by D. L. EVANS
“Keep your telepathy to yourself,” I said tentatively. Boy, was I off to another great start.
She smiled, moved to a cabinet, did something, and bottles and glasses appeared magically from within. Her hands were steady and sure as she poured a double Bourbon. “Here.” She held it out. “It’s good insulation against logic. I hate coffee.” Her head tilted. “Do you know you’re holding your breath?”
I didn’t, but I took a gulp from the glass, treated my lungs to a shot of oxygen and felt relief as the calming alcohol reduced my raging brain waves to rolling swells. “Why me? I mean, why do you want to even talk to me about this threat? I’m not, as you pointed out, a suitable bodyguard, and I’m not sure I can help any more than the police can.”
“I never said you were an unsuitable bodyguard... just a reluctant one. And to answer your question, I don’t know why. I was having a conversation with your sister Lauren about getting our relatively new artist, Morgan, on her TV show. She suggested a feature with a walk through the gallery upstairs that features the work while Morgan did a... I think she called it a 'voice-over', with a person-to-person interview following. TV people seem to have their own language.” She chuckled. “I thought it was an excellent way to launch her exhibit, so did Alice. We need publicity if we want to attract the big names.” She stared into my eyes without blinking. Amber flecks in grey like opals; a glass of matching amber liquid swirled in her hand. I hadn’t noticed her pour it. Then, I realized with a jolt that she had somehow known to pour bourbon. “Well... anyway,” she continued as I came back mentally, “Lauren and I ended up just casually talking and I found myself telling her that I felt that I was being watched... it just came out. It’s not something that I usually do... I mean, confide in someone I’d just met; but Alison trusts her... and, I felt her warmth and concern.” Her thoughts were wandering. She focussed. “The next thing we knew, she started talking about you and your book, describing you much larger than life.” She laughed rich and low like warm chocolate. “It just seemed like the next step, to meet you and get your opinion... to see if you could help. I didn't know about your reluctance, but now that it's obvious, Alison will be relieved. She wasn’t particularly enthused about the idea, as I’m sure you know.”
I ignored the comment, she was baiting me. “You and your sister must be used to men watching you, why is this... feeling so different?”
“I’ve been trying to think about that.” Her eyes wandered in some internal space. “It actually started with Morgan, I believe. I’ve been trying to pin down exactly when the feeling changed and.....”
“What do you mean changed?” I prompted.
“Well Adam, may I call you Adam?" her eyes scanned the room. She was nervous. “I’ve felt for years that someone was watching over me. But it was never... threatening before. That feeling actually started when I asked Morgan...”
We were going off on a tangent, I interrupted again. “Watching you? You mean like a guardian angel? A spirit or something," I continued, "like a dead grandmother?”
Her eyes hardened, and the temperature in the room dropped by fifty or sixty degrees. I waited out the silence, tilting the drink conveniently, until, finally, she spoke. “Not a ghost, “ she stated evenly, “I don’t think you have a grip on this situation.” Grey eyes shot me a look that could melt block ice, reminding me of Lauren.
I don’t have a grip??? She imagines a guardian spirit that has turned nasty, and I don’t have a grip? Deep breath, easy now. Be calm I told myself. “Look Annie… Ms. Stanford, maybe you’ve been working too hard, you know, with the renovations and the new opening and all. You’ve probably been under a lot of stress in the past year. Right?” Sounded reasonable to me.
“Of course, Mr. Stone,” she stated with steel in her voice. Her warm baritone voice turned sub-arctic and I felt a chill raise the hairs along the back of my neck. The air became so combustible that I thought any stray electron of static electricity might set it off. I was careful not to move.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she said with false sincerity. “Tell you what, I’ll just take a couple of aspirins and call my shrink in the morning. You needn’t trouble yourself any further. Say hello to Lauren for me when you see her. Good-bye Mister Stone.” She strafed me with another furious look as she opened her door and went through it.
A black storm cloud followed her out of the room. I sat stupidly like a potted plant in silence wishing I could think of something, anything to say that would make a difference, but, as usual, nothing came to mind. Christ, some writer. The empty room was still full of her presence so I finished my drink and left.
The cleaners were erasing the last remnants of party as I made my way back across the main ‘cavern’ where Lauren intercepted me on her way in. She was puzzled. “Why are you leaving already? Did you talk to Annie?”
“Actually I’ve spoken to both of them. I don’t know what any of you expect from me but I can tell you that I don’t think Annie is playing with a full deck. Her sister even implied as much saying that sometimes she gets ‘confused’. God, what does that mean?”
“You think she’s lying, or making a play for attention?” She looked around furtively, checking for eavesdroppers.
I had to think about that comment. “No... not exactly, but she didn’t make a lot of sense; you know, things watching her. A guardian angel run amuck... give me a break. Lauren looked puzzled. I continued, "She’s supposed to be psychic, so why can’t she figure out what’s going on herself? Maybe she should see a doctor. Get some bolts tightened or something.”
