by Josh Lanyon
Nick’s eyes flicked his way as though feeling Perry’s attention, and then returned to the map.
“Doesn’t look like the basic structure changed externally. They mostly added walls inside, making more rooms.”
They finished at the library and walked out on the street. It was about four o’clock and already getting dark. Nick glanced at his watch, then at Perry who — red plaid scarf wrapped protectively over his mouth and nose — was gazing at him hopefully.
“You want to go see that damn matinee, don’t you?” he said, resigned.
“Unless you have plans,” Perry said politely through the folds of worsted.
Nick sighed.
They found Nick’s truck and drove over to Dove Street, Perry gazing silently out the window at the houses decorated for Christmas. Wire-framed, lighted reindeer pretended to nibble sparse, brown lawns. Colored icicles dangled from eaves, and air-blown Santas bravely bobbed beneath the sleet and rain.
Perry had never felt less enthused about the holiday. Last year he had been full of hopes for the future. He had just moved into his airy tower at the Alston estate and was enjoying having his own place at last. His unease hadn’t begun until later. He’d found the job in the library, the painting was going well, and he’d just met Marcel online. He had dreamed that perhaps by the same time the following year, he and Marcel might…well, no use thinking that way now.
Saints and Sinners starring Jack Oakie and Verity Lane read the lit marquee atop the Players Theater.
Nick parked in the mostly deserted parking lot in the back and said, “Don’t ever say I never did anything for you.”
“I would never say that,” Perry returned quite seriously, pulling his scarf up again.
They walked inside the old movie house; Nick bought a giant tub of popcorn with the air of a man drowning his sorrows in butter topping, and they found seats in the empty theater.
The film was already about five minutes in, but it didn’t matter. As far as Perry could make out, it was something to do with an heiress running away to be with her horse trainer boyfriend. The horse trainer turned out to be no good, but the owner of the stable was one of those square-jawed good guys — and he was approved by the heiress’s parents — so it looked like everything was going to work out.
Nick offered his tub of popcorn at frequent intervals, and every so often their hands brushed diving into the carton of hot kernels.
Verity Lane was small and blonde and animated. To Perry she looked like all those other small, blonde, pert actresses of her day. He did not get a particular sense of her personality — she seemed like a squeaky-voiced anachronism, a little platinum ghost come to life for a few hours.
What about her had inspired Shane Moran to risk death? It was a mystery to Perry. Maybe Nick had a different opinion. He glanced over. Nick watched without expression; Perry could see the shadows from the projector play across his face.
He tried to picture Nick married to someone, but the picture just wouldn’t form.
His thoughts wandered as Verity Lane flirted and wisecracked and wept through the remaining twenty minutes of film. What had happened to Verity after Shane Moran was killed? wondered Perry. Had she and Henry Alston remained together? Henry had lost his fortune a year of so after Moran was shot to death. Had Verity gone back to making movies? He didn’t remember her as one of those aging movie queens on late-night TV. He had the vague notion she’d quit making movies. He couldn’t recall seeing her in anything as she got older; she had made the transition to talkies, but then what?
“Say,” Verity sassed in the arms of a dime-a-dozen matinee idol, having the last line before the fade to black. “Just what kind of a gal do you think I am?”
Nick snorted. He turned to Perry. In the darkness Perry could only see the gleam of eyes and what might have been a resigned grin. “Happy now?” Nick asked softly, and there was a note in his voice…indulgent?
And with an uneasy flash, Perry realized he was happy. Happy because Nick was with him. It wiped the smile off his own face. In a week or two Nick would be gone — they would probably never see each other again. Getting attached to Nick would be even stupider than getting attached to Marcel had been.
It was dark when they walked out of the theater.
Perry was thinking how much he didn’t want to head back to the Alston mansion, when Nick said casually, “Let’s grab a beer.”
They crossed the street to a disreputable-looking bar with a neon sign offering a half-tilted cocktail glass. Inside the bar was dark and smoky — although no one had legally smoked there for several years — and a jukebox was playing the Young Dubliners. A couple of hard young men in flannel shirts hunched over the bar talking to the bartender.
It was the kind of place Perry would not have dreamed of setting foot in on his own, but with Nick beside him, it held all the fascination of a quick trip to a foreign land.
Nick nodded toward a table, and Perry sat down while Nick went to the bar and ordered two beers. Perry watched Nick chatting and smiling with the men at the bar — he was obviously no stranger to the place.
“You want anything to eat?” Nick asked, setting the beer in front of Perry.
“They have food here?” Perry said, surprised.
Nick nodded.
Perry hesitated. “Are you having something?”
Nick read the hesitation correctly. And ordinarily he would have figured it was the kid’s problem he didn’t know how to budget, but…he was feeling flush. He had the Los Angeles job, and Roscoe had even offered an advance on his first paycheck. And…he liked to see Foster eat. He said brusquely, “Yeah. Why don’t we get the potato skins? We can share. My treat.”
He was rewarded with that shy smile.
“I guess it was kind of a waste of a day,” Perry said later as they ate potato skins stuffed with golden cheddar cheese and bacon and sour cream. Nick had ordered a couple more beers by then, and under the influence of alcohol the kid had relaxed and grown chatty and confidential.
