by SUE FINEMAN
Did she have any choice?
<>
Steffen Marchand ended the show and took his bows. The bit with the couple in the front row hadn’t gone well. He should have known not to mention the condoms, but the ghost behind the woman with the red hair distracted him. He regretted his mistake, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. The couple wouldn’t be together much longer. The man had caught the woman cheating before, and now he knew she was cheating on him again.
He shook a few hands, then escaped backstage. Two more nights here, then three nights in Columbus ended the tour. He’d told his uncle he wasn’t doing any more. Steffen loved the excitement of being on stage and giving people the answers they sought. He drank in the attention, especially from beautiful women, but he’d grown tired of sleeping in lousy motels, eating fast food, and being on the road every other day. There had to be a better way to earn a living.
It was a good time to quit. He’d paid his father’s final bills and saved enough money to get by for a few months. He had no one to support now except himself and his uncle, and Carson could find himself another freak to manage.
Steffen walked into his dressing room and stopped cold. The woman standing before him was a beauty, with black hair pulled back from a stunning face. He couldn’t look away from her startling bright blue eyes and creamy skin, but he had a rule about audience members coming to his dressing room without an invitation. “What are you doing in here?”
“You’re the psychic. Why don’t you tell me?”
She couldn’t be over five-six, with a slender, almost delicate build. This woman was absolutely stunning, but the look in her eyes wasn’t warm and inviting. He sensed she wanted help from a psychic, but she wasn’t quite sure what to think of him as a man. Too bad. He wouldn’t mind getting to know this woman.
Staring into her blue eyes, he said, “Either tell me what you want or get out of my dressing room.”
She lifted her chin. “They say you can find missing people.”
He waved at the door. “Go to the police.”
“I am the police.” She pulled a badge from her pants pocket and held it out.
“Detective Virginia Kane,” he read. She seemed a little young to be a detective.
“An old friend has gone missing, and we’ve exhausted every means we have to find her. Phoebe’s not the kind of person you’d expect to vanish. She’s not beautiful, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and she’s not mentally unstable. She’s quiet and unassuming, the kind of person who fades into the background in a crowd of people. Her mother is worried sick. She heard you were coming to town and asked me to contact you.”
“You don’t have psychics in… where am I?”
“River Valley, Ohio.”
“You don’t have psychics in River Valley, Ohio?”
“I have a psychic niece and a semi-psychic sister-in-law.”
“Semi-psychic?”
“Either an image pops into her head or it doesn’t. She can’t call up a vision.”
“What about your niece?”
“She’s only nine. She’s quite gifted, but if Phoebe’s hurt or dead, I don’t want Taylor to see it in a vision.”
If only his family had been that sensitive when he was a kid. Instead, they hired him out to police departments to find missing people and interpret crime scenes. Anyone who wanted a reading from Steffen the Sensational could get it, for a price, of course. He was the boy freak who knew everything. That image was hard to live down, but his uncle didn’t want him to live it down. Carson wanted Steffen to continue working, so he could sell pictures, pamphlets, dolls, and copies of the medallion Steffen wore on stage.
He sensed an urgency in this beautiful police detective. “You’re really worried about your friend?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Did you bring pictures and something of hers, so I can get a reading?”
She reached in her pocket and pulled out several pictures and a ring. “Phoebe and I had matching rings when we were in high school. This is hers.”
Without looking at the pictures, he picked up the ring and held it in his left hand. Closing his eyes so he could focus, he said, “She has light brown hair and wears wire frame glasses. Dark blue or purple.”
He rubbed the ring with his thumb. “I see her in a room with a dark-haired man. His first name starts with the letter R.”
Steffen opened his eyes and handed the ring back to the pretty detective.
“That’s it?”
“She’s alive and she’s with a man. What more do you want?”
“Is she all right? Is she afraid? Where did she meet this guy? Is she there willingly, or did he kidnap her? Is—”
Steffen held up both hands. “Whoa there. Too many questions.”
The dressing room door opened and Carson walked in. He stared at the pretty detective. “What are you doing in here?”
Steffen knew if he didn’t make up something quickly, his uncle would demand money from this woman. He stepped closer to her and whispered, “Go along with me.”
Pulling her closer, he gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. He thought she might pull away and slap him, but she didn’t. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Carson left the room muttering to himself.
Steffen reluctantly stepped back. He wanted to kiss her again, a real kiss this time, but if he did, she’d probably have him handcuffed and in the back of a police cruiser on the way to jail. “Sorry about that. If my uncle knew you were here on business, he’d demand payment.”
“Really? How much?”
“As much as he thought you’d pay.” Carson’s talent – if he had one – was fleecing people who were desperate for answers. Steffen didn’t approve of the way he handled money, but Carson had done a good job managing the logistics of the tour.
Someone tapped on the door and called, “Five minutes.”
Steffen turned back to Virginia Kane. Ginny. “I have to get ready for the next show. If you’ll hang around, I’ll see if I can get more from the ring after the next show.”
