Part 13 (1/2)

”'Doctor' Weems?” said Weems. ”There is no 'Doctor' Weems here. There is a very plain 'Mister' Weems. He stands before you.”

”In your line of work,” said Foltz, ”I'd think a man would almost have to have some kind of doctor's degree.”

”As it happens,” said Weems, ”I hold two doctor's degrees-one from Budapest, another from Edinburgh.” He smiled faintly. ”I don't use the t.i.tle Doctor, however. I wouldn't want anyone to mistake me for a physician.” He s.h.i.+vered in the winds. ”Won't you come in?”

The three went into what had been the parlor of the mansion, what was the hypnotist's office now. There was no nonsense about the furnis.h.i.+ngs. They were functional, gray-enameled steel-a desk, a few chairs, a filing cabinet, a bookcase. There were no pictures, no framed certificates on the high walls.

Weems sat down behind his desk, invited his visitors to sit. ”The chairs aren't very comfortable, I'm afraid,” he said.

”Where do you keep your equipment, Mr. Weems?” said Foltz.

”What equipment is that?” said Weems.

Foltz's stubby hands worked in air. ”I a.s.sume you've got something you hypnotize people with. A light or something they stare at?”

”No,” said Weems. ”I'm all the apparatus there is.”

”You pull the blinds when you hypnotize somebody?” said Foltz.

”No,” said Weems. He volunteered no more information, but looked back and forth between the detectives, inviting them to state their business.

”We're from the police, Mr. Weems,” said Foltz, and he showed his identification.

”You are not telling me the news,” Weems said.

”You were expecting the police?” said Foltz.

”I was born in Romania, sir-where one is taught from birth to expect the police.”

”I thought maybe you had some idea what we were here about?” said Foltz.

Weems sat back, twiddled his thumbs. ”Oh-generally, generally, generally,” he said. ”I arouse vague fears among the simpler sorts wherever I go. Sooner or later they coax the police into having a look at me, to see if I might not be performing black magic here.”

”You mind telling us what you do do here?” said Foltz.

”What I do, sir,” said Weems, ”is as simple and straightforward as what a carpenter or any other honest workman does. My particular service has to do with the elimination of undesirable habits or unreasonable fears.” He startled young Carney by gesturing at him suddenly. ”You, sir, obviously smoke too much. If you were to give me your undivided attention for two minutes, you would never smoke again, would never want to smoke again.”

Carney put out his cigarette.

”I must apologize for the chair you're sitting on, sir,” said Weems to Carney. ”It's brand-new, but something's wrong with the cus.h.i.+on. There's a small lump on the left side. It's a very small lump, but after a while it makes people quite uncomfortable. It's surprising how a little thing like that can actually induce real pain. Curiously enough, people usually feel the pain in the neck and shoulders rather than in the lower spine.”

”I'm all right,” said Carney.

”Fine,” said Weems. He turned to Foltz again. ”If a man had a fear of firearms, for instance,” he said, ”and his work made it necessary for him to be around them, I could eliminate that fear with hypnosis. As a matter of fact, if a policeman, say, were only a moderately good pistol shot, I could steady his hand enough by means of hypnosis to make him an expert. I'll steady your hand, if you like. If you'll take out your pistol and hold it as steadily as possible-”

Foltz did not draw his pistol. ”Only two reasons I ever take my pistol out,” he said. ”Either I'm gonna clean it, or I'm gonna shoot somebody with it.”

”In a minute you'll change your mind,” said Weems, and he glanced at his expensive wrist.w.a.tch. ”Believe me-I could make your hand as steady as a vise.” He looked at Carney, saw that Carney was standing, was ma.s.saging the back of his neck. ”Oh, dear,” said Weems, ”I did warn you about that chair. I should get rid of it. Take another chair, please, and turn that one to the wall, so no one else will get a stiff neck from it.”

Carney took another chair, turned his first chair to the wall. He carried his head to one side. His neck was as stiff as a bent crowbar. No amount of rubbing seemed to help.

”Have I convinced you?” Weems said to Foltz. ”Will you tell my friends and neighbors that I'm not practicing witchcraft or medicine without a license here?”

”I'd be glad to do that, sir,” said Foltz. ”But that isn't the main thing we came to see you about.”

”Oh?” said Weems.

”No, sir,” said Foltz. He took a photograph from the inside pocket of his coat. ”What we really wanted to ask you was, do you know this woman, and do you have any idea where we could find her? We've traced her here, and n.o.body seems to know where she went after.”

Weems took the photograph without hesitation, identified it promptly. ”Mrs. Mary Styles Cantwell. I remember her well. Would you like to know the exact dates when she was here for treatment?” He opened a card file on his desk, searched for the card of the missing woman, found it. ”Four visits in all,” he said. ”July fourteenth, fifteenth, nineteenth, and twenty-first.”

”What did you treat her for?” said Foltz.

”Would you mind pointing that thing somewhere else?” said Weems.

”What?” said Foltz.

”Your pistol,” said Weems. ”It's pointing right at me.”

Foltz looked down at his right hand, discovered that it really did hold a pistol, a pistol aimed at Weems. He was embarra.s.sed, confused. Still, he did not return the pistol to its holster.

”Put it away, please,” said Weems.

Foltz put it away.

”Thank you,” said Weems. ”Surely I'm not being that uncooperative.”

”No, sir,” said Foltz.

”It's the heat in the room,” said Weems. ”It puts everybody's nerves on edge. The heating system is very bad. It's always boiling hot in this room, while the rest of the house is like the North Pole. It's at least ninety degrees in here. Won't you gentlemen please take off your coats?”

Carney and Foltz took off their coats.

”Take off your suit coats, too,” said Weems. ”It must be a hundred in here.”

Carney and Foltz took off their suit coats, but sweltered still.

”You both have splitting headaches now,” said Weems, ”and I know how hard it must be for you to think straight. But I want you to tell me everything you know about me or suspect about me.”

”Four women who've been reported missing have been traced here,” said Foltz.

”Only four?” said Weems.

”Only four,” said Foltz.

”Their names, please?” said Weems.

”Mrs. Mary Styles Cantwell, Mrs. Esmeralda Coyne, Mrs. Nancy Royce, Mrs. Caroline Hughs Tinker, and Mrs. Janet Zimmer.”

Weems wrote the names down, just the last names. ”Cantwell, Coyne, Royce ... Selfridge, did you say?”