He's Not a Man Anymore, 6/?
Title: He's Not a Man Anymore (a.k.a., The Lycanthropy Case), chapter six
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 6,143
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Summary: The guys are concerned that they've made an enemy. Meanwhile, Scott suddenly has a new idea of what could be wrong with Elliott.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Six
Scott supported Elliott by keeping an arm around his shoulders while calling Sean.
"I've found El!" he exclaimed as soon as their leader answered. "He's okay! . . . Well, relatively. . . ." He narrowed his eyes at the memory of the impostor's cruel actions.
"What's 'relatively'?" Sean frowned, albeit being relieved that Elliott had been found.
"My double showed up and played a cruel joke," Scott replied, anger slipping into his voice. "He made it look like he was stabbing El!"
Sean gasped in horror and outrage. "How do you make it look like that without really doing it?!" he exclaimed.
"By using a collapsible prop sword," Scott said, growing more furious. "Like they have in theatres. And he even had fake blood!"
Sean let out a low exclamation. "That's disgusting," he said. "But wait a minute . . . how can a ghost hold a sword, prop or not?"
Scott frowned. "I don't know," he said. "I'm not sure that anything he does will surprise me again."
"And you say El's okay?"
"Yeah," Scott said, "but he's pretty shaken. And he got chloroformed!" To say nothing of the weakness and dizziness he had already felt upon awakening.
"Chloroformed?!" Sean cried.
"So he'd be unconscious when I ran up to him," Scott said, the anger coming back into his voice full-force.
Sean made a sound of revulsion. ". . . Are El's clothes torn?"
Scott blinked in disbelief at the sudden change of subject. "Huh?!" he exclaimed, not sure at all where Sean was going with this.
"Are El's clothes torn," Sean repeated. "Like this morning."
Scott glanced at the brunet, who could hear the conversation and looked just as perplexed. "Yeah," he said into the phone. "They're ripped up really bad."
"Do they look too big for him?" Sean persisted.
"No," Scott said, "they're just right! Or they were. . . . Sean, what is it you're trying to get at?!"
"Just a minute." Sean rounded a bend, seeing his friends up ahead. He waved wildly, hurrying over to the two shorter men. Barry, who had found him earlier, was walking alongside.
Scott hung up the phone, regarding their leader with expectancy. "You said before that you had something to show us," he said.
"And I do!" Sean declared, excited now. He looked to Elliott. "I pulled a clothing tag off the wolf's shirt when it attacked us!"
Elliott stared. ". . . A clothing tag?" he repeated dumbly.
"And it's several sizes bigger than you take!" Sean said. "Look!" He pulled the scrap of material out of his pocket, waving it at Scott and Elliott.
Elliott reached out, taking it from Sean. "It's huge," he breathed. "Something that big would hang on me like nobody's business."
Sean gave an enthusiastic nod. "Don't you see?" he exclaimed. "This should be proof that you're not the werewolf! It's all a big cover-up! If it was really you, you'd be wearing the clothes you've got on right now! Or what'd be left of them. They tore your clothes so it'd look like they'd ripped during the transformation!"
Scott nodded, a new light coming into his eyes. "They couldn't squeeze into your size, El," he said, "so they had to wear their own. And they never thought any of us could get close enough to rip off the tag and prove it!"
Elliott slumped back, overwhelmed. A huge weight was being taken from his shoulders. "I'm not the wolf," he said. "I'm really not. . . ."
Sean clapped him on the back. "Of course you're not!" he said.
Elliott shook his head. ". . . But . . . what about my wolf-like behavior?" he worried. "There's still that. . . ."
"All part of the cover-up!" Sean said. "There's a connection somewhere. Let's go over the facts very carefully."
Barry nodded, crossing his arms. "Last night, you were supposedly in the arms of Vivalene," he said.
Elliott turned red. "So I took the drink she offered me and started acting crazy," he said. "At least according to Vic. . . ."
"There could've been something in that drink that caused you to blank out last night," Sean said. "We just have to figure out where you go when that happens."
"But what about this morning?" Elliott said. "Vivalene wasn't there when I attacked Scott. . . ."
Scott nodded. "The only one who was, was a Gumshoe who was upset because El shoved her," he remembered.
"And then Vivalene was around again when you acted weird the third time," Sean said. "She blew a kiss at us."
"Or at Elliott," Barry said. "She was looking directly at him when she did it."
"And I started acting strange right after that!" Elliott said.
Sean frowned. ". . . So how do we connect the dots?" he wondered. "The Gumshoe didn't blow you a kiss too, did she?"
"No," Elliott said, coloring at the thought.
"She was just adjusting her hairstyle," Scott said.
Sean sighed, rubbing his neck. ". . . Maybe what we need to do now is go home," he said. "We can check out that ring and you can take a blood test, El . . . see if there really was anything suspicious in that drink."
"But what about me having to act weird in the first place in order to walk out in the middle of the night?" Elliott moaned. "And to have dinner with a strange woman. . . ."
"Or any woman, period," Sean cracked.
Elliott rolled his eyes.
Sean fell serious again. "But you're right, El. Something's still missing. You didn't talk to anyone after we went our separate ways for bed, did you?"
Elliott shook his head. "I got ready for bed and climbed in a few minutes later," he said. "I was alone."
Scott pushed his hat back on his head. Three times they could place a female in close proximity to Elliott before he had snapped. But the first time there did not seem to have been one---or anyone else, for that matter. But three out of four was still very strange.
He stiffened. "El!" he exclaimed.
Elliott started, looking to him. "What is it?!" he gasped.
Scott gripped Elliott's shoulders. "Oh Mama, I just had a killer idea," he said. "It's crazy, but . . ."
"This whole case is crazy," Sean said. "Spill!"
Scott looked to Elliott. "What if you've been hypnotized?" he said.
Elliott gawked. ". . . Hypnotized?" he repeated.
Scott gave a firm nod, his blond curls bouncing with the motion. "And . . . I don't know, maybe there's some post-hypnotic suggestion that makes you flip out? Like Vivalene blowing a kiss. Maybe she's the one behind the hypnosis!"
Sean was stunned. "Scott, I think you may have hit on something here," he said. "Hypnosis! Why didn't we even think of it?!"
". . . Maybe because you're not supposed to be able to hypnotize someone against their will?" Barry frowned. He hated to puncture this idea, but it was a factor they needed to consider.
Elliott's shoulders slumped. ". . . That's true," he mumbled.
Scott could not bear to see him lose hope, not now! And he could not help the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was right. Somehow, someway, hypnosis was a part of this. It made more sense than anything else they had thought about.
"There's a hypnotherapist at ACME," he said. "Sean, you're right, let's go home. El, if you'd be willing to try it, maybe we could have him try putting you in a trance." He looked back to the brunet. "Maybe you'd remember something that you were told not to remember consciously!"
"I'd be willing to try," Elliott exclaimed. This idea of Scott's sounded reasonable, except for the point Barry had mentioned. But maybe there was some way around it. He wanted to find out what he would say if he went under hypnosis. If that was what had happened to him to make him act like a wolf, maybe ACME's doctor would even be able to reverse the process!
"Okay then," Sean said. "I'll try calling the guy and see if he'll hang around to wait for us to come back." He took out his phone.
"And we have to figure out which way the exit is," Elliott said with a frown as he looked around the old cemetery.
"I think I remember the way we came," Scott said.
Barry nodded. "It's this way," he said, pointing towards a particular direction.
And someone else was coming from there. The agents froze as leaves crackled nearby. Now what? Was the wolf coming back? When Elliott was with them it was doubtful that the creature would show up, but then . . . what?
