Harvey Porter Does Dallas (5 page)

“No. I want her to come and do a reading for Harvey. Val and I are going to need help anywhere we can find it if we want to learn how Harvey might be related to our family.”

“But
Ingrid Finch
?”

“Yes. You heard me.”

“But
why
, for heaven's sake?”

“She's got powers. You've said so yourself.”

“I've said she
claims
to have paranormal powers. What she really is, is an old bag full of hooey.”

“But she does channeling and personal astrological readings for people all the time. She even gets paid for it.”

“There's a lot of suckers in the world, what can I say?”

But Wilberta pressed on: “I've gone to all the trouble to get Harvey's application for the SAS filled out. If he gets accepted, that'll be good for him and even better for you.”

Bailey's hopes did swell every time he thought of Harvey taking up residence at the SAS. He had to give Wilberta credit for that. “But
Ingrid Finch
?” he whined again.

“Yes, and stop whining. It's very important to get Harvey into the right school, but for Val and me, it's also still important to learn how he might be part of our family.”

Bailey didn't answer. He didn't want to know how the street scum visitor could be their relative. He just shook his head and sighed.

The drive to work wasn't a pleasant one, thinking as he was about Ingrid and the promise he'd made to his wife. He even welcomed construction zones and other detours which stalled traffic.

At work, he faced up to it at morning coffee break. He got a cup from the vending machine and took it to Ingrid's cubicle. The space smelled awful;
didn't she ever bathe?

Bailey didn't know how to start. Finally, he said, “Ingrid, I thought I'd buy your coffee for you this morning.” He found a corner of her cluttered desk where he could set the Styrofoam cup. “Mind if I sit down?”

She pointed to the chair at the end of her desk. “Sit,” she said. “This is all quite mysterious, Bailey Mushrush.” Ingrid wore layers of scarves which were semi-transparent. Some were short, while others were long. Bailey couldn't count them all. They were all blue or green or a combination of the two colors.

“Well, I have a
favor
to ask.”

“A favor,” she repeated. She had a sardonic smile on her face which made her look even more like a witch. She took a small sip of the hot coffee. “This is black coffee. There's no cream or sugar in it.”

“Well, I wasn't sure how you took your coffee.”

“That's not surprising. Why should you know anything about me? Like everyone else in the office, you make it a point to avoid me.”

Bailey looked down. “I'm real sorry about that, Ingrid.”

“Sorry is fine. But if we want to proceed, I'm going to need cream and sugar in my coffee.
Double
sugar.”

“But the machine doesn't have cream and sugar to add, Ingrid. I'd have to buy a whole 'nother cup and press the cream and sugar buttons.”

She gave a wave of her hand and pulled the corner of a scarf over her shoulder. “Another reason to loathe machines,” she said. “Well, Bailey, I guess you've got another trip to the vending machine. I certainly can't drink this.”

Bailey marched back down the corridor to the coffee machine.
How could it start out any worse?
he wondered. He bought a new cup of coffee, careful to push the cream and extra sugar buttons. Then he went back to her desk. He was assaulted again by the foul smell in her cubicle.

“Thank you, Bailey, this is kind of you.”

“You're welcome.”

Ingrid Finch crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap. “All these years you have avoided me like the plague. Now then. What's this favor you want from me?”

Bailey just blurted it out: “My wife and I would like you to come to our house and do a reading on our boarder.”

“What boarder?”

As quickly as he could, and trying (but failing) to not seem too negative, he summarized the Harvey Porter history.

“And this young man claims to be a relative of yours?”

“That's what he claims. I don't believe it for a minute.”

Ingrid sipped some of her coffee. “That's much better,” she said. “Okay, Bailey Mushrush, I shall accept your invitation. When would you like me to come?”

Never
, thought Mushrush. But he replied by saying, “Well, if it's not too much trouble, my wife was hoping you could come this evening.”

“I see no problem there,” she answered. “I'm free this evening.”

