Strange Magic

by Gord Rollo

  “This place is perfect,” he decided, getting out of the truck and heading for the front door.

  He had to knock a number of times on the heavy mahogany door, each rap resounding louder than the previous before the door slowly creaked open. By then, his patience had been sorely tested, but he managed to subdue his angry scowl, promptly replacing it with another of his practiced fake smiles. The old lady stood inside the door, graciously reciprocating his smile.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  She was rather short, slightly overweight, and her badly wrinkled skin gave weight to her obvious advanced years. The Stranger guessed her age at eighty, if not older. She was wearing a full-length floral-patterned dress and white slippers. He couldn’t help noticing her beautiful silver-tinted hair was pulled cruelly back in a tight bun.

  The Stranger stepped closer, quite pleased. “Hello there,” he purred. “I’m here to see about the room for rent. I read about it in this morning’s paper.” He held up the newspaper and pointed to the small ad. “I was wondering if it’s still available? Hope so.”

  “Sure is. Come on in and I’ll show you around.”

  The dark Stranger thanked her and pretended to listen as she led him through the house, gabbing on and on about things that didn’t concern him. The only thing he cared about was the solitude and quietness her house offered. Here he could find peace and safety until he figured out how he would bring his vengeful plan to fruition.

  Midway through the tour, she introduced herself as Kathleen Pruit and said she’d been a widow for almost eight years now. The Stranger cringed briefly, expecting she’d want him to introduce himself, but she simply turned away and continued with the tour. She was boring him terribly, but through it all he feigned interest and never dropped his hollow smile.

  “I’ll take it,” he said as they returned to the front entrance. “It’s just what I’m looking for.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” Kathleen said, sighing with obvious relief. “I was hoping I could get the room rented quickly. I really need the money. You do know you’ll have to look after the yard work, right? You’re older than I had hoped. Think you can handle it?”

  “No problem there. I’m young at heart, ma’am, and I enjoy dabbling in horticulture. I’ll have the yard looking like something straight out of Better Homes and Gardens.” Always a great kidder, he reinforced his promise with a smile and a wink.

  “Excellent. And the money? I’ll have to ask for the first and last up front, I’m afraid.”

  “Got no problem with that either. Here, let me get my wallet out.”

  The Stranger made a show of patting his coat pockets and when he felt the moment was right, he finally exclaimed, “A-ha, found it.” From an inside pocket, he withdrew an oversize deck of playing cards. He pretended to be embarrassed to see himself holding the cards instead of his wallet, and apologized immediately.

  “What are those?” Kathleen asked.

  “These old things? They’re just a big deck of cards I sometimes use. I never told you I’m a magician, did I?”

  “A magician?”

  “Yeah, and a pretty good one too, if you don’t mind me saying so. Hey, seeing the cards are already out, how would you like to see a great card trick?”

  The look on Kathleen Pruit’s wrinkled face said she would rather see the rent money, but she went along nevertheless, not wanting to appear rude.

  “Well…okay. If it’s as good as you say.”

  “Sure is. One of the best.” The Stranger moved closer, fanning the oversize deck in front of her face with a practiced flair.

  “Let’s give it a try, shall we? Go ahead and pick a card…any old card.”

  Kathleen took a moment to decide. Laughing nervous ly, she selected a card from the left end of the deck and held it quickly to her chest.

  “Can I look at it?” she asked.

  “Why, of course, but be careful not to let me see it. That would spoil all the fun.”

  She was smiling happily, really getting into it, but her smile froze when she looked at her card. In a quiet, surprised voice, she said, “I…don’t understand?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the Stranger answered. “Silly me. I forgot to tell you this isn’t an ordinary set of cards. You probably were expecting to see an ace of hearts, or a seven of clubs, right?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding her head in confusion. “What kind of deck is this?”

  “This is a very special deck. Instead of the usual suits, this deck has pictures of objects. With these objects, not only can I guess the correct card, I can also tell you your fortune.”

