Hemlock Bay
Page 57
“Well,” Jane said as she sat down, crossing her legs and leaning forward, “it seems to be some sort of induced hallucination. Marilyn seems to think they’re real, and both you and the boys saw something unusual in that barn, isn’t that right, Agent Savich?”
“Yes,” Savich said.
“Maybe Tommy and Tammy have some sort of ability to alter what you see and feel, some sort of hypnotic ability.”
Savich said to Jeffers, “You did a profile on Timmy Tuttle before he turned out to be Tammy.”
“Savich is right, Jane,” Jeffers said. “We ain’t got nothing useful that fits a psychotic cross-dresser who may have hypnotic skills.”
Savich laughed, said, “You know what I want to try? I want to talk Marilyn into letting us hypnotize her. Maybe if you’re right about this, she can tell us a lot more when she’s under.”
Jeffers laughed. “Hey, maybe the Ghouls are real, maybe they’re entities, aliens from outer space. What do you think, Jane?”
“I like the sound of that, Jeffers. It’d perk up our boring lives a bit, add some color to our humdrum files. White cones whirling around black circles—maybe they’re from Mars, you think?”
Savich said, “Actually, I’ve been reading articles, studies on various phenomena involved in past crimes.”
“Found anything?” Jeffers asked.
“Nothing like this,” Savich said. “Not a thing like this.” He added as he stood, “Joke all you want, but just don’t do it in front of the media.”
“Not a chance,” Jane said. “I don’t want to get committed.” She rose, shook Savich’s hand. “Marilyn told you that Tammy met up with the Ghouls in a cave. My husband is really into speleology and we usually go spelunking on our vacations. In fact, we were planning on visiting some of the caves in the Ozarks this summer. No matter how much I can laugh about this, I might want to rethink that plan.”
Washington, D.C.
Lily was leaning over her drawing table, looking at her work. No Wrinkles Remus was emerging clear and strong and outrageous from the tip of her beloved sable brush. The brush was getting a bit gnarly, but it was good for another few weeks, maybe.
First panel: Remus is sitting at his desk, a huge, impressive affair, looking smug as he says to someone who looks like Sam Donaldson, “Here’s a photo of you without your wig. You’re really bald, Sam. I’m going to show this photo to the world if you don’t give me what I want.”
Second panel: Sam Donaldson clearly isn’t happy. He grabs the photo, says, “I’m not bald, Remus, and I don’t wear a wig. This photo is a fake. You can’t blackmail me.”
Third panel: Remus is gloating. “Why don’t you call Jessie Ventura? Just ask him what I did to him.”
Fourth panel: Sam Donaldson, angry, defeated, says, “What do you want?”
Fifth panel: Remus says, “I want Cokie Roberts. You’re going to fix it so I can have dinner with her. I want her and I’m going to have her.”
Lily was grinning when she turned to see Simon Russo standing in the doorway.
He looked fit, healthy, and tanned. She felt suddenly puny and weak, still bowed over a bit. She wished he’d just go away, but she said, “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, but you should be in bed. I just spoke to Savich, and he said to check on you. He knew you wouldn’t be following orders. You’ve got a strip nearly ready?”
“Yep. It’s not the final version yet, but close. Remus is in fine form. He’s blackmailing Sam Donaldson.”
Simon wandered over to look down at the panels. He laughed. “I’ve missed Remus, the amoral bastard. Glad to see him back.”
“Now I’ve got to see if the Washington Post would like to take me and Remus in. Keep your fingers crossed that they’ll agree. I won’t get rich anytime soon, but it’s a start.”
Simon said after a moment, looking down at the Remus strip, “I know a cartoonist doesn’t make much money until he or she is syndicated. Hey, I just happen to know Rick Bowes. He runs the desk. How about I give him a call, go to lunch, show him the strips?”
Lily didn’t like it, obvious enough, so he didn’t say anything more until she shook her head. “All right, then, you bring some of these strips to show him and I’ll take you both to a Mexican restaurant.”