“Good,” said Bailey. Then he got down to the nitty-gritty: “How much is this going to cost?” He was prepared for the worst. What he got was even worse.

“I will charge no fee,” replied Ingrid.

“No fee?”

“No, no money needs to change hands. However,” she continued, while folding her arms across her chest and leaning back comfortably in her desk chair. “I shall require a few items in return.”

“Items?” Mushrush wanted to know. “What items?”

“Well, first, I shall require a calzone. And not just any calzone but one from Avanti's. They're the best.”

“A calzone.” He repeated her words.

“Yes. Secondly, I shall require a slice of pizza, but only the best. It must be a gut-buster from Garcia's.

“A pizza slice.”

“Thirdly, I shall require a large Otis Spunkmeyer cookie of chocolate chips and macadamia nuts. Are you writing this down?” she asked sharply.

“No.”

“Well, you'd better get after it then.”

The sheepish Mushrush took a piece of scrap paper from her desk and started writing. “Where was the pizza from?”

“Garcia's. You see, if you'd been writing this down, we could move ahead faster. Finally, I shall require a large Dr. Pepper, but it must be a fountain drink, not one that's bottled or canned.”

“Okay, I think I've got it all,” said Bailey, writing furiously.

“What time will you be picking me up this evening?” asked Ingrid, with the wicked smile returning.

“You want me to pick you up? Can't you just drive?”

“My old Chevy is rust-ridden and often unreliable. I don't want to be out alone at night, a single woman on her own.”

You'd probably scare any street thug to death
, he thought. Bailey sighed. “Okay, I'll pick you up then. Will seven o'clock be okay?”

“That would be splendid. I shall be ready when you arrive.” Then she took some scrap paper of her own and wrote briefly. Handing it to Bailey, she said, “Here's my home address. It isn't hard to find.”

Then Mushrush excused himself and left, headed straight for the bathroom. It was a nasty errand but it was over. He did some washing up with soap and water, but felt like he needed to strip down and cover himself in
Aqua-Velva
.

He left early from work, dreading the evening to come. First he drove home where everybody was gone except Harvey. He was smoking in the living room and studying the SAS reading list. He found it very interesting, and he'd never been a book reader his whole life.

“What have I told you about the smoking?” bellowed Mushrush.

“Oh right, Mr. M. Sorry. I'll just finish this one and then put it out. How'd that be?”

“What choice do I have?”

“I'll tell you what, Mr. M.” said Harvey. “This reading list looks really cool.”

Mushrush had no interest whatsoever with respect to what Harvey might think about his reading list. “That's nice,” he said, heading up the stairs. He took a fast, hot shower, and threw all his clothes into the laundry basket. After he had dried and applied underarm deodorant, he
did
cover his face, ears, neck, and shoulders with
Old Spice
.

And then it dawned on him: This was only temporary. He'd have to repeat the whole procedure later in the evening.
Drat the luck!

Ingrid's house wasn't hard to find, but it was sure depressing. The small bungalow may have been nice at one time, but that would be in the distant past. Neglected cedar trees and yew bushes were so out of control they actually made contact with the siding and blocked the windows. The roof was in bad shape, the screen door was hanging by one hinge, all the house's paint was stripped and peeling. There was no paint at all on the floorboards of the porch, at least the ones that were still there; many were missing. The front steps were sagging and without paint; one of the front porch banisters was broken away.

This
, thought Bailey,
is a house which never has visitors
. For the first time, he felt sympathy for Ingrid Finch. That sympathy evaporated when she brought her odors into his car. He glanced in the back seat to reassure himself that he'd remembered the large can of
Lysol
antiseptic air freshener.

“Well, we're off!” said Ingrid with gusto as Bailey swung into traffic. “I'm certainly looking forward to this!” she added.

Bailey took the fastest, straightest route home, speeding all the way. When he pulled into the driveway, he took Ingrid inside and introduced her to his wife. They shook hands. Ingrid waltzed into the living room, shedding scarves on the floor. She parked herself on the small couch. “So. Where's the dear boy?”

