Stage Fright (6 page)

Thomas plastered on his accessible-celebrity smile and extended his hand. “Thomas Becker. I’m sure you recognise the rest of my team, Bridget O’Malley and Mike Briggs. And this is Toni Bianchi. She’s a talented medium and helps us out from time to time.”

“Oh yes. Of course I know all of you—except you,” she said nodding to Toni. “I’m a big, big fan of the show. Well you just take your time and browse around. We’ve got three whole floors of treasures. If you need anything at all, you just holler. My name is Jean.”

Thomas winked and Bridget bit back a giggle as colour crept into the shopkeeper’s wrinkled cheeks. The men headed over to the display of record albums while she and Toni browsed through the costume jewellery. “Do you think either of them even still has a record player?” Bridget whispered.

“Doubtful,” Toni answered. “Oh geez, Bridge—look at that!”

Bridget followed Toni’s pointed finger to a long string of colourful glass beads in the case. “Hippie love beads! They’re totally you, Tone. You’ve gotta get them.”

Jean appeared on the other side of the case with a ring full of tiny keys. “Can I show you girls something?”

“She’d like to see the love beads, please,” Bridget said.

Jean flipped through the little keys and Bridget noticed that each one was labelled with a number. The case with the necklace was labelled ‘#127’. She looked around the shop and thought there must be a thousand such locked cases. This could take a while. “So, Jean, where do you get all of this great stuff?”

“Oh here and there. Estate sales and auctions mostly. We have over two-hundred vendors represented in this building. Each one has their own little space—sometimes a whole booth and sometimes just a case like this one. Ah, here it is, one-twenty-seven.” Jean unlocked the padlock and opened the case. “Go ahead, dear.”

Toni reached in for the necklace and her hand brushed against some of the other pieces. She jerked back her hand as if she’d been stung.

“You okay?” Bridget asked.

“Yeah, fine, I just got a static shock or something.”

Bridget was not convinced, and when Toni reached into the case again, she held her hand, palm down, just inches from the items. She slowly passed her hand back and forth.

“What’s she doing?” Jean asked.

Bridget didn’t answer. She just focused on Toni until her hand finally stopped above a long gold stickpin topped with the figure of a camera. “Tone, did you find something?”

It seemed that Toni hadn’t heard the question. She just reached down and plucked up the pin. Her body went rigid and she began to quake. Bridget touched Toni’s arm but jerked her hand away when a painful shock passed between them.

“Jesus! Thomas! Mike!”

By the time the men reached them, Toni was sprawled out on the floor unconscious. The mangled stick pin was beside her open palm. The psychic came to within a minute and seemed unfazed.

Jean did not fare as well. She had scuttled behind the cash register and had the phone receiver in her hand. “Out! Out with all of you. I should have known that people who fool with the dark arts would bring nothing but trouble.”

Thomas helped Toni to her feet then wheeled around to face Jean. “Dark arts? What the hell are you talking about? We’re paranormal investigators, not devil worshipers!”

“I don’t care what you say you are. You need to leave right now or I’m calling the police.”

Thomas bent to scoop up the stickpin. “Fine. We’re going. How much for this?”

In an instant Jean seemed to forget that she was scandalised. “Fifty bucks.”

“Fifty bucks? The tag said ten,” Bridget yelled.

“Well it’s fifty bucks now. Take it or leave it. And you’d better take it because that witch bent the pin and I won’t be able to sell it to anyone else now.”

Thomas reached into his wallet and pulled out two twenties. “Anybody got a ten?” Mike threw two fives onto the counter and the four hurried out into the cold night.

* * * *

Nobody had mentioned the incident in the antique shop. Toni caught them stealing glances at the stick pin she wore on her shirt every day, but it had been two weeks and no one had a said a word. She wasn’t trying to illicit a response from anyone. She just thought it might bring her some answers. So far it had done nothing but worry her friends.

Today the pin was stuck through the thin cotton of the vintage red punk rock band T-shirt she’d found at the local thrift shop. The collar had been cut out and the hem was riddled with holes. Toni wore it over a bright orange long-sleeved T and she liked the way the undershirt showed through the rips. When she’d walked into the theatre that morning, Bridget had raised an eyebrow. Maybe she was fishing for a reaction after all.

“Cute shirt,” Bridget said from behind the concession stand. She was giving the chrome a final polish.

