“Well, still, I’d look out for that Donna Sanchez if I were you. I don’t like to speak ill of anyone, but she is the closest thing to a tramp I’ve seen in this town.”
“Thank you, Agnes.”
Billie Lee came over to us, tying the ribbons of a blue hat. She twirled around to give us the full effect. “I like this one the best.”
Agnes sighed. “But your dress is pink! A blue hat would look ridiculous.”
“I’ll put some pink flowers on this one.”
“Billie Lee, there is a perfectly good pink hat for you to wear.”
Billie Lee ignored her. “Madeline, I’m glad you’re here because I have so many questions. How many extras will this movie need? I am so excited! My neighbor says she saw Lance Henderson’s car today at the Stop ‘N’ Shop. Is he as handsome as he is on TV?”
How to put this tactfully? “He’s a little older.”
“Well, that’s all right. So are we! Are all the actors staying with you, or just the big stars?”
“They’re all staying at the Wayfarer Motel,” I answered.
“Oh, did you hear that, Agnes? After rehearsal, let’s go over there and see if we can get Lance’s autograph.”
Agnes gave her a look. “Take that hat off first.”
Agnes and Billie Lee left, babbling excitedly about the possibility of seeing their idol. Kenna thanked the dancers and reminded everyone of the rehearsal schedule.
Jerry tucked his music book under his arm. “Okay, Mac, we can stop by the employment office on our way home and see what’s available.”
“It’s closed, and you know it.”
“Gee, that’s too bad.”
We said good night to Kenna and the dancers and walked up the aisle.
“If it’s any consolation, you were psychic the other day,” I told Jerry.
“Oh, yeah?”
“One of the boxes Kirby Willet left at Frannie Thomas’ house is full of money.”
“Mister Willet doesn’t trust banks?”
“Maybe Mister Willet robs banks. This was stacks of hundred dollar bills.”
“Counterfeit, maybe?”
“I brought a bill along to take to Warwick.”
“You’ll make his day. Mind if I tag along?”
I was pretty sure I could handle Milton Warwick alone, but I never turn down an opportunity to be with Jerry. “I think you’d make a good chaperone.”
“If you want me to see you spooning with Milton, think again. I have shopping to do.”
“Shopping?”
“I’m out of ectoplasm.”
“What about flying trumpets? Don’t you need a couple of those?”
His look was of mock scorn. “That’s so old fashioned. You watch me tonight. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
***
I’ve seen Jerry do dozens of séances. I’m always astounded that people take his otherworldly pronouncements seriously. Tonight, one of his regular customers, a thin, intense older woman named Flossie Mae Snyder, had brought along her round, jolly thirty-year old niece, Sylvie. They came into the parlor and took seats at the round table. Jerry dimmed the lights, sat down, and they all took hands. After a few minutes of humming and making odd noises, he went into his fake trance and told them everyone on the Other Side was well and happy.
“Ask about Uncle Henry,” Sylvie said.
“Uncle Henry says ‘Hello, Sylvie.’”
“Ask him if I’m going to marry Elbert Dooley.”
“He says ‘Elbert is a good boy.’”
I would’ve said, “You can do better,” but it wasn’t my séance.
Flossie Mae wanted to know if Aunt Marge and Aunt Marie had settled their differences and if there was any news about the gold watch. She’d been coming for several weeks, trying to find this important piece of jewelry. I was curious to see how Jerry was going to handle this problem.
“Marge and Marie are at peace,” he said in his far-away voice. “The watch is very faint. Yet I sense its presence. It will be found when it wants to be found.”
This answer satisfied Flossie Mae. She and Sylvie asked a few more questions. Then Jerry came out of his “trance.”
“How did it go?” he asked them. “Did Henry come through?”
“And Marge and Marie,” Flossie Mae said, smiling. “We’re very close to finding the watch. An excellent reading, Jerry, thank you.”
She paid for herself and Sylvie. They said they’d see him next week. He escorted them to the door. When they’d gone, he turned back to me. I was standing in the parlor doorway, my arms folded, shaking my head.
“What?” he said. “That was a very successful séance, thank you very much.”
“You have no idea where that watch is.”
“So? Neither do they.”
“How can you lead people on like that?”
