by Jeffrey Ford
"It's against policy to socialize with the clients," said Schell.
"Boss, she's Mexican. I thought it'd be good for him."
"Why didn't he just tell me?"
"You're his old man. No kid tells their old man that kind of crap."
Some time passed, and then Schell added, "She must be a tough customer."
"What could be better?" said Antony.
Schell must have known I was eavesdropping from the hallway because he called for me to come into the living room. I hobbled in, one shoe still on my right foot. He pointed for me to take a seat in the chair opposite his. Antony was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded.
Schell leaned forward and rested his wineglass on the coffee table. "Gentlemen, we're in business," he said. I thought a lecture would follow, but instead he told us that Barnes had called and was eager to meet us.
"When?" I asked.
"Tomorrow morning. Ten sharp. I think we should appear in force. So Antony, you'll wear the chauffeur rig. Diego, you'll be in swami mode, but let me do all the talking on this venture."
"Have the police come up with anything?" I asked.
"As far as he said, nothing," said Schell. "Tomorrow, after he meets us, if he's convinced, he promised to fill us in on the details."
"I hate to say it," said Antony, "but the girl's probably dead."
"Why?" I asked.
"Unless Barnes tells us otherwise tomorrow, it's been too long a time without a ransom demand," said Schell. "If someone kidnapped her, there'd be a reason, and usually that's money, especially with a mark like Barnes."
"There could be another reason," I said, not wanting to think of the girl having been murdered.
"Slim," said Antony.
"And," said Schell, "the chances are it was someone who knows her. That's just the odds. So keep your eyes peeled when we get over there tomorrow. Watch the help, the wife, everybody's a suspect. Even Barnes himself."
"We'll figure it out," said Antony.
"I don't take kindly to being a patsy for the spirit world," said Schell. "The girl in the glass, when she looked at me, it was almost as if she was daring me to figure her out."
Antony stood up and announced that he was turning in. As he left the living room, walking behind Schell's chair, he turned his head and winked at me, a smile on his face. He'd sold me down the river to hide the fact that we'd gone out to get the hat, and I was somewhat upset with the story he'd told, but I had to hand it to him, he wasn't a bad con man.
I also stood up then, but the moment my rear end left the seat, Schell said, "Sit down." I did.
"You went to see Isabel tonight?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Does Parks know?"
"No, we met on the beach."
Schell sat quietly, as if weighing this information. When he finally spoke, his tone led me to believe he was overriding his better judgment. "Do what you have to do, but make sure he never hears of it."
"I understand."
"One mistake and we could be out of business," he said.
I nodded and then stood up to leave. As I passed by him, he reached out and grabbed my arm. "Do you like her?" he asked.
"I like her a lot," I said.
"Good," he whispered. He closed his eyes and sat there for a couple of seconds, holding my arm, before finally letting go.
HUSH
Harold Barnes presented a more convincing Teddy Roosevelt then I did a Hindu swami: blunt mustache, squinting eyes behind round glasses, teeth like piano keys, stocky build draped in a black suit. He wasn't exactly a Rough Rider when it came to the personality though. It was easy to see how hard the loss of his daughter had been on him. His complexion was ashen, and he more dragged himself around than walked, as if he hadn't slept since she'd disappeared. Another man might have been frantic and filled with anger, but Barnes was mild as a lamb and spoke so low I often had a hard time hearing him.
We wound up, after navigating the extensive hallways of his enormous mansion, in a solarium on the ground floor in the western wing. Barnes sat behind a desk and Schell and I on cushioned chairs facing him. Outside, the sun beat down on the last few rose blossoms in the garden his child had been snatched from.
Schell made the introductions. There was always a moment when he relayed my lineage to the clients during which I held my breath and waited for a sign that they'd bought our bill of goods. Many of them, I could tell, viewed me as some exotic but not very inviting necessity of Schell's occupation, sort of like Morty's snake, but Barnes was truly interested and seemed pleased to have the input of the exotic East in his corner.
"Mr. Barnes, we were devastated by the news of your daughter's disappearance and thought it only right to volunteer our services to help locate her," said Schell.
"You come with excellent credentials, Mr. Schell," he said. "George Parks, the widow Morrison, the Vincents, Mr. Goshen, have all vouched for your abilities and your professionalism. Your concern is appreciated."
"When a child's well-being is at stake…," said Schell.
"How did you become aware of our situation?" he asked.
"To tell you the truth, I was conducting a sйance for Mr. Parks a week ago, and your daughter's image came through to me in the midst of it. This was before I'd even heard of her disappearance. When I read the newspaper and saw her photograph, I realized she'd been calling out to me for help."
"Astonishing," said Barnes. "Do you think…?"
"I'm uncertain. I've received a few more vague signs, but I needed to come here and try to pick up her vibration in order to get a clearer signal."
"I can show you around, if you like," he said.
"That'll help me immeasurably. I'd also like you to tell me anything you know, including whatever the police have discovered."
"I will," he said.
"The images I'm receiving from the spirit world are suggesting to me that you have not been contacted for a ransom payment, am I correct?" asked Schell.
"That's right," said Barnes.
