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RBB [voiceover]: The streets of Los Angeles were just as flooded with washed-out sunlight as I remembered them being, and there were just as few pedestrians. Namagomi-chan drove -- and the sight of her in a sleeveless top made of iridescent purple silk and black harem pants, steering our rental care with her long, elegant arms made me forget my nausea for a few minutes.
We got to the headquarters of the timleary cult, an old Hollywood mansion that formerly had known such celebrity owners as Mabel Normand, Elisha Cook Jr., Shirley Booth, and Norman Fell. I had heard that Dean Martin had fallen down the front stairs, and I could well believe it. The shimmering white marble front gave me a headache to go with my minestrone-induced nausea, and I had to dig my old shades out of my jacket pocket.
NAMAGOMI: I did not know you wore sunglasses.
RBB: Only in L.A., and only on days like these. I don't want to get snowblindness right in the middle of an investigation.
RBB [voiceover]: She nodded dubiously, and we continued up the steps towards the front entrance. The door was a huge slab of mahogany, carved by a master but a master whose psychiatrists' bills probably rivaled those of Woody Allen. Obscene carvings writhed everywhere, men and women intertwined with one another in postures that I could not believe any human torso could assume. The faces of the carved figures were all curiously bland, however; there was no sign of passion or lust, just the impersonal dullness that I'd long associated with Kate Moss pictorials. I took the moment to pop two Tums tablets into my mouth and chew them before swallowing. Almost immediately, I began to feel better.
NAMAGOMI: Should we knock, or ring?
RBB: If my old pal Wulfgar were here, he would just kick down the door. Failing that, let's ring first, then knock.
RBB [voiceover]: I noticed that Namagomi was shivering again, even though it was too damn warm for March. I doffed my tweed jacket and draped it around her shoulders; it looked good on her. Hell, a burlap bag would have looked good on her. She reached out a long, tapered finger and pressed the doorbell. We jumped back as the chimes played "The Impossible Dream."
RBB: What the hell was that?
NAMAGOMI: Something from MAN OF LA MANCHA?
RBB: I know that. Who would use that song for a doorbell chime?
RBB [voiceover]: The door opened, and we gasped as we saw who awaited us in the doorway. He was big, very big, well over six feet tall, and he was big as well as tall. He was clad in a dazzling white outfit that reminded me of outtakes from GANDHI, and he wore on his head a square white hat that either was borrowed from the Nehru museum or from the local White Castle. He stared at us with two piercing gray eyes that seemed to plumb the depths of my soul. Even though I'm a skeptic, I could feel the force of the man's personality and I was halfway convinced that he was somehow gaining direct entry into my thoughts and feelings.
GNOSTICDOGMA: Yes? What dost thou want?
RBB [voiceover]: His voice was low-pitched and resonant, but there was a weird hollowness in it, as if there was nobody at home within the body before us. It was almost as if we were dealing with a robot, a conduit for a far-off person. Before I could answer, Namagomi spoke up, startling me.
NAMAGOMI: We wish to see timleary about the ... Pacific Coast coelenterates.
RBB [voiceover]: His eyes widened, just as my eyes narrowed with suspicion. I suddenly got the feeling that there was a lot more to this case than she was telling me, and knowing that your client's holding back is never a good situation to be in.
GNOSTICDOGMA: The Holy One is meditating.
RBB: The Holy One ought to meditate on this, and you ought to make him aware that he ought to see us and let us join him in meditating on this.
GNOSTICDOGMA: I will consult the Holy One.
RBB [voiceover]: He closed the door, and I cursed under my breath. I wanted to get in the building, and he had trumped me even before I had a chance to put my foot in the door. I looked at Namagomi-chan, and she had trouble meeting my gaze.
RBB: Lady, you're not telling me everything, are you?
NAMAGOMI: I will, Professor. I swear it.
