Power of Suggestion Read online

  “What kind of trouble?” Janis asked suspiciously. “Why should I believe you?”

  Bess took Nancy’s arm and started to pull her away. “She’s right, Nancy, it’s not our problem. Let Janis take the blame for whatever happens to her friend.”

  “Wait—wait a second,” Janis called after them. They turned. “What can I do?” Janis asked.

  Nancy and Bess stepped back into the room. “Just let us take a look around,” Nancy said.

  Soon she was giving the room a quick but thorough going over while Bess kept Janis distracted with small talk. Nancy looked for any clue that might tell her where Diana had gone, but the girl had left behind little more than an old towel, some cosmetics, and a few unimportant papers.

  “How could she take everything?” Nancy wondered aloud.

  “She never did have much,” Janis answered. “Two suitcases and her laptop computer.”

  “For a whole school year?” Bess asked, looking doubtful. “That doesn’t sound like much.”

  Nancy snapped her fingers. “Maybe she wasn’t planning on staying for the whole year—”

  She broke off as she spotted something in the wastebasket under Diana’s desk. She pulled it out and saw that it was a small block of notepaper. There was a blue logo of a pair of headphones, with the name Subliminal Suggestions, Inc., printed beneath it. An address and phone number in Pittsburgh were also listed.

  Nancy flipped through the pad, but there was nothing written on any of the sheets. Then she noticed that there were some faint indentations on the top sheet, and there was a ragged edge at the top, as if someone had torn off the sheet in haste. Taking a pencil out of the desk, Nancy began shading in the top sheet of the pad.

  “Find something?” Bess asked, coming over.

  Nancy showed her. The pencil shading highlighted the words that Diana had written on the pad: Mid-America Airlines, Flight 203, 10:15 A.M.

  “She must be going home to Pittsburgh,” Janis said, looking over Nancy’s shoulder.

  “We don’t have much time,” Nancy said. “Come on, Bess—” Then she stopped in her tracks. How could she have overlooked the obvious? Subliminal Suggestions had to be a rival of Positive Tapes! “Can I use this phone?” she asked Janis.

  Janis nodded, and within seconds Nancy had dialed the number listed on the notepad. “Good morning, Subliminal Suggestions. How can we help you?” a receptionist’s voice announced.

  Nancy couldn’t believe her luck. It was a stroke of good fortune that the company’s office was open on Saturday. “May I speak with Diana DeMarco?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, Miss DeMarco is away on assignment. May I take a message?”

  “No, I’ll try later. Thanks.” Nancy hung up the phone and grabbed Bess. Her heart was pounding with excitement. Finally she had a breakthrough! “Let’s go!” she said, pulling her friend out the door.

  “Can I ask what’s going on?” Bess said, hurrying down the hall after Nancy. “Why are you so excited?”

  “Diana DeMarco isn’t really a student,” Nancy told her. “She works for one of Larry Boyd’s rivals. I bet anything she was here to steal information about Dr. Edberg’s study. She’s an industrial spy!”

  Bess grabbed Nancy’s arm. “Whoa, slow down! How do you know all this?”

  When Nancy related her phone call to Subliminal Suggestions, Bess shook her head in amazement. “If she works for them, then she can’t be a student. You must be right about her being a spy. I bet she was using Wayne to learn about the study. Maybe he found out that she was working for Subliminal Suggestions, threatened to expose her, and had to kill him!”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Nancy said. “But what about Larry Boyd, not to mention the bald man Dave Webb saw at the psych building? Do they figure into this? We have lots of possibilities. Now we’ve just got to find out if any of these guesses are right or if Wayne died for some other reason entirely.”

  Soon after, the girls pulled into the Emersonville airport’s parking lot. It was a small airport, with one medium-size terminal building, a control tower, and a single airstrip. Diana wouldn’t be hard to find. After parking, the girls hurried into the terminal.

  Nancy’s gaze quickly scanned the people in line at the two ticket counters. No Diana. “Come on!” she urged Bess, hurrying in the direction of the boarding gates.

  As they approached the small line of people waiting to pass through the X-ray machine, Nancy spotted the familiar brown-haired figure. Diana was carrying two suitcases and her laptop computer.