Nick shrugged.
“Do you think the sheriff will let us know what they learn?”
“You’re assuming they’ll learn anything,” Nick said grimly, and Perry laughed. He was laughing a lot. Nick decided he didn’t mind.
A new song came on the jukebox. A slow, romantic ballad, and Perry said suddenly, “Why didn’t your marriage work out?”
Nick’s face closed.
“Sorry,” Perry said quickly. “I just…”
Nick said abruptly, “It didn’t work out for the same reason a lot of marriages don’t work out. By the end of it, we were completely different people than when we started. We didn’t have anything in common.”
Perry nodded. “Did you have anything in common when you started?”
It seemed an obvious question, but Nick stared at him. Then he gave a funny laugh. “Yeah, we came from the same town. I don’t think it occurred to me we might need more. My parents were together for fifty-five years — till my old man died.”
“My parents are still together,” Perry offered.
“You an only kid?” Nick asked.
Perry nodded, and Nick nodded too as though this confirmed his thoughts.
They ate for a time in silence. Then Nick said, “I’ve been thinking about this séance.”
Perry’s mouth twisted, but he said, “I bet I know what you’re going to say.”
“Oh, you do?”
“You’re going to say it would be useful to watch everyone who takes part in it, and that I should agree to attend.”
“I do think it would be useful, yeah,” Nick said. “I’m wondering if there’s something else behind it — something besides Center being a wacko, I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t drag you along with me.”
Perry smiled, seemingly unperturbed at the idea of being dragged along by Nick. He was staring with those long-lashed eyes as though Nick was the most fascinating person on
earth. Flirting, Nick thought amusedly. Maybe Perry didn’t realize it himself.
He said, “You mean you think someone is going to try and ask Shane Moran what he did with the Alston sapphires?”
Nick shrugged. “Nothing would surprise me in that place. I wonder who exactly suggested that séance?”
Perry said slowly, “I got the feeling Jane did. I think she really likes Center. She might be pushing the idea of a séance as a way to get close to him. I never noticed her having any interest in ghosts and the supernatural before this.”
“I suppose there’s no doubt about how Watson died?” Nick asked.
Perry shook his head. “He had a heart attack in the village. It sounds pretty straightforward to me.”
“It sounds like the fastest case of cause and effect on record,” Nick remarked — which seemed a little harsh, given his own dietary habits. Perry covered a smile with his beer mug.
They finished their meal companionably, and Nick waved good night to the guys at the bar.
The drinks hit Perry going out to the car. He stumbled a little and said, “Man, I’m tired. I feel like I haven’t slept in a week.”
Nick took him by the arm and steered him to the pickup. “I think you’ll sleep tonight.”
Perry blinked up at him and said seriously, “Couldn’t we just stay in town tonight? Get a hotel room?”
“Are you making a move on me?” Nick asked amused.
Perry chuckled. “Want to experiment?” He smiled up at Nick trustingly.
Against his will, Nick laughed. “Not tonight, Josephine. We’ve got a séance to go to, remember?”
Perry made a face, though it was unclear whether at being turned down or at the recollection they were due to commune with the Great Beyond.
Nick unlocked the passenger door and went around to the driver’s side. He started the engine.
Pulling out of the parking lot, he glanced Perry’s way. He was so silent Nick thought he might have fallen asleep, but he was sitting up straight, staring expressionlessly out the window.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
“Listen,” Nick said. “Nothing is going to happen to you while I’m around, so relax.”
Perry said calmly, “I know. I’m just thinking about after you’re gone.”
Chapter Ten
The water was high and murky as they crossed the bridge. The lights of the Alston House shone with illusory warmth through the trees. The rains of the last couple of days had left the trees skeletal and stark white in the headlights of Nick’s truck. Piles of tattered leaves scattered the wet earth.
They parked and walked around to the front. They were walking side by side, and perhaps Nick thought that Perry was still a little unsteady — he rested his hand lightly on the small of Perry’s back.
“No police cars,” Perry pointed out, taking pains not to show that he noticed Nick’s hand resting above his ass.
Sure enough the yard was clear of any marked cars. Within, the house lights blazed on the lower level. More lights than Perry could ever remember seeing on at any one time in the old mansion.
Nick said, “Looks like they’re planning a party.”
Perry laughed nervously as he pushed open the front door.
The chandelier rocked musically in the winter’s blast. Jane, wearing a black caftan, came to greet them. “There you are! We thought you’d never get here.” She began to usher them toward the little-used “rec room.”
Perry said, “Jeez, Janie, can we have a minute to take our jackets off?”
“You can take your jackets off in there. Everyone’s been waiting.”
“Who’s everyone?” Nick inquired. He had removed his hand from Perry’s back as they climbed the front steps, but he still stood close enough that their shoulders brushed. Perry couldn’t decide if it was an accident or if Nick thought he needed reassurance.
“Everyone,” Jane answered. Adding honestly, “I mean, what else is there to do on a night like this?”
“What happened to the cops?”
She made a face. “There’s a big accident near the border. I guess they needed everyone there. It’s not like there’s much happening here.”