Ginny gazed into his eyes and hesitated for a brief moment. “I’ll be here.” She couldn’t believe she’d kissed him. Not that he wasn’t an attractive man. He was. But she wasn’t in the habit of kissing strange men.
Ginny escaped from the room and found a quiet spot backstage to call Phoebe’s mother. “Jill, I met with Steffen Marchand. He believes Phoebe’s alive and well. I’m meeting with him again after his next show to see if he can sense any more about Phoebe’s situation.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Ginny. If I could get out of this damn wheelchair—”
“I know. I’ll follow up, see if he can give me some clues about where she might be. You know this isn’t a perfect science.”
“I know,” Jill said with a deep sigh. “I’m just so worried about her.”
Ginny heard applause and knew Steffen had gone on stage. She had no desire to watch his show again, but maybe if she poked around his dressing room, she could learn more about the psychic entertainer.
Carson Edwards made his way to the stage door, glanced around, then opened the door and stepped outside. He left the door cracked, so Ginny crept closer and listened to him talking with another man just outside the door.
“It’s five thousand,” Carson told the man.
“I can’t afford that.”
“You don’t want to find your wife?”
“Do I get my money back if he doesn’t find her?”
“No. No refunds.”
“Will you take a check?”
“Cash only.”
“I can’t get that much cash tonight.”
“How much can you get?”
“Maybe a thousand.”
“That’ll buy you fifteen minutes. Come to the Whippoorwill Inn at midnight. I’ll meet you in the lobby and take you to see Steffen Marchand.”
“I’ll be there,” the other man said.
“Come alone or the d
eal is off, and bring something your wife used to wear – a ring or watch or favorite piece of clothing.”
The door opened wider and Ginny scooted into the shadows so he wouldn’t see her. Carson walked through the backstage area and out another door that led to the front, where he’d no doubt sell a bunch of merchandise to gullible patrons.
Did Steffen know what he was doing?
He had to know. The man was psychic.
Slipping unnoticed into the dressing room, Ginny quietly scanned the room. His dressing table held the usual items for a performer – makeup, hair brush, cold cream. A change of clothes hung on the back of the screen – blue jeans and a pale blue pullover sweater. A leather zippered bag behind the screen held the things a man normally carried in his pockets – wallet, loose change, car keys, key for a room at the Whippoorwill Inn, handkerchief, a pen, a pair of reading glasses, and a journal. “What, no condoms?” she muttered to herself.
She looked through his wallet and found a hundred and sixty dollars, mostly in twenties. He had a current Illinois driver’s license, and he was thirty-seven years old. Only two credit cards – a Visa card and one for gasoline.
The journal might be more interesting, but she didn’t have time to look through it.
Someone was coming.
<>
Roland Bickley opened the motel room door and carried in the sack of sandwiches and fries from the fast food restaurant next door. The woman sat on the bed. She smiled shyly when he walked into the room. They’d both seen the piece on the news this morning, including her picture, but she didn’t recognize her image or her name. Phoebe Goldberg. His very own Jewish American Princess.
According to the woman on the news, Phoebe’s father, now deceased, used to work on Wall Street. After the car accident killed him, her mother was confined to a wheelchair. The newscasters talked about what a blessing Phoebe had been to her mother, but this young woman didn’t remember her family. She didn’t remember anything about her past.
He handed her the bag. “I bought a chicken sandwich and a hamburger. Take your pick.”
Two weeks ago, he’d found her sitting alone in a bar, sipping a soft drink. She looked like a lost little waif when he sat beside her.
“Do you know me?” she’d asked.
He’d met her months ago, at the library, but before he could speak, she whispered, “I’m so scared.”
“Why?” he’d asked.
“Because I don’t know who I am or where I belong.”
“With me,” he’d replied. “You belong with me. I’m Roland, your name is Jane, and I’ve been looking all over for you.” The lie nearly choked him, but from that moment on, she followed him around like a little puppy dog.
At first, he thought her memory would return, but she still didn’t remember anything about her past. She asked him to take her away from the city, so he bought her a few clothes and a suitcase to keep them in, packed a bag for himself, and they hit the road.
The woman he called Jane was afraid of strangers, and everyone was a stranger to her but him. She said she felt safe with him, which made him feel like a big man.
Before she lost her memory, she hadn’t given him a second glance. According to the news reports, Phoebe gave up her career as a librarian to take care of her crippled mother, which explained why he hadn’t seen her in the past few months. He’d asked her out once, which turned into a disaster, and he hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask again.
Roland was forty-two years old, and he’d never had a girlfriend. He was a small man with a big heart, but most of the women he knew wanted to date a bigger man, one who wasn’t so shy around women. He’d been searching for a small woman who wouldn’t mind his size so much, but aside from the woman in the library, he hadn’t found anyone he wanted to date. Now that woman was right here with him, and he was even more attracted to her than before she lost her memory.
Jane was a petite woman, a shy lady who was embarrassed when anything sexual came on television. He figured she was a virgin, like him. One of these days, when the time was right, he’d kiss her and pray she didn’t run away. But it was too soon for that kind of intimacy.