“I’m not leading them on. I’m giving them hope. Didn’t you see how Sylvie’s face lit up when Uncle Henry told her to marry Elbert Dooley?”
“Sylvie would be happy to marry anybody. You’re such a fraud.”
“But I’m a very good fraud.”
Is there any chance of reforming him? I wondered. What am I thinking? I can’t even tell him how I feel, much less convince him to give up these ridiculous séances. “These pretend séances aren’t part of our bargain.”
“They’ll have to be for a while. You have to give me time to find another job.”
“A legal job.”
“A dull job. You’re asking a lot, Mac.”
“Finding a real job shouldn’t be difficult for someone who talks to the dead.”
He decided to go on the defense. “What about your studio? Have you set up shop yet?”
“I have to buy supplies, remember?”
“Great,” he said, triumph in his eyes. “You can do that tomorrow after your visit to Warwick.”
***
The next morning, we drove to Parkland. I dropped Jerry off at Transformation and Company, a magic shop in Commerce Circle Mall, and drove to Warwick’s studio.
Milton Warwick is a long thin man with a domed head and shiny eyes, a real life Mantis Man. He’s also quite good with the tiniest scraps of evidence. If I can tolerate his unhealthy fascination with me, I can usually get some helpful information.
He held the hundred dollar bill up to the light and turned it around in his thin fingers. “This is a very real bill, Madeline. Couldn’t be realer.”
“Thanks.”
He handed the bill back to me. “Bring me anything else today?”
“No. This is the only clue I have.”
“Please, have a seat. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
I had other stops to make, but thought it would be rude to rush off. I sat down in one of the white plastic chairs in what Warwick calls his waiting room. As far as I can tell, he lives and works within three small rooms, his lab, his bedroom, and this room, furnished in Early Dentist. He sat down across from me.
“How’s life in Celosia?”
“Getting more complicated by the minute.”
“How so?”
“Well, for one thing, the Pageantoids are in town.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “Your groupies.”
“Fortunately, they’ve found something to keep them busy. Another thing happening is a movie about the Mantis Man. Ever hear of him?”
“Just a silly story. I wouldn’t think there’d be enough material for a movie. You’re not in the movie, are you?”
“No, but Jerry’s house is.”
Warwick steepled his long fingers. “Ah, yes, the haunted house. Are you still living there?”
“Just until I can find an apartment.”
His eyes gleamed with hope. “How are things with you and Jerry?”
“About the same.”
“You’re wasting your time there, Madeline. You need to be with someone who appreciates you.”
I didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “I’m also investigating the disappearance of one of Celosia’s mysterious citizens, Kirby Willet.”
Warwick looked surprised. “Wrong Way Willet?”
“You know him?”
“The inventor, right? Eats tons of peanuts?”
“That’s the guy. Why do you call him Wrong Way Willet?”
Warwick laughed. “Oh, my goodness. I hadn’t thought of him in years! Some of his wackier inventions made the issues of
Astounding Nonsense
.”
“Back up and give me all the details,” I said.
“Well, as you know, I belong to several scientific organizations, legitimate organizations. The Parkland Science Club publishes their own magazine called
Astounding Nonsense
. Wait a minute. I think I may have a copy.” He reached over to a white plastic table and looked through a stack of magazines until he found a thin magazine he passed to me. The cover declared, “Scientist Proves Moon Made of Cheese.” Warwick sat back. “In the magazine, we discuss discoveries and inventions that are too ludicrous to be believed. Willet made the cover twice, as I recall. He used to be a regular.”
I looked through the magazine. “Did he know you were mocking him?”
“Mocking might be too strong a word, Madeline. Refuting his evidence. Calling into question the usefulness of his inventions.”
Astounding Nonsense
contained articles about teaching ducks to swim, the supposed benefits of actually counting real sheep to combat insomnia, and the mathematical probability of there being more red than yellow M&Ms in the average pack.
“What else do you know about him?”
“Just that he lived in Celosia. Something of a hermit, I believe. You look very serious. Is he wanted for a crime of some sort?”
I was wondering how much ridicule Willet could take. “No, he’s missing.”
“And what would that perfectly good bill have to do with his disappearance?”
“He left about ten thousand dollars just like that in a box. That would buy a lot of peanuts.”