  His explanation worked like a charm. The old woman’s face lit up with a big grin. She nodded understandingly and urged him to go on.

  “Let’s see then.” He pretended to concentrate. “The card you have chosen is…the dagger.”

  The old widow squealed in astonishment. “Why that’s amazing, exactly right. Look, it’s a dagger card!”

  The card showed a picture of an elaborate jewel-encrusted blade sitting in the plush folds of a purple silk pillow. The background was a kaleidoscope of various shades of red.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” the tall magician said, bowing as if in front of an audience.

  “What about my fortune?” she asked. “Is picking the dagger lucky?”

  “Drawing that card is always considered lucky,” beamed the magician. Bowing once more, he deftly withdrew a dagger with a twelve-inch blade from his right boot. “Alas, more so for me than for you I’m afraid.”

  He sprang out of his bow, lightning-quick. In one fluid motion he lashed out at the old woman, a deep red smile appearing across her aged neck, immediately producing two spouting geysers of thick, warm blood. With one savage stroke he’d severed her jugular vein and carotid artery. A sea of sticky redness gushed out, spraying the nearby ceiling and walls.

  Kathleen tried to speak, a look of shock and confusion reflected in her frightened eyes, but no words were heard. She reached up with both hands in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Undaunted, the crimson fluid bubbled through the gaps in her fingers, pouring down her chest to puddle at her feet.

  Grinning wickedly, the Stranger turned over the remainder of the cards, revealing the secret of his trick. Every single card in the deck had a picture of the jewel-encrusted dagger. Tossing them aside for the moment, the dark-clothed maniac moved in closer to his scarlet-soaked victim. Heedless of the sloppy gore, he shoved her hard, violently slamming her against the front door.

  Reversing his grip on the blade, he viciously drove the razor-sharp dagger into the area between her eyes. The long blade sank to the hilt, piercing her brain and exiting out the back of her skull to embed itself in the thick wooden door. When the Stranger released his grip, her body remained in a standing position, firmly nailed in place. Her feet, now clear of the red-stained carpet by an inch, continued to spasm uncontrollably.

  Always an affectionate man, he kissed Widow Pruit tenderly on the lips before turning away, leaving her suspended body to twitch and die on her own. He stooped down and retrieved the scattered cards, returning them to his slightly bloodied overcoat.

  After exiting the house by the side-door kitchen entrance, he drove his recently acquired pickup off the street and into his new garage.

  “Home sweet home,” he whispered to the antique trunk as he unloaded it off the truck bed and dragged it into the coppery-tainted smell of the blood-splattered hallway.

  Safely inside, he unbuckled the trunk’s thick leather straps and opened the lid. He wanted to make sure the journey to Billington hadn’t damaged anything. Inside, the magic trunk was empty, save for a single thin sheet of white paper. It turned out to be a note telling other prospective renters who might come calling that the vacancy had been filled and the apartment was no longer available. It was signed: Kathleen Pruit.

  “Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about other renters. I’d better go hang this where it’ll be seen. I’ll put
it on the front door; the last thing I need is a parade of nosy apartment seekers. Screw that.”

  In the front hall, the old woman’s corpse was still fastened to the door. Her lower extremities had finally stopped their dance. The dark man couldn’t fully swing open the door because her body brushed the near wall, getting in the way. Fortunately, it swung open enough that it wouldn’t cause a problem. He thought he’d have to search around for a hammer and nail, but was pleased to see tools would be unnecessary. The long dagger pinning the old woman had exited out the other side of the door. The Stranger simply stuck the piece of paper onto the tip of the knife, then smiled at his handiwork for a moment before closing the front door.

  Silently, he wondered if apartment hunting was always this much fun.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LOVE CAN OVERCOME ANYTHING

  Susan eased the vehicle to a stop in the narrow paved driveway near the crest of Derby Hill, at about the same time the Stranger was showing old Mrs. Pruit his version of a good card trick.