A flashlight beamed in their direction. "Ha!" a young voice exclaimed. "Now I've got you."
Scott stiffened. "Jeff?!" He tried to look beyond the approaching glow, but the newcomer was veiled in shadows.
Sean recognized the voice too. "What's the deal?" he asked, not pleased at all. "How did you find us here?"
"The simple powers of deduction," Jeff said, sounding smug as he came to stand beside them. "Our client mentioned she was looking for a place in this area and that she had an appointment with a realtor today. And my uncle and I knew you guys had gone to see her. I just had the feeling that somehow you might end up where she was going."
"You just got lucky," Elliott said, crossing his arms.
Barry nodded. "Did you forget to work in a reason as to why we would end up where she went?"
"Knowing how she is, I thought she might tell something to you guys too," Jeff said, "or even invite you along. And if you thought she knew more about the werewolf mystery than she let on, you might agree to go with her. It was worth a try. And I was right!"
Scott sighed. "Okay, so why did you want to find us?" he wondered.
"And is your uncle here too?" Sean asked.
"I'm here alone," Jeff said. "My uncle doesn't know I came out here."
"Oh, so this was about proving something to him," Sean said.
"I didn't say that," Jeff retorted, his tone defensive. "But anyway . . . the reason why I wanted to see you guys is because I've been checking more into the events surrounding the werewolf's appearance. And I've come to a conclusion!" He paused, as if waiting for Rockapella to ask him what the conclusion was. But they just looked at him, expectant.
"The werewolf is you!" Jeff cried then, pointing to Elliott.
The brunet flinched. "Me?" he exclaimed.
Jeff nodded. "It all fits!" he said. "It explains why you're so interested in the werewolf attack and why you didn't want to tell my uncle. The bandage on your hand is just like the one the wolf has in the newspaper picture. And your clothes are all torn, like they'd be if you transformed!"
Sean shook his head. "You seriously believe the wolf is real?" he scoffed.
"Not necessarily," Jeff shot back. "It could be a big prank. But your friend here is perpetrating it!"
A few minutes ago, Elliott had been so distraught and despondent that he might have not been able to hide his guilt. But now he took a deep breath, facing Jeff head-on. Someone really was doing this to be cruel to him. The clothing tag convinced him of that now. Still . . . was it something they should tell to this kid? They did not want him for their enemy; he could end up interfering with the rest of their investigation and even get his uncle involved in his suspicions.
"I know it looks that way," he said at last. "That's why we got involved in the first place."
Sean nodded. "But the truth is, someone has it in for poor El here and wants to implicate him," he said. "We've been gathering evidence to back up our side of the story."
Jeff crossed his arms, looking like he did not know whether to believe them or not. "Oh yeah?" he said. "And just what have you found?"
Sean weighed the options in his mind. To tell or not to tell, that was the question. It could end up going badly for them either way.
"We could tell you," he said at last, "but we don't know if we can trust you. We're trying to keep it hush-hush until we can catch the real perps. If word of this got out, El's reputation would be destroyed."
"Which is, of course, what they want," Scott added.
"Why would anyone hate him so bad?" Jeff looked Elliott up and down. "I mean, why him more than any of the rest of you? You're all detectives."
"We don't know why," Elliott said. "We're thinking it has something to do with a case I was on recently."
On impulse Barry asked, "What do you think of your uncle's client?"
Jeff blinked. "What do I think of her?" he repeated. He shrugged. "She seemed classy to me. Sophisticated. A real woman of the world."
"What kind of interest did she seem to have in the werewolf case?" Barry persisted.
"I don't know," Jeff said. "She acted like she was worried."
"'Acted' is right," Scott muttered. Louder he said, "Did you believe her?"
"I didn't have any reason to disbelieve her," Jeff said, sounding defensive again. "Look, what's with Twenty Questions?"
"We're trying to get to the bottom of this, the same as you are," Barry said. "And we have reason to believe Vivalene is involved."
Jeff snorted. "Oh, that's nuts," he said. "If she's involved, why would she hire my uncle?"
"Because she's trying to throw suspicion on El!" Sean cried, exasperated. "She and whoever's helping her have left a trail that makes Elliott look guilty!"
"And who's helping her?" Jeff returned.
Scott ran a hand into his wild curls. It was not as if they could say a Revolutionary War turncoat was also part of it. Jeff would instantly dismiss them all as crazies.
"We don't know," he said, trying to keep his voice even. And then, remembering another suspicion, he added, "Maybe Vic the Slick."
Jeff gave him a weird look. "Why would he be mixed up in it?!"
"Because he's infatuated with Vivalene," Barry said.
"Not to mention, he's been a thorn in ACME's side for years," Sean said.
"I take it you've heard of him," Barry deadpanned.
"I know about all of Carmen's gang," Jeff answered. "I have newspaper clippings on most of their crimes." He paused, studying the group. "So this is what you meant when you said V.I.L.E. might be involved?"
"Actually, we didn't suspect Vic until after we said that," Scott admitted. "But V.I.L.E.'s always a top suspect in our problems."
"Do you know where Vivalene is now?" Barry wanted to know.
"No," Jeff said. "She's not at her hotel room. Maybe she's still around here."
"Are there really that many homes available?" Barry said.
Jeff shrugged. "I printed out all the listings," he said, holding out several sheets of paper. "But if you think she's involved in this werewolf mess, maybe she's meeting with her co-conspirators."
"I wonder who the realtor is that she met with," Sean said.
"Do you suspect him?" Jeff said, incredulous.
"Everyone's a suspect," Sean replied.
"Sometimes it's the ones you wouldn't suspect at all that end up being responsible," Barry said.
Jeff looked back to Elliott. "What if the one you don't suspect at all really is responsible?" he said.
Scott clenched a fist. "El would never do something like this!" he exclaimed.
Elliott's stomach turned at the way Jeff had thrown Barry's words right back at them. Looking at it from Jeff's point-of-view, he had a right to be skeptical, but that had still been quite a dig to take right in front of Elliott.
Sean rubbed his eyes. Now he was starting to get a headache. There was little point in trying to defend Elliott further; it would only sound hollow to the apprentice P.I.
"You can believe us or not," he said. "I'd rather not be enemies on this case, but if that's the way it has to be, then let's shake on it." He held out a hand.
Jeff gave him a look filled with disbelief. "Shake hands on being enemies?" he retorted. "Come on, I'm just trying to get to the truth."
"So are we," Sean said, his voice calm and steady. "But we have different ideas on what the truth is."
Jeff stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. "I don't think of you guys as my enemies . . . unless you're actually hiding what the truth is," he added, shooting a glance at Elliott.
"We're not," Elliott said.
"We were just about to go back to ACME and follow up another possible lead," Sean said. "And that's what we're going to do whether you believe us or not." He started to walk past Jeff.
The others followed suit, each glancing at the boy in turn. Jeff frowned as he watched them go, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, he's not trying to stop us," Sean mused.
"He doesn't have any authority to do that," Barry said.
"And we can be grateful for that," Scott said, still upset over Jeff's comments about Elliott.
Elliott looked to him with a sad smile. "Don't let it get to you," he said. "After all, we already know it looks pretty bad for me."
Scott frowned. "I know, but . . ." He shook his head. "I hate thinking about all the damage he and his uncle could end up causing for you if they let any of their suspicions get out. . . ."
Elliott shook his head. "I don't think they will," he said. "I think they're honorable people, even if they don't agree with us."
"But they might tell the police," Scott said, the agony slipping into his voice. "What if they think you're dangerous, El? What if they think they have to stop you before you hurt someone?"
