Thursby Manor
Chapter 5: It’s Kind of Diabolically Brilliant
Sam lurched awake. She sat up in bed, pushing her red hair out of her face. Once again, she was naked, once again, her body was lightly covered in a fine, white pollen, and once again, she had only the faintest recollection of the previous night.
“GODDAMNIT!” the detective exclaimed aloud.
Before she showered off, Sam inspected herself closely in the mirror. Her skin was pollen-coated, except…
Except for the tan lines where a brassiere should have been.
“Well,” Sam thought sourly, “at least I was in underwear last night.”
No, not underwear. An inspection of her hips showed the outline of a bikini bottom, not Sam’s usual, ordinary panties.
“I was in a bikini…” Sam mused to herself, fitting that clue into the bigger picture.
Then she plunged into the shower. It was going to be an eventful day.
For once, Halia was not at the office door when Sam arrived. The detective moved to her desk, glancing at the clock. Quarter past nine AM. She placed quick calls to both Mackenzie and Halia’s residences.
“How soon can you get to my office?” she asked of them both.
But when someone knocked on the doorframe, it was not Sam’s cousin, nor her teenage assistant. The detective sat upright in surprise as a tall, willowy native woman entered her office.
“You’re Sam Smith?” the young woman asked hesitantly. “The Girl Detective?”
The stranger was Noelani Iona, the former mistress of Theodore Harrison! Sam’s jaw nearly dropped.
“Come in,” she managed.
Noelani was lovely in person. Tall, thin, with elegant cheekbones, soft brown eyes, and faint red lips, she was a classic Hawai’ian beauty.
Sam stared. But there was something else… Something… A faded memory nagged at her.
Noelani and the detective sat in opposite chairs. Normally, Sam would pull out her casebook before a conversation. But this interview seemed very different, somehow.
“I have a mystery,” Noelani said tentatively, a woman’s handkerchief twisting in her fingers. “I think. I know it sounds funny—“
“But you have this feeling that you’ve been somewhere, somewhere you can’t remember,” Sam interrupted.
“Yes,” Noelani said, impressed. “How did you…?”
Sam jumped up, gently taking the native girl’s forearm. There were traces of the white pollen on Noelani’s dark skin.
“Ugh,” Noelani grunted. “I thought I’d washed all of that off.”
“Let me guess,” Sam drawled. “The instant you awoke, you had an absolutely irresistible compulsion to jump into the shower and scrub it all off?”
Noelani’s eyes grew wide.
“You and me,” Sam said grimly, “we were at the same party last night.” Now she knew why Noelani’s presence felt so familiar.
Within an hour, Mackenzie and Halia had arrived. Sam sat her three guests in her office chairs, then paced before them, in front of her desk.
The detective eyed all three women. “Let me guess,” she drawled. “You all felt tired and went straight to bed early last night, correct? Perhaps around ten o’clock?”
Mackenzie, Halia, and Noelani nodded.
“And you woke, then immediately got into the shower, correct?”
More nods.
“Think carefully,” Sam said pointedly. “Are you sure you were home, in bed?”
This time the nods were slower, less certain.
The detective waggled a finger. “No. None of us here were. We four were all at Thursby Manor, partying the night away. Like silly schoolgirls.”
“No,” Mackenzie said plainly but firmly. “I went to bed, right after my show. I remember.”
“I called your chaperone, Mack,” Sam countered. “She said you left Hotel Hotel Maika?i around seven. And you weren’t home until after midnight.”
“But… I remember the show,” Mackenzie insisted.
“Show me your arm,” said Sam. A quick comparison revealed that both women still had residue of the white pollen on their skin.
“I’ve been all over the island of O?ahu,” Sam pronounced firmly. “This white pollen—whatever it is—I’ve only found at one location: Thursby Manor. We were both there last night, Mack.” She glanced meaningfully at Halia and Noelani. “We all were.”
