Free The Golden Gizmo by Jim Thompson Page B

that of the first, but he was longer in arriving at it. He spent much more time talking to Toddy than to Elaine, usually detaining him for an hour or so after each consultation. Toddy didn't mind. The guy was obviously a square shooter and interesting to talk to.
    "Toddy," he said quietly one afternoon, the last afternoon they talked together, "why do you stick with her anyway? I've told you she's no good. I'm sure you must know it's the truth. Why continue a relationship that can only end in one way?"
    "I don't know that she's no good," said Toddy. "I know that she needs help, that I'm the only person-"
    "She doesn't need help. She's been helped too much. She got along most of her life without you, and she can get along very well without you for the rest of it. The Elaines of this world have a peculiar talent for survival."
    "Put it this way, then," said Toddy. "I married her for better or for worse. I'm not going to pull out-and, no, I'm not going to let her- just because things don't break quite the way I think they should."
    The psychiatrist nodded seriously. "Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "We're approaching your real reason, at last. Let's examine it and see how it stands up. Your parents were divorced and your mother remarried. From then on, until you ran away, you lived in hell. The experience gave you an undying hatred of divorce. You made up your mind that you'd never do what your parents had done. All right. I can understand that attitude. But,"-he pointed with his pipe stem-"it's ridiculous to maintain it in this present case. You're married to a virtual maniac. You haven't any children. Now stop living with the past, and use that intelligence I know you have."
    "I-" Toddy shook his head. "What did you mean, Doc, when you said the marriage, Elaine's and mine, could only end in one way?"
    "I don't think I'll tell you. I think it would make a greater impression if you told yourself."
    "How do I go about doing that?"
    "Well, let's start back with the time you ran away from home. Your reason for leaving, as I remember, was that one of the barn rafters had broken and struck your stepfather. You were afraid you might be held responsible for the accident, so you ran away."
    "Well?" said Toddy.
    "It was an accident," said the psychiatrist, "and yet you had a package of sandwiches, a lunch, all prepared. You were able to get away just in time to catch the evening freight out of town. – .. That, Toddy, is just about the most opportune accident I ever heard of."
    Toddy looked blank for a moment; then he grinned.
    "And so on down the line," the psychiatrist sighed. "You're easy to get along with; you'll suffer a great deal before you act. If you'd been treated fairly by your stepfather or the county attorney or that gambling house proprietor in Reno or the detective in Fort Worth or… But that isn't important. It's not what I'm talking about."
    "What are you talking about?"
    "You must know, Toddy: the fact that you can't admit the things you've done, even to yourself. At heart you're what you'd call a Square John. You're peaceful. You don't ask much but to be left alone and leave others alone. That's your basic pattern-and life hasn't let you follow that pattern. You've been forced into one situation after another where your strong sense of justice has impelled you to acts which were hateful to you…
    "Get away from Elaine, Toddy. Get away and stay away. Before you kill her."

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    The chinless man chuckled softly and massaged his hands. "I present my proposition a little too fast, eh? It was not what you expected. I must apologize, incidentally, for the manner in which you were induced to return here. It seemed necessary. It was important that I talk to you, and I felt you might not respond to a simple request to call…"
    He waited, beaming, apparently for Toddy to make some polite disclaimer. Toddy didn't. For the moment, at least, he was incapable of saying or doing anything.
    "As you can see," Chinless