Evil Dreams (10 page)

Tory stood, the color draining from her face. How could Howie have found out about Carol Nelumbo? Carol Nelumbo was a patient of Doctor Dayton’s who was having a difficult time handling her guilt because of an affair with one of her husband’s junior partners.

“What’s the matter, Tory?” Howie asked when he looked up to find her face ashen.

“Huh. Oh, nothing—nothing.”

What had she told him? She could get in all kinds of trouble with her employer if he found out that she was telling people about his patients. Had she told Howie when they were high or drunk? Oh, God, she
was
in trouble. She turned away, moving toward the window but not before Howie caught her expression.

“Hey, what gives with you? Wait a minute. Did you tell me about this dame?”

She could feel tears welling in her eyes. What would happen to them if she lost her job because of something as stupid as telling Howie about a patient?

Howie leaped from the bed, crossing the room in three steps. Grabbing Tory’s arm he whirled her around. “Tell me, goddamnit! Were you the one who told me about this woman?” He squeezed tightly until she whimpered.

“It—it sounds—sounds like Mrs.—Mrs. Nelumbo,” she managed as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“A patient of Doctor Dayton’s.”

Howie released his grip. “No shit?” He turned away and began pacing again but this time, a nasty smile twisted his normally dark good looks.

Tory rubbed her bruised arm, mentally going through her wardrobe, deciding which dress would cover her upper arms and still be cool enough to wear to work the next day. When she looked at Howie, she sighed. At least he was smiling. That was more than he had done all weekend.

Suddenly, he bolted for the door. “I’m going out for a while. When I get back, we’ve got some serious talking to do.” He opened it and stopped.

“What about, Howie, honey?”

“It’ll wait.”

“Give me a hint. Please?” She crossed the room, throwing her arms around his neck.

“You’ve given me an idea. An idea that’ll get us out of this rat’s nest and give us some real important bread.” He pulled her arms from around him and stepped into the hall. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Dumbfounded, she stood watching him run down the steps. She had given him an idea? What had she said?

Forty minutes later, when Howie returned, carrying a small bundle, Tory still had not figured out what she had told Howie to animate him in such a way. Elated that she had inspired her lover to take action, she watched mesmerized as he entered the apartment and went directly to the closet. Fumbling around on the shelf, he searched for something until an expression of relief crossed his face when his hand apparently closed on the object.

When he turned, she saw the cigaret roller in his hand. “There’s paper in the top drawer of the chest,” she offered softly. Was that all she had managed to do? Get him out of the apartment to buy some marijuana? How could rolling joints and getting high get them out of this apartment and into good money? “I thought you said I’d given you an idea. I didn’t even mention marijuana.”

“Geezus!” Howie growled. “Don’t be your usual dumb self. I need this shit to get my act together while I make plans. Then, once they’re made, I’m off crap and beer until I’m finished with the job.”

Her head whirled. First at the insult and then at the fact he was going to quit grass. She tried to understand him and his bitterness against the world, wishing he would be more considerate of her feelings. Her concern for him usually was met with complete indifference and, if he was high, derisive laughter, causing her to feel unloved, unwanted by him. Still, rather than run the risk of losing him, she was willing to accept him as he was.

But why would he consider quitting smoking up? What had she said? She turned to face him. Everything had been pushed off the table and he sat cross-legged on a wooden chair whose back had been lost long before they had moved into the apartment. Sliding the other chair into position, she sat next to Howie who neatly placed the papers next to the crumpled brown leaves.

“When this shit is gone,” Howie said slowly, “we’re going straight. No more candy or booze or shit or nothing ‘til I get what I want. Understand?”

A sense of relief swept over Tory. Maybe he would be able to find work if he stopped the pills and drinking and smoking. But she had to find out for herself. All of this was too good to be true. She wanted him to tell her he would find work. Spell out every detail. Then soon they could get married. “Why, honey?”

“Because I want my brain working full time. I told you before I left, you’ve given me one helluvan idea.” He held up the first cigarette for inspection.