  Like a flash, Kemp was out of the car, unlocking the front door, and dashing upstairs for a quick shower. After a long night in the holding cell, the hot, steamy water did wonders for his aching, tired body. On another day, he might have lingered in its warm, wet embrace, but not today. Today he couldn’t afford such luxury; he was in too much of a hurry. His excitement swelled at the thought of spending some much needed quality time with his daughter. He had scrubbed clean, toweled off, shaved, changed clothes (he still had a closetful here), and was ready to go by eleven fifteen.

  “I’m all set, Susan,” he yelled excitedly. “Let’s go pick up our little pride and joy.”

  Susan poked her head out of the kitchen doorway and made a time-out signal with her hands. “Easy, big guy, slow down. You’ve been running around like someone set your feet on fire. Come have some lunch.”

  “Lunch? Couldn’t we go pick up Amanda first, then eat something together?”

  “No we can’t. I called over to Mrs. Henderson’s while you were in the shower. Amanda’s not there right now. Edith had some housework to get finished and her husband, Earl, volunteered to take Amanda off her hands for a while. They went uptown to Harvey’s for lunch and won’t be back for about an hour.”

  “We could still have lunch together,” Wilson reasoned. “I like Harvey’s too. We could go uptown and meet them over there.”

  “No way. The Hendersons just started babysitting Amanda. No way we’re gonna barge into that restaurant. Earl’s trying to do something really nice and if we go charging in there, he’ll think we don’t trust them. Good sitters are hard to find, Wilson, so just forget it. I told Edith we’d be round at twelve thirty and not a minute sooner. Understand? You’ll just have to endure the next hour with little old me. Who knows, you might even enjoy it.”

  And Kemp did enjoy it, every minute. It was comforting to see how easily they could fall back into familiar routines. He had helped out in the kitchen, whipping up a simple lunch of vegetable soup and ham sandwiches and big frosty mugs of ice-cold milk.

  They’d laughed and giggled throughout the entire meal, each recalling happy memories of better times they’d once shared. Time passed quickly, almost too quickly, and soon it was time to go pick up their daughter. Together, they cleaned up the dishes and were on their way.

  Edith and Earl Henderson lived nearby in a modest but immaculately well-kept stucco house on Milberry Lane. It took only minutes to make the short trip. Earl and Amanda must have just arrived themselves and were walking up the front steps when Susan pulled the silver Honda into the gravel driveway.

  Wilson happily watched his seven-year-old daughter turn and throw her arms in the air when she recognized the car, squealing with delight as she raced across the grass to greet them.

  She was a small child for her age. In almost every way she was the miniature image of her mother. Her brown hair was long and curly, stylishly pulled back with two pink butterfly berets that perfectly matched her frilly dress. Her eyes, even more striking than her mother’s, were like twin electromagnets, drawing attention wherever she went. She was quite literally perfect, so beautiful he sometimes had a hard time believing she was related, much less his own flesh-and-blood daughter. She was the kind of girl destined to break many a young man’s heart, and already capable of breaking his each and every time Wilson was forced to say good-bye.

  “Daddy!” she shouted, leaping into his arms.

  They laughed and hugged and smothered each other with kisses, neither feeling the need to say anything. For now, it was enough to hold each other close and enjoy the moment. Wilson was so happy. Tears of joy trickled down his scratched cheeks. The world was a far better place for him when his daughter was safely in his arms, as if she released him from his heavily burdened conscience. For the few brief moments they hugged, he was no longer a pathetic drunk, the laughingstock of the town, but simply her father, a man who in her big lovely eyes could do no wrong.

  “I missed you, sweetie,” he whispered in complete honesty, setting her gently back on the grass. “I’ve been pretty busy lately. Sorry I haven’t been around.”

  “That’s okay, Daddy. You’re here now and you never have to go away again.”

  She reached up and grabbed hold of his hand as she spoke. Her tiny fingers gripped him firmly, as if hoping the force of her hold on him might somehow make her words come true. Wilson smiled, thinking how wonderful life would be if only things were that easy. Children have such a magical way of simplifying things. It’s the grown-ups who screw up and complicate everything. Still, he would have given anything to make his little girl’s wish come true.

