Mind Fray

by Alexie Aaron

  “You know me so well,” she said, waiting for Gerald to okay the wine.

  He did so, and after it was poured, he put a finger on Bev’s hand. “One moment, I’d like us to toast the start of a beautiful evening together.”

  Bev raised her glass, looking into Gerald’s eyes a moment and snapped, “What the hell? Drop the courtesy, and say what’s on your mind.” She drained her glass and nodded to the waiter to refill it.

  Gerald laughed. He took a sip and took a moment to savor the wine before setting his glass down. “You’ve behaved most badly, Beverly. But if Mia can not only forgive you, but turn over her inheritance…”

  “My inheritance…” she interrupted.

  “Hers,” he argued. “Her inheritance. If she can do that, I can put behind me the whole miserable affair too.”

  “How gracious of you,” she said acidly. “I had to fly back from Haiti commercially. Coach! My seat partner showed me pictures of her grandchildren, all eighteen of them, all the way back to the states. And she had the audacity to ask how many grandchildren I had. Imagine! Do I look like a grandmother to you?”

  “You are a grandmother,” he pointed out, amused.

  Bev shoved a forkful of arugula in her mouth. She was so overcome by the taste that she forgot what they were arguing about. She stabbed at an olive before devouring all the bruschetta.

  Gerald watched her eat. He loved to see her dine on good food. She expressed her love for food with her whole body. He once confided to Angelo that Beverly had better orgasms eating than she ever did with him. Angelo said he probably was doing it wrong and offered him a loan of the original Kama Sutra.

  “I though perhaps Bavette for mid-course, or would you prefer Strozzapreti?”

  “Bavette. Strozzapreti is too much work.”

  He nodded and the starter plates were taken away, and the next course was served.

  “You remind me of a conductor,” Bev told him, lifting her fork.

  “I suppose ordering a fine meal is like conducting a symphony orchestra,” he said.

  “Oh no, you misunderstand. I said conductor as in a train conductor. You look just like the east Indian chap on the north eastern line.”

  Gerald roared with laughter.

  Bev raised an eyebrow and looked around them. “Careful, you’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

  “Tell me about your trip to India,” Gerald said. “I understand you were on a mission.”

  “Oh that. Mia, no Audrey, yes it was Audrey, put me in touch with two rich old broads who wanted to find the owner of a painting that one of them has hung in her boudoir. Mia previously identified that the painting – an Amrita Sher-Gil, I believe - had a ghost attached to it. There was a story about lost loves, blah blah blah, and the murder of the bride who was attached to the oil. This ghost was barely there, so she was of little help. Evidently, the owner of the painting, her below cast husband, had left the painting in Naomi Seeley’s capable hands before he journeyed back to India on business. He never returned. The Seeleys have more money than common sense… Well, anyway, they paid for my trip, and then some, to either bring the old gentleman back or locate his bones. They had this romantic idea of reuniting the star-crossed lovers.”

  Bev stopped talking long enough to finish the bavette pomodoro. “I do hope you ordered the chicken.”

  “Yes, I know how much you enjoyed it the last time.” Gerald dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. “So, Beverly, were you successful?”

  “Depends on your version of success. I found the geezer alive and living under an assumed name. Not that I can judge, mind you. But he got himself in a little trouble with the government and decided to live out his days just outside of Lucknow. He had no desire to return to the States and asked me to facilitate the return of the painting. I explained the delicate situation of the ghost bride, and he seemed pleased, the arrogant bastard. He’d been married and gone through two wives after he returned to India. I’m surprised he even remembered the young lady.”

  “So the Seeleys were pleased?” he prodded.

  “I could tell that they were disappointed, but they paid me and took care of the shipping of the painting themselves. Did you know they used to hang with my mother of all people?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Yes, evidently they remember Mia as a sweet young thing, and me, well, not so much.”

  “How could anyone forget you, my dear?” Gerald asked.