RBB [voiceover]: She put her hand over her heart, and in the process drew my attention to her spectacular chest, which once again was heaving with barely suppressed emotion. Even with my tweed jacket draped over her shoulders, she was a sight to make an arthritic monk do handsprings and bay at the moon.
RBB: It's never a good idea to keep things back when you're depending on me for help.
NAMAGOMI: I know, but you must trust me, for just a little while longer.
RBB [voiceover]: That sentence froze my blood. I remembered that every time I'd heard it before, somebody ended up dead, unpleasantly and bloodily dead, and I was always in the fix of looking responsible. Just as I was coming up with a bitter retort, the door swung open.
GNOSTICDOGMA: The Holy One will see you in his solarium. Please to remove your shoes; this is holy ground.
RBB [voiceover]: We took off our shoes, which I didn't like one bit, and walked through the house. Underfoot thick, deep-pile carpeting made it almost a pleasure to walk; I was almost glad that we had had to leave our shoes behind. Almost, but not quite -- it meant that we'd have the devil of a time getting away if we had to. Light flooded the mansion from huge skylights and picture-windows. Lining each hallway were priceless artifacts from ancient civilizations around the world -- Greek black-figure and red-figure amphorae, Roman sculptures, Chinese vases, and Mayan and Incan statues. Whoever this timleary was, he was raking in the cash and throwing it around as if there would be no tomorrow. Finally, our escort opened the door to a gigantic, airy room. He bowed slowly and deeply, prostrating himself upon the floor.
GNOSTICDOGMA: O, Holy One, it is the Professor and the Biologist come to meditate with Thee.
timleary: Send them in, khitmutghar, send them straight in to me.
RBB [voiceover]: I was disgusted -- the guy was ripping off Arthur Conan Doyle for his first line. But, as I brushed past the big guy and strode into the room, I saw something that made my eyes bug out and my jaw sag open.
timleary was levitating, three feet off the floor. He had folded himself into the lotus position, and his face was serene and unlined, under a shock of barely-combed but elegant white hair. He actually looked like his namesake, but his eyes were unclouded by pharmaceuticals and at peace.
timleary: So, Professor Bernstein. We meet at last. I have heard much of you, and I have read three of your books. So, Namagomi-chan. We meet again. You have questions.
RBB [voiceover]: Namagomi-chan was looking in awe at him as if he had read her thoughts, but I was having none of it.
RBB: Of course she has questions. Why would she come to see you if she didn't have questions? She's not a Hollywood type with a hollow-eggshell where her brain case should be.
timleary: Ah, you are pleased to jest, Professor. I do like dealing with a man with a sense of humor. It is one of the great gifts of the Spirits to poor, impoverished humankind.
RBB: Enough of the New Age stuff, timleary. Namagomi-chan has a hole in her life, and the only clue we have to filling that hole is your name.
NAMAGOMI: But --
RBB [voiceover]: I grabbed her arm and squeezed hard. I did not want to give anything away unless I absolutely had to; it was his turn to show some cards before either of us showed him any more.
timleary: We all have holes in our lives, Professor. You have a rather painful one. Her name is --
RBB: None of your goddamned business! Namagomi-chan has a hole in her memories; she lost some time out of her life, and the only clue we have is your name. Not the LSD guy whom you resemble -- *your* name, all one word, no caps.
timleary: Indeed. That is most interesting. And you think that somehow I can help this poor child recover her memories of that lost time?
RBB: I'd bet on it.
NAMAGOMI-CHAN: Yes, Holy One.
RBB [voiceover]: She had wrested free of my grip, and now she took off my tweed jacket. She made a real production number out of it, and I was breathing heavily. Then she sank, slowly and gracefully, into a full-length salaam on the floor. It was one of the most erotic things I'd ever seen. My mouth was dry, and I had to dig my fingernails into my palm to keep my composure. A woman like that, salaamed at *my* feet? How would *I* react? I tore my eyes away from Namagomi-chan and stared at timleary. I could not believe what I was seeing. No reaction. None at all.
timleary: My child, arise. There is no need for such fulsome display of reverence. I will help you.