“So why don’t we remember that?” Halia asked plainly.
Sam leaned against her desk, folding her arms. “Because we’ve been hypnotized.”
“What? No,” Mackenzie said immediately.
“I wasn’t convinced immediately, either,” Sam admitted. “But consider… Each of us woke up with this definite conviction that we spent the evening at home, right? And yet, we can’t remember anything specific about last night.”
“I can,” pouted Mackenzie defensively.
“What did you have for dinner last night?” Sam fired back. “Who was the last person you talked to? Did you read a book or magazine before falling asleep? If so, what did you read?”
Sam’s cousin opened her mouth to reply… but no words came out.
“You see?” the detective observed. “We have the belief that we spent the night at home… but we can recall no specific details about last night.”
“Another clue,” Sam continued, and picked up the pack of cigarettes from her desk. “Until yesterday, I was a serious smoker. And then…” She looked at the pack, then shrugged. “…since I woke up yesterday, I haven’t wanted a smoke. Not even one drag. Nada. Why would I suddenly give up a bad habit I’ve fostered since grade school?”
The other women didn’t reply.
“I’ve been hypnotized,” Sam said plainly, shaking her head and still eyeing the cigarettes. Without a shrug, she tossed the pack into her wastepaper basket. “Somehow, somewhere, I was hypnotized and compelled to go to Thursby Manor. While I was there, I apparently put of a bikini, spent the whole time outdoors under those damned pollen trees, then went home with instructions to forget everything.”
Noelani looked stunned. “I had this dream last night,” she said, her voice wavering. “I was at this wonderful party, with many other girls. We put on swimsuits and—“
“And frolicked the night away?” Sam finished. “Yeah. We were all there.”
Mackenzie scowled, apparently insulted. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t be hypnotized. I can’t.”
Sam cocked her head to one side. “Let me try something,” she proposed.
The detective moved to stand directly before Halia. “Sorry ’bout this, but I need to prove a point,” she murmured.
The teenager looked mildly concerned. “…what?” she asked.
Sam leaned forward, snapping her fingers loudly. “Sleep, Halia!” she barked.
Halia leaned back, wide awake. She looked quizzical.
“Sleep!” commanded Sam.
Still nothing. Noelani and Mackenzie exchanged pained looks.
Sam frowned. Somehow, she knew this would work. But what…?
The detective’s memory flashed back to Thursby’s billiards room, and to the black-and-white photo of Dr. Heinrich Brecht hypnotizing a teenager. “Of course,” she thought.
Imitating the photo exactly, Sam gently put one hand on the teenager’s cheek. “Halia, sleeeeep…” she whispered in a loving voice.
Immediately, Halia’s eyes glazed over. The teenager’s arms went limp and she collapsed forward in her chair, a rag doll. Her eyelids closed. Sam lowered her torso onto her legs.
“Oh my God,” said Noelani in alarm.
Sam had once witnessed a hypnotism demonstration in high school. Thinking back to that now, she leaned over Halia’s slumbering body.
“Halia, when I snap my fingers, you will awaken,” the detective said conversationally. “You will be completely convinced that I am the actress Elizabeth Taylor. Awaken now!” She snapped her fingers again, rapidly.
Halia roused, sitting up and blinking. She did a wide-mouthed double-take the instant she looked up at Sam.
“Ohhhh…!” the teenager breathed, a hand covering her heart. “Oh, Miss Taylor…!”
“There, you see?” Sam said to the others.
“Oh, I’ve seen all your movies,” Halia gaped, reaching for Sam’s hand. “You… you should do a movie with that Sean Connery!”
“Do you want me to demonstrate on you?” Sam asked, leaning over Mackenzie.
The hula dancer shrank back. “No, no! Jesus…”
“We’ve all been hypnotized,” Sam said firmly, returning to lean against her desk. She gestured at the starstruck Halia. “Just like this.”