"I'll need a list of all those who visited your home in the last month or so. Can you have that prepared for me?"
"The police asked for the same thing. I can give you a copy."
"Very good. I've had a premonition that your daughter didn't wander off but was abducted by someone who knows you. In other words, I don't believe this is an instance of a random kidnapping."
Barnes nodded.
"And I will need to meet your household staff."
"Very well."
"One more thing…I ask that you not mention the assistance we're affording you to the police, as they're suspect of our abilities and will most likely interfere in our own investigation."
"The police have been less than useless," said Barnes, and for the first time I saw a hint of ire. "They've come up with nothing."
"They're limited by their reliance on the physical, whereas Ondoo and I take our cues from the unseen universe," said Schell.
"There's only one demand I have, Mr. Schell," he said.
"Please," said Schell.
"I'll need you to work in concert with another gifted individual I've hired. She's a psychic, can foresee the future and look into the past. She's impressed my wife tremendously, told her things about us and our lives she would have no way of knowing. I'll introduce you to her in a few minutes. She's upstairs with Helen right now."
"We'd be delighted," said Schell, barely skipping a beat. Of course, he felt the opposite. Barnes would never have noticed it as a sign of distress, but I caught a minute downturn at the corners of Schell's lips.
"Is there anyone you can think of who might wish harm upon your family?" asked Schell, quickly recovering.
"Mr. Schell, I'm in charge of enterprises totaling in the millions. I have none of your special insight, but I can assure you, I know my enemies better than my friends. They might try to beat me to a deal, pull an underhanded financial trick now and then, but this kind of thing is far too messy a
nd, frankly, unnecessary for them."
"Of course," said Schell.
Barnes then looked up and his expression softened. "Hello, dear, I'd like you and Miss Hush to meet Mr. Schell and his associate," he said.
I turned to see the two women who had entered the room. The older woman, obviously Barnes's wife, was short with dark hair gathered into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and she appeared every bit as fatigued as her husband. She wore a long, black shawl over her shoulders and clutched the tails of it in balled fists. Behind her, though, like day following night, came Miss Hush, dressed all in white, her light blonde hair fanning out around her head like a frizzy aura. Her complexion was nearly as pale as her outfit, and she wore a kind of absentminded smile.
A slight ripple of consternation moved across Schell's brow, and I interpreted it as surprise that the seer in question had not turned out to be someone we already knew. It was obvious to me that he had never heard of Miss Hush before, and that was odd, because between Antony and himself, they knew just about every con in New York.
Schell stood, as did I, and offered his hand to Helen Barnes while her husband made the introductions. The older woman did not release her shawl but bowed slightly and thanked Schell for coming. "I'm very sorry about your daughter's disappearance," he said. Then it was on to Miss Hush, who shook his hand timidly and whispered a greeting I couldn't make out. Neither of the ladies bothered to take my own offered palm, but that was not unusual. When Schell gave them the capsule review of my credentials and name, the younger woman stared with large eyes and said, "How wonderful."
Schell and I gave up our seats to the women and each pulled another chair into the circle that formed around Harold Barnes's desk. The millionaire cleared his throat, and said, "Miss Hush here tells me that she believes my daughter is still on Long Island somewhere. Is that not correct?" he asked.
"She's close by," said the pale young woman.
"She needs someone to take her around the local area, to pick up the image more clearly," Barnes said to Schell. "I'd put my own driver at her disposal, but I need him here in case I'm called for."
"I see," said Schell. "My driver, Antony, can take her around. Ondoo will accompany them also. His presence tends to open a clearer conduit with the spirit world. I think Miss Hush will find that his close proximity will increase her abilities. In the meantime, I'd like to stay here and see your daughter's room, walk around outside in the garden, if that's all right with you."
"Miss Hush?" Barnes asked.
She nodded.
"No sense in waiting to get started," said Barnes. "Every minute is precious. Mr. Schell, make yourself at home. I'll let the staff know you are to have complete access to the entire estate."
We all stood, save Mrs. Barnes, who, I just then noticed, had given herself up to silent tears. Her genuine grief made me feel ten times the impostor. Her husband moved around from behind the desk and took the seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Schell and I were the first out of the room. As we walked the maze of hallways through the palatial house back to its front entrance, the boss quickly whispered to me under his breath, "Keep her in your sights constantly. She's a wild card. I want to know everything she does." I nodded, and then he dropped back and waited for our passenger.
As I reached the Cord, Antony stood holding the door open on the passenger side. Eventually, Schell and Miss Hush exited the house and walked down the drive to the car. She gathered up her dress but, before slipping into the backseat, requested that she be allowed to ride up front. The big man opened the front door, and she slid in. Schell held the door open instead of letting Antony close it. Antony then went around, got in behind the wheel, and started the car.
"Follow Miss Hush's directives to the letter," he said to us over the turning of the engine.
"Gentlemen," she said, "please, call me Lydia."
"Thomas," said Schell and again shook her hand.
"Thomas, from what Mr. Barnes has told me of your reputation, you must already be aware that the girl is dead."
"No," said Schell. "I hadn't picked that fact up."
"I wouldn't tell Barnes and his wife until we find her."