Everything, it seemed, was down to the final polish. Mike had proven a masterful general contractor. He’d orchestrated the deliveries and tradesman with admirable precision. The drywall specialists followed the electricians and plumbers and they all wrapped up their work just in time for the team to paint the ceilings and walls, before the new carpet was installed. A fresh dumpster was delivered less than thirty minutes before the university students arrived to pull down the old drapes and start cleaning the murals. Bridget had just begun to unpack the speciality bulbs when the cherry-picker Mike had hired from a local sign company pulled up to the kerb to install them. Most of the seats in the theatre could stand to be replaced—or at least reupholstered, but Mike said that project would be deferred until after the theatre had some cash flow.

As well as he’d managed the professionals on the project, Mike had also squeezed every drop out of free labour when he could. From the students restoring the murals to his own team, Mike had inspired them all with free pizza and beer and his contagious enthusiasm.

Toni was glad to count the modern-day Pied Piper among her friends and it suddenly dawned on her that perhaps he hadn’t come into her life by accident. She thought back to their first meeting at her rundown bed-and-breakfast in Iowa. He’d been a guest and one of the men who blew through town every year to re-enact Civil War battles. Mike had never once since then mentioned an interest in that period of American History. He’d stepped up when Thomas’ original cameraman had unexpectedly quit and had proved a competent replacement. And he’d saved the day when Bridget had fallen ill. Without Mike she wouldn’t have sold the inn, bought the ice cream parlour, met Liam, examined her relationship with Thomas, come here to the Bijou…

Toni glanced at Bridget as she stood back to admire her work on the gleaming metal. “Where’s Mike?”

“He’s up in the booth, but I’ve got the punch list if you’re looking for something to do,” Bridget said.

Toni ignored her and headed for the staircase. She dragged her hand over the refinished railing as she ran up the steps. She found Thomas with Mike in the projection room examining the Whisper Reel Deluxe. The two turned and stared at her as she fought to catch her breath.

“Hey, Tone. Mike is just showing me the thousand places this behemoth needs to be oiled in order to show a film,” Thomas said.

Toni pulled in deep lungfuls of air until she could speak. “Thomas, I need to speak to Mike alone for a minute.”

Thomas looked perplexed, but stepped out of the booth and shut the door behind him. Mike, on the other hand, seemed as if he’d been expecting this conversation. He pulled a padded stool from under the work counter and motioned for Toni to sit.

She shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself.”

Toni stared into Mike’s eyes, trying to find answers there when she wasn’t even sure of the question. Finally it came to her. “Mike, are you a fucking ghost?”

Mike threw back his head and laughed. “No, Antonia, I am not a fucking ghost.”

Goose bumps broke out over Toni’s skin. “How’d you know my name is Antonia?”

“Well, your nickname is Toni. You’re Italian. If you were French it would probably be Antoinette. I suppose it could have been Antonietta or Antonina, but Antonia is a much more common derivation.”

“Quit screwing around, Briggs.”

Mike dragged the stool a few inches closer, gently grabbed Toni’s upper arm and said, “I really think you should sit down.”

Toni did as she was told, but her mind raced. She replayed every uncanny moment she’d spent with Mike. She realised that even when he’d been a complete stranger to her she’d trusted him implicitly. He’d told her to sell the inn—she’d sold the inn. He’d told her to buy a rundown ice cream parlour sight-unseen—she’d asked who to make the cheque out to. He’d suggested she take a break from the relationship she thought she wanted with Liam and she’d packed her suitcase. “God, Mike—are you like the Pied Piper? If I remember correctly that story didn’t end so well for the ones that followed him.”

Mike reached out and patted her knee. “I will never harm you, Toni. I will never harm anyone. I can’t.”

“So what, you’re an angel?”

Mike shrugged, “You’re on the right track, but not exactly. I’m a guardian. I was born to human parents and I’m essentially human. I’ll age and die just like the rest of you. The difference is that while I’m here, my job is to look after someone and guide that person on their ultimate path—in this case you. Then after this task—this life—is over, I’ll do it all again. I’ll be born, grow up and be guardian to others, live, grow old and die.”

Toni laid her hand on his. “That sounds awful. What about heaven and eternal rest and all that?”