Elliott looked away. He had thought of that, but had not wanted to mention it and worry Scott and the others.
". . . I guess we have to hope they'd talk to us again before they'd do that," he said.
Sean nodded. ". . . Let's just hurry back," he said, his voice quiet. "Maybe the hypnotherapist can help us." He blinked. "That's right, I still have to call him. . . ." He pulled out his phone and began to dial.
Scott barely registered the sound of the buttons being punched and the subsequent ringing. What if a horrible scandal came out of this mess? What if other parties would be called in and Elliott would even be forced into a mental institution because of how he kept behaving so strangely? The Chief would do all in her power to keep something like that from happening, but if the wrong people got involved, there was always the chance that they would override anything the Chief tried to do to help.
Elliott's reputation and dignity would be shattered if that happened. And Scott never forgive the ones responsible. He already doubted he ever would.
He looked over at his friend. A change had come over Elliott since Scott had found him lying in the grass, and even more after Sean had showed them the clothing tag. He had been given renewed hope. But Scott kept finding new reasons to sink into despair. And he could not voice his concerns; he would not dare! If Elliott had not already considered some of these things, Scott would never want to make him think about them. And it was selfish anyway, wasn't it, to want some personal assurance that these nightmarish envisionings would not come to pass? It was Elliott who needed comfort. Scott had to push aside his own anguish.
But Elliott put his arm around Scott's shoulders.
"It's going to be okay," he said then. "We'll come out of this just fine, like we always do."
Scott stiffened. "I can't hide anything, can I?" he mused, sounding rueful.
Elliott shook his head. "Not really."
But then it was his turn to stiffen. "What happened to your shoulder?!" he gasped. In the dim light, he had not noticed the torn sleeve and the gauze. He only felt it now, as his hand touched the spot.
"It's nothing," Scott said, even as he remembered Barry saying it might need stitches.
Elliott frowned. "The wolf did it, didn't it?" he said, a darkness coming into his voice. It was bad enough for it to run loose hurting strangers. But for it to harm his friends, especially when the perpetrators were trying to make everyone think it was Elliott, was unacceptable.
Scott sighed. There was no point in lying. "Yeah," he said.
"What else did it do?" Elliott demanded.
". . . It threw Sean several feet." Scott stared ahead. Finally, their car was coming into view, still parked at the south gate.
Elliott gasped in horror. Immediately his gaze went to Sean, who was still on the phone with the hypnotherapist. At first glance, he seemed to be walking normally. But when Elliott looked closer, he could see a certain stiffness to his childhood friend's movements. Sean was in pain.
Elliott clenched a fist. "This has to stop." His voice was quiet, low, filled with pain as well---and something else---outrage.
"It's going to," Barry said from behind them.
"Before anyone else gets hurt," Elliott said.
Scott swallowed hard. He could only pray that they would all be able to make good on Elliott's words. They could not let anyone else get hurt. They could not let Elliott get hurt any more than he already was.
Sean hung up the phone, replacing it in his pocket as he withdrew the car keys. "The hypnotherapist is very interested in what's happening to you, El," he said. "He'd already heard some of it and was thinking about contacting us. He said he's definitely going to wait for us to get there so he can examine you."
"That's great." Elliott managed a smile as they left the cemetery and walked the rest of the way to their car. But then he frowned again. "What did he hear?" It was as he had thought---it had spread all over ACME by now.
Sean sighed, unlocking the doors. "Just what happened last night and this morning," he said.
Elliott ran a hand over his face. It was still plenty.
"Maybe I should drive," Barry said.
"I'm alright," Sean said with a blink. Yet even as he said it, he passed the keys to Barry. The older man slid into the driver's seat, while Sean walked around to the passenger side. Scott and Elliott got in the back.
Soon they were on the journey back to Manhattan.
****
All of them were ready to drop by the time they left their car in ACME's parking garage and trudged inside. But the thought that maybe they would get some sorely-needed answers kept them from promptly heading upstairs and collapsing in their respective beds. Instead they journeyed down the back hallway at Sean's direction, heading for the infirmary in a round-about way. Sean hoped that the path would enable them to bypass any uncomfortable confrontations, and much to their relief, it worked. Soon they were knocking on the door of Reginald Hoffman, ACME Crimenet's top hypnotherapist.
The middle-aged, distinguished man opened the door, studying the party for all of two seconds before stepping aside so they could enter. "Come in," he said with a gesture.
Rockapella hurried inside, Dr. Hoffman shutting the door behind them. Then he walked back to the middle of the room.
"It's you suffering such an ill fate, isn't it?" he asked, looking to Elliott, who nodded.
"That's right," he said. "None of us can figure out what's wrong with me. Then Scott had this idea that maybe hypnosis was a part of it. . . ."
Scott nodded assent. "What do you think, Doctor?" he wanted to know. "Is it possible?"
"It is possible," Dr. Hoffman agreed. "Please, sit down." He gestured at the chairs as he moved to his desk, starting a tape recorder as he went. "Perhaps you would like to tell your side of the story to the best of your ability?" he said to Elliott.
The brunet nodded again, sitting down in one of the plush chairs and leaning forward. "I don't know how much Sean told you, Doctor, but it was like this. . . ." He proceeded to relate the events as best as he could recall, beginning with the previous night and going on to the night that was upon them. The others stayed silent, letting Elliott tell his version. Then, upon invitation from the doctor, they added their own accounts. They did, however, omit the part about Scott's impostor being a ghost.
At last Dr. Hoffman leaned back in his chair and sighed, shaking his head. He picked up a pen on his desk, examining it with care before looking up and speaking.
"This is quite a story," he said.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Scott pleaded, leaning on the edge of the seat.
The older man nodded. "Your idea about hypnosis is very intriguing," he said. "Elliott's mishaps do have the earmarks of such a possibility." He looked to the brunet. "Are you willing to be put under hypnosis now in order to see what you might have locked in your subconscious?"
Elliott swallowed. ". . . Yeah," he said. He had to admit, he was nervous, even a bit afraid. If hypnosis really was the cause of his woes, would it really help him now? What if the doctor could not find anything in Elliott's subconscious that would help? Or worse, what if he could not bring Elliott out of the trance?
Scott laid a hand on Elliott's shoulder. It'll be okay, he said with his eyes, echoing the words Elliott had told him earlier tonight. Elliott managed a weak smile.
"It will be alright," Dr. Hoffman said. "I'll do everything in my power to help you. Come, lay down on the couch here."
Elliott nodded. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and crossed the room to the couch, then lowered himself onto it. He lay on his back, his hands at his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. Surely everyone in the room could hear it. He changed his position, clasping his hands over his chest.
Dr. Hoffman nodded. "Now, close your eyes," he instructed, lowering his voice to a calm, rhythmic tone. "Relax." He continued speaking, lulling Elliott into a tranquil state. The others watched, tense. They shared some of Elliott's own concerns. Would this really help? Was Elliott alright?
"How do you feel, Elliott?" Dr. Hoffman asked.
"Alright," Elliott mumbled. "I guess I'm okay."
A nod. "Tell me, Elliott," the doctor said, "what happened last night, after you left your friends to retire to bed?"
Elliott turned his head to the side. "I got ready for bed," he said. "Then Scott came in to say goodnight. . . ."
Scott's mouth dropped open. He had not gone in Elliott's room after they had parted! Sean and Barry, seeing his expression, stiffened.
The doctor glanced at them before looking back to Elliott. "I see," he said. "And what happened then?"