“Wow…” Halia beamed, her face glowing. “You’re soooo beautiful in person…”
“KAHAHA!” said Noelani, who looked fairly worried. “Who hypnotized us? And why?!?”
“I had a hard time with that question,” Sam admitted. “I’m not totally sure, but I think we may have hypnotized each other.”
“What?” frowned Mackenzie.
“So Halia did a bunch of research at the library,” Sam said, picking up a pile of newspaper photocopies. “See? Thursby Manor was built by Harper Thursby, about ten years back. You remember that name?”
“Harper Thursby,” Noelani said absently. “I kind of remember that name when I was a little girl. He donated money to my school carnival, I think.”
“He was a man about town,” Sam agreed, passing out the articles. “Near as I can figure, he struck it rich and lived large. All these articles talk about how he loved to splash money about. But what I noticed,” Sam added dryly, “is that he’s always photographed with pretty young women. Always.”
“Yeah,” Mackenzie agreed, leafing through the papers.
“One of his obituaries talks about how Thursby was in the Navy when we were fighting Japan,” Sam went on. “His destroyer was sunk, and Thursby was marooned on an island. Then, around 1947, he’s rescued by chance. He returns to Hawai’i, starts a shipping business. Makes a fortune. But every year, he takes his private schooner to wander around the South Pacific for a month or so.”
The detective paused, making eye contact with Mackenzie and Noelani. “Then, in 1954, Thursby abruptly sells the schooner. Builds a big ol’ mansion outside of town. One of the profile articles talked about how he imported hybrid trees, trees he found on his island adventures. That’s why we’re covered in pollen when we come back from his house.”
“Okay,” said Mackenzie, not very patiently.
“I think,” Sam mused, “that while marooned, Thursby found… something. I’m not sure what, but something, some substance, some medicine, something that dramatically lowers a person’s ability to resist hypnosis. Once he got off the island and became a millionaire, Thursby decided he wanted to hypnotize young women. Like us. So he spent years searching for his former island home. When he found it, he packed up barrels of the mysterious stuff and smuggled it all back to Hawai’i. He built Harper Manor for the sole purpose of hosting wild parties there. And then he started hypnotizing young women to attend those parties.” She snorted. “Seems Thursby had a serious thing for bikinis.”
Halia had been listening to none of this. “Can I… Can I have your autograph?” she implored Sam.
Noelani rubbed her chin in thought. “I don’t know…” she muttered. “That’s fantastic.”
“It is,” Sam agreed, ignoring poor Halia. “But have you seen Thursby Manor? Its an adult playground. Nothing in that house hasn’t been placed there unless it contributes to the pursuit of pleasure.”
“Whoa, whoa,” scowled Mackenzie. She held up an obituary. “It says here Harper Thursby died—“
“Died four years ago, yes,” Sam acknowledged.
“So you’re saying we’ve been hypnotized by a dead man,” accused the hula dancer.
“Sort of,” replied Sam. “But not really.” She hopped up to sit on her desk. “There’s a few articles about how Thursby was such a skirt chaser, Honolulu society started to shun him, especially towards the end of his life. Whatever his magical mystery substance was, he didn’t dare use it in public. So you know what he did?”
Mackenzie arched one eyebrow.
“He hypnotized his women to recruit their gal pals,” supplied Sam. “He gave them instructions on how to use his magic substance and then the words to use to put them under a spell. And the women mesmerized their friends, who mesmerized their friends… and so on.
“It’s kind of diabolically brilliant, if you think about it,” Sam grudgingly admitted. “Once he started his little hypnosis club, all Thursby had to do was sit up in his big house and wait for the next scheduled party. The girls would come to him. And do whatever he wanted.”
Halia sighed happily, still beaming up at Sam with stars in her eyes.