  “Diana! Hey, Diana, wait!” Nancy shouted.

  A look of shock registered on Diana’s face when she spotted Nancy. She tried to push past the other passengers, but the guard stopped her. Dropping her suitcases, she broke away from the line and ran down the hall away from the girls.

  “I’m right behind you, Nan!” Bess called as Nancy took off after Diana.

  A janitor was pushing a wet mop down the hallway. Diana tried to slow down as she hit the patch of damp tile floor, but she was too late. Her feet flew out from under her, and she fell with a thud. By the time she got to her feet, Nancy and Bess were glaring down at her.

  “Why are you trying to get away?” Nancy demanded. “What have you got to hide?”

  “I don’t see that it’s any of your business,” Diana answered, getting to her feet and brushing off her slacks. “You have no right to try to stop me.”

  “Maybe I don’t, but I’m sure the police will be interested in learning about your romance with Wayne. Your sudden departure will look pretty suspicious.”

  “I had nothing to do with his death!”

  “Yeah, right,” Bess scoffed. “We know all about how you’re working for Subliminal Suggestions.”

  Diana shot a startled look at Bess. “How do you know about that?” she blurted out.

  Suddenly all her bravado fell away, and Diana slumped in defeat. “What about the diskettes—did you find them?” she asked quietly. When Nancy nodded, Diana let out a sigh. “Maybe we should have breakfast together after all.”

  Soon the three girls were seated in the airport cafeteria, breakfasting on lukewarm coffee, orange juice, and stale rolls. Diana confirmed Nancy’s guess that she was an industrial spy. “But Wayne wasn’t my partner,” she insisted. “He was one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met.”

  She took a sip of her coffee, then continued. “I graduated from college two years ago and went to work for Subliminal Suggestions. This fall I registered here under false pretenses. Right away I tried to get close to Wayne so I could learn about Edberg’s study.”

  “And?” Bess prompted.

  “Wayne resisted—he was very ethical. But I could tell he was attracted to me, and I kept after him. We finally started dating, but he still wouldn’t tell me much, so this term I signed up for the study group.”

  “What happened the night he was killed?” Nancy asked. “Why was he so curt with you in the student union? Did he learn you were using him?”

  Diana frowned down at her roll. “I don’t know. He’d been acting distant for a few days. He was nervous, on edge. He said there were problems with the study, but he wouldn’t say any more. I tried to confront him, and you saw how he reacted. That’s all I know, but—” Diana hesitated.

  “But what?” Nancy prodded.

  Diana looked away for a moment and inhaled deeply. When she turned back, Nancy could see that her eyes were brimming with tears. “I really started to like him—a lot. And I can’t help thinking that his death was somehow connected with Dr. Edberg’s study. Did you find anything on those disks?”

  “Not yet,” Nancy said. “We’re working on it.” She just hoped they came up with some answers soon.

  • • •

  “I’m glad we were able to convince Diana to come back to Emerson,” Bess said that evening as she and Nancy walked up the steps of the fraternity house. “I think she’ll help us find the truth about Wayne’s murder.”

  �
��Me, too,” Nancy said as she knocked on the door. “I’m still not sure we can trust her, though. But her coming back on her own is a good sign.”

  After returning to the dormitory from the airport, Nancy and Bess had called Captain Backman and filled him in on what they’d learned about Diana DeMarco. He said that he’d pass the information along to Lieutenant Easterling. Now, as Nancy heard a fast song playing inside, she felt like forgetting all about the case. “Come on, Bess,” she said. “Let’s party!”

  Soon after, Nancy and Ned were dancing in the fraternity’s living room, in the midst of a big group of students. Rock music boomed out from the stereo system. Nearby, Howie Little and his girlfriend were dancing. Dave Webb bounced by with a pretty redhead and grinned at Ned and Nancy. Everyone was in high spirits. For the moment at least, all of Parker’s problems were forgotten.