  “Well, I’m not sure about never having to go away, but I can promise you we’re going to spend the whole day together. You, me, and Mommy. How does that sound?”

  “Fantastic!” she squealed, finally releasing his hand to dash over and excitedly hug her mother.

  Over Amanda’s snuggling head, Susan lifted her eyes to meet Wilson’s. The teary-eyed look she gave him said everything. Without a word being passed, they knew they had to keep trying to work out their problems, for their daughter’s sake more than their own. Amanda was now the driving force; she was living proof their love was worth fighting for and saving. For her, they had to be willing to overcome all obstacles, to move heaven and earth if necessary.

  Together, they said good-bye to the Hendersons before piling into the small Honda for the short drive home. For the remainder of the day they simply hung out around the house, relaxing, laughing, and goofing around. It was a priceless, unforgettable afternoon, just like they used to enjoy before he drank himself out the front door.

  After a delicious supper of barbecued pork chops, Wilson’s favorite, the inevitable time of departure was at hand. When they’d first broken up, they’d made an agreement on visiting rights. He could stop over anytime he wanted, but it was an unwritten rule he leave no later than eight o’clock. He badly wanted to stay, but didn’t bother to ask, hating it but knowing it wasn’t an option. Remarkably, they accepted his leaving better than he did. The three of them, Amanda to a lesser degree, understood they’d made a few small steps in the right direction today and taking it slow was probably a good idea.

  Susan drove him home, accompanied by Amanda, who hung over the front seat holding her father’s hand. The dilapidated house he rented on Morgan Avenue always depressed him, but he put on a brave face as he kissed his wife and daughter good-bye. He was climbing out of the passenger side when Susan grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside the car.

  “Would you maybe like to come to church tomorrow morning? Maybe Father Harris can help us build on today. What do you say?”

  Wilson wasn’t sure. He didn’t mind going and it would certainly be great to spend more time with his family, but Father Harris worried him greatly. Patrick Harris took every opportunity to drill Kemp on the sins of alcohol. He meant well, of course, but it wasn’t the kind of speech Wilson felt like listening to so earl
y in the morning. He hesitated for a moment and thought about politely declining the offer until he noticed the hope dancing in their eyes.

  “I’d love to,” he replied. “What time?”

  They agreed to meet on the front steps of St. Michael’s at a quarter to ten the following morning. With that settled, he turned once more to leave. This time it was his daughter who caught his arm.

  “Daddy?” she timidly asked. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something. It’s been so long since you lived with us, are we ever going to be a real family again?”

  Her candor temporarily stunned him. It was amazing how fast she was growing up. Instead of brushing her openness aside, he thought it over for a minute, giving it the serious consideration it deserved. Finally, he took hold of her little hand.

  “Listen closely, sweetie. I know you don’t quite understand the reasons why Mommy and Daddy aren’t living together, but you have to realize…no matter what, we’ll always be a real family. Nothing will ever change that. You and your mother will always be special to me. I’ll never stop loving you. Never! Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I think so. I love you too, Daddy.”

  “Why thank you. That’s all I needed to hear. Although we still have some big hills to climb before we can be back together, as long as we keep loving each other, I just know we’ll find a way to work things out.”

  “Do you really think so?” she asked, her innocent eyes widening with renewed hope.

  “Why sure I do, and so should you. There’s an old saying that no matter how large or overwhelming the obstacles are, never give up because love can overcome anything.”

  Maybe a bunch of crap and not the greatest words of wisdom ever passed along, but at least he’d tried to clear up his daughter’s concern. Whether she understood or not, it seemed to please her. He kissed her again and stepped quickly from the car, not wanting Amanda to see the tears forming in his eyes. He wasn’t convinced there would be a quick reconciliation and didn’t want the child to see his reflection of uncertainty. Without looking back, he ran to the front door, hurriedly unlocked it, and slipped inside.