  “This polenta is good,” Bev said. “It goes beautifully with the chicken. Good call, Shem.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I missed this,” she said and elaborated, “You and I working through the menus of the best restaurants in Chicago.”

  “There were a couple of dives if I remember right,” Gerald said laughing.

  “What were they thinking? Tuscan ballpark food! You’re either in the mood for Italian food or you go to Wrigley for a hotdog. You don’t base your menu on both.”

  “They took a risk.”

  “I don’t appreciate risks taken with my delicate constitution.”

  Gerald almost choked on his chicken.

  Bev got up, but he waved her down. After a deep drink of water, he was fine. “Sorry, you caught me mid-swallow.”

  Bev lifted an eyebrow, pondering what she had said that was so funny.

  Gerald quickly changed the subject. “I saw Mia today.”

  “PEEPs needed another favor?” Bev asked interested.

  “Yes, but Mia and Ted put this favor on their tab.”

  “That’s a very valuable asset you have now,” Bev said. “Mia’s grown very powerful as a sensitive, and Ted’s a genius. You should see all the gadgets he has under patents. He’s got the military wooing him.”

  “He’s a very capable young man.”

  “Were you out at the farm?” Bev questioned.

  “No, Mia came to my office.”

  “Mia drove in to see you at your office? Impossible.”

  “Cid was with her, but I was surprised too when she said she was in the neighborhood. PEEPs have quite a problem on their hands.”

  “Mia’s difficult, but not a… Oh, we’re not talking about Mia.”

  “Mia brought a handbill that was printed on cursed paper. We think it was made from an executioner’s block.”

  “We?” Bev fished.

  “Angelo and I.”

  “Wait, Mia came to see you and Angelo? Murphy must be livid.”

  Gerald frowned. “What does it matter what Stephen Murphy thinks? Mia’s married to Ted, and evidently he was fine with it.”

  “He sent Cid along with her.”

  “Actually, Cid was with her when she made the discovery.”

  Bev scooted in her chair and put her hands under her chin. “This is getting interesting.”

  Gerald tried to ignore Beverly, but she was so damned cute at the moment. “Would you like to see the dessert menu?”

  “It’s going to be full of gelatos,” Bev said. “Just pick one,” she said to the waiter. “Come on, Shem, spill it.”

  Gerald took her through his side of things, and as he told his tale, he could tell she wanted in on the investigation but wouldn’t ask. “Angelo hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I expect to hear from him soon.”

  “But the paper is secure.”

  “He flew it back himself. Why?”

  “I remember hearing something about a cursed performance from one of the old magicians back when I traveled with Guillaume. It’s at the back of my mind somewhere. Perhaps you could jog it free after coffee?”

  Gerald nodded.

  “Anyway, the gist of it was, it was standing room only, and just after the mentalist took the stage, a few of the patrons started screaming in the audience. A few left before the stampede happened. There were lots of injuries and a few dead. The performer tried to calm the audience and was crushed by the fleeing crowd. I don’t know how the subject came up though. Packed houses, perhaps, or m
aking sure the exits were clearly marked? I don’t remember.”

  “Would you mind coming with me? I was going to go and see this house for myself after I drop you off this evening.”

  “Well, if you think I wouldn’t be in the way. I’d like to change first,” Bev said.

  “I hate to see you lose that beautiful dress, but perhaps something low key would be advisable. And low heels…”

  Bev looked at the six inch heels she’d teetered in on and smiled. She reached down and slid off a shoe. “This pump is beautiful but deadly.”

  “Funny, that’s how I think of you,” Gerald said and ordered their coffee.

  Bev sat back. She almost purred she was so sated with food and happy with the way the evening was going. A little visit to a haunted house was excellent foreplay in her opinion.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mia arrived refreshed with not only Murphy in tow, but a large picnic basket full of thermoses of coffee, plastic-wrapped sandwiches, sinfully decadent cookies and snack cakes. Ted met her at the truck and showered her with praise and kisses.

  “Whoa, what’s that for?” Mia said, disengaging herself from the appreciated embrace.