Mike laughed again. “Toni, this is heaven. I’m immortal. Though my body goes through the trial of human death every hundred years or so, my awareness, my being never dies. From the moment I’m born into a new body I have complete knowledge of who I am. I go through diapers and toddling and finger painting and—good God—even junior high with the full awareness of my purpose.”

Looking into his serene face, Toni realised that she’d never seen Mike anything but happy and bursting with an unbridled joy for life. She remembered his excitement at the inn when she’d told her guests about the mysterious hauntings. She remembered his giddiness and awe when he lay on his back on the floor of the ice cream shop—covered with sour, melted ice cream—and stared up at the old tin ceiling. She’d never heard an angry or unkind word pass through his lips. “So, I got you because I’m a psychic?”

Mike shook his head. “No, Antonia. Every human has a guardian. You saw it because you’re psychic.”

“So if you’re magic—or whatever—how come you haven’t been able to catch the ghosts on camera, or tell me if Kip Monroe really started the fire or just tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do?”

Mike laughed. “I’m not magic, Toni. I can’t see your future and I certainly can’t change it. That’s against the rules. I can see options, guide you on your path and hope you make the right decisions, but ultimately the choice is up to you. I can’t read minds either, but I can communicate with other guardians if their charge has some connection to mine.”

When Toni levelled a sceptical stare at him he continued, “Bridget’s guardian was her first-grade teacher who let her sit on his lap and turn the pages as he read, ‘The Little Engine That Could’ to the class. To this day when she faces something daunting she repeats, ‘I think I can’. Thomas’ guardian was his grandmother who taught him to live life to the fullest even if it sometimes means bending the rules. He’s still in the learning stage, but he’s almost there.”

“Thomas’ grandma?”

Mike nodded. “She left that form many, many years ago and she’s on to her next assignment. But she still influences him. In fact, she’s in there.” Mike gestured to the metal locker in the corner of the booth.

“She’s in the cabinet?” Toni asked.

Mike smiled. “Just wait. You’ll see. Dry your tears now. He’s coming.”

Toni hadn’t realised she was crying until Mike told her she was. She swiped the last tear from her cheek before Thomas re-entered the room. “Are you two about done in here? We’ve got a grand opening in less than twenty-four hours.”

In a wink Mike was back to his usual, goofy self. “Absolutely,
mon frère
. I just need some celluloid to test the old Whisper Reel and we’re good to go. I think there’s some footage in the locker back there. Why don’t you see if there’s something we can use to put this baby through her paces.”

Thomas walked to the cabinet and Mike nodded at Toni, indicating that she should follow. She stood at his side while Thomas opened the metal doors and tilted his head to read the labels on the film canisters inside. “‘A Sailor on Holiday’, ‘Jessica’s Great Adventure’, ‘Rolf the Talking Dog’, and…” Thomas paused and swept his fingers over the yellowed paper label. “I can’t believe it.” He backed up and Mike slid the stool behind him. Thomas sat down hard, shook his head and stared into the cabinet. “I just can’t believe it.”

Thomas bent his head and his handsome face contorted as the sobs overtook him. Toni looked to Mike for guidance. Her guardian just nodded then inclined his head towards the cabinet. Toni read the label that had so shaken Thomas, “‘The Gentleman’s Wish?’”

With his head still bowed, Thomas held out his hand and Toni went to him. He drew her close and buried his face into her breast. Toni glanced up at Mike and wrinkled her forehead, silently asking him what she should do. Mike winked and walked quietly from the room.

Chapter Five

Telling Toni the truth about Claudette was a life-changing moment for Thomas. He felt as if a millstone had been lifted from his chest. When he’d told her that his late grandmother had been speaking to him since the day she’d died, Toni had accepted the admission without judgement. And when she’d confessed that her encounter with the ghost of Kip Monroe had been intimate, Thomas had willingly shown her the same grace. He loved this woman—this curvy little Italian-American fireball of a psychic woman. He felt certain that every choice he had made in his life up to this point had led him to her.

Now as he sat next to her in the renovated theatre, he wondered how he’d been so lucky to find her and what he would have to do to spend the rest of his days at her side. The house lights dimmed and the art on the walls glowed under hidden black lights. Thomas’ mouth dropped open as he scanned the restored murals. Dreamlike scenes of couples enjoying moonlit picnics seemed to come alive. Toni squeezed his hand and he knew she was looking too.