“Unless someone knew about the money and has done away with Wrong Way.”
“Yes, that occurred to me, too.”
“You need to be careful, Madeline.”
“Thanks.” I stood. “I’ve got a few more errands to run. Thanks for your help.”
Warwick unfolded his long length from his chair. “Sure you can’t stay for lunch?”
“No, thank you. Maybe some other time. I’m heading out to the Fairweather place to see Tucker.”
“He’s getting married soon, isn’t he? Tell him congratulations from me.”
“I will.” I paused at the door. “Warwick, do you know what happened to Jerry’s parents?”
He shook his head. “Just some tragedy involving a fire.”
“Would there be a record of that anywhere?”
“You might try that friend of Des’s. What’s his name? Jack?”
“Jake.” I had almost forgotten. Jake Banner worked for the
Galaxy
News
Weekly
, Parkland’s premiere tabloid. A mysterious fire was just the type of news item the
Galaxy
liked to exploit. “Yes, that’s a great idea, Warwick. Thank you.”
He leaned forward, a mantis about to grasp an unwary bug. “I’m always available if you need me.”
This bug made her escape.
***
I stopped by the
Galaxy
office, sidestepping a man on a unicycle and a woman carrying something in a jar that had way too many eyes. Jake Banner looked up from his desk. Des’ sometime partner is a small, energetic man with bright blue eyes and a toothy smile that could light up a coal mine.
“Whoo-ee, to what do I owe the honor of a visitation from Miss Parkland?”
I came right to the point. “I need to know what happened to Des and Jerry’s parents.”
Jake’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, yeah, double death. Blue flames. Trappings of the occult. Must have been at least twenty years ago.”
“Closer to twenty-four if Jerry was six.”
“Mysterious stuff, Madeline. I’m not sure Des would want me to tell.”
I moved a stack of old
Galaxy
photos off the folding chair and sat down. “All the more reason you’d tell me, right?”
Jake grinned, laugh lines radiating. “Yeah, you got me. Plus you could look it up yourself. Didn’t you work here for a while?”
“Just for a few months.” When I left the pageant circuit, a secretary’s position at the
Galaxy
had been the only job I could find. I rarely saw Jake then because he was always out chasing phantoms and having lunch with Elvis.
“Then you know that’s why we call this place Zombie Central. Old stories live again, just change the names, dates, and locales.”
“Well, I want to hear the original old story, not the
Galaxy
version.”
Jake leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. “Seems Mister Fairweather was crazy about anything paranormal and was always rooting around in old books, trying out spells and things. So one day he tries this spell and it backfired in a major way. Killed him and his wife right there in the house.”
“Killed how?”
“Here’s where the spooky part comes in. Des says he remembers seeing these blue flames shooting everywhere. Mom and Dad are pretty well fried by this bizarre fire, but Des and Jerry both get hit with the blue flames and survive.”
“Hit with blue flames?”
“I always thought that’s why Des could attract anything supernatural. Don’t know what it did to Jerry.”
I’d never known Jerry to talk about being burned. And I’d seen most of him, and there weren’t any scars. “Didn’t it hurt them?”
“Nah, the flames went right inside.” Jake spread his hands. “Poof!”
“What about Tucker?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. He probably got a shot of pyro power, too. The only one who missed out was the sister. She was somewhere else and came in when she heard the mother screaming. Couldn’t have been a pretty sight.”
I was thinking about what Jake had mentioned earlier. “You said you thought that’s why Des could attract supernatural things. What do you mean?”
“Well, now that he’s got this big concert career, he doesn’t get to come investigate with me as much as he used to, but whenever there was something spooky in the neighborhood, it would come right on up to Des and say howdy. Course, he always tried to find some logical explanation.”
I couldn’t figure this out. If Jerry’s parents had been killed by some sort of spell, then why would he want to have anything to do with magic, or paranormal events, or anything “spooky,” as Jake said? “Seems to me Jerry would be trying to avoid anything supernatural.”
“Yeah, well, you never know what sets people off. Maybe he’s trying to reverse the spell.”
“Reverse the spell?”
“Sure. That way, the accident would never have happened.”
This conversation was making me very uneasy. “Jake, are you trying to suggest that Jerry wants to find a way to bring his parents back?”