That was the way the incident ended. It was the way a dozen similar ones ended during the next few months. He gave in, and with each giving in her charm became thinner, the pretense of affection a leaner shadow. Why bother with charm, with pretending something she was incapable of feeling? It was easier and more to her taste simply to raise hell.
Still, Toddy couldn't understand; he refused to understand. She'd married him. Why had she done that unless she loved him? He wouldn't accept the contemptuous explanation she gave-that marriage, even to a chump like him, was better than working. She couldn't mean that. How could she when he'd done nothing to hurt her and was willing to do anything he could to help her? The fact that she'd make such a statement was proof that she was seriously ill. And so Toddy took her to a couple of psychiatrists.
The first had offices in his own building on Wilshire Boulevard, and he charged fifty dollars for a thirty-minute consultation. He allowed Toddy to spend one hundred and fifty with him before curtly advising him to spend no more.
"Your wife is not an alcoholic, Mr. Kent," he said. "In alcoholic circles she is what is known as, to speak plainly, a gutter drunk. A degenerate. She could stop drinking any time she chose to. She does not choose to. She is too selfish. In a way, you are fortunate; she might have had a penchant for murder. If she had, she would probably pursue it as relentlessly as this will to drink."
The opinion of the second psychiatrist coincided pretty largely with that of the first, but he was longer in arriving at it. He spent much more time talking to Toddy than to Elaine, usually detaining him for an hour or so after each consultation. Toddy didn't mind. The guy was obviously a square shooter and interesting to talk to.
"Toddy," he said quietly one afternoon, the last afternoon they talked together, "why do you stick with her anyway? I've told you she's no good. I'm sure you must know it's the truth. Why continue a relationship that can only end in one way?"
"I don't know that she's no good," said Toddy. "I know that she needs help, that I'm the only person-"
"She doesn't need help. She's been helped too much. She got along most of her life without you, and she can get along very well without you for the rest of it. The Elaines of this world have a peculiar talent for survival."
"Put it this way, then," said Toddy. "I married her for better or for worse. I'm not going to pull out-and, no, I'm not going to let her- just because things don't break quite the way I think they should."
The psychiatrist nodded seriously. "Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "We're approaching your real reason, at last. Let's examine it and see how it stands up. Your parents were divorced and your mother remarried. From then on, until you ran away, you lived in hell. The experience gave you an undying hatred of divorce. You made up your mind that you'd never do what your parents had done. All right. I can understand that attitude. But,"-he pointed with his pipe stem-"it's ridiculous to maintain it in this present case. You're married to a virtual maniac. You haven't any children. Now stop living with the past, and use that intelligence I know you have."
"I-" Toddy shook his head. "What did you mean, Doc, when you said the marriage, Elaine's and mine, could only end in one way?"
"I don't think I'll tell you. I think it would make a greater impression if you told yourself."
"How do I go about doing that?"
"Well, let's start back with the time you ran away from home. Your reason for leaving, as I remember, was that one of the barn rafters had broken and struck your stepfather. You were afraid you might be held responsible for the accident, so you ran away."
"Well?" said Toddy.
"It was an accident," said the psychiatrist, "and yet you had a package of sandwiches, a lunch, all prepared. You were able to get away just in time to catch the evening freight out of town. – .. That, Toddy, is just about the most opportune accident I ever heard of."
Toddy looked blank for a moment; then he grinned.
"And so on down the line," the psychiatrist sighed. "You're easy to get along with; you'll suffer a great deal before you act. If you'd been treated fairly by your stepfather or the county attorney or that gambling house proprietor in Reno or the detective in Fort Worth or… But that isn't important. It's not what I'm talking about."
"What are you talking about?"
"You must know, Toddy: the fact that you can't admit the things you've done, even to yourself. At heart you're what you'd call a Square John. You're peaceful. You don't ask much but to be left alone and leave others alone. That's your basic pattern-and life hasn't let you follow that pattern. You've been forced into one situation after another where your strong sense of justice has impelled you to acts which were hateful to you…
"Get away from Elaine, Toddy. Get away and stay away. Before you kill her."
11
The chinless man chuckled softly and massaged his hands. "I present my proposition a little too fast, eh? It was not what you expected. I must apologize, incidentally, for the manner in which you were induced to return here. It seemed necessary. It was important that I talk to you, and I felt you might not respond to a simple request to call…"
He waited, beaming, apparently for Toddy to make some polite disclaimer. Toddy didn't. For the moment, at least, he was incapable of saying or doing anything.
"As you can see," Chinless continued, "I mean you no harm. Quite the contrary, in fact. Despite the perhaps regrettable preliminaries of our meeting, I mean to benefit you-and, of course, to benefit myself. I would like to have you believe that, Mr. Kent; that I hold nothing but the friendliest feelings toward you."
He paused again, his beady black eyes fixed on Toddy's.
"Well…" said Toddy; and his head moved in a vague half-nod.
"Good!" said the man promptly. "Now we will go into the matter in detail, take up details in their proper order. First of all, my name is Alvarado; I am known by that name. You, of course, are Todd or Toddy Kent… also known as T. Jameson Kent, Toddmore Kent, Kent Todd and various other aliases. As you can see, I took the liberty of looking into your record after your visit here this afternoon. It interested me very much. It is largely why I have prevailed upon you to make this second visit."
"I-" Toddy swallowed. "I see."
"As you have probably observed," Alvarado went on, leaning forward earnestly, "extra-legal careers seldom attract the type of men which their successful pursuit demands. A willingness to flout often-foolish laws, yes-that characteristic is so common as to be unnoteworthy. But much more than that is required. Such men as yourself are indeed rare. I do not flatter you, Mr. Kent, when I say that some episodes in your past reflect positive genius."
Toddy nodded again, his tense nerves relaxing a little.
"You find the dog disturbing, Mr. Kent? You need not. He is a working dog-quite harmless, actually, unless ordered to be otherwise."
"I was just wondering," said Toddy, "how you found out so much about me so fast."
"Nothing could have been simpler. A description of you, and a generous retainer, naturally, to one of the better private detectives. A brief check at the city license bureau. Then a few cautious long-distance calls here and there. By the way, Mr. Kent"-Alvarado chuckled-"I should not show myself around Chicago, if I were you."