always say enemies give a little salt to the bread of life.”
Judd tried not to wince.
“Married?”
“No,” Judd said.
“Are you a fairy?”
Judd sighed. “Look, I’ve been through all this with the police and—”
“Yeah. Only you’re payin’ me to help you,” Moody said, unperturbed. “Owe anybody any money?”
“Just the normal monthly bills.”
“What about your patients?”
“What about them?”
“Well, I always say if you’re lookin’ for seashells, go down to the seashore. Your patients are a lot of loonies. Right?”
“Wrong,” Judd said curtly. “They’re people with problems.”
“Emotional problems that they can’t solve themselves. Could one of them have it in for you? Oh, not for any real reason, but maybe somebody with an imaginary grievance against you.”
“It’s possible. Except for one thing. Most of my patients have been under my care for a year or more. In that length of time I’ve gotten to know them as well as one human being can know another.”
“Don’t they never get mad at you?” Moody asked innocently.
“Sometimes. But we’re not looking for someone who’s angry. We’re looking for a homicidal paranoiac who has murdered at least two people and has made several attempts to murder me.” He hesitated, then made himself go on. “If I have a patient like that and don’t know it, then you’re looking at the most incompetent psychoanalyst who ever lived.”
He looked up and saw Moody studying him.
“I always say first things first,” Moody said cheerfully. “The first thing we’ve gotta do is find out whether someone’s trying to knock you off, or whether you’re nuts. Right, Doc?” He broke into a broad smile, taking the offense out of his words.
“How?” Judd asked.
“Simple,” Moody said. “Your problem is, you’re standin’ at home plate strikin’ at curve balls, an’ you don’t know if anyone’s pitchin’. First we’re gonna find out if there’s a ballgame goin’ on; then we’re gonna find out who the players are. You got a car?”
“Yes.”
Judd had forgotten about walking out and finding another private detective. He sensed now behind Moody’s bland, innocent face and his homespun maxims a quiet, intelligent capability.
“I think your nerves are shot,” Moody said. “I want you to take a little vacation.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“That’s impossible,” Judd protested. “I have patients scheduled…”
Moody brushed it aside. “Cancel them.”
“But what good—”
“Do I tell you how to run your business?” Moody asked. “When you leave here, I want you to go straight to a travel agency. Have them get you a reservation at"—he thought a moment—“Grossinger’s. That’s a pretty drive up through the Catskills… Is there a garage in the apartment building where you live?”
“Yes.”
“OK. Tell them to service your car for the trip. You don’t want to have any breakdowns on the road.”
“Couldn’t I do this next week? Tomorrow is a full—”
“After you make your reservation, you’re going back to your office and call all your patients. Tell them you’ve had an emergency and you’ll be back in a week.”
“I really can’t,” Judd said. “It’s out of the—”
“You’d better call Angeli, too,” Moody continued. “I don’t want the police hunting for you while you’re gone.”
“Why am I doing this?” Judd asked.
“To protect your fifty dollars. That reminds me. I’m gonna need another two hundred for a retainer. Plus fifty a day and expenses.”
Moody hauled his large bulk up out of the big rocker. “I want you to get a nice early start tomorrow,” he said, “so you can get up there before dark. Can you leave about seven in the morning?”
“I…I suppose so. What will I find when I get up there?”
“With a little luck, a scorecard.”
Five minutes later Judd was thoughtfully getting into his car. He had told Moody that he could not go
Judd tried not to wince.
“Married?”
“No,” Judd said.
“Are you a fairy?”
Judd sighed. “Look, I’ve been through all this with the police and—”
“Yeah. Only you’re payin’ me to help you,” Moody said, unperturbed. “Owe anybody any money?”
“Just the normal monthly bills.”
“What about your patients?”
“What about them?”
“Well, I always say if you’re lookin’ for seashells, go down to the seashore. Your patients are a lot of loonies. Right?”
“Wrong,” Judd said curtly. “They’re people with problems.”
“Emotional problems that they can’t solve themselves. Could one of them have it in for you? Oh, not for any real reason, but maybe somebody with an imaginary grievance against you.”
“It’s possible. Except for one thing. Most of my patients have been under my care for a year or more. In that length of time I’ve gotten to know them as well as one human being can know another.”
“Don’t they never get mad at you?” Moody asked innocently.
“Sometimes. But we’re not looking for someone who’s angry. We’re looking for a homicidal paranoiac who has murdered at least two people and has made several attempts to murder me.” He hesitated, then made himself go on. “If I have a patient like that and don’t know it, then you’re looking at the most incompetent psychoanalyst who ever lived.”
He looked up and saw Moody studying him.
“I always say first things first,” Moody said cheerfully. “The first thing we’ve gotta do is find out whether someone’s trying to knock you off, or whether you’re nuts. Right, Doc?” He broke into a broad smile, taking the offense out of his words.
“How?” Judd asked.
“Simple,” Moody said. “Your problem is, you’re standin’ at home plate strikin’ at curve balls, an’ you don’t know if anyone’s pitchin’. First we’re gonna find out if there’s a ballgame goin’ on; then we’re gonna find out who the players are. You got a car?”
“Yes.”
Judd had forgotten about walking out and finding another private detective. He sensed now behind Moody’s bland, innocent face and his homespun maxims a quiet, intelligent capability.
“I think your nerves are shot,” Moody said. “I want you to take a little vacation.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“That’s impossible,” Judd protested. “I have patients scheduled…”
Moody brushed it aside. “Cancel them.”
“But what good—”
“Do I tell you how to run your business?” Moody asked. “When you leave here, I want you to go straight to a travel agency. Have them get you a reservation at"—he thought a moment—“Grossinger’s. That’s a pretty drive up through the Catskills… Is there a garage in the apartment building where you live?”
“Yes.”
“OK. Tell them to service your car for the trip. You don’t want to have any breakdowns on the road.”
“Couldn’t I do this next week? Tomorrow is a full—”
“After you make your reservation, you’re going back to your office and call all your patients. Tell them you’ve had an emergency and you’ll be back in a week.”
“I really can’t,” Judd said. “It’s out of the—”
“You’d better call Angeli, too,” Moody continued. “I don’t want the police hunting for you while you’re gone.”
“Why am I doing this?” Judd asked.
“To protect your fifty dollars. That reminds me. I’m gonna need another two hundred for a retainer. Plus fifty a day and expenses.”
Moody hauled his large bulk up out of the big rocker. “I want you to get a nice early start tomorrow,” he said, “so you can get up there before dark. Can you leave about seven in the morning?”
“I…I suppose so. What will I find when I get up there?”
“With a little luck, a scorecard.”
Five minutes later Judd was thoughtfully getting into his car. He had told Moody that he could not go
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