"He said he wanted to tell me something else before I went to sleep," Elliott said. "He . . . he said he'd been practicing how to hypnotize people, because he thought it might help on our cases. . . . He wondered if he could practice on me."
Scott shook his head in disbelief. That had not happened! At least . . . not that he could remember. Did this mean there was something wrong with him, too?
"What did you tell him?" Dr. Hoffman queried.
"I thought it was silly," Elliott said. "I was tired and wanted to sleep. He promised it'd just take a minute. So I finally said okay."
"Did he hypnotize you?"
"Yeah," Elliott nodded. "Just like you did. He told me that after I'd been asleep for three hours, I'd wake up and want to go out. I wouldn't stop to get dressed, and I wouldn't talk to anyone---not until I got to Denny's and found a woman who was waiting for me, a woman named Vivalene. He described her to me and said that we'd have dinner and she'd invite me back to her place. I was supposed to agree. Then he told me I wouldn't remember any of what he'd said.
"He brought me out of the trance and said he hadn't been able to hypnotize me after all. I believed him and we said goodnight."
"I didn't do any of that," Scott whispered, not sure if it would break the hypnosis to speak up.
Sean nodded, narrowing his eyes as he laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. It had been the impostor. Somehow, he had learned the art of hypnosis. That was the only explanation.
"And did it happen exactly as Scott said?" Dr. Hoffman wanted to know.
"That's right," Elliott said. "Just like that. But I was nervous all through the dinner. I knew something was wrong, but I just couldn't figure out what it was. It was a nice meal and all, but Vivalene isn't the kind of woman I really like to be around, so I thought that was why I felt so uneasy."
"Did you go with Vivalene to her home?"
"Her hotel room, actually," Elliott said. "I kept getting more nervous. She wanted something with me, and I didn't know what it was. I told her I needed to go. She said she was so lonely and that I could stay for 'just a little bit,' couldn't I. . . . And I did. I don't know why. . . . I think I was just trying to be polite. But then she was getting a lot . . . friendlier than I was comfortable with. I told her I had to go.
"That's when Vic the Slick came in. . . . Vivalene seemed happy he was there. Maybe she thought it'd keep me from going. She said we should all have a toast, and she ran over and poured the glasses before I could say anything more about leaving."
Scott clenched a fist. He was hating Vivalene the more he heard about her. But at least poor Elliott had not given in to her, as he had worried he had done.
"So we had the toast," Elliott continued. "I started feeling funny after that. I don't know if it was the liquor or something else, but Vivalene herded Vic out and said she'd call him later. Then she led me to the couch and had me lay down. She said I shouldn't go until I felt better. I was feeling too horrible to argue.
"Then Scott was there. . . . I couldn't figure out how he'd ended up at Vivalene's place, but he told me not to worry and that everything would be okay. And he started trying to hypnotize me again."
"'Trying'?" Dr. Hoffman said in a mild tone.
"Yeah. Well, he really did it again. And he started telling me these other things. . . . That I'd run downstairs in a panic and go hide somewhere for a couple of hours, tearing my clothes to pieces before going home. He said that every time Vivalene would blow a kiss at me, I'd blank out and do those same things, and that when I'd see someone fixing her hair, I'd snap and start acting like a wolf."
"'Someone'?" Dr. Hoffman prompted. "Not just Vivalene?"
Elliott nodded. "It could be anyone. I think they were hoping I'd attack a stranger or something.
"He also said that I'd steal the wolf costume from the ACME prop room and hide it under my bed after getting home last night. Then I'd pass out after I got home last night, and that I wouldn't remember anything in the morning, but I'd wake up feeling exhausted and miserable. And everything happened just like he said."
"Did you meet him any other time?" asked Dr. Hoffman.
"Yeah," Elliott said, "after I blanked out earlier today. He came up to me when I was ripping my clothes and said that I'd collapse in the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery today instead of going home to ACME."
"I see," the doctor frowned. "And you never had any doubt that it was Scott?"
"I never had the chance to doubt," Elliott said. "He always put me under before I could ask much." He frowned now. "But Scott wouldn't tell me things like that. I know he wouldn't!"
Dr. Hoffman nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened to you, Elliott?"
"That's about it," Elliott said.
"So you never transformed into a wolf-like creature, nor do you know who is doing it?"
"Right. I have no idea who's behind it. I just know it isn't me."
Dr. Hoffman leaned back. "Then I am going to bring you out of the trance, Elliott. And you will consciously remember all that you were told to forget. When I count to three, you will open your eyes." He proceeded to count.
Scott watched, tense. Would Elliott wake up?
Elliott opened his eyes, blinking at the brightness of the lights in the room.
"Are you awake?" Dr. Hoffman asked.
"Boy, am I awake." Elliott sat up, holding a hand to his head. "I can't believe I just forgot all of that! How can someone speaking to me make me forget---or remember?!"
"Hypnosis is a very delicate business," Dr. Hoffman said. "It should never be practiced by those who don't have good intentions."
Scott hurried over and sat by Elliott. It was a relief to see him awake and acting his normal self. Though, even under hypnosis, he had acted like himself.
"The nerve of that twerp!" he cried. "He pretended to be me so you'd be at ease around him and he could hypnotize you!"
Elliott clenched a fist. "And there was something else weird," he said as he straightened up. "He never touched me. Even when he wanted me to lay down that first time, he just gestured at me and didn't put his hands on my shoulders or anything like that."
"Of course," Sean frowned. "If he touched you, you'd know he wasn't Scott."
They had completely forgotten their resolve to not mention who and what the impostor actually was. Now the doctor was staring with goggle-eyed interest.
"How would touching you let you know he wasn't Scott?" he asked.
Elliott stiffened, for a moment resembling a deer caught in the headlights. "Because . . . uh . . ." He looked to Sean for help.
"Because his touch is cruel," Sean supplied without skipping a beat. Well, that was true, though it was not really the explanation here. "Seriously," he continued, "if he'd touched El at all, he would've known the truth just from the . . . uh . . . cruelness."
Dr. Hoffman raised an eyebrow, aware that they were not telling him everything.
Sean jumped up, wanting to leave before this conversation continued. "Thanks a million for waiting for us!" he said in all sincerity. "Now we're making some progress." He looked to Scott and Elliott and Barry. They still needed to see about Scott's battle wounds and Elliott's blood test. Not to mention looking at that ring.
The others stood as well, also thanking the doctor. Elliott hesitated, turning his fedora around in his hands.
". . . Now that you made me remember everything I was told to forget, will I still space out and follow the post-hypnotic suggestions?" he worried.
The doctor shook his head. "It is true that people are not supposed to be hypnotized against their will," he said. "Now that you remember what was done to you, I doubt it will have any hold over your mind."
Elliott gave a slow nod. He would have liked to ask more, but the man's phone rang just then. With an apologetic "Excuse me," Dr. Hoffman picked up the receiver. It immediately became apparent that it was a call that would take a while, and with a sigh Elliott hurried into the hall where his friends were waiting.
Scott, who had overheard the exchange, was frowning. "I wanted to ask him why he hadn't told you something about not going along with the post-hypnotic suggestions before bringing you out of the trance," he said. "That seems weird to me."
Sean narrowed his eyes. "That is strange," he said. "Maybe we'll have to come back later, when his phone call should be over." He looked to Scott. "Right now we should see about getting those claw marks stitched up, if they need it."
Scott grimaced. "I guess," he said, though he would not have agreed if Dr. Hoffman had not been on the phone.
They walked back up the hall. Barry looked to Sean.
"Do you think the doctor wasn't being entirely honest?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sean said. "Maybe it's nothing."
