The Key to Midnight

only two major investigations that we've failed to wrap up successfully since I took over the business.'
        The taxi swung around another corner. The Moonglow Lounge stood half a block ahead.
        Joanna finally spoke again, although she still wouldn't look at him. 'But why do you think I'm Lisa Chelgrin?'
        'Lots of reasons. For one thing, you're the same age she'd be if she were still alive. More important, you're a dead ringer for her, just twelve years older.'
        Frowning, she looked at him at last. 'Do you have a photograph of her?'
        'Not on me. But I'll get one.'
        The taxi slowed, pulled to the curb, and stopped in front of the Moonglow Lounge. The driver switched off the meter, opened the door, and got out.
        'When you have a photo,' Joanna said, 'I'd like to see it.' She shook hands with him as if they'd experienced nothing more together than a pleasant business lunch. 'Thanks for lunch. Sorry I spoiled the sightseeing.'
        Alex realized that she was dismissing him. 'Can't we have a drink and-'
        'I don't feel well,' she said.
        The cabdriver opened the door, and she started to get out.
        Alex held on to her hand, forcing her to look at him again. 'Joanna, we have a lot to talk about. We-'
        'Maybe later.'
        'Aren't you still curious, for God's sake?'
        'Not nearly as curious as I am ill. Queasy stomach, headache. It must be something I ate. Or maybe all the excitement.'
        'Do you want a doctor?'
        'I just need to lie down a while.'
        'When can we talk?' He sensed a widening gulf between them that had not existed a few minutes ago. 'Tonight? Between shows?'
        'Yes. We can chat then.'
        'Promise?'
        'Really, Alex, the poor driver will catch pneumonia if he stands there holding the door for me any longer. It's gotten fifteen degrees colder since lunch.'
        Reluctantly he let go of her.
        As she got out of the taxi, a blast of frigid air rushed past her and struck Alex in the face.

----

    12
        
        Joanna felt threatened.
        She was overcome by the unshakable conviction that her every move was being watched and recorded.
        She locked the door of her apartment. She went into the bedroom and latched that door as well.
        For a minute she stood in the center of the room, listening. Then she poured a double brandy from a crystal decanter, drank it quickly, poured another shot, and put the snifter on the nightstand.
        The room was too warm.
        Stifling. Tropical.
        She was sweating.
        Each breath seemed to scorch her lungs.
        She opened a window two inches to let in a cold draft, took off her clothes, and stretched out nude atop the silk bedspread.
        Nevertheless, she still felt that she was smothering. Her pulse raced. She was dizzy. The room began to move around her as if the bed had become a slowly revolving carousel. She experienced a series of mild hallucinations too, none new to her, images that had been a part of other days and moods like the one that now gripped her. The ceiling appeared to descend between the walls, like the ceiling of an execution chamber in one of those corny old Tarzan movie serials. And the mattress, which she'd chosen for its firmness, suddenly softened to her touch, not in reality but in her mind: It became marshmallowy, gradually closing around her, relentlessly engulfing her, as though it were a living, amoeboid creature.
        Imagination. Nothing to fear.
        Gritting her teeth, fisting her hands, she strained to suppress all sensations that she knew to be false. But they were beyond her control.
        She shut her eyes - but then opened them at once, suffocated and terrified by the brief self-imposed darkness.
        She was dismayingly familiar with that peculiar state of mind, those emotions, that unfocused dread. She suffered the same terrors every time that she allowed a friendship to develop into more than a casual relationship, every time that she traveled beyond mere desire and approached the special intimacy of love. The panic attacks had just begun sooner this time, much sooner than usual. She desired Alex Hunter, but she didn't love him. Not yet. She hadn't known him long enough to feel more than strong affection. A bond was forming between them, however, and she sensed that their relationship would be special, that it would evolve far