“I did?” She could scarcely believe what he had said. He had actually repeated it. But what had she said to make him want to abstain? “Tell me about it.”

“When you told me about the woman I was trying to remember, all the pieces fell into place. Remember I said, if I could find out all the details, I’d get some easy money. I’m sure she wouldn’t want her husband to find out about her playing around. So, ol‘ Howie’s going to give her a chance to buy his silence on the subject. Ain’t that beautiful?”

Tory’s mind reeled under the impact of Howie’s idea. When he first mentioned it, she thought he had been joking. What would happen to her if Doctor Dayton found out? She’d be fired. Then what would she and Howie do? What would they live on? Oh, God. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? She turned, looking at him, fear of the consequences contorting her face. She stood, her knees shaking, and moved to the window.

“You’re speechless,” he gloated. “See, all you gotta do is make copies of everything she says about her fucking around. Then, I go visit her and tell her I’ve been meaning to stop in and see her old man and tell him what I know. But for a consideration, a considerable consideration, I can forget his address. And we’re in the money.”

“You can’t, Howie,” Tory squeaked.

“Who says I can’t?”

“I won’t help you. It’s against the law. We’ll get in trouble.”

“Against the law?” he shouted. “What about all the fat cats who cheat on their income tax walking around free as birds? What about them? What about this bitch who’s fucking somebody other than her husband? That’s against the law! Sort of! How about all the illegal things so-called honest people do? Nobody gives a fuck if they do or don’t. Finally, I come up with the perfect plan to get us off and running with some real bread for a change and what are you going to do? You’re going to queer the whole goddamn thing by fucking it up before we even get started! I thought you loved me.”

“I do, honey. I do. But it’s wrong.” She turned to face him.

“Smoking shit’s wrong, but you do it. Popping pills is wrong, but you do it. How come you’re getting so—so fuckin’ sanctimonious all of a sudden?”

“It’s my job, honey,” Tory whined. “We need my job to exist. Don’t you understand?”

“Christ! You’re the one who doesn’t understand, you stupid bitch! You get enough people to come across like this dame will, and we can retire. Simple numbers, that’s all. We get five, no, make it ten thousand from her. If the shrink has fifty patients like her, that’s—that’s, holy shit! That’s half a million skins. We’d be on easy street.” Howie rubbed his hands together before returning to the job of rolling cigarettes.

Tory’s eyes widened at the amount he thought possible to obtain through blackmail. She couldn’t do it. It was too risky. They’d be caught and put in jail. For years. They’d be separated and grow old alone. She wanted them to be together. Forever. She didn’t know what she would do if something were to happen to Howie. She’d die, probably.

No! Definitely no!
She would not do it! She would not take the chance of being taken away from him. She watched him roll another cigarette and said, “I won’t do it, Howie.”

He looked up, his brows knitting in the way they did whenever he was angry. Then just as quickly, they smoothed out. “Okay. Okay, Tory. Fuck you. I don’t need you. I’ll get another girl who
will
help me. One who won’t be so un-appreciative.

“Howie!” she cried, running the few steps separating them and dropped to her knees in front of him. She threw her arms around his legs, nuzzling his crotch. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say you’d get another girl to take my place.

I’d kill myself if you ever left me. I couldn’t live without you. Do you hear me? I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”

He smiled thinly. “That’s better.”

Tory thought for several minutes before regaining her feet. When she realized he was aroused, she moved away. Maybe a blackmail plan could work. Maybe this was what they needed. She cleared her throat. “What will I have to do?”

“You said you type everything these sickies tell the shrink. Right?”

She nodded.

“Then, all you have to do is make an extra copy. Bring it home an ol‘ Howie will take over from there.”

“That’s all? That’s all I have to do?” she squealed. She didn’t know what she had anticipated but if this was all she had to do, it would be easy. Doctor Dayton seldom if ever bothered her while she typed and she had the office all to herself every Wednesday, his day off. A quick trip to the copy machine and she would be safe from detection. It
would
work.

“That’s it.” He stretched, staring at the ceiling.

