first time she showed a human hesitation. Then: “She wasn’t a lesbian, or anything. But—” She’d thought about it, and now resumed her concise, clinical manner. “But she certainly wasn’t excessively feminine, if that’s what you mean. In fact, Roberta showed all the classical symptoms of a father fixation, which is of course the phase immediately preceding homosexual tendencies in girls, at least according to Freud. So, in that sense, you’re right; she wasn’t terribly feminine. But—”
“How do you mean, ‘father fixation’?”
She paused and surveyed me with her cool, thoughtful eyes.
“Sexually,” she said, “some girls are promiscuous, without becoming involved emotionally. According to Freud, this kind of behavior means that she’s looking for a father figure to, ah, cohabit with. And, since that’s impossible, she just—keeps on. It’s one theoretical explanation for nymphomania. And, as far as that’s concerned, it’s an emotional pattern that’s very often present in prostitutes—especially prostitutes that come from the middle class.”
I sat up straighter.
“Are you telling me that Roberta Grinnel was a nymphomaniac?”
She shook her head, her manner now more guarded. “All I’m telling you is that she had a reputation for promiscuity. I’m also saying that she was an emotionally withdrawn person who had, I think, a lot of suppressed aggressions. This pattern of behavior is often associated with the Electra complex, which is roughly similar to the Oedipus in boys. That is, the causes are similar. The manifestations, obviously, are different. Of course,” she added, eyeing me narrowly, “I’ll deny I said any of this, if it’s ever printed and attributed to me.”
“Miss Stephenson,” I said with deliberate emphasis. “I’ve already told you, I’m not going to mention your name. And, certainly, I’m not going to print that Roberta Grinnel was promiscuous, even if—if Freud himself told me she was. For one thing, I’d never get it past the city desk. For another, I’d be out of a job in a day, and my paper would probably be out a million-dollar libel judgment. So you don’t have to concern yourself about it. What I’m trying to do is get some background on the kind of person she was. To try and—”
I let the thought go unfinished, because I realized she wasn’t listening. Instead, for the first time, she was looking at me with an intensely interested expression, slightly frowning, and biting at her upper lip.
“What did you say your name was?” she asked.
“Stephen Drake. I—”
“Are you the clairvoyant?”
I sighed and ran a hand across the back of my neck.
“Look, Miss Stephenson, it’s getting late, and I know you haven’t eaten. So—”
Suddenly she rose and went to the bureau, yanking open the bottom drawer. She withdrew a large box of assorted cookies, which she offered to me and then took with her as she returned to the bed, now sitting cross-legged, facing me. She seemed actually animated as she said, “You’re the one who found that little girl down in San Jose, isn’t that right?”
“Well, yes, I am. But—”
“I did a paper last year on ESP for my term seminar. I’m very interested in it. I’m especially interested in J. B. Rhine’s experiments at Duke University. I did my paper on psychokinesis. You know, the effect of the mind on the behavior of inanimate objects. I think Rhine’s studies on psychokinesis are fascinating. And, although a scientist of Rhine’s stature naturally wouldn’t presume to speculate, I’m convinced that ESP has got to be electromagnetics. Don’t you agree?”
“Well, I—”
“I mean, after all, it’s already proven that all mass is actually electromagnetism. We know that atoms are actually constructed like tiny universes, and comprised exclusively of electrical charges. So, when we examine the proposition that mental states can affect inanimate objects—the roll of the dice, for
“How do you mean, ‘father fixation’?”
She paused and surveyed me with her cool, thoughtful eyes.
“Sexually,” she said, “some girls are promiscuous, without becoming involved emotionally. According to Freud, this kind of behavior means that she’s looking for a father figure to, ah, cohabit with. And, since that’s impossible, she just—keeps on. It’s one theoretical explanation for nymphomania. And, as far as that’s concerned, it’s an emotional pattern that’s very often present in prostitutes—especially prostitutes that come from the middle class.”
I sat up straighter.
“Are you telling me that Roberta Grinnel was a nymphomaniac?”
She shook her head, her manner now more guarded. “All I’m telling you is that she had a reputation for promiscuity. I’m also saying that she was an emotionally withdrawn person who had, I think, a lot of suppressed aggressions. This pattern of behavior is often associated with the Electra complex, which is roughly similar to the Oedipus in boys. That is, the causes are similar. The manifestations, obviously, are different. Of course,” she added, eyeing me narrowly, “I’ll deny I said any of this, if it’s ever printed and attributed to me.”
“Miss Stephenson,” I said with deliberate emphasis. “I’ve already told you, I’m not going to mention your name. And, certainly, I’m not going to print that Roberta Grinnel was promiscuous, even if—if Freud himself told me she was. For one thing, I’d never get it past the city desk. For another, I’d be out of a job in a day, and my paper would probably be out a million-dollar libel judgment. So you don’t have to concern yourself about it. What I’m trying to do is get some background on the kind of person she was. To try and—”
I let the thought go unfinished, because I realized she wasn’t listening. Instead, for the first time, she was looking at me with an intensely interested expression, slightly frowning, and biting at her upper lip.
“What did you say your name was?” she asked.
“Stephen Drake. I—”
“Are you the clairvoyant?”
I sighed and ran a hand across the back of my neck.
“Look, Miss Stephenson, it’s getting late, and I know you haven’t eaten. So—”
Suddenly she rose and went to the bureau, yanking open the bottom drawer. She withdrew a large box of assorted cookies, which she offered to me and then took with her as she returned to the bed, now sitting cross-legged, facing me. She seemed actually animated as she said, “You’re the one who found that little girl down in San Jose, isn’t that right?”
“Well, yes, I am. But—”
“I did a paper last year on ESP for my term seminar. I’m very interested in it. I’m especially interested in J. B. Rhine’s experiments at Duke University. I did my paper on psychokinesis. You know, the effect of the mind on the behavior of inanimate objects. I think Rhine’s studies on psychokinesis are fascinating. And, although a scientist of Rhine’s stature naturally wouldn’t presume to speculate, I’m convinced that ESP has got to be electromagnetics. Don’t you agree?”
“Well, I—”
“I mean, after all, it’s already proven that all mass is actually electromagnetism. We know that atoms are actually constructed like tiny universes, and comprised exclusively of electrical charges. So, when we examine the proposition that mental states can affect inanimate objects—the roll of the dice, for
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