“Thursby must have been a real lazy guy,” the redheaded detective speculated. “It said in one of those articles that he set up an irrevocable trust for the care and maintenance of his home. That trust is still working, still in operation. When Halia and I visited the house yesterday, there were cleaning crews scrubbing the place down, getting it ready for the next party. The taxes are even paid out on schedule. Only no-one’s home.”
“The whole thing’s sick,” Noelani said, disgusted.
“Getting back to Thursby,” continued Sam. “The guy was in his mid-thirties, but in poor health. He ate like a hog and never exercised. And he dies of a heart attack in 1959. But his hypnotized women are still out there, and still compelled to assemble at the manor for parties. Its been going on for almost four years now.”
“I don’t believe it,” Mackenzie said stubbornly. Sam could tell her cousin was terrified at the story unraveling here.
“How else do you explain Halia?” Sam asked gently. She gestured to the bedazzled teenager.
“Oh, Miss Taylor,” whispered the girl, “I just think you’re… you’re so nifty! You’re my fave!”
“Halia is only seventeen,” Sam said patiently. “Thursby wouldn’t have looked at her at the time of his death. Yet somehow, Halia was mesmerized and compelled to go to Thursby Manor last night. Question: Who hypnotized her?”
Mackenzie didn’t reply.
“Answer,” finished Sam. “I did. I’ve been to the parties at least twice. After my first party, I must have brought back some of Thursby’s magic hypnosis stuff. And when I was triggered, I used it on poor Halia here. Then both Halia and I went to last night’s party, and were programmed to forget the whole thing in the morning.”
The tiniest of sparkles caught Sam’s eye, down on the threadbare carpet.
“Aha,” proclaimed the detective. She hopped off her desk, then knelt, gingerly scooping up little bits of a glittering substance from the rug.
“You see?” she said, offering her palm for Mackenzie and Noelani to inspect. “Thursby’s pixie dust, no doubt.”
“I hope your next movie is a musical!” Halia told Sam wondrously.
The other three ignored her. “PUPULE!” Noelani swore. The beautiful girl slouched in her chair, worry lines creasing her face.
“So…” Mackenzie fretted, “what do we do now?”
Sam sighed heavily. “That I don’t know,” she admitted. Carefully, she brushed the twinkling sand into an envelope. “Maybe I can get the university people to analyze this? That might help.”
“They’ll think you’re crazy,” scowled Mackenzie. “Heck, I think you’re crazy, Sam.”
“Waitaminute,” Noelani interjected. “If all you say is true… and Thursby’s parties have been going on for years… then why aren’t all of Hawai’i’s women up at the house by now?”
Sam frowned, considering. “I wondered about that. Thursby was a clever guy. He wanted to mesmerize the most beautiful women on the island, but he didn’t want to get caught. So his programming must include something that releases girls from his spell after a time. Every week, new women are hypnotized while other party-goers are released. And no-one remembers a thing.”
The four women were silent for a moment.
“So if you’re right…” Noelani said slowly.
“Then the worst is, we four will be sucked into a few more parties,” finished the detective with a glum expression. “And then our memories will be erased again. Hell, we may not even remember this conversation.”
“Can’t we… I don’t know, get dehypnotized somehow?” Mackenzie asked.
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. When I first came to the island, I visited a hypnotherapist for my smoking habit. Didn’t take. But I liked the woman; maybe she can help us.”
“I hope so,” Noelani said, worrying again.
“Its worth a shot,” pronounced Sam, already reaching for her telephone.
But before she could dial, Halia leapt up, grabbing Sam’s hand. “Oh Miss Taylor,” she said, love in her eyes, “don’t you worry about these other two ladies. They may not recognize you, but I am your BIGGEST FAN.” She sighed happily.
Sam booked a multisession appointment with Luann Kamealoha, the professional hypnotist that Sam had visited years before. Although she was incredulous at their tale, Luann agreed to treat Sam, Mackenzie, Halia, and Noelani all at the same time. The four women spent a few hours in a deep trance, willing Ms. Kamealoha to undo all of Thursby’s dirty work.