Much too soon.
<>
Ginny ducked into the bathroom and stood in the dingy shower behind the shower curtain. A spider crawled up the corner, over the moldy grout, and another dangled from the shower head, but she couldn’t worry about spiders now. Who had come into the dressing room, and what did they want? Didn’t they know Steffen was still on stage?
She smelled perfume and a woman hummed softly. Steffen Marchand didn’t travel with a woman. She’d checked him out before coming here. He and his uncle drove from show to show in an old blue van with a picture of Steffen the Sensational painted on the side. Just the two of them.
Hooker? No, a man who looked like Steffen wouldn’t have to pay for sex.
Admirer? Possibly.
Someone who needed his help finding someone? Maybe, but from the shadows playing on the open bathroom door, the woman was taking off her clothes.
This could get sticky if someone found Ginny hiding in the bathroom. Steffen would know she was there, of course. He supposedly knew everything. Would he care? She had no intention of hiding in the bathroom and listening to him having sex with another woman in the next room.
If only there was another way out. She glanced at the window, but it was too small to squeeze through. She’d have to go out through the dressing room.
A slow smile tugged at her face as an idea came to mind. She tapped her gun against the side of the toilet bowl, then called out to the other room. “It must have crawled back down the toilet, because I don’t see a snake in here.” She flushed. “No, it’s not in the toilet.”
She heard a gasp and smiled. “You see a snake out there?”
Ginny stood in the bathroom doorway and watched the woman hastily shake out her clothes, pull them on, and run out the door. She was still laughing when Steffen walked into the dressing room. He sneezed and fanned the air. The scent of the woman’s strong perfume lingered in the stuffy room.
“I hope you didn’t pay her much, because she left when I told her about the snake in the bathroom.”
His eyes sparkled and a smile pulled at his mouth. “Then you owe me one.”
“You try to collect and I’ll have you locked up so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
He gazed at her long enough for her to feel uncomfortable, then said, “We’ll see.” Her entire body tingled from the sound of his smooth, deep voice. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. What would it be like to kiss him, really kiss him, and feel those long fingers stroking her body when they made love?
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. He laughed.
“You bastard. Quit planting thoughts in my head.”
He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “What kind of thoughts?”
“Don’t pull that crap on me, Mr. Sensational.”
He held out his arms. “Honey, look at me. Do I look like the kind of man who’d have to plant thoughts in a woman’s head?”
“Arrogant jerk!” Ginny was tempted to walk out on him, but what would that prove? She came here looking for help in finding Phoebe. And Steffen Marchand, irritating psychic, might be the only person in River Valley who could help her.
Steffen held the ring again, breathed deeply, and stared at the wall. “I see your missing friend sitting at a small table, eating a sandwich, and talking with the man I saw earlier. She doesn’t look afraid, but something isn’t quite right about this picture…. Roland. His name is Roland, and she feels safe with him.”
“Where are they?”
“In a motel room. He calls her Jane.”
“As in Jane Doe?”
He shrugged and handed the ring back. “She’s not afraid of him, but she’s afraid of everything and everyone else.”
“That doesn’t sound like Phoebe. Maybe you saw someone else.”
“Maybe. Where are tho
se pictures?”
Ginny pulled the pictures from her pocket and handed them to him. Some were of her and Phoebe together in college. The ones she got from Jill were more recent. Phoebe was smiling in the pictures, but her eyes looked sad. Troubled. As if the stress of caring for her mother had become too much for her to handle.
“It’s her, although she’s wearing her hair long and loose. No makeup.”
“She’s there because she wants to be with him?”
“She’s with him because he’s her anchor, the only thing familiar.”
Ginny sank into the chair at the dressing table. “She’s lost her memory?”
“It seems that way. I wish I could get a reading on the motel, but…” He shook his head. “After twenty years on the road, they all look the same to me.”
Ginny sighed deeply. Even if they found Phoebe, she might not want to come home. If she couldn’t remember who she was, if she was attached to this Roland person, she might be afraid to come back to River Valley.
The police found Phoebe’s car parked by the side of the highway on the west side of town on a cold January night two weeks ago, but there was no sign of her. She’d left her purse tucked under the driver’s seat, keys in the ignition. No prints but hers. It didn’t look like foul play, and aside from a flat tire and skid marks, the Mercedes looked fine. Phoebe wouldn’t accept a ride from a stranger and leave her purse behind.
“She’s all right,” said Steffen. “She’s confused, but she’s content with this man.”
“Is he someone she knew before?”
Steffen shrugged. “I don’t know, and at the moment, she doesn’t know either.”
Carson barged into the room. “C’mon, Steffen. We have to go. I have someone lined up for a reading at the motel. If you expect to take a few weeks off, we need the extra money.”
Carson glanced at Ginny. “Kiss her goodbye and help me load the van. We don’t want to be late.”
Steffen grinned down at Ginny. “You heard the man.”
He leaned down to kiss her and she turned her head. “You owe me one,” he whispered.
She slipped a card into his hand. “If you—”