At least, he hoped so.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 6,143
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Summary: The guys are concerned that they've made an enemy. Meanwhile, Scott suddenly has a new idea of what could be wrong with Elliott.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Six
Scott supported Elliott by keeping an arm around his shoulders while calling Sean.
"I've found El!" he exclaimed as soon as their leader answered. "He's okay! . . . Well, relatively. . . ." He narrowed his eyes at the memory of the impostor's cruel actions.
"What's 'relatively'?" Sean frowned, albeit being relieved that Elliott had been found.
"My double showed up and played a cruel joke," Scott replied, anger slipping into his voice. "He made it look like he was stabbing El!"
Sean gasped in horror and outrage. "How do you make it look like that without really doing it?!" he exclaimed.
"By using a collapsible prop sword," Scott said, growing more furious. "Like they have in theatres. And he even had fake blood!"
Sean let out a low exclamation. "That's disgusting," he said. "But wait a minute . . . how can a ghost hold a sword, prop or not?"
Scott frowned. "I don't know," he said. "I'm not sure that anything he does will surprise me again."
"And you say El's okay?"
"Yeah," Scott said, "but he's pretty shaken. And he got chloroformed!" To say nothing of the weakness and dizziness he had already felt upon awakening.
"Chloroformed?!" Sean cried.
"So he'd be unconscious when I ran up to him," Scott said, the anger coming back into his voice full-force.
Sean made a sound of revulsion. ". . . Are El's clothes torn?"
Scott blinked in disbelief at the sudden change of subject. "Huh?!" he exclaimed, not sure at all where Sean was going with this.
"Are El's clothes torn," Sean repeated. "Like this morning."
Scott glanced at the brunet, who could hear the conversation and looked just as perplexed. "Yeah," he said into the phone. "They're ripped up really bad."
"Do they look too big for him?" Sean persisted.
"No," Scott said, "they're just right! Or they were. . . . Sean, what is it you're trying to get at?!"
"Just a minute." Sean rounded a bend, seeing his friends up ahead. He waved wildly, hurrying over to the two shorter men. Barry, who had found him earlier, was walking alongside.
Scott hung up the phone, regarding their leader with expectancy. "You said before that you had something to show us," he said.
"And I do!" Sean declared, excited now. He looked to Elliott. "I pulled a clothing tag off the wolf's shirt when it attacked us!"
Elliott stared. ". . . A clothing tag?" he repeated dumbly.
"And it's several sizes bigger than you take!" Sean said. "Look!" He pulled the scrap of material out of his pocket, waving it at Scott and Elliott.
Elliott reached out, taking it from Sean. "It's huge," he breathed. "Something that big would hang on me like nobody's business."
Sean gave an enthusiastic nod. "Don't you see?" he exclaimed. "This should be proof that you're not the werewolf! It's all a big cover-up! If it was really you, you'd be wearing the clothes you've got on right now! Or what'd be left of them. They tore your clothes so it'd look like they'd ripped during the transformation!"
Scott nodded, a new light coming into his eyes. "They couldn't squeeze into your size, El," he said, "so they had to wear their own. And they never thought any of us could get close enough to rip off the tag and prove it!"
Elliott slumped back, overwhelmed. A huge weight was being taken from his shoulders. "I'm not the wolf," he said. "I'm really not. . . ."
Sean clapped him on the back. "Of course you're not!" he said.
Elliott shook his head. ". . . But . . . what about my wolf-like behavior?" he worried. "There's still that. . . ."
"All part of the cover-up!" Sean said. "There's a connection somewhere. Let's go over the facts very carefully."
Barry nodded, crossing his arms. "Last night, you were supposedly in the arms of Vivalene," he said.
Elliott turned red. "So I took the drink she offered me and started acting crazy," he said. "At least according to Vic. . . ."
"There could've been something in that drink that caused you to blank out last night," Sean said. "We just have to figure out where you go when that happens."
"But what about this morning?" Elliott said. "Vivalene wasn't there when I attacked Scott. . . ."
Scott nodded. "The only one who was, was a Gumshoe who was upset because El shoved her," he remembered.
"And then Vivalene was around again when you acted weird the third time," Sean said. "She blew a kiss at us."
"Or at Elliott," Barry said. "She was looking directly at him when she did it."
"And I started acting strange right after that!" Elliott said.
Sean frowned. ". . . So how do we connect the dots?" he wondered. "The Gumshoe didn't blow you a kiss too, did she?"
"No," Elliott said, coloring at the thought.
"She was just adjusting her hairstyle," Scott said.
Sean sighed, rubbing his neck. ". . . Maybe what we need to do now is go home," he said. "We can check out that ring and you can take a blood test, El . . . see if there really was anything suspicious in that drink."
"But what about me having to act weird in the first place in order to walk out in the middle of the night?" Elliott moaned. "And to have dinner with a strange woman. . . ."
"Or any woman, period," Sean cracked.
Elliott rolled his eyes.
Sean fell serious again. "But you're right, El. Something's still missing. You didn't talk to anyone after we went our separate ways for bed, did you?"
Elliott shook his head. "I got ready for bed and climbed in a few minutes later," he said. "I was alone."
Scott pushed his hat back on his head. Three times they could place a female in close proximity to Elliott before he had snapped. But the first time there did not seem to have been one---or anyone else, for that matter. But three out of four was still very strange.
He stiffened. "El!" he exclaimed.
Elliott started, looking to him. "What is it?!" he gasped.
Scott gripped Elliott's shoulders. "Oh Mama, I just had a killer idea," he said. "It's crazy, but . . ."
"This whole case is crazy," Sean said. "Spill!"
Scott looked to Elliott. "What if you've been hypnotized?" he said.
Elliott gawked. ". . . Hypnotized?" he repeated.
Scott gave a firm nod, his blond curls bouncing with the motion. "And . . . I don't know, maybe there's some post-hypnotic suggestion that makes you flip out? Like Vivalene blowing a kiss. Maybe she's the one behind the hypnosis!"
Sean was stunned. "Scott, I think you may have hit on something here," he said. "Hypnosis! Why didn't we even think of it?!"
". . . Maybe because you're not supposed to be able to hypnotize someone against their will?" Barry frowned. He hated to puncture this idea, but it was a factor they needed to consider.
Elliott's shoulders slumped. ". . . That's true," he mumbled.
Scott could not bear to see him lose hope, not now! And he could not help the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was right. Somehow, someway, hypnosis was a part of this. It made more sense than anything else they had thought about.
"There's a hypnotherapist at ACME," he said. "Sean, you're right, let's go home. El, if you'd be willing to try it, maybe we could have him try putting you in a trance." He looked back to the brunet. "Maybe you'd remember something that you were told not to remember consciously!"
"I'd be willing to try," Elliott exclaimed. This idea of Scott's sounded reasonable, except for the point Barry had mentioned. But maybe there was some way around it. He wanted to find out what he would say if he went under hypnosis. If that was what had happened to him to make him act like a wolf, maybe ACME's doctor would even be able to reverse the process!
"Okay then," Sean said. "I'll try calling the guy and see if he'll hang around to wait for us to come back." He took out his phone.
"And we have to figure out which way the exit is," Elliott said with a frown as he looked around the old cemetery.
"I think I remember the way we came," Scott said.
Barry nodded. "It's this way," he said, pointing towards a particular direction.
And someone else was coming from there. The agents froze as leaves crackled nearby. Now what? Was the wolf coming back? When Elliott was with them it was doubtful that the creature would show up, but then . . . what?
