Jill Emerson - The Trouble With Eden

“What a perfect disguise. Petey didn’t even mention it. Isn’t it super, baby?”

He agreed that it was super. Warren went on driving, heading south and east, keeping up a running conversation with Gretchen. In a burlesque Viennese accent he told her he was Dr. David Loewenstein, the famous Austrian mystic and psychic medium. Gretchen played along, mimicking his accent, while Peter gratefully let the two of them handle the conversation. It was a pleasure to put his mind in neutral and coast for awhile. It would have been an even greater pleasure not to be in the car at all, and he had tried to find reasons not to go along. Warren could have taken her by himself, he had told himself from time to time. But he had never managed to make himself believe this and had not even attempted to sell it to Warren. No, he had to be there. He just hoped he would be able to handle it.

At least he was past the periodic touches of mania that had afflicted him the previous afternoon. Unwelcome thoughts still came to him, questions occurred that would have troubled him, but he was having less difficulty pushing them aside now. He was growing accustomed to the drug, remembering from earlier times how to use it and how to coast with it. And he was growing similarly accustomed to the role he was playing, managing at once to fit it comfortably while holding a portion of his mind apart from it.

On the edge, of course, there was the specter of what they were doing. This would not go away. On the contrary, it drew closer with every turn of the car’s wheels. He dealt with it by keeping himself strictly in present time and banishing thoughts of the future.

It was all as Gretchen said, a matter of will and concentration.

Warren stopped the car at a gas station. He told attendant to fill the tank, then excused himself to go the lavatory.

First, though, he placed a telephone call. When he’d been connected to the person he had spoken to earlier, he said, “This is Dr. David Loewenstein. I’m about ten minutes from you at the moment. My patient is presently cooperative.” His voice was neither his own nor the comic-opera voice he’d used with Gretchen, but was quite similar in pitch and inflection to the psychiatrist’s.

“Her delusion is being supported and she does not know our true destination,” he went on. “I wanted to make sure you would have restraint available. In light of her history I can’t overemphasize that.”

He listened for a few moments, then rang off. In the washroom he took off the false beard, peeled off the bits of adhesive tape, and fixed the beard properly in place with spirit gum. He swallowed two more Excedrins before returning to the car.

“Well, this is it,” Warren said. He swung the car through the iron gates and along the narrow macadam road. “We have arrived.”

Peter heard the words and looked at his own hands, surprised at their steadiness. Warren had spoken in a voice brimming with cheer and anticipation, but Peter heard them echo in his mind in another tone entirely, one of bitter resignation. Well, this is it. We have arrived.

It was not what he had expected. No guards on the gate, none of the stark gloom he had pictured. The general feel of the place was that of a college campus.

There had been a sign, though, and Gretchen had seen it. Now, as they passed between tall trees, she said, “This is the State Hospital.”

“Of course it is. And ze internationally famous Dr. Loewenstein is expected at any moment. Everything’s right on schedule, Gretchen.”

“But why are we here?”

“Just think about it,” he said. “How can they possibly get to us here?”

She thought about it, and Peter read the uncertainty in her face. The car reached the end of the narrow road, and he looked out at a broad expanse of asphalt surrounded by a rolling lawn. At the far end of the parking lot were the buildings, uniform piles of darkened red brick. He tried to keep from noticing the iron grillwork on all of the windows.

“I don’t like this place,” Gretchen said.

“Of course not,” Warren said. “I knew you would sense it.”

“Sense what?”

“The feeling of the place. It’s just right, isn’t it?” He swung the car into a parking spot reserved for physicians and hospital personnel. “Just come with me,” he said. “They’re expecting us.”

“Warren, I don’t want to go. Petey, tell him I don’t want to go.”

“You can do it, Gretch. You just have to concentrate.”

“But this is crazy, Petey! I don’t want to get out of the car. I’m afraid.”

He said, “Warren, would it be all right if we stayed in the car while you made the arrangements?” He put his arm around her, drew her close. Over her shoulder he saw Warren give him a quick nod, then get out of the car.

She burrowed in his arms for a moment. Then she said, “That was fast thinking, Petey. I knew we should never trust that man. Now we can—” Her jaw fell. “Petey! He took the keys!”

“So?”

She spun around to face him. “Don’t you see? This was Warren’s plan, wasn’t it? He dreamed it up. And he’s managed to fool you. Oh, I should have known this. Oh, my God!”

“Wait, Gretchen. Hang on.”

“Maybe we can run.”

“That would be the worst thing we could do. Don’t you see?”

“I suppose so. But—”

“You’re wrong about Warren. You’ll see.”

He held onto her, trying to calm her. “Just stay perfectly still,” he said. “If it is a trap, all we have to do is be absolutely quiet.”

He saw the doors open. Warren came through them, flanked by a stoop-shouldered doctor and a nurse with a clipboard. Behind them were two middle-aged women in white, both with prominent jaws. Warren held a pipe in one hand and was gesturing with the other as he spoke. Even his walk was different, Peter noticed.

“They’re coming,” he told Gretchen. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t ever be afraid.”

“This is Mrs. Vann,” Warren said now. “Mrs. Vann, there are some people here who want to meet you. They’re going to help you.”

“Warren, I want to go home.”

“Just come out for a moment. Then we can go.”

She looked at Peter. “Go ahead,” he said softly. “We’ll be able to handle this.”

And she trusted him. She got out of the car, crawling past the steering wheel, while Peter let himself out the other side. He walked around the car to stand beside her.

“Mrs. Gretchen Vann,” Warren was saying. “Mrs. Vann, this is Dr. Moeloth. He’s going to—”

“Why are you talking like that, Warren?”

“Try to concentrate, Mrs. Vann. I am Dr. Loewenstein. We went for a ride in the country, you and I and Robin, and now we are—”

“Dr. Moeloth?” She smiled perfectly, the panic and confusion gone from her voice now. “There’s been a rather horrible mistake and I’m sure you’ll straighten it out for us in no time at all.” The doctor was nodding with interest. “This man is not a doctor,” she went on calmly. “He’s an actor named Warren Ormont. He managed to win the confidence of Peter and myself and now he’s trying to dupe you.” A sudden intake of breath, and she spun to face Warren.

“What did you say about Robin? Peter, we trusted this man. What has he done with Robin?”

Dr. Moeloth said, “Tell me about Robin, Mrs. Vann. Just be calm now.”

“I’m perfectly calm. Robin is my little girl.”

“Your little girl.”

“My daughter. He’s kidnapped her. First he posed as my friend and now he’s posing as a doctor. I think this is a matter for the police, Dr. Moeloth.”

Moeloth nodded encouragement. “Very interesting,” he said. “And this young man with you, Mrs. Vann. Could you tell me who this young man is?”