“Well,” she said, “maybe that would be okay.”
“Will you take a nap now, Lily? You should take some of your meds, too.”
“Yes,” Savich said.
“Maybe Tommy and Tammy have some sort of ability to alter what you see and feel, some sort of hypnotic ability.”
Savich said to Jeffers, “You did a profile on Timmy Tuttle before he turned out to be Tammy.”
“Savich is right, Jane,” Jeffers said. “We ain’t got nothing useful that fits a psychotic cross-dresser who may have hypnotic skills.”
Savich laughed, said, “You know what I want to try? I want to talk Marilyn into letting us hypnotize her. Maybe if you’re right about this, she can tell us a lot more when she’s under.”
Jeffers laughed. “Hey, maybe the Ghouls are real, maybe they’re entities, aliens from outer space. What do you think, Jane?”
“I like the sound of that, Jeffers. It’d perk up our boring lives a bit, add some color to our humdrum files. White cones whirling around black circles—maybe they’re from Mars, you think?”
Savich said, “Actually, I’ve been reading articles, studies on various phenomena involved in past crimes.”
“Found anything?” Jeffers asked.
“Nothing like this,” Savich said. “Not a thing like this.” He added as he stood, “Joke all you want, but just don’t do it in front of the media.”
“Not a chance,” Jane said. “I don’t want to get committed.” She rose, shook Savich’s hand. “Marilyn told you that Tammy met up with the Ghouls in a cave. My husband is really into speleology and we usually go spelunking on our vacations. In fact, we were planning on visiting some of the caves in the Ozarks this summer. No matter how much I can laugh about this, I might want to rethink that plan.”
Washington, D.C.
Lily was leaning over her drawing table, looking at her work. No Wrinkles Remus was emerging clear and strong and outrageous from the tip of her beloved sable brush. The brush was getting a bit gnarly, but it was good for another few weeks, maybe.
First panel: Remus is sitting at his desk, a huge, impressive affair, looking smug as he says to someone who looks like Sam Donaldson, “Here’s a photo of you without your wig. You’re really bald, Sam. I’m going to show this photo to the world if you don’t give me what I want.”
Second panel: Sam Donaldson clearly isn’t happy. He grabs the photo, says, “I’m not bald, Remus, and I don’t wear a wig. This photo is a fake. You can’t blackmail me.”
Third panel: Remus is gloating. “Why don’t you call Jessie Ventura? Just ask him what I did to him.”
Fourth panel: Sam Donaldson, angry, defeated, says, “What do you want?”
Fifth panel: Remus says, “I want Cokie Roberts. You’re going to fix it so I can have dinner with her. I want her and I’m going to have her.”
Lily was grinning when she turned to see Simon Russo standing in the doorway.
He looked fit, healthy, and tanned. She felt suddenly puny and weak, still bowed over a bit. She wished he’d just go away, but she said, “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, but you should be in bed. I just spoke to Savich, and he said to check on you. He knew you wouldn’t be following orders. You’ve got a strip nearly ready?”
“Yep. It’s not the final version yet, but close. Remus is in fine form. He’s blackmailing Sam Donaldson.”
Simon wandered over to look down at the panels. He laughed. “I’ve missed Remus, the amoral bastard. Glad to see him back.”
“Now I’ve got to see if the Washington Post would like to take me and Remus in. Keep your fingers crossed that they’ll agree. I won’t get rich anytime soon, but it’s a start.”
Simon said after a moment, looking down at the Remus strip, “I know a cartoonist doesn’t make much money until he or she is syndicated. Hey, I just happen to know Rick Bowes. He runs the desk. How about I give him a call, go to lunch, show him the strips?”
Lily didn’t like it, obvious enough, so he didn’t say anything more until she shook her head. “All right, then, you bring some of these strips to show him and I’ll take you both to a Mexican restaurant.”
“Well,” she said, “maybe that would be okay.”
“Will you take a nap now, Lily? You should take some of your meds, too.”
