Mind Fray

by Alexie Aaron

  “The Governor attacked your wife?”

  “That’s what it looked,” he confessed.

  “Now, I don’t mean to be telling you your business, but I’d say that you’ve got a problem here. That woman could have been killed.”

  “That woman had no business being in my home,” Max said. “I just left her house a few hours ago with my cat who she was watching while my wife was in the hospital.”

  “Could she have been returning some cat food or litter?” the patrolman offered.

  Max contemplated this for a minute and hunched his shoulders. He asked, “Can I see her?”

  “She’s in the van, talking crazy. Maybe you can make sense out of it.”

  Max was escorted to the back of the EMT van. Inside, Irma was being tended to. She had an icepack on her face. Max looked at what she was wearing and turned to the officer and asked, “Why is she wearing my wife’s brand new coat?”

  Irma lowered her icepack and said in a little girl’s voice, “I’m a little thief.”

  Chapter Ten

  “As soon as we’re finished here, we’ll head right over,” Mia told Burt. She pocketed her phone and walked into the sunny room. Cid looked up at her from where he was supervising the amazing twins in the final construction of the silver and iron laced vests. “That was Burt. There’s been another incident at the Madison house. He’d like us to meet him there as soon as we can.”

  “I think we can wrap this up in half an hour,” Cid said, looking at the women for confirmation.

  Mavis and Betty Sue nodded.

  “Can I have a rain check for taking you two ladies out to dinner?” he asked.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that, young man. Just consider it a favor…” Mavis said sweetly.

  Mia and Cid looked at each other. Favors were costly, but time was of the essence so Mia nodded and Cid confirmed, “We owe you a favor.”

  Betty Sue giggled girlishly.

  Mia figured out it wouldn’t be her who Betty Sue asked her favor from. She picked up her vest and smiled. Aside from a few extra holes that she chose to safety pin together instead of starting over, her vest would protect the wearer from any physical nonsense a ghost could throw at him or her. She folded it and placed it with the other finished garments. Mia left Cid with the sisters and went looking for Ralph and Bernard.

  Bernard was lounging in front of the television watching a rebroadcast of the Antiques Roadshow. Ralph was in the dining room with his scrapbooks out. He smiled. “I bet you thought I’d forgotten about the handbills.”

  “Actually, Ralph, I forgot,” Mia admitted. “There I was crouching away…”

  “Crocheting, Mia, honestly,” he scolded. “I’m glad Mavis didn’t hear you say that. Where was I? Oh yes, I have playbills in this one. This one contains handbills.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Well, handbills are the advertisements that would be handed to pedestrians as they walked along. Playbills are what you would be given once you entered the theater. Both these books are from the time period you mentioned. I also have a few books from Milwaukee and St. Louis handy.”

  “Wow,” Mia said, flipping through the pages. Each handbill was encased in a protective, clear wrapper, very similar to the ones used by comic book collectors. “I’m looking for a mentalist. I’m almost sure a male, but let’s not count out women just yet.”

  Ralph opened the playbill book and ran his hand down a beautifully handwritten index.

  Mia leaned over and asked, “Is that calligraphy?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a beautiful hand, Ralph.”

  “Thank you, dear, practice makes perfect. Hmmm, I don’t see any mentalists or mind readers here.”

  Mia moved through the pages quickly and stopped at a likely candidate. The paper was unusual and the print was smudged at the creases.

  Ralph looked over her shoulder and explained. “Some of these I found in old costumes. This one was in a trunk full of men’s topcoats. I almost missed it. I carefully unfolded it and left gravity do the rest. I think it took me a week before it was flat enough to put in the wrapper,” he explained.

  “Can I take it out?” Mia asked. “I can’t quite make out the words.”

  “If you think it’s a viable candidate, then yes. Be careful, the paper is old.”