A flashlight beamed in their direction. "Ha!" a young voice exclaimed. "Now I've got you."
Scott stiffened. "Jeff?!" He tried to look beyond the approaching glow, but the newcomer was veiled in shadows.
Sean recognized the voice too. "What's the deal?" he asked, not pleased at all. "How did you find us here?"
"The simple powers of deduction," Jeff said, sounding smug as he came to stand beside them. "Our client mentioned she was looking for a place in this area and that she had an appointment with a realtor today. And my uncle and I knew you guys had gone to see her. I just had the feeling that somehow you might end up where she was going."
"You just got lucky," Elliott said, crossing his arms.
Barry nodded. "Did you forget to work in a reason as to why we would end up where she went?"
"Knowing how she is, I thought she might tell something to you guys too," Jeff said, "or even invite you along. And if you thought she knew more about the werewolf mystery than she let on, you might agree to go with her. It was worth a try. And I was right!"
Scott sighed. "Okay, so why did you want to find us?" he wondered.
"And is your uncle here too?" Sean asked.
"I'm here alone," Jeff said. "My uncle doesn't know I came out here."
"Oh, so this was about proving something to him," Sean said.
"I didn't say that," Jeff retorted, his tone defensive. "But anyway . . . the reason why I wanted to see you guys is because I've been checking more into the events surrounding the werewolf's appearance. And I've come to a conclusion!" He paused, as if waiting for Rockapella to ask him what the conclusion was. But they just looked at him, expectant.
"The werewolf is you!" Jeff cried then, pointing to Elliott.
The brunet flinched. "Me?" he exclaimed.
Jeff nodded. "It all fits!" he said. "It explains why you're so interested in the werewolf attack and why you didn't want to tell my uncle. The bandage on your hand is just like the one the wolf has in the newspaper picture. And your clothes are all torn, like they'd be if you transformed!"
Sean shook his head. "You seriously believe the wolf is real?" he scoffed.
"Not necessarily," Jeff shot back. "It could be a big prank. But your friend here is perpetrating it!"
A few minutes ago, Elliott had been so distraught and despondent that he might have not been able to hide his guilt. But now he took a deep breath, facing Jeff head-on. Someone really was doing this to be cruel to him. The clothing tag convinced him of that now. Still . . . was it something they should tell to this kid? They did not want him for their enemy; he could end up interfering with the rest of their investigation and even get his uncle involved in his suspicions.
"I know it looks that way," he said at last. "That's why we got involved in the first place."
Sean nodded. "But the truth is, someone has it in for poor El here and wants to implicate him," he said. "We've been gathering evidence to back up our side of the story."
Jeff crossed his arms, looking like he did not know whether to believe them or not. "Oh yeah?" he said. "And just what have you found?"
Sean weighed the options in his mind. To tell or not to tell, that was the question. It could end up going badly for them either way.
"We could tell you," he said at last, "but we don't know if we can trust you. We're trying to keep it hush-hush until we can catch the real perps. If word of this got out, El's reputation would be destroyed."
"Which is, of course, what they want," Scott added.
"Why would anyone hate him so bad?" Jeff looked Elliott up and down. "I mean, why him more than any of the rest of you? You're all detectives."
"We don't know why," Elliott said. "We're thinking it has something to do with a case I was on recently."
On impulse Barry asked, "What do you think of your uncle's client?"
Jeff blinked. "What do I think of her?" he repeated. He shrugged. "She seemed classy to me. Sophisticated. A real woman of the world."
"What kind of interest did she seem to have in the werewolf case?" Barry persisted.
"I don't know," Jeff said. "She acted like she was worried."
"'Acted' is right," Scott muttered. Louder he said, "Did you believe her?"
"I didn't have any reason to disbelieve her," Jeff said, sounding defensive again. "Look, what's with Twenty Questions?"
"We're trying to get to the bottom of this, the same as you are," Barry said. "And we have reason to believe Vivalene is involved."
Jeff snorted. "Oh, that's nuts," he said. "If she's involved, why would she hire my uncle?"
"Because she's trying to throw suspicion on El!" Sean cried, exasperated. "She and whoever's helping her have left a trail that makes Elliott look guilty!"
"And who's helping her?" Jeff returned.
Scott ran a hand into his wild curls. It was not as if they could say a Revolutionary War turncoat was also part of it. Jeff would instantly dismiss them all as crazies.
"We don't know," he said, trying to keep his voice even. And then, remembering another suspicion, he added, "Maybe Vic the Slick."
Jeff gave him a weird look. "Why would he be mixed up in it?!"
"Because he's infatuated with Vivalene," Barry said.
"Not to mention, he's been a thorn in ACME's side for years," Sean said.
"I take it you've heard of him," Barry deadpanned.
"I know about all of Carmen's gang," Jeff answered. "I have newspaper clippings on most of their crimes." He paused, studying the group. "So this is what you meant when you said V.I.L.E. might be involved?"
"Actually, we didn't suspect Vic until after we said that," Scott admitted. "But V.I.L.E.'s always a top suspect in our problems."
"Do you know where Vivalene is now?" Barry wanted to know.
"No," Jeff said. "She's not at her hotel room. Maybe she's still around here."
"Are there really that many homes available?" Barry said.
Jeff shrugged. "I printed out all the listings," he said, holding out several sheets of paper. "But if you think she's involved in this werewolf mess, maybe she's meeting with her co-conspirators."
"I wonder who the realtor is that she met with," Sean said.
"Do you suspect him?" Jeff said, incredulous.
"Everyone's a suspect," Sean replied.
"Sometimes it's the ones you wouldn't suspect at all that end up being responsible," Barry said.
Jeff looked back to Elliott. "What if the one you don't suspect at all really is responsible?" he said.
Scott clenched a fist. "El would never do something like this!" he exclaimed.
Elliott's stomach turned at the way Jeff had thrown Barry's words right back at them. Looking at it from Jeff's point-of-view, he had a right to be skeptical, but that had still been quite a dig to take right in front of Elliott.
Sean rubbed his eyes. Now he was starting to get a headache. There was little point in trying to defend Elliott further; it would only sound hollow to the apprentice P.I.
"You can believe us or not," he said. "I'd rather not be enemies on this case, but if that's the way it has to be, then let's shake on it." He held out a hand.
Jeff gave him a look filled with disbelief. "Shake hands on being enemies?" he retorted. "Come on, I'm just trying to get to the truth."
"So are we," Sean said, his voice calm and steady. "But we have different ideas on what the truth is."
Jeff stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. "I don't think of you guys as my enemies . . . unless you're actually hiding what the truth is," he added, shooting a glance at Elliott.
"We're not," Elliott said.
"We were just about to go back to ACME and follow up another possible lead," Sean said. "And that's what we're going to do whether you believe us or not." He started to walk past Jeff.
The others followed suit, each glancing at the boy in turn. Jeff frowned as he watched them go, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, he's not trying to stop us," Sean mused.
"He doesn't have any authority to do that," Barry said.
"And we can be grateful for that," Scott said, still upset over Jeff's comments about Elliott.
Elliott looked to him with a sad smile. "Don't let it get to you," he said. "After all, we already know it looks pretty bad for me."
Scott frowned. "I know, but . . ." He shook his head. "I hate thinking about all the damage he and his uncle could end up causing for you if they let any of their suspicions get out. . . ."
Elliott shook his head. "I don't think they will," he said. "I think they're honorable people, even if they don't agree with us."
"But they might tell the police," Scott said, the agony slipping into his voice. "What if they think you're dangerous, El? What if they think they have to stop you before you hurt someone?"