  “I missed you.”

  “I was gone four hours.”

  “Can you image if you were gone five hours,” Ted said, giving his best smoldering look.

  “Seems to me this encourages me to stay away longer…”

  Ted’s expression changed. “Wait…”

  Mia giggled. “Is it just we two?”

  “Cid’s headed home. Audrey and Mike left hours ago. Burt’s probably at the Burger King using the facilities.”

  “Oh, that’s why he smells like onion rings,” Mia said. “I do find the lack of a bathroom troubling, especially on the nightshift.”

  “I could run interference with the ghostie when you need to go…”

  “No! I’ll hold it or use an old Big Gulp cup. Or better yet, there’s a Denny’s two miles from here, open all night.”

  “I love Denny’s Pancake Puppies sundaes,” Ted said, putting an arm around his wife.

  “Let’s see, full of sugar, I can see the draw. Just don’t tell Ralph we eat there. He’ll have a fit.”

  “He’s a food snob, Mia.”

  “If that is his only fault, then consider us blessed,” Mia said.

  Ted lifted her up into the trailer. “Ooof. Maybe no Pancake Puppies for you,” he teased.

  Mia looked down at him and shook her head. He went back for the hamper while Mia got herself sorted.

  “It’s the bewitching hour, Jake. Midnight Mia checking in.”

  The main console lit up, and several dozen tiny time clocks went click as time cards were stamped.

  “Clever. Have you been behaving yourself?”

  The screen divided itself. Boy and Girl Scout hand signals were raised on one side. Crossed fingers on the other.

  “Who are you talking to?” Ted asked.

  “Jake. He’s light on the words but very visual.”

  “He does make it interesting at times,” Ted said yawning.

  “Why don’t you stretch out on the lounge chair behind the files,” Mia suggested. “I’ll keep an eye on things with Jake’s help.”

  “Maybe later. Right now, I’m anxious to dig into this food and drink a gallon of coffee.”

  “Make sure you save some for Burt. He can’t live on Burger King alone.”

  They heard a car drive up. The headlights briefly blinded them as it maneuvered into a space in front of the house.

  Ted expected Burt but was surprised by Gerald Shem and Beverly Cooper. He jumped down and walked over to greet them.

  “Welcome to Midnight at the Madisons. Mystics, mediums and mind readers drink for half price.”

  Bev laughed. She looked around Ted for Mia.

  “She’s manning the console,” he said. “We’re the nightshift. Burt will be back soon. He’s…”

  “Having a piss,” Bev said. “He’s either taking the piss or having one.”

  “Beverly, Ted’s going to think us coarse,” Gerald scolded.

  “Ted knows better,” Bev said, breezing by him. “Now where’s my niece? Mia Cooper Martin, come out, come out wherever you are!”

  Mia winced. She was sure her aunt had woken up the neighbors. Mia walked over, stuck her head out and shushed the approaching woman.

  “Honestly, you’ve got to stop caring what people think,” Bev said, huffing as she started her climb into the back of the PEEPs command center.

  “Do you really want us to get cited with a noise violation?” Mia asked, giving Bev a hand to haul her up the last step.

  “No, I’m just very happy,” Bev said.

  “Drunk happy, or happy happy?” Mia questioned, rolling a chair over to her exuberant aunt.

  “A bit of both, I suppose.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Mia said. She didn’t say Bev deserved happiness and hoped that Bev didn’t pick up on that.

  “Gerald and I were talking about this investigation. I think I may know something about Gabor the Great’s last performance. I don’t know if it will help or not, but as you’re fond of saying, knowledge is power.”

  Mia nodded. “Can’t you wait until Burt gets back? I want him to hear it firsthand.”

  “Oh, that old washcloth? Why?”

  “He is my boss.”

  “Hardly, we both know that you’re only here doing charity work. After all, you could be making so much more…”

  “Don’t shit stir,” Mia warned her. “I’m a member of PEEPs, my husband’s a member, and most of my friends are part of this team. I believe in what we’re doing.”