  Mia couldn’t separate the plastic with her gloves so she took them off. Carefully she drew out the handbill with two fingers. Once out, she quickly donned her gloves and took it over to the window to see it better. She laughed at herself. She was trying to read it from the back. As soon as she turned it around, the face of Gabor the Great leered up at her. She resisted the urge to drop the handbill and run out of the house. The eyes of the mentalist seemed to pull away from the sketch. She turned the paper back over, and quickly, she closed her mental shutters.

  Ralph watched Mia wince and turn the paper over. He walked up, and she sensed his presence and said sharply, “Stand back. This is one dangerous piece of paper.”

  “I don’t understand, but here,” he said, handing her a spare plastic cover, instructing, “Put it in here.”

  Mia did as she was told and placed the handbill upside down on the table. She picked up her phone and called Ted.

  “While the wife’s away, the lad will play,” he answered good-naturedly.

  “I have a question for you and, I guess, Jake.”

  “Hold on.”

  Mia could hear Ted typing.

  “We’re listening,” he said.

  “If I take a photo of a contaminated piece of paper, will the contamination be transferred onto the film?”

  “Mia, you’re probably going to use the iPhone, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there’s no film involved. Jake’s scanning the internet looking for digital contamination. He should talk. I think he falls under… Wait, he’s showing me some articles. I’m scanning…”

  Mia put the phone on speaker so Ralph could hear too.

  “Scanning, and no, I don’t see anything that talks about iPhone contamination - except if you drop it in the toilet, which would be fecal contamination.”

  “That would be bye bye iPhone,” Ralph said disgusted.

  Mia explained what she had and the bad feeling she got when she turned the handbill over. “I think somehow there’s some kind of hex or treatment to the paper that opens a door from which something bad could come in. In this case, I don’t want to risk looking further at it. But I only read three words, Gabor the Great, before I felt something pushing at my mind. I thought I’d take a photo and send it to PEEPs.”

  “Sounds like a good idea, but how about you removing the item from Ralph’s place before attempting the photo,” Ted suggested.

  Ralph nodded. “Get it out of here. I can’t believe I’ve had a demonic paper in my house!”

  Mia looked over at him. “Any reason why you had it facedown in your scrapbook?”

  “I imagine I didn’t like the cut of his jacket. Oh, yes, I remember now; it was that awful bowtie. They could have at least tied it properly before they took the trouble to draw his picture,” he said.

  Mia thanked God that Ralph was more concerned with an improperly tied bowtie than gazing into the eyes of the mentalist. It probably saved him and Bernard. She accepted the thick manila envelope from him and slid the plastic-covered handbill into it. “What’s the quickest way outside?”

  Bernard, who had wandered in to see what all the fuss was about, said, “The roof access is just down the hall.”

  “Mia. Mia. Mia Cooper Martin,” Ted’s voice called out from the phone.

  “Shit, I forgot you were still there,” Mia said, averting her eyes from Bernard, whom she knew didn’t like his goddaughter’s free use of the rough language.

  “Make sure you take Cid with you. Call me back when you send the photo,” he said and hung up.

  “Cid!” Mia called.

  The investigator strode into the room
. “What’s on fire?”

  “I need to get this,” she explained, holding up the envelope, “up on the roof and take a safe picture of it. I’ll explain on the way.”

  Bernard pulled out a set of keys from the hall table. He selected one and held it out to Cid. This opens the door to the roof access stairs.”

  “Gotcha,” Cid said, taking hold of the key. “Now where’s the door?”

  “I’ll show you,” Ralph said. “I don’t know why you don’t go with the kids?”

  “Less people, less chance of a problem,” Bernard said. “That means you show them the door, and then you get yourself back in here.”

  “Oooh, yes, sir,” Ralph said comically.

  Mia followed Ralph and Cid out of the apartment and down the hall to the roof access. After Cid opened the door, Ralph retreated down the hall where an anxious Bernard was waiting for him.

