Resurrecting Harry (6 page)

Erich wiped the sweat from his brow with the sopping wet dishtowel. The kitchen reminded him of a sweatbox. The dishwater, hot enough to redden his hands, didn’t help matters. The heat dampened everything from his clothes to the outer walls of the walk-in refrigerator.

Will had propped open the back door, hoping to get some air circulating, but it only made matters worse. The sweltering breeze blowing in from the back alley smelled of the overflowing garbage cans just outside the door: unnaturally sweet, like rotten fruit.

He dipped the rag back into the bucket of bleach water and continued washing down the aluminum prep trays. The kitchen sparkled, and he tried to ignore Harry’s voice asking how long had passed since the kitchen had been treated to such a scrubbing. He and Bess might have not eaten here so often if they’d known cleanliness wasn’t one of Will’s strong suits.

Erich washed the chemicals from his now cracked flesh and wandered out to the dining room,
longing to find Bess in her favorite booth.

Now early afternoon, the late lunch stragglers were filing out of the deli, and the tables were covered with dirty dishes.

“Erich,” Will said over the clatter, “Start a fresh pot of coffee and then grab a dishpan and start clearing tables.”

He wiped his hands on the end of the apron and picked up the pot, still distracted by the lack of Bess’s presence. As soon as his shift ended, he needed an excuse to call on her. Yes, he’d made progress, but they were only small steps. Keeping the momentum going was essential to winning his bet with Jaden, and therefore, to regaining his life.

The bell rung above the door, and his head spun to it, hoping. Her laughter as she greeted Will filled the room, and in response Erich smiled his first real smile of the day.

“Have a seat, Bess,” Will called out. “I’ll bring you over a pastry straight away. Erich, take Mrs. Houdini fresh coffee as soon as it’s finished brewing.”

“Sure thing,” Erich answered. Will’s request was a huge step forward. He trusted Erich to associate with Bess: another pleasant after-effect of yesterday’s good deed. He never would have willed such an incident or hoped for a child to be in danger, but his ability to avert a tragedy had elevated him from scrutinized stranger to new friend.

So, don’t mess it up, blockhead.
If he did, getting the trust back would be ten times more difficult than gaining it.

“Oh no. Nothing to eat today, but I will take the coffee, Erich. Actually, make it three. Martin and Gail Cooper should be here any moment.”

Hovering over the coffee pot, Erich kept his back to Bess so that she couldn’t see the scowl that veiled his face. Erich wondered how those wicked con-artists wormed their way into her good graces.

Harry had a theory. Gail took advantage of grieving hearts, used them to bolster some sort of fame for herself. Sure, he’d trusted her to try and contact his deceased mother, and her true colors had shown as bright as those neon lights he’d first seen in Paris. Through that incident, Harry also gleaned Martin wasn’t the friend he once believed.

How could Bess have forgotten that?
Please, don’t trust them, Angel.
           

Despite his internal plea, Bess greeted Gail and Martin with the type of warm hugs that should be reserved for old friends.

Erich’s heart pounded faster; his temple throbbed. Once, Harry had trusted Martin without question or boundaries, as a kindred spirit, but that changed because of Gail. Harry now wanted as much distance between Bess and Martin as possible. Harry’s rage boiled inside Erich as if it had all happened yesterday.

Grabbing the coffee pot from the warmer, he rounded the counter and approached. He didn’t speak as he filled their cups, only listened. He needed to know what the Coopers wanted from Bess so he could develop a plan to make sure they never got it.

“This will be a small gathering like my beloved husband prescribed,” Bess said softly. “Harry will make his way back to me and this world, if that is possible, delivering the same message I’ve tucked away in our vault at home.”

Martin shifted his weight in the seat, and his eyes darted toward his wife. Silence loomed between them. Gail studied Martin’s face as if she knew what he was thinking.

Erich was sure. The two of them were up to no good. His eyes darted back to Bess. Surely, she saw the tell-tale signs of mischief those two displayed.

Gail gave her attention back to Bess. “I really wish you’d told me about this coded message. All these months, I’ve been training you without one word about this? Bess, this throws a big wrench into that plan. You can’t be the seated medium.”

“I realize that.” Bess’s posture loosened. Her shoulders dropped. “I apologize. I was being selfish. I wanted to learn, so that Harry might contact me before the séance.”

Gail wrung her hands on the table as she scowled. “I do understand that, and if I’m to be honest I had selfish reasons for wanting to help you. I hoped teaching you might undo some of the damage Harry caused to my reputation.”

Now filling Gail’s cup, Erich had to fight his — no, Harry’s — reaction to the accusations. As if he were somehow responsible for the lies she told. Whatever the public now thought of Gail, she deserved. Defending the man whose soul breathed inside him might satisfy the spirit, but could very well damage the progress he’d made with Bess. So, he bit his lip and moved on to Martin’s cup. 

“I thought as much,” Bess answered. “And that’s why I’ve decided to ask you to take the honored seat. Would you serve as medium, Gail?”

“Bess!” Martin said. “You know that as much as Harry adored the spotlight and the drama, he will not show. He may have loved to escape the inescapable, but will not give credence to the very spiritualists he cursed, especially Gail. Anyone who believes differently is a fool.”

“This world holds so little for me now that Harry is gone, but I believe in our love and his word. He promised to come back. If it can be done, he’ll get the message through. If he fails, I’ll forgive him.” Her words may have shown conviction, but her trembling hands and the slight tilt of her jaw told Erich just how much uncertainty existed beneath the surface.

