The Interpretation Of Murder (42 page)

    'No. It's true. But I have to leave
here.'

    'Do you think I'm a fool?' I asked,
knowing the answer was yes. 'If you were in danger of being locked up, you
would refuse to leave.'

    'I can't stay the night here. Mr
Banwell will find out eventually. The servants may wire from town this
evening.'

    'So what?' I asked.

    'He will come to kill me,' she said.

    I laughed dismissively, but she
merely looked up at me. I examined her lying blue eyes as deeply as I could.
Either she believed what she was saying, or she was the best prevaricator I'd
ever seen - which I already knew to be the case. 'You are making a fool of me
again,' I said, 'but I'm going to believe you mean what you say. Banwell knows
you named him as your assailant; perhaps you have reason to fear him, even
though you invented the attack. In any event, all the more reason I should take
you home.'

    'I can't go like this,' she said,
looking down at her torn dress. 'I'll find something of Clara's.'

    As she neared the doorway, I called out
to her. 'Why did you bring me here?'

    At eight-thirty Friday evening,
Sigmund Freud responded to a knock at his hotel room door. He was dressed in a
bathrobe, with dinner trousers, white shirt, and black tie beneath it. Outside
his door was a tall young man, looking both physically and morally exhausted.

    'Younger, there you are,' said Freud.
'My goodness, you look terrible.'

    Stratham Younger made no reply. Freud
could see immediately that something had happened to him. But Freud's store of
sympathy was greatly depleted. The boy's dishevelment signified for him the
general disarray into which things had descended since his arrival in New York.
Must every American be involved in some kind of disaster? Couldn't at least one
of them keep his shirt tucked in?

    'I came to see how you were, sir,'
said Younger.

    'Apart from having lost both my
digestion and my most important follower, I am quite well, thank you,' replied
Freud. 'The cancelation of my lectures at your university will of course also
be a source of satisfaction. Altogether a most successful journey to your
country.'

    'Did Brill go to the
Times,
sir?' asked Younger. 'Did he find out if the article is genuine?'

    'Yes. It is genuine,' Freud said.
'Jung gave the interview.'

    'I will go to President Hall
tomorrow, Dr Freud. I read the article. It is gossip, anonymous gossip. I am
sure I can persuade Hall not to cancel. Jung says nothing against you.'

    'Nothing against me?' Freud laughed
derisively, recollecting his last exchange with Jung. 'He has repudiated
Oedipus. He has rejected the sexual aetiology. He denies even that a man's
childhood experiences are the source of his neuroses. As a result, your medical
establishment has thrown its weight behind him, rather than me. And your
President Hall apparently intends to follow suit.'

    The two men remained at the threshold
of Freud's hotel room, one on either side. Freud did not invite Younger in.
Neither spoke.

    Younger broke the silence. 'I was
twenty-two when I first read your work, sir. The moment I read it, I knew the
world would never be the same. Yours are the most important ideas of the
century. America is hungry for them. I am certain of it.'

    Freud opened his mouth to answer, but
his reply died on his lips. He softened. 'You're a good boy, Younger,' he said,
sighing. 'I'm sorry. As for hunger, I should not stake too much on it: a hungry
man will eat anything. Speaking of which, we are going to Brill's again for
dinner. Ferenczi is just on his way. You'll join us?'

    'I can't,' Younger replied. 'I
wouldn't be able to keep my eyes open.'

    'For heaven's sake, what have you
been doing all this time?' asked Freud.

    'It would be hard to describe my last
twenty-four hours, sir. Most recently, I have been with Miss Acton.'

    'I see.' Freud observed that Younger
hoped to be asked in, but he did not feel up to it. In fact Freud felt as
exhausted as Younger looked. 'Well, you will tell me all about it tomorrow.'

    'Tomorrow - right,' Younger replied,
making to leave.

    Perceiving Younger's disappointment,
Freud added, 'Ah, I meant to tell you. Clara Banwell, we must think about her.'

    'Sir?'

    'All family life is organized around
the most damaged person in it. We know that Nora has essentially substituted
the Banwells for her own parents. The question then becomes which person in
this constellation has suffered the greatest psychological injuries.'