  Mia explained to Cid her reaction to the handbill and reminded him what was written in The House of Doom as she climbed the stairs. She finished her tale before she pushed through the metal door and stepped out into the sunlight. She squinted her eyes, blinded for a moment by the change in light. She felt Cid’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Whoa, it’s bright. Give me a moment. This is hard on the new eyes.” Cid reached into his pocket and drew out a pair of wayfarer-style sunglasses. “That’s better.”

  Mia put her hand up, shielding her eyes. She didn’t know what she expected to find up on Bernard’s and Ralph’s roof, but she didn’t expect to find what resembled a small Parisian courtyard. She looked around and said, “There, that glass table over by those chairs. The topiary around will hopefully cut some of this wind.”

  The two of them walked over to the table. Mia handed Cid the envelope, pulled her knit top’s sleeve over her hand and wiped off the city grime from the table top. She took the envelope and explained, “I’d like to put this picture facedown on the table and take a blind picture from underneath like this.” Mia demonstrated with the envelope on the table and held her iPhone underneath and snapped a shot. She looked in the viewer and confirmed that she could see quite clearly the envelope’s clasp. “Here, I better let you take the shot; I only got half the envelope.”

  “Let’s try it a few times before we take out the handbill,” he suggested.

  They worked together until Cid was satisfied with the result.

  “Before I open this, remember anything you may see out of the ordinary probably isn’t real,” Mia cautioned.

  Cid nodded. “Showtime.”

  Mia pulled the plastic sleeve from the envelope, making sure the picture was pointed away from her and Cid. She placed it facedown on the table.

  Cid took four shots without looking at the paper. He waited until Mia had secured the handbill in the envelope before looking at the camera. There, staring in all his glory, was Gabor the Great. The words underneath read: Mystic from Romania. One night only at the Burlington Theater. The date was smudged, but they knew that Audrey would be able to track down any further information now that they had the mentalist’s name.

  “What are you going to do with the handbill?” Cid asked.

  “I’m thinking it needs to go the way of the dueling pistols. Gerald’s in town for Brian’s funeral. I’m sure he can spare us a few minutes,” Mia said.

  “That means another favor,” Cid said.

  Mia sighed. “I have a feeling that Gerald’s favor return won’t be as scary as Mavis and Betty Sue’s.”

  “I worry you may be right. I think there’s a dance at the old gals’ club. I think I’m going to be escorting the dears there.”

  Mia reached up and put her hand on Cid’s heart. “You’ll get through it. How about we con Mike into going too. He loves mature women.”

  Cid smiled slyly. “We couldn’t.”

  “Oh we could.” Mia nodded.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gerald Shem walked into the modest lobby of his office to greet Mia and Cid. Bev’s niece looked beautiful standing there. Aside from the tension of holding a mental time bomb for the half hour it took to walk to his office, her face was soft. Gone was the haunted look she had when they first met. Also, she had some meat on her bones. He had worried that she, like Sabine, would become too frail and fade away eventually. But Mia had toughened up and survived.

  “Gerald, thank you so much for seeing us so quickly,” Mia said. “I’m not really sure what to do with this,” she said, shaking the envelope. “One like this, I suspect, opened a door for a very dangerous entity.”

  “My assistant gave me a summary of the handbill. I thought, this would make a great Warehouse 13 script, but alas they are no longer filming the show.”

  Mia laughed and nudged Cid. “Did you ever in your wildest imagination think that the great Gerald Shem would watch television?”

  Cid shook his head but kept silent.

  “Mia, I’m but a guy who…”

  “Knows a guy who knows a guy,” Mia finished. “I’m hoping you know someone to handle this thing.”

  “He’s flying in.”

  Cid and Mia looked at each other. Cid confirmed what Mia was thinking, “Angelo Michaels.”

  “Yes, the Brotherhood of the Wing has the means to take care of this dangerous piece of paper. They have vaults all over the world.”

  “This sounds familiar,” Cid said.

  “You see, this is why I watch television; one never knows when a fictional idea was inspired by reality and vice versa. Look at Star Trek and tablet computers…”

  Cid nodded vigorously.