Elliott looked away. He had thought of that, but had not wanted to mention it and worry Scott and the others.
". . . I guess we have to hope they'd talk to us again before they'd do that," he said.
Sean nodded. ". . . Let's just hurry back," he said, his voice quiet. "Maybe the hypnotherapist can help us." He blinked. "That's right, I still have to call him. . . ." He pulled out his phone and began to dial.
Scott barely registered the sound of the buttons being punched and the subsequent ringing. What if a horrible scandal came out of this mess? What if other parties would be called in and Elliott would even be forced into a mental institution because of how he kept behaving so strangely? The Chief would do all in her power to keep something like that from happening, but if the wrong people got involved, there was always the chance that they would override anything the Chief tried to do to help.
Elliott's reputation and dignity would be shattered if that happened. And Scott never forgive the ones responsible. He already doubted he ever would.
He looked over at his friend. A change had come over Elliott since Scott had found him lying in the grass, and even more after Sean had showed them the clothing tag. He had been given renewed hope. But Scott kept finding new reasons to sink into despair. And he could not voice his concerns; he would not dare! If Elliott had not already considered some of these things, Scott would never want to make him think about them. And it was selfish anyway, wasn't it, to want some personal assurance that these nightmarish envisionings would not come to pass? It was Elliott who needed comfort. Scott had to push aside his own anguish.
But Elliott put his arm around Scott's shoulders.
"It's going to be okay," he said then. "We'll come out of this just fine, like we always do."
Scott stiffened. "I can't hide anything, can I?" he mused, sounding rueful.
Elliott shook his head. "Not really."
But then it was his turn to stiffen. "What happened to your shoulder?!" he gasped. In the dim light, he had not noticed the torn sleeve and the gauze. He only felt it now, as his hand touched the spot.
"It's nothing," Scott said, even as he remembered Barry saying it might need stitches.
Elliott frowned. "The wolf did it, didn't it?" he said, a darkness coming into his voice. It was bad enough for it to run loose hurting strangers. But for it to harm his friends, especially when the perpetrators were trying to make everyone think it was Elliott, was unacceptable.
Scott sighed. There was no point in lying. "Yeah," he said.
"What else did it do?" Elliott demanded.
". . . It threw Sean several feet." Scott stared ahead. Finally, their car was coming into view, still parked at the south gate.
Elliott gasped in horror. Immediately his gaze went to Sean, who was still on the phone with the hypnotherapist. At first glance, he seemed to be walking normally. But when Elliott looked closer, he could see a certain stiffness to his childhood friend's movements. Sean was in pain.
Elliott clenched a fist. "This has to stop." His voice was quiet, low, filled with pain as well---and something else---outrage.
"It's going to," Barry said from behind them.
"Before anyone else gets hurt," Elliott said.
Scott swallowed hard. He could only pray that they would all be able to make good on Elliott's words. They could not let anyone else get hurt. They could not let Elliott get hurt any more than he already was.
Sean hung up the phone, replacing it in his pocket as he withdrew the car keys. "The hypnotherapist is very interested in what's happening to you, El," he said. "He'd already heard some of it and was thinking about contacting us. He said he's definitely going to wait for us to get there so he can examine you."
"That's great." Elliott managed a smile as they left the cemetery and walked the rest of the way to their car. But then he frowned again. "What did he hear?" It was as he had thought---it had spread all over ACME by now.
Sean sighed, unlocking the doors. "Just what happened last night and this morning," he said.
Elliott ran a hand over his face. It was still plenty.
"Maybe I should drive," Barry said.
"I'm alright," Sean said with a blink. Yet even as he said it, he passed the keys to Barry. The older man slid into the driver's seat, while Sean walked around to the passenger side. Scott and Elliott got in the back.
Soon they were on the journey back to Manhattan.
****
All of them were ready to drop by the time they left their car in ACME's parking garage and trudged inside. But the thought that maybe they would get some sorely-needed answers kept them from promptly heading upstairs and collapsing in their respective beds. Instead they journeyed down the back hallway at Sean's direction, heading for the infirmary in a round-about way. Sean hoped that the path would enable them to bypass any uncomfortable confrontations, and much to their relief, it worked. Soon they were knocking on the door of Reginald Hoffman, ACME Crimenet's top hypnotherapist.
The middle-aged, distinguished man opened the door, studying the party for all of two seconds before stepping aside so they could enter. "Come in," he said with a gesture.
Rockapella hurried inside, Dr. Hoffman shutting the door behind them. Then he walked back to the middle of the room.
"It's you suffering such an ill fate, isn't it?" he asked, looking to Elliott, who nodded.
"That's right," he said. "None of us can figure out what's wrong with me. Then Scott had this idea that maybe hypnosis was a part of it. . . ."
Scott nodded assent. "What do you think, Doctor?" he wanted to know. "Is it possible?"
"It is possible," Dr. Hoffman agreed. "Please, sit down." He gestured at the chairs as he moved to his desk, starting a tape recorder as he went. "Perhaps you would like to tell your side of the story to the best of your ability?" he said to Elliott.
The brunet nodded again, sitting down in one of the plush chairs and leaning forward. "I don't know how much Sean told you, Doctor, but it was like this. . . ." He proceeded to relate the events as best as he could recall, beginning with the previous night and going on to the night that was upon them. The others stayed silent, letting Elliott tell his version. Then, upon invitation from the doctor, they added their own accounts. They did, however, omit the part about Scott's impostor being a ghost.
At last Dr. Hoffman leaned back in his chair and sighed, shaking his head. He picked up a pen on his desk, examining it with care before looking up and speaking.
"This is quite a story," he said.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Scott pleaded, leaning on the edge of the seat.
The older man nodded. "Your idea about hypnosis is very intriguing," he said. "Elliott's mishaps do have the earmarks of such a possibility." He looked to the brunet. "Are you willing to be put under hypnosis now in order to see what you might have locked in your subconscious?"
Elliott swallowed. ". . . Yeah," he said. He had to admit, he was nervous, even a bit afraid. If hypnosis really was the cause of his woes, would it really help him now? What if the doctor could not find anything in Elliott's subconscious that would help? Or worse, what if he could not bring Elliott out of the trance?
Scott laid a hand on Elliott's shoulder. It'll be okay, he said with his eyes, echoing the words Elliott had told him earlier tonight. Elliott managed a weak smile.
"It will be alright," Dr. Hoffman said. "I'll do everything in my power to help you. Come, lay down on the couch here."
Elliott nodded. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and crossed the room to the couch, then lowered himself onto it. He lay on his back, his hands at his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. Surely everyone in the room could hear it. He changed his position, clasping his hands over his chest.
Dr. Hoffman nodded. "Now, close your eyes," he instructed, lowering his voice to a calm, rhythmic tone. "Relax." He continued speaking, lulling Elliott into a tranquil state. The others watched, tense. They shared some of Elliott's own concerns. Would this really help? Was Elliott alright?
"How do you feel, Elliott?" Dr. Hoffman asked.
"Alright," Elliott mumbled. "I guess I'm okay."
A nod. "Tell me, Elliott," the doctor said, "what happened last night, after you left your friends to retire to bed?"
Elliott turned his head to the side. "I got ready for bed," he said. "Then Scott came in to say goodnight. . . ."
Scott's mouth dropped open. He had not gone in Elliott's room after they had parted! Sean and Barry, seeing his expression, stiffened.
The doctor glanced at them before looking back to Elliott. "I see," he said. "And what happened then?"