    'You think it might be Mrs Banwell?'

    'We mustn't assume that it is Nora.
Mrs Banwell is a compelling figure, as narcissists often are, but the men in
her life have undoubtedly mistreated her in some profound way. Her husband,
certainly. You heard what she said.'

    'Yes,' said Younger. 'She told me
more about that.'

    'At Jelliffe's?'

    'No, sir. I spoke with her again at
Miss Acton's.'

    'I see,' said Freud, raising an
eyebrow. 'I expect it is to her that we can credit Nora's learning that Mrs
Banwell had performed fellatio on her father.'

    'I beg your pardon?'

    'You remember,' said Freud. He closed
his eyes and, without opening them, recited the exchange he and Younger had had
on this subject two days earlier, beginning with his own words: '"Do you
not find anything strange in Nora's assertion that, when she saw Mrs Banwell
with her father, she didn't understand at the time exactly what she was
witnessing?" "Most American girls of fourteen are ill- informed on
that point, Dr Freud." "I appreciate that, but that is not what I
meant. She implied that she
now
understood what she had witnessed, did
she not?'"

    Younger stared. 'You have a
phonographic memory, sir?'

    'Yes. A useful skill for an analyst.
You should cultivate it. I used to be able to recall conversations for months,
but now it is only days. At any rate, I think you will find that it was Mrs
Banwell herself who educated Nora about the nature of the act. I suspect she
has taken the girl into her confidence, enlisting her sympathy. Otherwise
Nora's feelings for her are inexplicable.'

    'Nora's feelings for Mrs Banwell,'
Younger repeated.

    'Come, my boy, think of it. Instead
of hating Mrs Banwell as she ought to have done, Nora has essentially accepted
her as a mother substitute. This means that Mrs Banwell found a way to form a
special bond with the girl, a remarkable achievement under the circumstances.
Almost certainly, she confided her forbidden erotic secrets to Nora - a
favorite means by which women achieve intimacy.'

    'I see,' said Younger, glassily.

    'Do you? It has undoubtedly made
things harder for Nora. And it indicates a lack of scruple on Mrs Banwell's
part as well. A woman will not confide such things in a girl whom she intends
to keep innocent. Well, I can see there is something you wish to tell me, but
you are too tired. It would do no good to speak of it now. We'll talk tomorrow.
Go take your rest.'

    Smith Ely Jelliffe sang an aria as he
strolled into the Balmoral a little after eleven on Friday night. Tipping the
doormen lavishly, he informed them, quite without having been asked, that he
had spent the evening at the Metropolitan, in the company of a feminine
creature of the best kind - the kind who knew how to occupy herself during an
opera. His face shining, Jelliffe looked like a man convinced of the largeness
of his own soul.

    His glow was dimmed somewhat by the
appearance of a young man in a threadbare suit blocking his path to the
elevator. It was dimmed several shades further when the young man identified
himself as a police detective.

    'You're Harry Thaw's doctor, aren't
you, Dr Jelliffe?' asked Littlemore.

    'Are you aware of the hour, my good
man?' replied Jelliffe.

    'Just answer the question.'

    'Mr Thaw is under my care,' Jelliffe
acknowledged. 'Everyone knows that. It has been widely reported.'

    'Was he under your care,' pursued
Littlemore, 'here in town last weekend?'

    'I don't know what you're talking
about,' said Jelliffe.

    'Sure you don't,' the detective
replied, beckoning to a girl who, ostentatiously attired, was waiting on a
leather sofa at the other end of the marble lobby. Greta now approached.
Littlemore asked her if she recognized Jelliffe.

    'It's him, all right,' said Greta.
'Dr Smith. Came with Harry and left with him.'

    That afternoon, before calling on the
mayor, the detective had returned to his office, reread the trial transcript,
and found Jelliffe testifying that Thaw was insane. When he saw in the
transcript that Jelliffe's first name was Smith, he put two and two together.
'So, Dr Smith,' said Littlemore. 'Want to come clean here - or downtown?'