"Naturally," said Schell.
"We'll find her, though," she said. "I've seen it. Henry and young Diego here will be with me when I do."
Upon hearing our real names, I squirmed a little beneath my turban, and Antony's head whipped around.
"You've done your homework," said Schell, smiling.
"No work at all," she said.
Then he shut the door, Antony gave it the gas, and we were off.
SLEIGHT OF MOUTH
The Cord sat at the edge of a field that had been burnt brown by the summer sun and now was strewn with fallen leaves from the woods that bordered it in the distance. The sky was bright blue, and there was a cool and steady breeze. We had the windows rolled down, and both Antony and I sat in the front seat. The big man was smoking his third cigarette since we'd stopped forty-five minutes earlier. Off to our left, halfway across the field, Lydia Hush traipsed slowly in wide circles, talking to herself. It was the fourth such stop we'd made since leaving Barnes's place.
"This detail's a snooze and a half," said Antony, blowing smoke.
"Miss Hush's powers seem somewhat less than startling," I said.
"Well, one thing's for sure, not that we should talk, but that name's phony as a three-dollar bill."
"I thought it was poetic," I said.
"Poetic, maybe. Phony, for sure. Besides that, though, Miss Hush is a fine-looking woman, even if she's got the complexion of a snowball."
"She must live under a rock," I said.
"Did you see the boss's face when she coughed up our real names?"
"I doubt she could see his surprise, because he covered it with that smile."
"Yeah, the business smile," said Antony. "Sleight of mouth."
"Maybe his best trick," I said.
"Do you think she pulled that information out of a dream?" he asked.
"I don't know. She seems like she could either be a con or the real thing, if there's any such thing as the real thing. Schell's pretty much convinced me there isn't."
Antony blew a smoke ring, then flicked his cigarette butt out the window. "Once I was with this traveling show in Georgia for a few weeks, wrestling a bear-"
"Here we go," I said.
"No, it's true. The sorriest fucking bear in the world. It was sort of like rolling your grandmother, like moving furniture. Had to quit; I felt sorry for the bear. Anyway, with that show, there was this old hag, and I mean hag. She sat in a tent and you went in and paid your dime and she'd tell you your future. And for an extra nickel she'd tell you the day you were gonna die."
"Sounds like fun," I said.
"We're talking the loneliest of occupations," said Antony. "But in the short time I was with that crap outfit two people actually took her up on the nickel special. One was a local guy in a little town outside of Atlanta. She told him he had two days to live. Two days later, sure as shit, he's walking home from work and gets struck by lightning. Blood boils, head pops like a grape."
"She got lucky," I said.
"That's pretty damn lucky. Well, not for the guy. But there was another guy too. A midget who was with the show. He went to see her after the first guy got hit by lightning. The midget's show name was Major Minor. He dressed in a military outfit; was a real self-important little prick. The hag gave him a date in six years. So what? Right? Who's gonna remember that? But about maybe eight years later, I ran into Bunny Franchot, the Alligator Girl, one of the most screwed-up-looking broads I ever knew, in a carnival in South Jersey. She'd been with the outfit in Georgia when I was there. We got to talking, and it came out that the Major, who had this Model T rigged so he could drive it standing up, went out one night, got loaded, and ran himself into a tree. He'd forgotten the prediction, but Bunny never did. It was the exact da
y she predicted."
I shook my head.
"There's more bullshit in heaven and earth, than you can dream up in your scenario," said Antony.
"Well put," I said.
"Now," he said, "go out there and tell Miss Hush it's time for lunch."
I adjusted my turban, opened the door, and got out. My legs were stiff from sitting all morning, and it felt good to be out of the car. I took my time crossing the field. As I approached, she turned to face me.
"Are you feeling anything, Miss Hush?" I asked as I drew near. I didn't bother with the Indian accent, since she already knew who we were.
"Cold," she said, and I could see she was shivering slightly.
"Does that mean we're close?" I asked.
"No, it just means I'm cold," she said and smiled. It was a real smile, not that vague one she'd flashed at the Barnes place. This time I thought I caught a glimpse of her true self.
"Antony wants to get something to eat," I said. "Is that all right with you?"
"Okay," she said and walked up beside me. She was beautiful in a kind of fairy-tale way, and I thought about a story I'd once read called "The Snow Queen." Her closeness to me made me nervous to begin with, but when she put her hand on my shoulder as we walked, I had to swallow hard.
Of course, the silence was too much to bear, so I said, "And what will it be like when you discover the location?"
"I'll feel very tired, very tired. In my mind, I'll begin to dream, standing straight up, and I'll see poor Charlotte. Maybe she'll tell me where she's hidden. Or I might see the place in my mind before I see it with my eyes."
"Why do you talk while you're walking around?" I asked.
"I'm not talking. I'm singing to pass the time until something happens."
"Have you found lost people before?" I asked.
"Everybody's lost in some way," she said. "I found you, didn't I, hiding beneath a turban?"
I'd been reminded of my identity once too often in recent days and the frustration of it made me bolder. "What are you hiding, Miss Hush?"
"Plenty," she said and removed her hand from my shoulder. "And it's Lydia."