The witching hour - By Anne Rice Page 0,308

at last become impatient and refused to talk to the investigators anymore.

“As I said good-bye to this gentleman,” he wrote in his report, “I knew for certain that I was being watched. It was no more than a feeling, yet it was a profound one. And I sensed that it was connected to Stuart’s disappearance, though I myself had made no inquiry regarding Stuart of any person at the hotel.

“At this point I was sorely tempted to roam the premises, seeking to detect some latent indication of Stuart’s having been in this or that room. But I was also deeply convinced that Stuart had not met with foul play in this hotel. On the contrary, the people who were watching me, indeed, taking note of my movements and what I did, were doing so only because someone had paid them to do it. I decided to contact Stella Mayfair at once.”

Langtry rang Stella from his room. Though it was past four o’clock, she had obviously only just awakened when she answered her private phone. Only reluctantly did she allow the subject to be reopened. And it soon became obvious that she was genuinely upset.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to him!” she said, and again began to cry. “I liked him. I really did. He was such a strange man. We went to bed, you know.”

Langtry couldn’t think of a thing to say to such a frank admission. Even her disembodied voice proved somewhat charming. And he was convinced that her tears were real.

“Well, we did,” she continued, undaunted. “I took him to some awful little place in the Quarter. I told the police about it. Anyway, I liked him, very very much! I told him not to come around this family. I told him! He had the most peculiar ideas about things. He didn’t know anything. I told him to go away. Maybe he did go away. That is what I thought happened, you know, that he simply took my advice and went away.”

Langtry implored her to help him discover what had happened. He explained that he was a colleague of Townsend’s, that they had known each other very well.

“Colleague? You mean you’re part of that group.”

“Yes, if you mean the Talamasca … ”

“Shhh, listen to me. Whoever you are, you can come on up here if you like. But do it tomorrow night. I’m giving a party, you see. You can just well, sort of blend in. If anyone asks you who you are, which they probably won’t, just say Stella invited you. Ask to speak to me. But for God’s sakes don’t say anything about Townsend and don’t say the name of your … whatever you call it … ”

“Talamasca … ”

“Yes! Now please listen to what I’m saying. There’ll be hundreds of people there, white tie to rags, you know, and do be discreet. Just come up to me, and when you kiss me, whisper your name in my ear. What is it again?”

“Langtry. Arthur.”

“Hmmmm. Unhuh. Right. That’s simple enough to remember, isn’t it? Now, do be careful. I can’t stay on any longer. You will come, won’t you? Look, you must come!”

Langtry averred that nothing could keep him away. He asked her if she remembered the photograph on which she’d written “To the Talamasca, with love, Stella! P.S. There are others who watch, too.”

“Of course I remember it. Look, I can’t talk to you about this right now. It was years and years ago, when I wrote that note. My mother was alive then. Look, you can’t imagine how bad things are for me now. I’ve never been in a worse jam. And I don’t know what happened to Stuart, really I don’t. Look, will you please come tomorrow night?”

“Yes, I shall,” said Langtry, struggling silently to determine whether or not he was being lured into some sort of trap. “But why must we be so circumspect about the whole arrangement, I don’t … ”

“Darling, look,” she said, dropping her voice, “it’s all very nice about your organization, and your library and all your marvelous psychic investigations. But don’t be a perfect fool. Ours is not a world of séances and mediums and dead relatives telling you to look between the pages of the Bible for the deed to the property on Eighth Street or whatever. As for the voodoo nonsense, that was a perfect scream. And by the way, we do not have any Scottish ancestors. We were all French. My Uncle Julien made