“You mean a psychiatrist? You suggesting she’s nuts or sick? I don’t get that impression at all." She looked around again at the workers cleaning the floors. "Adam. Are you sure you aren’t prejudiced, given your past experiences?”
“No, I’m not,” I answered in a somewhat insincere tone. I wondered if the alcohol was noticeable on my breath. “I don’t think I can help. No one wants advice and maybe the only thing worse than the mystery here is the truth.” Lauren looked worried. I tried to lighten things up. “Hey, I am a writer you know. All I have here are some cheap words. Look, I’m sorry sis; these women can afford to buy extra security if they’re worried. I don’t see what I can do for them.”
She shook her head at me. “Well, I’d better see if I need to put out any fires. And you’re not one to talk about taking advice,” she said poking me in the chest with her jabby finger. I smiled and her face softened as she put her arm through mine and moved with me towards the door. “This is my fault,” she conceded. “I honestly don’t know what I expected. Alice used to imply that Annie had problems back when we were in school. I think she was embarrassed to go into details. I remember that now. Don’t worry about it, Adam.” She gave me a big sister kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
Chapter Ten
ANNIE STANFORD:
Annie walked unannounced into her sister’s office and sat down opposite her desk. Alison was on the phone and signalled her to wait, mentally taking note of her sister’s angry expression.
Annie fumed. Who the hell does that man think he is? she thought, going over the conversation with Mr. Adam-the-jerk Stone in her head. He has so much baggage rattling around in his brain, something about his deceased wife colors everything he thinks and I’m the one who needs help? The bloody nerve of him! Arrogant pig! Too bad though, she thought wistfully, he certainly had a lot going for him physically…. God, he had a sexy mouth. And that hair…. thick and curly… a little too much flesh over the belt but ….
“I take it the interview with Adam Stone did not go well?” Alison ventured, placing the phone down, her eyes narrowing as she gauged Annie’s testy mood.
Annie shook her head. “Let’s just say that it sure didn’t and leave it there,” she said, thinking that he would have made a perfect bodyguard if she could have ignored his thoughts.
“OK. But you’re not exactly on a roll here sis.” Alison collected the newspapers a
nd stacked them for her secretary to remove. “I’m talking about Morgan,” she stated. Annie heard the forced patience around the edges. “That was her student Lannie on the phone at Morgan’s studio in the Annex and she just about bit my head off.”
“I remember her,” Annie replied. “She’s that model that’s featured in her earlier ‘Siren’ work. She’s gorgeous.”
“I guess so,” Alison said and let out a long exasperated breath, “if you like them tall, pale and tortured.”
Annie laughed. “What’s the matter? Good ol’ Troy give her a grope at the party?”
“Troy who?” Alison smiled, the menace engraved in her tone. Annie knew his band would be back to parking cars if they didn’t drop their lead singer after a ‘thumbs down’ from Alison. Any day now Troy, ‘formerly of the band Catalyst’ would be grovelling, which was just how she liked her men, on their knees in front of her. Troy had made a huge mistake arguing with Alison at the gallery opening, no matter whose fault.
“Never mind changing the subject,” Alison said, “what happened with Morgan last night?”
Annie relaxed in the chair and massaged the tightness at the base of her neck. “I’ve been going over and over that too. I tried to talk to her, to smooth things over as you suggested but she called me a ‘fucking witch’ and practically ran me over with her shiny, new car.” And that’s not all the weird stuff that happened but that’s enough for you to handle right now, Annie thought, once again thankful that her sister could not read her mind. Winnie would have told her about the recurring unidentified voice but that could wait.
“God damn that woman,” Alison drummed the table, risking breaking her long nails. Annie sensed her sister’s need to discipline the absent artist. Although Alison suppressed her feelings of violence, the flash of a whip snapped in Annie’s mind.
Alison said “She needs to be sorted but I have to handle her with kid gloves now that she’s a fucking celebrity, thanks to me.” Anger crackled in the air like static. “That gaunt Lannie bitch said Morgan didn’t come home last night but I think she’s covering for her. Shit.” She stood and walked over to the window and pressed the control that opened the louvers. The afternoon light striped the room with gold bars. “I’ll have to leave her alone for a few days to calm down but she’s going to have to get over this ‘witch’ thing with you before her publicity campaign kicks in next week. Can’t you do something to fix this?” Alison said to her sister.
“What do you suggest?” Annie asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “It would be like trying to unring a bell.” Alison remained silent.
Annie changed subjects, “I guess Winnie told you that I didn’t exactly impress the Mayor with dazzling conversation either but I’m telling you Alison the man is so low he could get vertigo in a sewer. I was tempted…”
“Don’t worry about that,” Alison cut her off. “I know you want to disembowel him for regularly smacking around his wife, the simpering but rich Evelyn, but resist the temptation sister dear. We need him, unmolested. I want his support when we’re ready to expand this place and the zoning laws have to be changed. But I’ve come up with a solution, if only temporarily, that you’ll like. I’ve arranged cousin Jane-Marie to take over as their housekeeper. She’ll get to Evelyn, and the situation will be resolved to our satisfaction no doubt, in time.”
