’ll come back? I should have news for you.’

Many odd visitors have come to Santo Rio at one time or another. Old Joe, who sells newspapers at the entrance to the railway station, has seen them all. Old Joe is an authority on the visitors to Santo Rio. He remembers the old lady with the three Persian cats walking sedately behind her, the pretty actress who arrived very drunk and hit a red-cap over the head with a bottle of gin. He remembers the rich and the sly, the innocent and the evil, but he will tell you that the most extraordinary visitor of them all was Miss Lolly Meadows.

Miss Lolly arrived at Santo Rio on the same train that brought Veda and Magarth to this pacific coast town. It had taken considerable courage for Miss Lolly to have made the journey, but make it she did.

Ever since Carol had visited her, and she had shown Carol the photograph of Linda Lee, Miss Lolly had been uneasy in her conscience. She felt it was disgraceful that she had allowed a young girl like Carol to go off on her own to tackle two such dangerous brutes as the Sullivans. Carol wanted to avenge herself on them, but so did Miss Lolly. Then why had Miss Lolly let her go off by herself? Why hadn’t she, at least, offered to go with her?

After three or four days of this kind of thinking Miss Lolly had decided to go to Santo Rio and see if she could find Carol. The decision was made not without a great deal of misgivings and fear, for it was many years since Miss Lolly had travelled in a train, had mixed with strangers and had felt curious, morbid eyes staring at her.

Old Joe will tell you that he saw Miss Lolly as she came out of the railway station in her black shabby dress that she had worn last some twenty years ago and on her head a vast black hat trimmed with artificial cherries and grapes. The close-trimmed beard, of course, completed the picture and startled Old Joe half out of his senses.

Miss Lolly stood close to Old Joe and surveyed the teeming traffic, the pushing crowds, the languid and scantily dressed young women in their beach suits, and was horrified.

Old Joe had a kind nature, and although a little embarrassed to be seen talking to such an odd freak, he asked her if he could help her in any way, and Miss Lolly, recognizing kindness in his face, told him she had come to find Carol Blandish.

For a moment or so Old Joe eyed her doubtfully. He decided she was crazy but harmless, and without a word he handed her the midday newspaper, pointed to the paragraph that told of the finding of the famous heiress unconscious in her car outside the Santo Rio Memorial Hospital, and that an operation was to be performed on her immediately.

Miss Lolly had scarcely time to absorb this item of news when, looking up, she saw, walking on the other side of the street, the limping figure of Ismi Geza.

Miss Lolly recognized Ismi immediately although she hadn’t seen him for more than fifteen years. She realized at once that where Ismi was, Max was most likely to be, and thanking Old Joe for his kindness, she hurried after Ismi, overtook him easily enough, touched his arm.

Ismi stared at her for several seconds before clasping her hand. This meeting between the bearded lady and the circus clown practically disorganized the traffic and caused a vast crowd to collect; and realizing the sensation they were causing, Ismi hurriedly hailed a taxi, pushed Miss Lolly in and bundled himself in beside her.

The crowd raised a cheer as the taxi drove away.

Max lay in his bed, his cruel twisted mind a torment of pain and frustrated fury. That this could have happened to him, he thought. To be struck down; to be helpless; paralysed for life. And Carol Blandish was responsible! It was she who had killed Frank! She who had taken their money! She who had turned him into a helpless cripple! He snarled to himself as he realized that he could do nothing to her now. She was out of his reach.

For the past eight hours he had remained motionless, his eyes closed, thinking of Carol. He had been aware of the nurse as she moved about the room, but he had refused to open his eyes or to show any sign of life. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts; to create in his mind a revenge that would satisfy him, but every horrible, outrageous act he conceived to inflict on Carol was not bad enough to please him.

He heard the door open, and looking between his eyelashes he saw another nurse come in; and he-guessed rightly she was the night nurse.

He heard Nurse Hennekey say: ‘Thank heaven you’ve come. This dreadful little man has been giving me the creeps.’

‘Is he asleep?’ the other nurse asked, and giggled.

‘Yes,’ Nurse Hennekey returned. ‘He’s been asleep for hours. That’s the only good thing about him. But even to look at him gives me the horrors.’

Max felt rather than saw the other nurse draw near. His hard, twisted face remained expressionless, but he listened intently.

‘He won’t give me the horrors,’ the other nurse said firmly. ‘Although he isn’t exactly an oil-painting.’

‘You wait until you see his eyes,’ Nurse Hennekey said. ‘You’ll change your mind about him then. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t murdered someone. I’ve never seen such hateful and vicious eyes. You should have seen how he looked at his poor old father.’

‘You’ll make me burst into tears in a moment,’ the other nurse, Bradford by name, returned with a laugh. ‘But tell me about the other patient. Is it true? Is she really Carol Blandish?’

It was only by exerting a tremendous effort that Max did not betray that he was listening. Under the cover of the blanket his right hand closed into a fist.

‘Yes. The heiress. She’s lovely to look at. I’ve never seen such marvellous hair,’ Nurse Hennekey said. ‘Her case papers are in her room. You’d better have a look at them. Dr. Cantor will be around during the night. The operation was successful. They say Dr. Kraplien was magnificent. It means she’ll be normal again. The operation took five hours. I wish I’d seen it, but I had to look after this thing,’ and she waved to the still, silent Max.