The Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 15 Classic Crime & Mystery Stories

Another thing that makes me feel I was the real motive for her going into show business was the fuss she raised about my going to Columbia instead of to UCLA. She couldn’t understand why I insisted on traveling clear across the country when there was a perfectly good school near home. The fact that New York City was the center of the legitimate theater, and my interest was in eventually writing, directing and producing plays, didn’t strike her as a reasonable argument. Why couldn’t I study medicine and psychology and become a psychiatrist like my father? Or if I insisted on a show business career, why couldn’t I settle for film-making, in which UCLA had an excellent course?

Dad resolved the argument by becoming stern with her. The only times I can recall him being stern with Mother were occasions when they disagreed about what was best for me. Dad rather witheringly told her she was behaving like a Philip Wylie mom, and if she didn’t soon cut the umbilical cord, people would start laughing behind her back. She gave in then, because she would rather have died than have discovered that people were laughing at her.

Despite being such a high-priced solver of emotional problems, Dad never quite understood the relationship between Mother and me. I was never in much danger of becoming a mama’s boy. I think I was about eight when I first became aware of her mommish desire to devour me. Most boys would either have given in or rebelled. I couldn’t rebel because I sincerely loved Mother and couldn’t possibly have done anything to hurt her feelings, but I couldn’t give in either. So I worked out my own adroit method to avoid being devoured. It required considerable acting talent, and may be the origin of my interest in the theater.

I’d say, “Yes, ma’am,” when Mother cautioned me against going near the ocean, but I could hang ten on a surfboard by the time I was twelve. Fortunately Dad always gave me a lot of extra spending money that Mother never knew about, so obtaining equipment was no problem. I kept my surfboards, wet suits and, later on, scuba-diving equipment, at the homes of various friends. They were conditioned never to mention in Mother’s presence any activity we had engaged in that Mother might consider either dangerous or ungentlemanly. Insofar as I was concerned, the umbilical cord had been cut long before Dad mentioned the matter.

Apparently Mother wasn’t aware of it, though. She continued to watch over me protectively all the time I was at Columbia U.

There was the matter of my two previous engagements before Ellen, for instance. Mother hired the Flynn Detective Agency to investigate both girls.

I have to admit that in each case the investigation prevented me from making a disastrous mistake. The news that Mary Jane Potter had undergone three abortions before graduating from high school nearly destroyed me at the time but, as Mother pointed out, it was certainly better to find out how promiscuous she was before marriage than to catch her in bed with one of my friends afterward; and hearing the tape of Susan Harmon bragging to her roommate how she had hooked the richest jerk in college was hardly good for my ego, but it was better than ending up with that calculating little wench.

In my senior year, when I found Ellen Whittier, I couldn’t stand the thought of another investigation. I knew it would be impossible to convince Mother that none was necessary in this case so, after brooding about it for a while, I finally decided the only honest thing to do was warn Ellen of what was coming, even at the risk of having her indignantly break off our engagement. I made it clear to Ellen that I heartily disapproved of Mother’s investigations, but was helpless to stop them. I also made it clear that I was quite fond of Mother despite her over-protectiveness and that I hoped Ellen eventually would learn to love her too. I said I realized that might be difficult in view of what her initial impression of Mother must be.

Ellen surprised me by laughing.

“I think the whole thing is charming,” she said. “She’s merely trying to watch over her little boy.”

“But you certainly must resent the thought of being investigated,” I said.

She shrugged. “My life is an open book. The only emotion your mother is likely to experience while reading the report is boredom.” Then she had a sudden thought which brought a delighted grin to her face. “Let’s beat her to the punch. You hire the agency to investigate me and hand her the report at the same time you tell her we’re going to be married.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I’m not going to insult you by hiring a detective agency to investigate your suitability as a wife.”

“I’m going to be investigated in any event,” she pointed out. “I should think the fee would be a lot lower if I cooperate. Besides, even though I won’t see it, I am already contemplating with enjoyment the surprised look that is bound to appear on your mother’s face when you hand her the report.”

Against my better judgment Ellen eventually talked me into accepting her suggestion. We went together to the New York City office of the Flynn Detective Agency, where we explained to a man named Morrison what we wanted.