"He said he wanted to tell me something else before I went to sleep," Elliott said. "He . . . he said he'd been practicing how to hypnotize people, because he thought it might help on our cases. . . . He wondered if he could practice on me."
Scott shook his head in disbelief. That had not happened! At least . . . not that he could remember. Did this mean there was something wrong with him, too?
"What did you tell him?" Dr. Hoffman queried.
"I thought it was silly," Elliott said. "I was tired and wanted to sleep. He promised it'd just take a minute. So I finally said okay."
"Did he hypnotize you?"
"Yeah," Elliott nodded. "Just like you did. He told me that after I'd been asleep for three hours, I'd wake up and want to go out. I wouldn't stop to get dressed, and I wouldn't talk to anyone---not until I got to Denny's and found a woman who was waiting for me, a woman named Vivalene. He described her to me and said that we'd have dinner and she'd invite me back to her place. I was supposed to agree. Then he told me I wouldn't remember any of what he'd said.
"He brought me out of the trance and said he hadn't been able to hypnotize me after all. I believed him and we said goodnight."
"I didn't do any of that," Scott whispered, not sure if it would break the hypnosis to speak up.
Sean nodded, narrowing his eyes as he laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. It had been the impostor. Somehow, he had learned the art of hypnosis. That was the only explanation.
"And did it happen exactly as Scott said?" Dr. Hoffman wanted to know.
"That's right," Elliott said. "Just like that. But I was nervous all through the dinner. I knew something was wrong, but I just couldn't figure out what it was. It was a nice meal and all, but Vivalene isn't the kind of woman I really like to be around, so I thought that was why I felt so uneasy."
"Did you go with Vivalene to her home?"
"Her hotel room, actually," Elliott said. "I kept getting more nervous. She wanted something with me, and I didn't know what it was. I told her I needed to go. She said she was so lonely and that I could stay for 'just a little bit,' couldn't I. . . . And I did. I don't know why. . . . I think I was just trying to be polite. But then she was getting a lot . . . friendlier than I was comfortable with. I told her I had to go.
"That's when Vic the Slick came in. . . . Vivalene seemed happy he was there. Maybe she thought it'd keep me from going. She said we should all have a toast, and she ran over and poured the glasses before I could say anything more about leaving."
Scott clenched a fist. He was hating Vivalene the more he heard about her. But at least poor Elliott had not given in to her, as he had worried he had done.
"So we had the toast," Elliott continued. "I started feeling funny after that. I don't know if it was the liquor or something else, but Vivalene herded Vic out and said she'd call him later. Then she led me to the couch and had me lay down. She said I shouldn't go until I felt better. I was feeling too horrible to argue.
"Then Scott was there. . . . I couldn't figure out how he'd ended up at Vivalene's place, but he told me not to worry and that everything would be okay. And he started trying to hypnotize me again."
"'Trying'?" Dr. Hoffman said in a mild tone.
"Yeah. Well, he really did it again. And he started telling me these other things. . . . That I'd run downstairs in a panic and go hide somewhere for a couple of hours, tearing my clothes to pieces before going home. He said that every time Vivalene would blow a kiss at me, I'd blank out and do those same things, and that when I'd see someone fixing her hair, I'd snap and start acting like a wolf."
"'Someone'?" Dr. Hoffman prompted. "Not just Vivalene?"
Elliott nodded. "It could be anyone. I think they were hoping I'd attack a stranger or something.
"He also said that I'd steal the wolf costume from the ACME prop room and hide it under my bed after getting home last night. Then I'd pass out after I got home last night, and that I wouldn't remember anything in the morning, but I'd wake up feeling exhausted and miserable. And everything happened just like he said."
"Did you meet him any other time?" asked Dr. Hoffman.
"Yeah," Elliott said, "after I blanked out earlier today. He came up to me when I was ripping my clothes and said that I'd collapse in the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery today instead of going home to ACME."
"I see," the doctor frowned. "And you never had any doubt that it was Scott?"
"I never had the chance to doubt," Elliott said. "He always put me under before I could ask much." He frowned now. "But Scott wouldn't tell me things like that. I know he wouldn't!"
Dr. Hoffman nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened to you, Elliott?"
"That's about it," Elliott said.
"So you never transformed into a wolf-like creature, nor do you know who is doing it?"
"Right. I have no idea who's behind it. I just know it isn't me."
Dr. Hoffman leaned back. "Then I am going to bring you out of the trance, Elliott. And you will consciously remember all that you were told to forget. When I count to three, you will open your eyes." He proceeded to count.
Scott watched, tense. Would Elliott wake up?
Elliott opened his eyes, blinking at the brightness of the lights in the room.
"Are you awake?" Dr. Hoffman asked.
"Boy, am I awake." Elliott sat up, holding a hand to his head. "I can't believe I just forgot all of that! How can someone speaking to me make me forget---or remember?!"
"Hypnosis is a very delicate business," Dr. Hoffman said. "It should never be practiced by those who don't have good intentions."
Scott hurried over and sat by Elliott. It was a relief to see him awake and acting his normal self. Though, even under hypnosis, he had acted like himself.
"The nerve of that twerp!" he cried. "He pretended to be me so you'd be at ease around him and he could hypnotize you!"
Elliott clenched a fist. "And there was something else weird," he said as he straightened up. "He never touched me. Even when he wanted me to lay down that first time, he just gestured at me and didn't put his hands on my shoulders or anything like that."
"Of course," Sean frowned. "If he touched you, you'd know he wasn't Scott."
They had completely forgotten their resolve to not mention who and what the impostor actually was. Now the doctor was staring with goggle-eyed interest.
"How would touching you let you know he wasn't Scott?" he asked.
Elliott stiffened, for a moment resembling a deer caught in the headlights. "Because . . . uh . . ." He looked to Sean for help.
"Because his touch is cruel," Sean supplied without skipping a beat. Well, that was true, though it was not really the explanation here. "Seriously," he continued, "if he'd touched El at all, he would've known the truth just from the . . . uh . . . cruelness."
Dr. Hoffman raised an eyebrow, aware that they were not telling him everything.
Sean jumped up, wanting to leave before this conversation continued. "Thanks a million for waiting for us!" he said in all sincerity. "Now we're making some progress." He looked to Scott and Elliott and Barry. They still needed to see about Scott's battle wounds and Elliott's blood test. Not to mention looking at that ring.
The others stood as well, also thanking the doctor. Elliott hesitated, turning his fedora around in his hands.
". . . Now that you made me remember everything I was told to forget, will I still space out and follow the post-hypnotic suggestions?" he worried.
The doctor shook his head. "It is true that people are not supposed to be hypnotized against their will," he said. "Now that you remember what was done to you, I doubt it will have any hold over your mind."
Elliott gave a slow nod. He would have liked to ask more, but the man's phone rang just then. With an apologetic "Excuse me," Dr. Hoffman picked up the receiver. It immediately became apparent that it was a call that would take a while, and with a sigh Elliott hurried into the hall where his friends were waiting.
Scott, who had overheard the exchange, was frowning. "I wanted to ask him why he hadn't told you something about not going along with the post-hypnotic suggestions before bringing you out of the trance," he said. "That seems weird to me."
Sean narrowed his eyes. "That is strange," he said. "Maybe we'll have to come back later, when his phone call should be over." He looked to Scott. "Right now we should see about getting those claw marks stitched up, if they need it."
Scott grimaced. "I guess," he said, though he would not have agreed if Dr. Hoffman had not been on the phone.
They walked back up the hall. Barry looked to Sean.
"Do you think the doctor wasn't being entirely honest?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sean said. "Maybe it's nothing."
At least, he hoped so.