After, the four women unanimously decided to remain together at least until midnight, if only to keep a sharp eye on one another. Sam wanted to bring in an outside friend, someone who could watch for signs of hypnosis. But the other three overruled her.
“This is so embarrassing already,” groaned Mackenzie. “I don’t want anyone other than us to know about our… condition.”
“Besides,” Halia cheerfully supplied, “if one of us trances out, the others will spot it. Right?”
So all four women piled into Sam’s living room. Sam’s television set was on the fritz, but it turned out that Noelani was an expert poker player.
“I had ambitions of being a dealer in Vegas,” she confessed. “That’s why I was dating Theodore Harrison. He told me he was a casino owner, and that I have potential.” Her smile faded. “I guess that’s why I should never listen to men, huh?”
“Theodore Harrison and Harper Thursby,” Sam remarked. “Two men with the same initials who both wanted to trick you into being their girlfriend.”
“Yeah, funny,” said Noelani, not looking amused in the slightest.
“Oh you guys,” Halia clucked her tongue. “Honestly, now. What is so terrible?”
The other three women stared at her.
“Okay, so we’ve been, you know, brainwashed. A little,” Halia allowed. “But so what? Its not like we were commanded to shoot the president or perform gross sex acts or anything like that. We went into a trance, and then we got invited to the world’s most awesome party! I ask you, where’s the harm?”
Sam, Mackenzie, and Noelani were momentarily speechless.
“Do you know,” Halia lectured, sloppily shuffling the cards, “how many grown-ups I know who are desperately in need of a really, really good party?”
“Yes, but…” Sam objected.
Halia smiled.
“…well…” fumbled Sam.
“I’m just saying,” Halia remarked, placing the deck on the table for Mackenzie to cut, “that if we have to be hypnotized into doing anything, I’m kinda glad it to do something I’ve always wanted to enjoy.”
No-one could argue with that.
Three hands later, Sam was about to throw back a four and a six. Mackenzie, who was a terrible bluffer, was repeatedly glancing at her cards and biting her lip. The time was ripe to take her to the cleaners.
Sam plucked her discards, when a strange feeling swept over her.
“You guys,” she grinned absently. “I’m sorry. I have a party to go to.”
The other three looked at her in alarm.
Sam dropped her cards and stood. “Don’t you ladies have to come along too?”
One-by-one, Mackenzie, Halia, and Noelani’s expressions changed from concerned to blissful and smiley. “Yeah,” Mackenzie murmured. “I have a party to go to.” She beamed.
Without another word, the women left the apartment, climbed into Sam’s BMW and headed west.
An hour later, Sam couldn’t remember anything but the desire to celebrate. There was not a concern in her mind, and the world seemed happy and at peace.
“Oh my God, you guys!” she screamed in delight. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”
“Go!” a tall blonde in another bikini shouted out.
And with that, the potato sack race was on. Sam hopped like a woman possessed, careless and indifferent to how her breasts flopped and bounced in her tight little bikini. Beside her, Mackenzie, Halia, and Noelani struggled to keep up, laughing hysterically all the way. The other bikini’ed women leapt up and down, cheering.
Sam barreled across the makeshift finish line, just below the stone patio. “I won, I won, I won! Oh yeah, oh yeah!” she squealed in joy, and triumphantly danced with boundless energy.
“You must have cheated!” sang Halia, but the accusation was not serious. The teenager’s face was flush with the thrill of competition.
“Well, try and beat me at the next… next… next thing,” Sam teased back. For some reason, it was hard to think of the right words. Her mind was a whirl of giggles and ideas for play.
“Com’on, com’on,” laughed Noelani, grabbing both Sam and Halia by the hands. “The other girls, they’re starting the conga line!”
And Sam happily allowed herself be propelled into the next madcap adventure. For the moment, the world was spilling over with too much joy. She was having so much fun.