Murder Is Suggested by Frances and Richard Lockridge Page A

had, evidently, turned over on the other side. There was a swishing sound. Pam had, undoubtedly, thrown off excess covering. There was silence for a few minutes, but Jerry did not sleep. Jerry waited. There was a louder sigh, and a longer sigh. There was a small sound of creaking. Pam was sitting up in bed, preparatory—it must be assumed—to pulling the covers back again.
    â€œAll right, Pam,” Jerry said, and sat up in his own bed, and turned on the light between their beds. At which Pam said, “Ouch!” and covered her eyes. “I tried not to wake you up,” Pam said and turned to look at him. He said nothing. “All right,” she said. “I tried to wake you up. Inadvertently.”
    â€œI know,” Jerry said. “It’s all right. I’ll—”
    â€œ Jerry! ” Pam said. “Of all the— no .” Jerry put his legs back in bed. “Anyway, not yet,” Pam said.
    Jerry shook a cigarette loose from a package on the night table and held it out to Pam, who took it. He lighted hers, lighted one for himself.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “I don’t know who killed Jamey. And I feel the same way about it you do. And—I’m as wide awake now as you are. And—you’ve thought of something. At”—he consulted his watch again—“fifteen minutes of three.”
    â€œI can’t help that,” Pam said. “And probably it’s all wrong. But—this posthypnotic whatever it is.”
    â€œOh, lord,” Jerry said. “Suggestion. You want to read the book?”
    â€œWhy should I?” Pam said. “It’s a very long book. And you’ve read it. Division of labor, sort of. That sharing which is part of every true—”
    â€œPam!”
    â€œâ€”except that some people can sleep through anything.” Pam said.
    For a moment Jerry had the uneasy feeling that he had carried things too far. He looked at Pam. She wasn’t cross. Intent, but not cross.
    â€œWhatever I knowest, thou shalt know,” Jerry said. “Or we’ll get the book and read it aloud to each other.”
    â€œAll right,” Pam said. “You can get somebody to break a clock. Could you get somebody to—kill?”
    â€œYou,” Jerry said, “think of the damnedest things. At three o’clock in the morning. No, according to Elwell, and he says that that’s the consensus.”
    â€œAre they sure?”
    â€œOf course they—” Jerry said, and stopped. “Well—” he said.
    They were sure enough, and a long series of experiments had been made—including several by Elwell himself. But there was one flaw in all the experiments. They weren’t real—couldn’t, obviously, be real. The only real experiment would involve real murder, which would be carrying things rather far. So they had tried to duplicate reality without actually achieving it. They had tried it with rubber daggers—but rubber daggers would hardly feel real to anyone, let alone to a person in hypnosis when, many think, perceptions are heightened. They had tried it with real daggers, but the “victim” behind a barrier of “invisible” glass. But—was the glass really invisible? They had tried it with guns loaded with blanks. But—did the operator unconsciously reveal to the subject that the gun held only blanks?
    Under these simulated conditions, some subjects apparently tried to kill. Most authorities doubted that, with actual killing possible, any subject would murder—unless, presumably, he had murder already in his mind.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSuppose,” Pam said, “this Mr. Hunter, under posthypnotic suggestion, broke a valuable clock because Jamey had told him the clock wasn’t any longer valuable. Was worthless.”
    â€œAll right,” Jerry said. “Supposed.”
    â€œSuppose Jamey did know that he—he was going to