Breaking Point - Chapter 38 - Crazy Town
In which our hero is confused
The last thing I expected when Rufus, Novikov and I returned to the Mason mansion: domestic tranquility.
The woman who’d been a trigger press away from shooting me – from being shot by me – was playing cards with her father at the kitchen table.
The same father who’d watched a mad Russian come from out of nowhere and save his daughter, at the last second. The daughter of the woman frying bacon at the stove.
“Yankees,” Rufus said. “They ain’t like you and me.”
“I make Russian omelet!” Novikov cried, leaving our side to join Mrs. Mason. “Tell me please you have sour cream.”
Rufus walked over to Susan and put his hand on her shoulder.
“You OK?”
My ex-partner gave Rufus a sheepish grin, glanced at me, then returned her attention to her cards, unable or unwilling to make eye contact.
I backed out of the kitchen and called Lisa. She was less than thrilled to learn how close her favorite police officer had come to being perforated.
“And then Novikov asked if they have sour cream,” I concluded. “Can you believe it?”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Do they have sour cream?”
“That’s what you want to know?”
“I’ll be right over.”
Back in the kitchen, Novikov was chopping green onions. I lingered by the door, struggling to process the scene.
“You hypnotized George Sprague for smoking,” Rufus said to Novikov casually.
“Da. Big man. Big smoker. Good subject.”
“What about Mrs. Wilkes, Mr. Cope, Mr. Sprague and Senator Sheldon?” Rufus pressed.
“Nyet,” Novikov said, scraping onions into a bright red bowl. “Sheldon I see on TV.”
“And the others?
“Maybe they use different name?”
Rufus pulled out his phone and paged through the victims’ photographs. The hypnotist shook his head at each photo. I walked up to the pair.
“What about Susan?” I asked suspiciously.
“First time I see girl. Very beautiful. She married?” Novikov asked, loud enough for Susan and her father to hear.
“Can someone be hypnotized to kill themself?” I asked.
“Excuse me John,” Mrs. Mason said, delivering a shot glass to the hypnotist.
“Na Zdorovie!” Novikov said, toasting us before downing the liquid and handing the glass back to Mrs. Mason, raising his eyebrows to ask for a refill.
“Professor?” I prompted.
“Not impossible,” Novikov said, breaking eggs into a bright red bowl. "If subject is somnambulist like you.”
Not the words I wanted to hear.
“You have, what do you call it?” Novikov asked Mrs. Mason. “Thing to hit eggs.”
I motioned Rufus to follow me into the living room.
“I’m confused,” I admitted. “What the hell’s happening here?”
“Breakfast,” Rufus said, looking into the kitchen.
“We really going to let Novikov hypnotize Susan?”
“It’s not standard protocol, I’ll give you that.”
“Are you listening to me?”
“What the worst that can happen?” Rufus said, turning to face me. “I’m starving.”
Stately chimes echoed through the house. Susan emerged from the kitchen, brushed past us and opened the door.
Lisa stood in the doorway wearing her puffer jacket and a face that said she was none too pleased that her boyfriend had ignored her advice to stay in bed.
Lisa hugged Susan.
“I’m so sorry,” Susan gasped, burying her head into Lisa’s shoulders. “I swear I didn’t want to hurt John!”
Aside from our little tête-à-tête at Susan’s apartment, that is.
Maybe she’d been hypnotized to attack me then. Maybe not. Either way, it wasn’t the best time to open that can of worms.
“It’s not your fault,” Lisa said. “And John’s OK.”
Susan finally looked at me. My mock salute elicited the tiniest of smiles, reminding me of the wet-behind-the-ears rookie I once knew.
Lisa walked into the kitchen and handed Susan’s mother a tub of sour cream. Lisa removed her hat and coat and blessed me with a warm hug and a deep kiss.
“If you weren’t physically gifted…” she teased.
The newly formed “hypnotic crime team” gathered around the kitchen table. Mrs. Mason served-up the breakfast and poured us coffee.
Rufus recapped the bombing and suicides as he wolfed down Novikov’s omelette. His rundown sounded like a pitch meeting for a Twilight Zone episode.