“You mean Harvey?” Mushrush asked.

“Yes, of course she means Harvey,” said Wilberta crisply. “I'll go upstairs and get him.”

When Harvey entered the living room, Ingrid reacted as she might to Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt. “Oh, you dear, dear child!” she squealed, getting up to embrace him.

Harvey flinched; she needed some
Right Guard
. Bad. Or maybe the best thing would be to just strip her down in a meat packing plant and hose her off.

Dear Child?
Mushrush was thinking.

Dear Child?
Bobo was thinking at the same time.

Ingrid stepped back and gave Harvey a close inspection from head to toe. “Just look at the energy which exudes from him. Can you not feel the vibrations?”

To Ingrid, Mushrush said, “I can feel the vibes.” To himself, he said
I've been feeling the vibes for three weeks now and they're nothing like what you might be feeling
.

At this point Ingrid took over. She said she needed the lights off and a couple of candles burning on the coffee table. She also asked everybody to leave the room. “I will need to be alone with Harvey,” she said, “otherwise I can't get in my zone of true focus.”

“Why am I doing this?” Harvey asked.

“To read you, dear boy. To read the deepest reaches of your soul.”

“Oh.”

“If we all have to leave the room,” Bailey asked. “What are we supposed to do?”

Ingrid had the answer, but by this time she had her thumbs on Harvey's eyebrows. “What energy you bring!”

“Hey,” said Bailey. “I asked you a question.”

“And I heard you,” answered Ingrid without looking in his direction. “I assume your family is creative enough to amuse themselves in rooms that don't have garish, huge, thin TV sets. You, on the other hand, have some errands to run. Do you still have your list?”

Oh drat! Harvey could feel his stomach sink.
The calzones, the pizza, the Dr. Pepper and blah, blah, blah
. And it wasn't going to be easy to find these restaurants and shops he was unfamiliar with. “Bobo, you come with me. I need your help.”

“Sure, Dad.” Bobo said with enthusiasm. Since he was helping out, he wouldn't have to tell his dad about the detention he'd gotten that day at school.

“I'll shut off the lights and get the candles you want,” said Wilberta.

“Thank you, dear.”

“God, it stinks in here!” said Bobo from the passenger's seat.

“Get out of the car,” commanded his father. “And leave your door wide open.” His father also left his own door wide open and sprayed the inside of the car liberally with his jumbo can of
Lysol
. It masked some of the smell, but not all. “It's a disinfectant spray as well as a deodorizer,” he said to Bobo as they both buckled up. “When you have odors this obnoxious, can the germs and mites and bacteria be far behind?”

Bobo didn't say a thing. All he knew was it still smelled bad.

Ingrid, meanwhile was conducting her spiritual reading of Harvey. She pressed her thumbs firmly against his cheekbones and then his temples. As she went, she asked him some questions. “Why don't you tell me about the girl in the family reunion photo?”

Harvey didn't know why he was enduring this; the probing from the long, dirty fingernails, the vile smell. “I don't know anything about her,” he replied.

“So then, what was it about her that got your attention?”

“She looked like a half-breed. Her coloring was different than anybody else in the picture.”

“And?”

“Well, I think I got some kind of a vibe, just looking at her. Her coloring was about the same as me.”

“I see, I see.” She took Harvey's pulse by pressing down on his wrist. Then she felt his eye sockets again (his eyes were closed.)

The reading lasted forty-five minutes, just as Bailey and Bobo returned from their fetching. They stepped inside. They could hear Ingrid calling to Mrs. Mushrush, “You can turn the lights back on, dear. We are finished!”

“Can we come back in?”

“But of course. I have learned much here tonight which I must share. Bring the whole family.” As all the family gathered back in the living room, Wilberta began turning on the lamps. “Do I need to leave the candles burning?”

“Not at all,” Ingrid replied. And she snapped one of her flimsy scarves at the candles. They went out immediately.

“Did you see
that?
asked Sasha.

Ingrid started talking about
linkage
. “I feel great linkage through this boy,” she declared.