“Just murder,” said Perry.
Astonishingly, Jane said, “Tiny could have been shot by hunters. He could have dragged himself here.”
“You’re not serious,” Perry said.
She shrugged, not meeting his eyes.
The lights had been turned down low as they walked into the room that served as the residence’s meeting and recreation room — once the formal drawing room. There were bookshelves filled with used paperbacks, an old television set that never seemed to work, a heavy oval dining table that was supposed to be used for “games.” Two large candelabra sat in the center of the table, casting uncertain light across the bleached wallpaper.
There were three empty chairs at the table. Mr. Teagle, Miss Dembecki and Mrs. MacQueen were all in attendance. David Center sat at the table head, face turned attentively toward the door.
As Jane escorted Nick and Perry into the room, Center announced, “The spirits are eager to make contact tonight.”
“Wonderful! You sit next to me, Perry,” Jane instructed.
Perry’s jaw got that hard look that sat so oddly with his Christopher Robin face. Nick said calmly, “Perry’s good next to me.”
Perry shot him a grateful look.
“Well!” Jane said, her smile a little forced as she looked from one to the other.
Perry and Nick took the two chairs at the table. There was an awkward silence.
Mr. Teagle said, “How’s that river looking, son?”
“I don’t think it will flood,” Perry said. Mrs. Mac sat directly across from him. She was staring at him. He offered a polite smile. She licked her lips and looked away, reminding him forcibly of one of her unpleasant little dogs.
“If everyone would join hands,” David Center instructed. “Left hand palm up to receive. Right hand palm down to transmit.”
Calling the Twilight Zone.
Perry clasped hands with Miss Dembecki to his left and Nick to his right. Miss Dembecki’s little hand was ice cold — as cold as his own, Perry thought. Nick’s hand was warm. He squeezed Perry’s with hard, quick reassurance, and as much as Perry did not want to be there, he felt a flare of happiness.
Center said, “For those of you who have not previously attended a séance, I should explain one or two things. There is nothing frightening or mysterious about communing with the dead. Spirits are around us all the time. They are part of the natural world, and if we open our hearts and minds, they are often willing to communicate.”
Belatedly, Perry noticed that Rudy Stein was not at the table. It was hard to picture Stein taking part in a séance, but then, it was hard to picture himself taking part.
He sighed, and out of the corner of his eye saw Nick’s mouth twitch.
Center said, “And this is all a séance amounts to: Communication between the physical world and the spirit world. This communication is moderated by one who is known as a medium. Tonight I will act as the medium as we attempt to call upon the spirits who still linger in this house.”
Jane was smiling — beaming — at Center. He continued to talk seriously about the many séances he had conducted and how they all were ordinary, run-of-the-mill, and perfectly harmless. All in a day’s work. If your day job was on the astral plane.
Perry said, “How are we going to contact the spirit of the man in my bathtub, when we don’t even know his name?”
“Perry! Don’t interrupt,” Jane said.
Nick said, “Maybe we can just describe what he was last seen wearing.” His eyes slanted to meet Perry’s.
Perry relaxed, biting his lip.
“I understand nervousness can result in levity,” Center said, “but the spirits don’t like to be mocked. Now if I can ask everyone to remain silent while opening your hearts and minds…”
No on
e said anything. Perry closed his eyes. He could feel Miss Dembecki breathing quickly beside him. Her hand was still cold, and she was shaking very slightly. Granted, it was cold in the room. The house was always like an icebox. On the other hand — literally — he could feel the warmth and solid presence of Nick Reno.
He opened his eyes. Nick glanced at him. Grimaced. Everyone else at the table had their eyes closed, faces screwed up in concentration. Perry bit his lip against inappropriate laughter. But Center was right, he was nervous.
“Perry,” Center said suddenly. Perry started. “Try to visualize the man you saw. Try to remember what his face looked like.”
Perry closed his eyes and then opened them. He’d be just as happy not remembering that gray-green face, the white slits of eyes beneath half-closed lids… Impossible to think what the man would have looked like in life. It was much easier to remember the weave of that ugly plaid coat and those garish yellow socks.
It was very quiet in the room.
Perry’s mind began to wander. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t believe in ghosts, and even if there was such a thing as a ghost, he sure as heck didn’t want to attract its attention.
“Are you there?” Center asked softly, and for a moment Perry thought Center was talking to him. “Are you there? Do you wish to speak to someone here?”
No one said anything, but the silence took on a living, tense quality.
“I feel a presence,” Center said all at once.
Perry studied the circle of faces. Mr. Teagle looked very pale, his face perspiring in the candlelight. Jane’s face was taut with concentration. Mrs. Mac’s eyes opened. She stared at Perry without expression, then closed her eyes like the Sphinx settling down for the night.
Center said in that low, hypnotic voice, “Why have you come here? What is it you wish to tell us? Who is it you wish to speak to?”
And then as though in answer to himself, Center said in a high, thin, eerily feminine voice, “Shane! Where are you? Why —”
“There’s someone in the mirror,” Miss Dembecki cried in terror. Eyes flew open, heads jerked, everyone turned to the mirror hanging over the fireplace.