  “This is the best party you guys have ever thrown!” Nancy shouted to Ned. She noticed that Parker was sitting with several of his friends, laughing and talking animatedly. Bess sat on the arm of his chair, and they were holding hands. Parker kept glancing appreciatively at Bess’s black wool minidress and leggings. Nancy had to admit that Bess and Parker made a good-looking couple.

  When the song ended, Nancy and Ned worked their way over to Parker and Bess. “How’s it going?” Ned asked.

  Parker smiled over at them. “Great! See, Nickerson—I told you we had to have this party.”

  The opening bars of the next song began to play, and Bess leapt to her feet. “Come on, Parker, we have to dance. I love this song—‘Cosmic Mind Control’!” She pulled him to his feet.

  Nancy grinned at Bess. “You can’t get enough of Johnny Lightning and the Stormkings, can you?”

  But Bess wasn’t listening. She was staring at Parker in astonishment. “Parker? Are you okay? Parker?” she asked.

  Looking at him, Nancy saw that his animated expression had disappeared. He just stood there next to Bess, his jaw slack and his eyes blank.

  “Parker?” Ned said worriedly. He waved a hand in front of his friend’s face, but Parker showed no reaction.

  “Nancy!” Bess cried, looking horrified. “I think he’s in some sort of trance!”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  I’VE NEVER SEEN anything like this!” Nancy exclaimed. Several others gathered around Parker in concern. “Parker, can you hear me?” Nancy asked.

  The young man didn’t reply. He stood limply, his eyes glazed over, swaying slightly. Around them the party swirled. Most of the partygoers seemed unaware that anything was wrong.

  “Let’s get him somewhere quiet,” Ned said, taking Parker by the arm. Parker followed blindly while Ned, Nancy, and Bess escorted him into the fraternity’s study room, down the hall from the living room. Once he was away from the sounds of the music, Parker recovered almost immediately.

  “Hey—where’s the party? How did we get here?” He looked around in bewilderment.

  “You don’t remember?” Nancy asked.

  Parker shook his head. “Remember what?”

  “You blacked out again, Parker,” Bess told him, her voice filled with concern.

  “I did? But I felt fine. And then . . .” His voice trailed off. He sank into a comfortable chair and slumped forward, resting his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he muttered. “I must be losing my mind!”

  “I’ll be right back,” Ned told the girls. “Stay here with Parker.”

  He left the room, returning a few minutes later. “Let’s get our coats,” Ned told the others. “Dr. Cohen is going to meet us at the campus infirmary in ten minutes. He wants to take a look at you right away, Parker.”

  • • •

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Parker,” Dr. Paul Cohen said an hour later.

  Parker, Nancy, Bess, and Ned were sitting with the doctor in his small, plain office. He had spent the hour giving Parker a thorough physical, then asked them all to come into his office.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you that I can find,” Dr. Cohen went on. “You’re in top condition, and there’s no obvious sign of neurological damage. We could schedule you for a CAT scan, I suppose.” A thought occurred to him. “You haven’t had any head injuries—a fall in gymnastics practice, anything of that sort?”

  Parker looked up from the chair in which he was sitting. “No, nothing like that,” he replied.

  “Parker, did you tell the doctor about the psychological study you’ve been participating in?” Nancy suggested gently. “I think it might be important.”

  While Parker explained Dr. Edberg’s study, Dr. Cohen listened closely. “So let me see if I’ve got this right,” the doctor said when Parker finished. “For the past couple of months, you’ve listened to one of those subliminal tapes for an hour every week?”

  Parker nodded.

  “What did you think about while listening to the tapes?” Dr. Cohen asked.

  “My mind would just kind of drift, you know? Sometimes I’d listen to the music. They tried different kinds.” Parker smiled. “The last few weeks they were even using rock music.”

  That caught the doctor’s interest. He turned to Nancy, Ned, and Bess. “This latest blackout happened at a party, right?” he asked. When they nodded, he added, “I have an idea. What song was playing when Parker blacked out?”

  “It was a song from the new Johnny Lightning album,” Bess replied.

  Dr. Cohen’s face lit up. “I have that here on tape!” he told them. “One of the nurses was listening to it on her Walkman, and she loaned it to me.” He rummaged around in a desk drawer.

