Goldengirl

The possibility that the blond runner was a top-rank athlete from Europe over here to soak up some California sunshine, and using another name to disguise her from rivals in the forthcoming Olympic Games, was dismissed by an AAU official as ‘wild.’ But the mystery of blond Goldine remains, and may not be cleared up before next month, when the Olympic Trials take place in Eugene, Oregon. Stated the AAU official, ‘If the clockings in San Diego are authenticated, Miss Serafin should get an invite to the Trials. I mean no discredit to San Diego officials, but I’ll be interested to see if this girl can repeat her performances under championship conditions.”

Dryden tossed aside the Sunday edition of the Union he had picked up in the hotel lounge. It was a relief that nothing in it conflicted with the story he had told the night before. To give credit to Serafin, he hadn’t gone berserk when Dryden and Goldine had finally appeared in the lobby of the Westgate Plaza Hotel at ten-fifteen. He had listened to the story, and it was watertight.

As Dryden had told it, Dr. Fishback of his own volition had ruled that Goldine must take a dope test. By good fortune, Dryden was in the medical room to have his twisted ankle examined, and overheard Fishback on the phone ordering the marshal to pick up Goldine after the 400 metres. Learning that the test would mean a car ride to the hospital, he had waited to see whether Klugman or anyone else was going along in support, learned that they weren’t, and insisted that he be allowed to accompany her. Fishback had given his assent, provided Goldine was agreeable.

On the way to the hospital, Fishback had changed his mind and driven instead to the Salk Institute. They had arrived there at five-forty, the test had been administered at six-ten, but the physician in charge, who had to sign the medical certificate, was off duty till six forty-five. Satisfied by the analyst that the test was negative, Fishback had not waited any longer, but Dryden had thought it wise to collect the written evidence of Goldengirl’s test. During the interval before the physician arrived, he had twice tried ringing the stadium, but nobody picked up the phone. Soon after seven o’clock, when he had collected the certificate, he got the idea of phoning the heliport. He had asked for a message to be delivered to the pilot of the Jet Ranger: that, as it was already too late to fly to Cambria Pines before sundown, he was taking Goldine, by then exhausted, for a meal in La Jolla. They had run into a little trouble afterward getting a cab, but finally stopped one at nine-ten. By nine-fifty they had found Brannon, deputed to meet them at the heliport, and got into another cab, which had delivered them to the hotel. Time: ten-fifteen. Supporting evidence: one certificate signed by Dr. Lyle-Gordon of the Salk Institute, one check from the Plaza Inn and — a nice touch — one crepe bandage around Dryden’s right ankle. As he had mentioned to Goldine in the cab, it scored tactically to check in at ten, rather than seven. By then, the consortium was more anxious than angry.

How they felt after a night’s reflection it was difficult to judge. When Dryden appeared in the hotel restaurant at nine-forty, he learned that several of the party had already breakfasted and checked out. A curt note left by Serafin informed him that a cab was ordered for ten-thirty. The second party would take off from the San Diego heliport at ten forty-five, destination Cambria Pines.

‘You’ve read the report, then. She seems to have created the right amount of interest at this stage, wouldn’t you say?’

It was Lee. He must have arrived in the lounge when Dryden was deep in the newspaper.

‘Looks like it,’ Dryden said tersely. The polite smile and couch-side voice were a little difficult to stomach this morning.

‘“The mystery blonde,”’ Lee went on. ‘Isn’t that a helpful start toward the image? I thought mysteries made good copy in the advertising business.’

‘It’s a theory,’ said Dryden without enthusiasm.

‘Perhaps I should stick to things I understand. The psychology of mass communications always overawed me. I am quite baffled by demographics and computer readouts. Did you sleep well?’