Mr. Mason asked Novikov a few questions about hypnosis. Novikov answered in between shots of vodka – which Mr. Mason shared more than once.
“We’re facing a psychotic killer who knows how to get into people’s heads and make them kill themselves,” Rufus summarized, laying his knife and fork on his empty plate.
“And kill others,” Lisa said, making sure that I got the message.
“None of us are safe until we take him down,” Rufus agreed, looking at each of us in turn
“Let’s do it,” Susan said.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I averred.
“That’s what people always say just before the shit hits the fan,” Rufus joked, doing nothing to ease the tension.
We moved to the living room.
Perched in one of the two wingback chairs, Susan looked like a small child waiting for a doctor’s exam. Lisa and the Masons sat on the couch. Rufus settled into the chair opposite. I stood by the fireplace.
“Look away Mr. Police Man,” Novikov instructed, removing his pocket watch from his vest pocket.
I didn’t need to be told twice.
“Susan,” Novikov said, presumably swinging his watch. “Watch watch… Eyes are tired. Heavy… Tired… Sleepy.”
Novikov kept at it for 30 seconds. Susan’s eyes remained open. The Professor jerked the pocket watch chain upwards and caught the timepiece in the palm of his hand.
“Nyet.”
“Hello?” Rufus said. “You hypnotized her in her room?”
“Oh yes. Sorry. Don’t worry little rabbit partner,” he said, smiling at me. “No finger snap, no hypnosis for you.”
“SLEEP!”
Despite the warning, all of us jumped. Susan’s eyes snapped shut. Novikov lifted her right arm by her thumb and made clockwise circles with her arm.
“You are going deeper,” Novikov said, making a complete circle with each ‘deeper’. “When I drop arm, you drop into deepest hypnosis.”
Novikov held Susan’s arm high, waited for her out-breath and then let it drop. He repeated the process with her left arm.
“Go back to last time someone made you like this. Before room upstairs. Where are you?.”
“An office,” came Susan’s sleepy reply.
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who else is there?”
“Someone.”
“You see them, yes?”
“Yes.”
“What is name?”
“I can’t say,” Susan whispered, her face frowning.
“Say name,” Novikov insisted.
Susan shook her head.
Novikov pursed his lips and sighed.
“If I touch shoulder I talk to you. If no, you hear nothing… Name is blocked by hypnotist,” Novikov announced.
“Now what?” Rufus asked.
“How do we know you didn’t block her memory?” I asked pointedly.
Novikov rolled his eyes.
The frustration in the room was palpable. Lisa rose from the couch to whisper something into the hypnotist’s ear. Novikov smiled.
“Clever girl,” he said with a devilish smile.
Lisa winked at me and returned to the sofa.
“You!” Novikov said, ordering me to his side, positioning me directly in front of Susan. “Stand here. You are evil hypnotist.”
Novikov touched Susan’s shoulder.
“I count to three,” Novikov said, facing the room as he would an audience. “On number three, open eyes. You are in office. The person who hypnotize you before me is there. One, two, three!”
Susan’s eyes opened. We all waited. Novikov elbowed me.
“Say something,” he prompted.
“Hello Susan.”
“Hi,” Susan said, smiling.
She was looking at me. Was she seeing someone else?
“Tell her you dropped your wallet,” Novikov said sotto voce.
“Susan, I dropped my wallet. Can you get it for me please."
Susan reached down, picked up an imaginary wallet and handed it to me. I’m as good at pantomime as I am at clarinet, but I did my best.
Staring at my empty hands, I suddenly understood Lisa’s strategy. Novikov looked at me and nodded, pleased but not surprised that I’d figured it out. Lisa leaned forward.
“Huh,” I said, taking an imaginary card out of my imaginary wallet. “They misspelled my name on my license.”
“Did they?” Susan asked.
“Read it to me,” I instructed handing the invisible license. “Letter by letter.”
Susan looked at her hand.
“K-I-L-R-O-Y”
Didn’t want to guess before, but I liked the foreshadowing of this…
Thanks, maestro!