“Like what kind of people do you want?” she asked, her enthusiasm growing. If this plan would benefit Howie’s future and hers, she wanted to do as much as she could to make it successful.

“I think most everybody who goes to somebody like this asshole, Dayton, has something they’d just as soon not have spread around. Like this broad, people with guilt complexes. Anything that could ruin them if the right word got out. I’ll guarantee the word won’t be spread— for a consideration.” He laughed.

“Are you happy, honey?” she asked when he had quieted.

“Right now? You bet I am. Finally, I’ve got a foolproof scheme going for me and it’s all mine —er, ours.”

“Would you be just as happy if you were teaching school? You know, like nothing ever happened and you never went to prison or whatever?”

His face clouded thoughtfully. All he had ever wanted to do at one time in his life, was be a good teacher and do some coaching. Howie’s ambitions had been normal, planning to pattern his career after Mr. Flynn, who taught history at the high school he had attended in Santa Fe. How long ago had that been? But now it was totally impossible. He shook his head, clearing the memory and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said slowly in a voice Tory seldom heard. It was soft, well modulated, not harsh and grating the way he usually spoke.

“You would have been a good teacher,” she said, rumpling his hair.

“Me? Yeah, I could have taught them how to roll their own joints.” He scowled before returning his attention to the cigarette roller.

“Seriously,” she insisted. “I never went to college but I would have loved to have had a teacher like you. What was your favorite subject?”

“History,” he answered without lifting his eyes from the bits of leaves.

“Why? Why history? I always found it dull and boring in high school.” She had studied enough of Doctor Dayton’s sessions while typing them to understand the intricacies of getting people to talk about themselves. Usually, Howie resisted but because of their impending venture, his expansive mood might allow her to probe. She liked him even better this way.

“That’s where I found it all at in school.”

“I don’t understand,” she pressed.

“I liked all the rats in history.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

“Sure I do. I found them interesting. Only good thing about stir was the prison library. Spent most of my free time there, reading a lot.” He stacked the cigarettes to one side.

“What did you read?” she asked, helping him clean the table.

“World War II mostly. No good, analytical works were available on Korea or ‘Nam. Besides, there weren’t any nasty heavies in those two like there were in World War II. You know, Mussolini, Hitler, Tojo. And don’t forget the traitors and all those characters. Lord Haw Haw, Axis Sally, Tokyo Rose. Real neat people!”

He stood and returned the small machine to the closet. Laying four cigarettes on the table, he put the rest in the bottom drawer where the others were hidden. “Just remember, when this shit is gone, that’s it. We’re straight.”

Tory lit two joints, handing one to him.

Taking a drag, Howie held the smoke in his lungs for several seconds before allowing it to flow from his nostrils. “Good shit,” he muttered, motioning Tory to take his hand. He gripped it tightly, pulling her to the bed. “Let’s smoke up and then fuck.”

The next day, Tory began making photostats of every page she typed, placing them in a large manila envelope on which she had written an address and affixed postage, to allay any suspicion on the doctor’s part, should he become curious. If he said anything, she would simply tell him it was something of hers she had to mail on the way home. If he ever did ask, she would have to devise another method of concealing the stolen information.

By Thursday night, Howie was angry since the last four days had offered no one who could be considered blackmail subjects. Tory’s efforts revealed patients well on their way to conquering their neuroses, past the stage of exposing hidden facts that could be used by Howie.

When Friday’s work was finished, Tory realized the day had not been different from the rest of the week. Before leaving, she opened the appointment book, running her scarlet nail down the list of names. Monday, May 18, Jon Ward, 3 PM. A new patient. Maybe he would be different from the others. On Tuesday, Mrs. Nelumbo was scheduled to come in. And later in the week, Sterling Tilden had an appointment. If she recalled correctly, Sterling Tilden had the type of problem that would appeal to Howie.

She closed the book. Next week would have to be better or Howie would become more than angry. And that she did not want to happen. Not when the possibility of a fortune seemed to be within their grasp.