RBB [voiceover]: As Namagomi-chan arose, as elegantly and arousingly as she had thrown herself at his feet, I saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Almost without realizing it, I pulled my tweed jacket back on.
NAMAGOMI-CHAN: You are too kind to this unworthy person.
RBB [voiceover]: He motioned her forward and, at his gesture, she stepped closer to him and assumed the lotus position on the floor. He began to murmur in a language that I recognized as Cherokee. Then, to my utter astonishment, she began to rise into the air until she, too, was floating three feet off the floor. Her eyes slowly closed, and she began to breathe deeply, calmly. The odor of jasmine filled the room, and I didn't know what to think.
I looked over at the big guy, and he was standing, arms folded, with an impassive stare. If I hadn't been looking for it, I would have missed it. But I was looking for it. I didn't believe in levitation, and I knew that something was wrong. I saw the glint of wires in the air above Namagomi-chan. She was being held aloft, which meant that I was being scammed and that she was in on it.
I'd had enough. I didn't like scams, and I didn't like clients who held out on me, and I didn't like fakers. They were in something together, and I wasn't sure how to prove it or to shake things up. Then I realized how I could do both things at once.
I reached slowly and carefully into my jacket pocket and found what I was looking for -- a leather folder that contained a pen and a notepad. Then I found my Swiss Army pocketknife in my jeans pocket. I had to do two things almost at once, and I was worried about being a klutz, but I rehearsed the actions carefully, and then I struck.
With my left hand holding the open knife, I swept at the guy-wire over Namagomi-chan's shoulders, while I hurled the leather folder at timleary. She tumbled to the ground with a cry of alarm, but I wasn't looking at that. I was looking with disbelief mingled with satisfaction at my folder sailing right through timleary and bouncing off the near window.
RBB: A hologram and guy wires. Some miracle man.
RBB [voiceover]: timleary suddenly vanished. The big guy let out a roar of wrath and dove for me, but he tripped over Namagomi-chan. At a calmer time I would have envied him even that much contact with her, but I was working too hard on keeping myself alive. I dove out of his way, and he kept going, right through the plate-glass window. His cry of horror was suddenly cut off by a sickening thud. I ran to the broken window and saw him lying there, his neck at an odd angle. I tried turning him over and saw that he was in bad shape. He was trying to say something, and I listened carefully.
GNOSTICDOGMA: Nothing is real ... not even timleary ...
RBB [voiceover]: Then he slumped over and died. I stared at Namagomi-chan and she stared back at me.
RBB: You were in this.
NAMAGOMI: It may look that way, but I swear to you that it is not so.
RBB: The guy wires just happened to be where you sat, and just happened to lift you with that square of carpet so they wouldn't cut into your body?
NAMAGOMI: I had to play along with them -- but they do not know that I am on your side rather than theirs.
RBB: I'm not on anybody's side; I thought I was on your side.
NAMAGOMI: You are, and I am so grateful to you.
RBB [voiceover]: She rushed forward and embraced me. I was conscious of every contour of her body molded to mine, of the smell of jasmine ... and of the body at my feet.
RBB: Either we call the police right now, or we get the hell out of here.
LIONEL_COSGROVE: Neither one, pal.
RBB [voiceover]: I turned with a sad smile, for I should have known. There they were, Lieutenant Lionel Cosgrove and his colleagues of the LAPD homicide squad. I had been set up, but good.
RBB: Namagomi-chan, you delivered the package without any wasted effort. Nice job, dammit.
NAMAGOMI: No, Professor, you *must* believe me.
RBB [voiceover]: Her voice and her whole body quivered with emotion, but I had no time for that.
RBB: Then how did they get here so damn fast?
NAMAGOMI [in a broken whisper]: I do not know.
RBB [voiceover]: I figured I'd be finding that out fast enough.
[to be continued]
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