Chapter 39: Monday, Jan. 29

Dr. Penrood found out about these experiments through a routine inquiry into the disappearance of the small mammals Professor Ossmann was working on. When Penrood confronted Ossmann with his suspicions and threatened a thorough review by a committee of his peers, the latter decided to include the Director in his scheme. Basically, they were to repeat some of the experiments openly and proceed through the usual channels in developing and testing the aphrodisiac.

Freddie Bain found out about the experiments through Celeste Tangent. She, in her role as a provider of escort services, had "escorted" Dr. Penrood on one of his trips to a research conference in Atlanta. Penrood, smitten with her, took her on as a laboratory assistant. She, Bain's sex and drug slave, in turn made Penrood her sex and drug slave. I certainly cannot excuse Dr. Penrood's behavior, but I think I understand it.

There remain other details yet to be cleared up. Mr. Fang, who is very well lawyered, has said little to date as he maneuvers for some plea bargaining. It is not clear, for instance, how he knew Ossmann and Woodley would be in the Lab together that fateful night. It's not clear how he inveighed both of them to eat the food from the Garden of Delights that he or someone unknown had doctored with the fatal potion.

Speaking of which, and perhaps not all that surprisingly, the Ponce Institute has already come up with the trade names, Priaptin, the version being developed for men, and Lubricitin, for women. Another team has taken over the project and the Acting Director at the Lab tells me it shows enormous commercial potential.

A thorough search of that monstrosity in the woods turned up the cellar room where Korky had been kept on a starvation diet. Korky appears, by the way, to have landed on his feet. With the cooperation of many of the haute cuisine restaurants in and around Seaboard, he has opened up a soup kitchen for the homeless dubbed "The Best Leftovers." It uses surplus food from the sponsoring eateries and aims at "personal redemption through fine dining." It's been so successful he has reserved a part of the establishment for paying customers.

Other matters are resolving themselves in one way or another. Production of "A Taste of the Real," Raul Brauer's self-aggrandizing film project, has come to a shuddering halt. It turns out that Freddie Bain was the principal backer. The government has seized all of his ill-gained assets, and I doubt it will feel compelled to honor Mr. Bain's obligations in that regard. Although, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that lawyers are working on it right now.

Speaking of which, Ariel Dearth has noticeably toned down his anti-lawyer rhetoric. He and several others have founded a group called Recovering Lawyers of America. They had apparently considered calling the organization Lawyers Anonymous but thought that it sounded too sinister. It seems RLA uses the twelve-step approach and vocational retraining to help lawyers break their dependence on "abusing the law." His project has drawn considerable public attention. Bills are being introduced in the state legislature to underwrite "the transformation of attorneys to useful citizens." Unfortunately, Mr. Dearth has become as ubiquitous as ever, not exactly a boon to the public, what with that face and all.

On quite another topic, my book about the MOM, "The Past Redeemed: The History of the Museum of Man," has received some very positive advance notices. Indeed, on the strength of this reception, I have been asked by a well-known university publishing house to edit the considerable correspondence between Mason Twitchell and Lady Miriam Rothschild. At her country seat, Waddesdon Manor, the eccentric English aristocrat kept a large collection of trained fleas she pampered and dressed for show. To date I haven't said yes, but I haven't said no, either.

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