Jane-Marie, Annie thought. A plump, mother-type that would relish working for Alison under cover. One of Alison’s many converts. A distant family member with some ‘abilities’. She would do right by Alison, no matter what it took. “We’re sounding more and more like the Mafia. Misbehave and we’ll send in the ‘family’ and convert you to our point of view. Subtly, of course. Mind control is not technically torture.” Annie allowed herself a small laugh. “What happened to their former housekeeper?”
“I paid her off,” Alison said as she returned to her desk and opened her computer. “The old fool couldn’t go back anyway after all the personal crap that she could hardly wait to tell me. It was a good deal for her and us. But Jane-Marie has a leg up on the situation and soon, we will too. Oh don’t look at me like that! I agree with you! He should be in jail. Did you know that he only hits her below the neck so the bruises won’t show? I’m doing some good here, Annie. I’m just doing it my way… for the family.”
Annie wished she could see the unsaid motives she that suspected hidden behind her sister’s green eyes.
“Tell me about your meeting with Adam Stone,” Alison ordered. “Just generally,” she added, careful not to annoy Annie who had the habit of shutting her out if pushed. “I’ll have to say something to Lauren to keep her at bay,” she explained. “She’s due here any minute. At the risk of repeating myself, I don’t know why in the world you told her anything in the first place.”
Annie sighed. It was a question she had also asked herself. “I don’t know really. I just felt that I could tell her anything.” It sounded lame, even to her.
“She’s a talk show host, for Christ’s sake,” Alison countered. “She’s supposed to be able to pry confidences out of people. She used her friendship with me to open you up and you nearly blew it Annie. I can’t believe you told her so much. And then you let her involve her brother, an ex-cop? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Annie said. ”I trusted her for deeper reasons than her profession. But don’t worry. Adam Stone listened to me with all the compassion and sincerity of a doctor humouring a schizophrenic.” Alison laughed and looked vaguely relieved. But I do plan to see him again, Annie thought to herself, feeling her toes curl as she remembered his probing blue eyes. I pressed a tiny imprint that he can’t ignore. He may be worth saving sister dear, but not for you.
“How much did you tell him?” Alison asked sensing that there was more than she was saying.
“Just what I told Lauren,” Annie replied matching the cool tone in her sister’s voice. “That I was being watched and I felt that ‘whoever it is’ is a killer many times over.”
“Serial killer, Annie. They’re called serial killers. Don’t you ever watch TV? And no matter what Lauren says about him, he is her brother and she’s not exactly objective. I had him checked out and he’s not the type to investigate this sort of problem. He’s a good cop, or was, but now he’s a hotshot writer and believe me Annie, we don’t want him snooping around. We’ve too much to hide. He’s almost as low as a reporter. Can you imagine the questions? We could kiss any sort of privacy good by.”
“You had him investigated? Why Alison? Didn’t you trust my own evaluation?” Annie asked.
“Lucky I didn’t eh?” She saw the change of expression flash in Annie’s eyes and quickly changed her attitude, hoping to head off an argument. “Look, you’ve been distracted lately and I was nervous about Lauren getting involved.” She tried to sound worried, “We can’t trust anyone. Look how Morgan reacted!”
Annie remained silent. She stared at the magnificent long-stemmed red roses in a perfect black vase on Alice’s desk. They were replaced every morning. Half-opened buds that never had a chance to show their full potential and die graciously.
“Don’t worry about Morgan, Alison. That’s all I have to say so drop it.” Annie warned.
“Alright, it’s dropped.” Alison did not appreciate Annie’s coldness but knew better than to challenge her. Treading lightly, she asked, “Are you going to tell me about the ‘voice’ and what happened last night, or should I drop that too?”
Annie knew Alison wouldn’t leave things alone until she had wrung every drop of information out of her. Alison considered that knowledge was power and would leave no stone unturned. Annie found her sister's need for control exhausting.
“He was there,” Annie started, “not at my studio where I’ve felt his presence before, but somewhere in the Gallery, and I heard a prayer that was so loud it practically popped my eyes out; the twenty-third psalm. He had to be close. I also felt death, but not mine,” Annie paused to let the words sink in. “Then I tried
to talk to Morgan but she ran when she saw me. I caught her outside. She spewed nonsense, made the sign of the cross and tried to run me down. I jumped out of the way,” or was pushed, Annie thought, ”and she drove away. End of story.” And you heard all this from Winnie so back off, Annie thought letting irritation creep into her mind.
Alison knew there was more. There was always more with Annie but it was not wise to say so when her powerful sister was controlling her annoyance.
“You could have returned and joined the party after she left,” Alison stated.
“She had just tried to squash me against another car. I was not in the party mood,” Annie hissed. And I’ve had enough of this, she thought. “If you’re finished this ‘inquisition’, I’ve work to do in my studio.” She stalked out of the room, closing the door unnecessarily hard.
Alison looked down. The rose buds, neatly sliced from their stems, littered her desk.
Chapter Eleven
CHRISTOPHER: