by G A Chase
* * *
Myles wondered why some mistakes simply refused to stay in the past where they belonged. Kendell searched the face of each mystic who conned money out of passing tourists. He hoped she wouldn’t find the fake professor. The stupid class where he’d first met her had been nothing but a waste of time and money. Not that he felt much different about half of the college courses that actually had been sanctioned by the university, but at least those had gotten him a few credits closer to graduation. The Transfer of Human Energy into Inanimate Objects hadn’t even added a single credit, according to his academic advisor. All he’d gotten from his advisor’s research on the course was her laugh of derision.
Kendell pointed to a dark corner away from the gypsy-looking characters with their brightly colored tables. “I think that’s him over there. See the guy in the steampunk outfit?”
Perfect. The man in the long black coat, leather top hat, and round glasses looked exactly like a snake-oil salesman. “Don’t you think he’s already swindled enough money out of us?”
She nudged him playfully as she ate the praline he’d bought for her. “We have the upper hand this time. He only thinks he knows what he’s talking about. We may not have proof yet, but at least we’re not trying to capitalize on people’s imaginations.”
“You made it.” The man’s smile reminded Myles of a spider who’d just noticed an insect had stumbled into its web.
Kendell motioned to Myles. “I brought a friend who also took that class. We have a few questions, if we’re not interrupting your workday.”
The fake professor made a show of removing his coat to reveal a Victorian waistcoat printed in purple fleur-de-lis on a black background. “Please, have a seat.”
Myles figured his best course of action was to take charge of the dialogue. “I can accept that your course was designed to make us consider the unusual. So many curricula only study what is already established. But do you believe what you taught? Have you experienced any of it, or was it all just speculation?”
“Straight to the point. I remember you well, Mr. Garrison. As an answer, would you allow me to do a reading on you? Free of charge of course.”
Myles doubted anything the man did was truly without strings. But at least if he paid for the service, it would be a one-time cost. He took a seat in front of the high-backed white-and-gold chair with Kendell by his side. “What would that involve?”
The supposed fortune-teller reached into his cabinet on wheels and pulled out a device that looked equal parts antique medical eye-examination equipment and steampunk tomfoolery. Myles leaned back in his chair to keep as clear of the headgear as possible. “I assure you it’s perfectly safe. You lean against the chin support. The goggles read your eye movements as the computer screen displays various images that change depending on where you focus. I’ll ask you a series of questions while I place items in your hand.”
Sounds exactly like what a carnival charlatan would say. “And this thing isn’t going to shoot acid into my eyes or electrocute me or something?”
“I haven’t been prosecuted yet.”
The headgear covered Myles’s eyes. Matching steampunk-decorated headphones fit so tightly around his ears he could barely make out the brass band a block away.
The man’s voice came through like a doctor safely protected from his experiment. “Let your eyes relax. The idea is for you to react without thinking. I’ll start by putting you into a mild trance.”
“I’m not crazy about the idea of being hypnotized.” The last thing he wanted was to end up dancing naked in Jackson Square, or worse, in Saint Louis Cathedral.
“I don’t put you that deep. Just look into the spinning vortex. This is only meant to relax your mind, not influence you in any way.”
The calm, disembodied voice nicely matched the slow-moving spinning disk. Myles didn’t feel sleepy. It was more like he’d had a pint of well-crafted microbrew. The image switched to four views of the sky in different weather conditions. His eyes drifted to the sunny day. Four new images appeared. He chose a big shaggy dog, which ran in a meadow, complementing the sunny-day image.
“These first tests are just to calibrate my equipment to you. I’m putting this tennis ball in your hand. Tell me what you feel.”
He had an urge to throw it to see how the dog on the screen would react. “It’s warm, but I’d guess that was because you kept it out in the sun.” He suspected most suckers who sat in the chair would believe they were experiencing something more significant.
“Very perceptive. Let’s try something else.”
The images and objects varied from homey and peaceful to dark and threatening, but with each change, Myles knew his reactions were being manipulated. Even with all the gear, the man just wasn’t that subtle in setting up the mental scenes.
“Fuck! Ouch, that hurt.” Myles’s pulling away from the strange contraption accompanied the clanking of the knife to the ground.
The man’s eyes bored into Myles. “What did you feel?”
“It burned the palm of my hand. You really need to watch the temperature setting of your warming oven.”
Kendell took his hand. “I don’t see any marks.”
The man picked up the knife and ran it across his own palm. “This one wasn’t a con. I do warm and cool other objects, it’s true. But we moved beyond that calibration. The image you were looking at had been overlaid with a blue lens. In case you didn’t notice, with each answer you gave me, the eyepiece changed color to slightly influence your next set of images. For a person with normal abilities, their answers while they hold the knife are typically ‘dark, foreboding, and dangerous.’ You’re the first to feel actual pain. Fascinating.”
Myles didn’t think it was fascinating at all. In fact, he still expected blisters to start appearing on his palm. “And what does this experiment tell you, Professor?”
Professor Yates wiped the knife blade clean and set it on a piece of velvet. “Miss Summer, would you touch the blade to prove that it’s not dangerous?”
Myles wanted to stop her, but Kendell didn’t hesitate in running her fingers over the gleaming steal. “It just feels like a knife to me.”
The man motioned to Myles. “Your turn.”
Myles figured that whatever the man had done to prepare the blade, the effect must have worn off. But to his dismay, he could still only barely touch the thing. “Well, it’s not searing my flesh off, but I swear it still feels hot.”
“Interesting. The visual stimulations and mild hypnotic state were meant to heighten any psychometric abilities you might have without allowing the object to unduly influence your thoughts. That’s why it seemed hotter while we were conducting the experiment. That knife was used in a stabbing recently. I won’t tell you how I came to possess it. I need to protect my sources of useful artifacts. You’re the first person to properly identify that past energy. Have you experienced anything like this before?”
Myles said nothing, but Kendell dove into their history with the pipe tool as well as his discovery of the World War II airplane.
The man looked lost in thought as he put his fingers together at his chin. “So you no longer have the item?”
Myles started to worry he’d have to touch everything with a degree of caution. “Like she said, it was stolen.”
“In my experience, things that have a destiny tend to end up circling back around to the people they’re meant to find. Should you run across the pipe tool again, I’d be interested in seeing it. I might be able to provide you more answers if I were in physical contact with the item.”
10
Kendell held her breath as Myles cinched up her black leather bustier. Her white cotton blouse billowed at the sleeves and waist. Her breasts felt two cups larger from the stiff garment. “Thanks for helping out.” She enjoyed making him blush.
“The day I don’t accept a friend’s invitation to help dress a group of hot ladies for their Mardi Gras parade is the day I know I’m dead.”
>
A smattering of laughter went up around the section of parking lot designated for last-minute wardrobe adjustments. Asking him to assist with her pirate outfit had really only been an excuse to have him close by. “I love my Krewe of Muses sisters, but these floats still make my skin crawl. I keep expecting to see one of Cheesecake’s abductors lurking around. At least I didn’t have to go back to that fucking warehouse to join the parade.”
He escorted her down the row of marching bands, revelers, and brightly decorated floats. His hand at her back gave her a degree of comfort. “I know what you mean. If your dog had joined us, she might be a little spun up right now. Just focus on the theme of the parade.”
She smiled back at him. The Krewe of Muses’ organizers had picked the theme of the parade, Damsels No Longer in Distress, months earlier, but the name couldn’t be more apt now that Kendell had her dog back. The swashbuckling female pirate crew, who the previous night had been playing at the Scratchy Dog as Polly Urethane and the Strippers, would be having a grand time atop the pirate ship float. The only men allowed in the procession were defeated villains. Not to Kendell’s surprise, Myles had turned down the request to pose as the pirates’ captured and humiliated English Lord. As he helped her up the ladder, she wished he didn’t have to leave.
He must have seen her look of concern. “You’ve got your girls with you. And if you feel unsafe or see someone that makes you uncomfortable, call me. I’ll have your scooter stashed nearby so I can get to you faster than you might suspect. Otherwise, I’ll see you on Canal Street.”
She knew her anxiety was foolish. No one in their right mind would try anything during a parade with so many people watching, but her emotions seldom listened to logic. “I’ll throw you something special.” She gave him a wink she hoped would hide her fear.
Being above the action was a position Kendell preferred, but as the tractor lurched forward, she nearly fell against Polly and her bag of rubber-sword throws. “This is going to be a bumpy ride.”
“Good thing we’re not trying to play our music up here. Though we could use the publicity.” Polly was always on the lookout for free advertisement.
As the parade turned onto Napoleon to form up behind the Krewe of Chaos, Kendell got into the spirit of the event. People were shouting in anticipation as she lifted a handful of bead strands from the bag at her feet and threw them high into the air. She tried to aim for the kids. At this point in the route, enough families were represented that any swag the children didn’t catch was often handed over to them by a caring adult. The same would not be true as they approached the French Quarter.
Minerva tossed doubloons from her purple, gold, and green sequined purse like some demented sexy fairy godmother. “I have more fun up on these floats than down there watching the parades. If grown men only knew how ridiculous they look jumping and screaming like little kids at Halloween.”
The tractor slowed to a stop so the marching band behind their pirate ship float could get fully into their rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk.” The mostly instrumental number made Kendell break into a dance atop the float with the other members of her band while those around the edge tried to moderate how many beads and cups they tossed to the crowd. “At this rate, it’ll take all day to get to the Canal Street.”
“You in a hurry?” Minerva asked.
Kendell kicked the brightly decorated handbag she’d stashed under the wooden bench. “No. I just want to see Myles’s face when he sees me up here. I plan on making all the women go crazy around him.”
She opened the bag to show Minerva the bead strands with pictures of Myles circled by the words “Kiss This Guy for Me.”
“You’re a saucy minx. Just remember, he did save your ass.”
Ahead of them, a tractor pulled a float decorated as an old-time steam train with the villain tied to the front. From her perch above the crowd, Kendell saw the driver miss his turn and slam on the breaks to avoid veering into the barricade. She just had time to grab the railing before the pirate ship also abruptly came to a stop. “What the hell?”