  “I like to keep up with music that students are listening to,” Dr. Cohen explained. “Ah—here it is!” He held up a cassette. “Which track was it?”

  “They were playing ‘Cosmic Mind Control,’ ” Bess told him. “It’s the best song on the album.”

  “And appropriate,” Dr. Cohen joked. He popped the cassette into the portable tape player on his desk. “Let’s give this rocker a listen,” he said.

  Sure enough, when he played the song, Parker once again went slack. He didn’t seem to be aware of anything or anyone around him.

  “Amazing!” Dr. Cohen exclaimed in a low voice. He turned the music off, and Parker began to blink and move around again.

  “Is he going to be all right?” Bess asked, concerned.

  “Just let him come out of it,” Dr. Cohen advised. He bent over Parker, who was slumped forward in his chair. “Parker, how are you doing?” he asked softly.

  Parker opened his eyes. He looked around and smiled at the others in the room. “I feel good. When are we going to listen to the song?”

  Nancy gazed at Parker sympathetically. “We’ve already listened to it,” she told him. “It stopped playing a few minutes ago.”

  Parker’s smile faded, and he glanced around in confusion. “It—it happened again?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to happen every time you hear this song,” Dr. Cohen told him. “You’ve been hypnotized! This song is the trigger for a posthypnotic suggestion. Whenever you hear it you go into a trance.”

  “What are you saying?” Parker demanded. He was starting to get agitated. “Are you telling me someone hypnotized me into shooting Wayne?”

  The doctor was thoughtful. “I don’t think so,” he finally replied. “Most research on hypnosis indicates that it’s impossible to get a person to do something they wouldn’t normally do. But someone did have a reason to hypnotize you.”

  “We just met an expert in hypnotism yesterday,” Bess put in.

  “That’s right! Parker, have you ever met a man named Larry Boyd?” Nancy asked. She wasn’t sure how Boyd or Parker’s hypnosis fit into Wayne’s murder, but she had a strong hunch they were all connected.

  “Larry Boyd? No. Who’s he?” Parker asked.

  “His company is funding the subliminal tapes study,” Nancy explained. “He was once convicted of manslaughter. I consider him a
suspect in Wayne’s murder, but I haven’t found any proof yet.”

  Ned looked questioningly at Dr. Cohen. “Do you know a lot about hypnosis?” he asked.

  “Some,” he answered. “In medical school I studied hypnosis technique for a term when I was considering specializing in psychiatry.”

  “Do you think you could ‘undo’ Parker’s posthypnotic suggestion?” Nancy asked. “Maybe then he’d remember everything.”

  “Well, it can be done,” the doctor said. “I think I could do it. Still, you might be better off getting a real expert. We have one of the best hypnotherapists in the country right here at Emerson College.”

  Nancy leaned forward in her chair. “Really? Who is that?”

  “His name is Edberg—Professor Aaron Edberg.”

  Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding!” she said, but the doctor’s serious expression told her he wasn’t.

  Ned paced back and forth in front of Dr. Cohen’s desk. “Boyd and Edberg,” he murmured. “They’re both involved in that subliminal tapes experiment—but which one would murder Wayne Perkins? And why?”

  “Beats me,” Nancy said. “That’s been the problem all along—trying to come up with a motive for any of our suspects. For all we know, Diana DeMarco is a hypnotist, too.”

  “Come on, Nan. It’s not her!” Bess exclaimed.

  “Sorry, but I can’t rule her out that easily. It’s even possible that Wayne hypnotized Parker. He was an advanced graduate psych student—he probably knew how to.”

  “You don’t really believe that,” Bess protested.

  “Maybe not. But we need to consider every possibility,” Nancy said.

  “So why was I hypnotized?” Parker spoke up.

  Nancy shrugged. “Maybe so you could be used as the murder weapon.”

  “But we know he’s incapable of murder—even under hypnosis!” Bess was becoming exasperated.

  Dr. Cohen had been listening to the exchange with a look of fascination on his face. Now he joined in, saying, “Actually, whoever hypnotized you, Parker, wouldn’t know whether or not you would really pull the trigger until the moment of truth arrived.”