  “Tell me you absolutely agree with everything he says…”

  “I’ll not lie to you, but I’ve been wrong too. Having a team with a multitude of talents is an advantage.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Burt’s car approaching put an end to their conversation. Gerald climbed into the trailer followed by Ted. Burt was the last to join them. Mia could tell he wasn’t pleased to see Bev there.

  Gerald was very interested in the command center. He complimented Ted on the organization, although the filing system was unusual. “You have batteries filed under T for…”

  “Transformers,” Ted answered. “You see they are designed after the comic’s energon cubes.”

  “Bright ideas come from the most unusual sources,” Gerald said. “As I was telling Cid this morning…”

  Burt slid in beside Mia and began pounding on the keys.

  Mia looked over, and he stopped typing.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “More rested, you?” Mia answered.

  “What are they doing here?” he whispered.

  Bev got up, walked over, leaned in, and whispered between them, “We’re trying to help.”

  Burt blushed.

  “It’s true. Bev has information to share. I asked for her to wait until you arrived, so you could hear it firsthand,” Mia said, her voice returning to a normal level.

  “That I do. Do I smell coffee?” Bev asked.

  Ted pulled two mugs out of the file marked Addictions and poured herself and Gerald a cup. “Milk and sugar are in the small cooler under the table,” he directed.

  Once Bev and Gerald had their coffees fixed, they encouraged the three PEEPs to cluster around while Bev related her story. “It wasn’t until Gerald gave me a little mind nudge, did I remember the old codger telling me of the terrified look on the face of the mentalist when he realized something was wrong. You see, the magician was but a boy apprenticed to another mentalist when he met Gabor the Great. Anatolie was his name. He explained, in the old days, they attached themselves to traveling medicine shows, Wild West extravaganzas, whatever they could find. In some towns, they were greeted with suspicion, and in some places they had to run for their lives. But once they hit the big cities, New York, Chicago, St. Louis, they felt free to practice the craft they loved s
o well.”

  “Where was it you met the old magician?” Burt asked.

  “Guillaume and I rested with a group of magicians in New Orleans. It was in an old house. I doubt if it’s there anymore. If it is, it’s filled with real magic,” she said wistfully. “I hadn’t thought of that place in some time. I really ought to see if it’s still there. Anyway, when Gerald brought up your investigation and the name Gabor the Great, I knew he had been discussed before, but I wasn’t sure where.”

  “A strange coincidence,” Ted challenged.

  “No, a small world,” Gerald argued.

  “Not really when you consider the small amount of true magicians out there,” Bev pointed out. “Now, if you throw in mystics, mediums and mind readers, then you have a bigger group to deal with. Mostly charlatans though.”

  “Angelo is looking up these fellows in the Great Book,” Gerald added. “Cezar certainly will be listed if he was powerful.”

  “Did the magician mention Cezar?” Mia asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. Anatolie must have kept that secret to himself,” Bev reasoned.

  “There’s this big hole,” Mia complained. “We know that Anatolie perished in the fire. We suspect that Cezar had something to do with it, but there had to be someone else involved. We find that piece, then I think we’ll be able to have a better idea how to deal with that thing in there.”

  “Black arts,” Gerald blurted out. “All of this has to be tied into the black arts. You see, real magic walks a fine line between talent and summoned evil.”

  Mia felt a chill. “So a demon could be involved?”

  “Not necessarily. You see, demons are but a segment of what falls under the realm of darkness. The reason we may think that there are a lot of them is because you can’t destroy them. Their disruptiveness gives them away eventually. But true evil hides, nudges and is very clever. It exists in our world sometimes for survival; there could be things going on in the darkness that aren’t conducive to the entity staying there. Or sometimes evil comes a courting. Recruitment is a strong possibility, but not the right fit here. Revenge, sure, at least that was what bound Cezar to the darkness. But now?” Gerald held up his hands.