    The detective did not have to wait
long for a confession. 'It wasn't my decision at all,' Jelliffe blurted out.
'It was Dana's. Dana was in charge.'

    Littlemore told Jelliffe to take them
to his apartment. When they entered Jelliffe's ornate foyer, the detective
nodded appreciatively. 'Boy, you got a lot to lose, Dr Smith,' Littlemore said.
'So you brought Thaw into town last weekend? How'd you do it, bribe the guards'

    'Yes, but it was Dana's decision, not
mine,' Jelliffe insisted.

    He dropped heavily into a chair at
his dining table. 'I only did what he said we should.'

    Littlemore stared down at him. 'Was
it your idea to take him to Susie's?'

    'Thaw chose the house, not me.
Please, Detective. It was a medical necessity. A healthy man can be driven
insane at a place like Matteawan. Surrounded by lunatics. Deprived of normal
physical outlets.'

    'But Thaw
is
insane,' said
Littlemore. 'That's why he's in the loony bin.'

    'He is not insane. He is highly
strung,' responded Jelliffe. 'He has a nervous temperament. No good is done by
shutting up such a man.'

    'Too bad you told them the opposite
at the trial,' remarked Littlemore. 'This wasn't the first time you brought
Thaw into town, was it? You had him here about a month ago, didn't you?'

    'No, I swear it,' said Jelliffe.
'This was the first time.'

    'Sure it was,' answered Littlemore.
'And how did Thaw know Elsie Sigel?'

    Jelliffe denied ever having heard of
Elsie Sigel until he read about her in the papers yesterday afternoon.

    'When you took Thaw to Susie's,'
Littlemore went on, 'did you know what he liked to do to girls? Was that a
medical necessity too?'

    Jelliffe hung his head. 'I had heard
of his proclivities,' he mumbled, 'but I thought we had resolved them.'

    'Uh-huh,' said Littlemore. The
detective looked with disgust at Jelliffe's manicured fingernails gripping his
immense waist.

    'Before you went to Susie's that
night, when you had Thaw here at your apartment, how long was he out of your
sight? Did you leave him by himself? Did he go out? What happened?'

    'Here?' said Jelliffe, anxious and
confused. 'I would never have brought the man here.'

    'Don't play with me, Smith. I got
plenty enough already to make you an accessory to murder - before the fact and
after.'

    'Murder?' asked Jelliffe. 'Dear God.
It can't be. There was no murder.'

    'A girl was killed right here in this
building last Sunday night, the same night you had Thaw in your apartment.'

    Jelliffe's face was pale. 'No,' he
said. 'Thaw came into the city Saturday night. I took the train to Matteawan
with him myself Sunday morning. He was there Sunday and Monday as well. You can
ask Dana. You can check the records at Matteawan. They'll prove it.'

    Jelliffe's desperation sounded
sincere, but Littlemore had contradictory evidence. 'Nice try, Smith,' he said,
'but I've got a half dozen girls who put you and Thaw at Susie's last Sunday.
Isn't that right, Greta?'

    'Yeah,' said Greta. 'Around one or
two Sunday morning. Just like I told you.'

    Littlemore froze. 'Wait a minute,
wait a minute. Do you mean Saturday night or Sunday?'

    'Saturday night - Sunday morning -
same difference' was Greta's answer.

    'Greta,' said the detective, 'I need to
be sure about this.

    When did Thaw come in, Saturday night
or Sunday night?'

    'Saturday night,' said Greta. 'I
don't work Sunday nights.'

    Littlemore was once more at a loss. The
Thaw connection had loomed up again like a ten-ton sure thing. Everything
pointed to it. But now Thaw was at Susie's the wrong night - the night before.
'I'm going to check those hospital records,' Littlemore said to Jelliffe, 'and
you better hope you're right. Come on, Greta. We're going.'

    Jelliffe, swallowing, hiked himself
up in his chair. 'I should think you owe me an apology, Detective,' he said.

    'Maybe,' said Littlemore. 'But if you
ask me for it again, you'll do one to five at Sing Sing for conspiring in the
escape of a state prisoner. Not to mention never practicing medicine again.'