Their tractor driver waved his walkie-talkie that was used to coordinate the various floats. Being so close to the tail end of one float ahead, with limited vision in the front, often meant drivers had to take quick action. “Sounds like there was a tire blowout that caused a tractor to miss the turn. We’ll be sitting here for a bit while they get everything untangled.”
Down on the street, the security ushers who kept the crowd behind the barricades rushed toward the broken-down float to offer assistance. Great. Now we really will be here all day. But before her irritation could truly settle in, she felt her cell phone vibrate.
She could barely hear Myles over the crowd noise that surrounded them both. “You okay?”
“Sure. It was just a breakdown.” News must have traveled faster than she expected.
She heard the concern in his voice. “I’m right in front of the railway float. Looks like someone was hurt when it stopped so unexpectedly. The medics raced back from the Krewe of Chaos. I’m going to work my way back to you.”
When Kendell turned to Polly for some official explanation, she saw that her bandleader was white as a sheet. She nearly dropped her sequined cell phone.
“I’ve got a friend on that float,” Polly said. “She said someone got stabbed. You should get down and mix in with the crowd. It sounds like it was an accident. One of their members was making a show of cleaning the villain’s pipe when the knife slipped and went into her neck as the float jerked to a halt. My friend says there’s a lot of blood. She was nearly hysterical.”
It didn’t take much imagination for Kendell to envision the scene complete with that damn pipe tool as the murder weapon—though the line between homicide and accident was pretty obscure when a cursed item was involved. “I’ll wait for Myles to get here. There’s no reason to panic, but I think you’re right. I’d just as soon not be around if people start asking questions.”
* * *
Myles knew the city would have procedures in place for the inevitable float mishap. Between the million people on vacation, and the congested streets filled with people struggling to catch some useless piece of plastic, and the revelry, which often involved too much alcohol, he was amazed people didn’t get hurt more often. But his sense of panic didn’t come from the claustrophobia of so many partiers pressed around him. As he scanned the float for the injured individual, he spotted Samantha Laurette trembling next to a uniformed cop on the street. Her outfit of flowing, turn-of-the-century skirt and white blouse made it clear she’d been one of the people on the float.
As he approached, he heard the policeman talking to her. “There’s nothing more for you to do. The medics will get her to the hospital. Do you have anyone who could take you home?”
He couldn’t make out from her quivering if she was shaking her head or in a state of shock.
“Officer, I know Miss Laurette. I can escort her home if she’d like.”
Samantha nodded her agreement as she turned to Myles. “Thank you. This has all been quite a shock.”
The policeman jotted down Myles’s information. The exercise seemed completely pointless, but he guessed the officer had a procedure to follow.
Myles kept hold of her hand as they weaved their way through the dense crowd. As they approached Kendell’s pirate ship, he pulled out his cell phone, which he carried at her request, and texted her, “Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner.”
Though the people vied for every available foot of real estate along the parade route, the shops often were eerily quiet. Tourists couldn’t catch strands of cheap beads inside businesses that were trying to generate income for their employees. Even with the parade at a standstill, revelers would spend their time harassing members stranded on the floats in an attempt to get the shiniest baubles rather than take the time to find food. Starts and stops were unpredictable, and few people wanted to miss what might be coming around the corner.
The barista smiled at Myles as he ordered three large coffees. “Another breakdown this early in the day? With the other parades still to come, it’ll be midnight before the streets are clear.”
He felt sorry for the haggard woman behind the counter. “Getting to and from work must be a pain.”
“All part of living in New Orleans. Have a seat anywhere, and I’ll bring you your coffees when they’re ready.”
He put an extra couple of dollars in the tip jar and directed Samantha to a discreet corner table of the café.
Kendell squeezed past the crowd outside into the café just as the coffee arrived. She looked less shocked than he would have thought on seeing Samantha, but then, his partner always was fast when it came to figuring things out. “What happened?”
The woman was still shaking, but as she looked around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard he knew she wanted someone to confide in. “Marilyn is a distant cousin. I barely know her. I think she felt bad that I had to clean out my grandparents’ house alone, so she got me into the parade even though getting on a float is nearly impossible. I knew her choosing that pipe-cleaning tool was a mistake. When we saw it as part of the float costume paraphernalia, I nearly called you. But I figured you must have lost interest in it, or worse, had some misfortune and got rid of it. Accidents seem to follow that thing around.”
Myles watched her closely for her response. “Actually, it was stolen from us.”
Samantha took a deep breath. Her quivering exhalation let him know she was less shocked than concerned. “Do you have any clues as to who took it?”
“We think they work at Float World. How random was it that your cousin picked out the tool? I would have thought the thieves wouldn’t have left it lying around.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t think it was random at all. Someone intended for her to pick it up. We get to choose our own costumes from what the organizers lay out, but some items naturally go together. The Sherlock pipe, tool, and Victorian villain’s hat were set next to a flowing purple dress. It was just the type of character and outfit Marilyn would be drawn to.”