"Which one? Teen idol? Rock Beat?"
"Stars and Stripes," Remo said. "I've come to ask you about Admiral Thornton Ives. The Secretary of the Navy. I understand you were talking with him last night."
"Well, I do circulate with all the guests, even if they're outsiders," he said smugly. "It's my work. Naturally, I'd rather spend my time with people of my own caliber. Military types don't make it with the group. Ives was just invited because of the senator."
"That's the second time I've heard 'the group' mentioned. Bobby Jay was talking about it, too."
Burdich raised an eyebrow. "Bobby Jay? I'm surprised he's still in town. The group travels once a month, you know."
"You know about that?"
"Oh, all about it." He puffed up with pride. "They let me in on everything they do. They confide in me. They even send me plane tickets to attend their parties." He leaned close to Remo and whispered confidentially, "You know, the BPs really are beautiful. The bigger they are, the bigger they are, I always say."
55
"Very profound. About the admiral-"
"Oh, he didn't count. Say, have you heard about my files?" He gestured to a bank of battered cabinets. "They're legendary. I know everything there is to know about celebs. I've even got Greta Garbo's private phone number, although that's not for sale. They trust me, you know." He winked.
"Bobby Jay called you a mascot."
Burdich rose, sputtering. "That pompous fag . . ." He gained control of himself and sat back down, smoothing the wrinkles in his tattered sweater. "I mean, Bobby's a real card. We always banter with each other. It's the group's way. A laugh a minute." He forced a half-hearted laugh.
"How do you know Bobby Jay?" Remo asked.
"Oh, I've known him forever. We went to school together, in fact. I'm tight with all of them. They love me."
"You two are the same age?" Remo asked, amazed. Burdich looked twenty years older.
"I'm fifty-two," Burdich said huffily. "Bobby Jay is three years older than I am."
Remo stared at him. It was happening again. First there was Cecilia Spangler, who looked twice as old as her own mother. And now Burdich, two years younger than a man who could have passed for his son.
"You don't believe me," Burdich sighed. "I can tell. Well, that's their game. Victims of the disease of vanity, all of them." His face hardened with bitterness. "Always running around, acting like kids. Kids! Who needs that? Who needs to look half their age, anyway? It's the fault of advertising. The Pepsi Generation has taken over."
"Uh, yuh," Remo said, bewildered by the sud-
56
den change in Burdich. "About the admiral-"
"Shangri-la," Burdich whispered, his voice breaking. "Shangri-la is only for the in group. They !eft me behind. It's too late. Too late."
Remo squirmed uncomfortably. He had wanted to find out about the Secretary of the Navy. And all he was getting was a string of personal obsessions about some health farm called Shangri-la.
"Too late for what?"
"Look at me!" Burdich shouted "I'm old!" He walked over to a small mirror hanging on the wall and smashed it to the floor. "Old! And Hi never be young again. They've all left me behind. Them and their money and their witch doctor. The in group. I wish I were dead. Do you hear me? Dead!" He was standing in the middle of the room, his shoulders heaving, rage burning in his eyes.
"Try deep breathing," Remo suggested.
"Oh, what's the point?" Burdich said, sweeping a stack of leaflets to the floor. "I know what I am. A hanger-on. You think I'm a hanger-on, don't you?"
"I think you're a nut," Remo said. He went on doggedly. "I'm supposed to find out about Admiral Ives, if you don't mind. He was murdered last night, and I want to find out who did it. Can you think of anyone at the party who would want to do him in?"
"He didn't count, I tell you. Nobody there cared about him. They don't care about anything except themselves. Their precious youth. Their exalted Doctor Foxx."
Remo perked up. "Foxx? Who's that?"
"The diet doctor. Felix Foxx. He's the one who started that place out there, giving the group yet another place where they may commune with their rarified peers, away from the rabble. He keeps them
57
young. That's what separates the group from the rest of us poor suckers."
"What do you mean, he keeps them young?"
"You heard me. He keeps them young. There's not a one of them up there in Foxx's mountain paradise that'!! ever see fifty again. It's magic, I tel! you. The magic of the rich. Shangri-la. The magical kingdom, where one never grows old, just like in the story. That's what he's done." Burdich kicked at the papers on the floor. "For those who can afford it," he added. "The great line of demarcation between the haves and the have-nots. Eternal youth and beauty belong only to the haves. People like you and I will show our station in life by growing old and ugly. We will wither like the leaves of winter, stricken with the infirmities of age until we die. But not them. Not the in group with their money and connections and their Doctor Foxx in Shangrila. They'll never grow old. Never. They'll leave us all behind."
Burdich's depression settled into the room like a cloud.
''Know any of the names on this list?" Remo asked with feigned cheerfulness, pulling out Cecilia's guest list.
"All of them. That's the in group. Those swine."
"You mean they're all out of town?" Remo groaned.
"Every last stinking rich one of them. It's time for the monthly meeting at Shangri-la."
Again things were brought back to Shangri-la. It seemed that no matter which direction Remo tried to lead the conversation, all roads led to the health resort in Pennsylvania.
Remo looked over at Burdich's file cabinets. "Say, do you have anything on that place?"
58
Burdich grunted. "Everything. I told you, I know everything about them. How they live, how they spend their money, what they do. . . .That's what makes it so hard to be on the outside."
"Can I take a look at your material on Shangri-la?"
"Never. That's in the file with Greta's phone number. I could never release that to an ordinary being."
"From the looks of you, you're an ordinary being, too."
Burdich rose. "I don't have to take that from you."
"How about taking this?" Remo said, offering up a roll of bills. Smitty kept him in currency. Not that Remo needed much, but the money came in handy at times.