  “Cid’s a Trekkie. That’s why you’ll never see a red shirt on him,” Mia teased.

  “But surely you’re not the last one in the group,” Gerald pointed out.

  “There’s a loophole: Audrey was a consultant first…”

  Gerald shook his head. “I think this loophole is Mia or Ted trying to push your buttons, my friend.”

  “Part of me knows that but…”

  “Yes, but the universe is cruel at times. Speaking of cruel, have you seen your aunt recently?” Gerald asked Mia.

  “When I crossed Brian over, she was there. Um, I don’t mean to be pushy, but can I have a seat? This thing is getting the better of my arms.”

  “What was I thinking? Here, hand it to me.”

  “No, I better not. You’re a mind reader, no telling what this thing could do to you.”

  Gerald nodded. “Follow me, I have a temporary solution.”

  Mia walked behind Gerald, holding the envelope at arm’s length. Cid had wanted to take the burden from her, but she refused his many attempts.

  Gerald’s assistant, an older man dressed in a very expensive black suit, was standing by the wall of books in the office. He waited until Cid closed the door behind them before he opened a panel.

  “I know this is so overdone, a secret panel leading to a secret room, but it is dramatic, no?” Gerald said, leading them into a narrow passage.

  Mia, who was squeezed between Gerald and Cid, felt like a Chucky Doll. Instead of a knife, she wielded an envelope. She giggled at the chain of absurd thoughts that followed the image. “Talk about going postal,” she mumbled.

  “Did you say something?” Gerald asked.

  “She’s just talking to herself. One gets used to it after a while,” Cid commented.

  “I’m the only one who listens, so why not,” Mia joked.

  Gerald stopped and drew out an old key.

  Mia looked around him and commented, “What, no iris scanner?”

  “No, not gothic enough for my tastes,” Gerald chuckled. “I even insist on the hinges not being oiled.” He unlocked the door and pushed it in. True to his word, the door screeched in protest.

  “I see, it’s creepy and a clever alarm,” Cid said approvingly.

  Gerald stood back, holding the heavy door open with his body, and quoted Gene Wilder’s Willie Wonka, “Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three.”

  Mia walked into a room imp
ossibly large to be contained in the building they entered. Inside, it resembled a grand lobby of an old hotel. Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls. The marble floor was so highly polished that Mia feared Cid could see her underpants reflected on the floor when she walked. “This is what I get for wearing a dress,” she complained, taking smaller steps.

  “This is astounding. I don’t want to know how you did this,” Cid said. “I want to believe it’s magical.”

  “Magic before science…” Mia started to quote herself.

  “I know, Magic before science, all in compliance. Science before magic, things could get tragic,” Cid recited.

  Gerald nodded in approval. “Follow me. I have a small, salt vault ready for this.” He led them over to a grouping of overstuffed chairs surrounding a metal table. On top of the table was an open Halliburton suitcase. Each side of the case was lined with a block of carved salt. “You see why it was important to know the size of your envelope.”

  “I thought it was an odd question when your assistant asked me,” Mia admitted.

  “Go ahead, put it in,” Gerald instructed.

  Mia laid the envelope in the recess. Gerald shut the case and handed it to his assistant, who had miraculously appeared at his elbow. “Put this in the lead vault until Mr. Michaels arrives,” he instructed.

  “Yes, sir,” the older man said and walked over to a tapestry. He drew it aside and stepped behind it.

  Once the tapestry fell into place, Mia felt the burden lift. She opened her mind to find Gerald there. Soft words filled her head like a caress. “You’ll make a beautiful mother.” Mia smiled.

  “Sit, please,” Gerald said. “You can surely spare a moment for an old man.”

  “Hardly old,” Mia scoffed. “It’s your precious time I’m worried about wasting.”

  “Nonsense,” Gerald said. “When do I get an opportunity to see you at your leisure? Last time, I believe you were dealing with the Judge, and Cid, you were holding a machete.”

  Cid colored.

  “No better bodyguard for our Mia,” Gerald pointed out.