“I want to do it,” Gail answered as she straightened her spine. “Bess is right. Harry’s commitment to her will outweigh any distaste he had for me.”

Erich stepped away from the table, but continued to eavesdrop as he leaned against the counter. Martin had unraveled the heart of his plan — no one would ever falsely claim to have contacted him in death, the way many  spiritualists — including Gail — claimed to converse with his dead mother. No one would steal his spotlight with lies. He’d made sure of that.

But Gail, in all of her arrogance, believed she could come away from this the victor. That Harry would really allow her to ride his coat-tails to fame?

But if Bess holds her séance on the anniversary of your death, she’ll draw your spirit from its new home and you’ll be condemned to an afterlife of vast darkness.

Erich’s heart ached as if Jaden were squeezing it tight between his massive hands. Those words rang over and over in Erich’s mind. How could he use the séance to prove Gail’s dishonesty? He was mandated to flat-out stop it.

“Remember why you are here,” Jaden had said.

To save Bess was the only acceptable answer. Erich had become so caught up in reclaiming Harry’s life, that he’d forgotten his first and foremost goal: getting Bess to abandon the séance.

“You said a small gathering, Bess. You want no press or theatrics?” Martin asked, drawing Erich’s focus back to the conversation.

A Cheshire-cat smile curved her lips. “I said we’d honor Harry; of course there’ll be theatrics and publicity. He wouldn’t have it any other way.” She pulled a paper from her purse and unfolded it.  Laying it on the table in front of Martin, she smoothed it with her hands. “I just came from the newspaper, where I ran this advertisement.”

Martin’s eyes scanned the page. The color faded from his face. “Have you really thought this out, Bess? Offering a $10,000 reward to the person who can deliver the message is inviting a long line of crazy and greedy people to your doorstep.”  He flipped his attention to his wife. “This could easily become a circus, Gail. I don’t think it’s a good idea to associate with it.”

Had Hell frozen over? For the first time in a long time, Erich agreed with Martin. He caught Will’s eyes on him and realized his eavesdropping was clear. He grabbed a dishrag and began washing down the counter without losing focus on the conversation.

“Martin, I believe in Harry.” Bess’s tone was whispery but filled with metal. “If this can be done, he will come through. If not with Gail, then someone else.”

“So, not only do you accept every word he said as fact, but you believe all that malarkey the papers printed about him too?”

“That will be quite enough!” Anger dotted Bess’s expression. “I won’t allow anyone to speak ill of Harry.”

The distaste in his one-time-friend’s voice hung heavy in the air and stung as if it were a slap. Martin was entitled to his anger. Yes, Harry publicly called Gail a fraud, but this was different. He’d never lied to Bess and thought she understood the premise of the coded message. It was only meant as a defensive measure against those like Gail who’d manipulated Harry’s grief, plain and simple.

Still, Bess’s reaction made him proud. He appreciated her loyalty and respect. She may have accepted some level of friendship from Martin and Gail, but she wouldn’t let them tarnish what existed between her and Harry.

Martin reached across the table and gripped Bess’s hand. “I’m sorry, my dear. I just wish you’d see the simple facts. Harry preached that every spiritualist — including Gail — was a fraud. The man I knew would never readily admit he was wrong.”

“All that tells me is that you didn’t know him the way I did. He made a promise and will do all he can to keep it, and I think he’d enjoy the irony of Gail being the medium.”

Don’t do this, Bess.
Erich had ignored Jaden’s warning and entered into the deal to be close to her, even for just one more day. He’d hoped to feel her body pressed to his and taste her glossed lips once more. Hearing the certainty of Bess’s conviction, Erich realized Jaden was right. He had to put an end to this whole mess.

If he let Bess reach for Harry the way she, Gail and Martin now planned, every bit of the soul that gave Erich life would slip away. In his second death, the promise Bess thought Harry made would never be fulfilled. Jaden hadn’t been wrong yet. Certainly, his prediction for her future was also correct.

The séance could not happen.

His life depended on it, but so did hers. Not her ability to live and breathe, but the way she lived. She deserved a life of her own that was tied to keeping Harry’s memory alive.

Will’s voice pulled him back to the diner, even though he spoke to Bess and the Coopers. “The last thing I want is push the three of you out the door, but it’s time for me to lock up and call it a day.”

Erich swallowed a smirk. Many a day Harry and Will had sat at the counter, talking well into the evening hours, even though the shop closed at three o’clock on the dot. Often their conversations centered on Martin’s flamboyant arrogance. Will must’ve been sick of Gail and Martin’s conversation with Bess too.

Several silver coins fell from Martin’s hand to the tabletop. “I trust this will cover my bill and Mrs. Houdini’s.” He then crossed the short distance between him and Erich, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. You must be the Erich that Bess has been talking about. I’m Doctor Cooper.”

A matter of habit and good manners, Erich took Martin’s hand and shook it firmly. “Erich Welch. I hope they’re kind things that she’s said about me.”

Martin laughed. “Of course, it was good. Come, Bess. We’ll give you a ride home.”

The laugh struck Erich in a condescending way, no matter how Martin had meant it, and as he reached for Bess’s arm, a rage bubbled up from Erich’s gut. He wanted to push Martin aside and lay claim to Bess, or at least protect her from the faithless scoundrel.