by Rene Natan
A reporter approached her. “What field?”
Miriam closed her eyes, and a moment later, she answered, “One close to the lake.”
“Why do you say so?” The reporter was clearly intrigued.
“Because I can see him, like I saw my mother’s dying.”
The reporter, interested in her story, mentioned it on the six o’clock news.
Forty hectares were planted with corn. The following morning, the scouting crowd started along the country road that sloped toward the lake and proceeded toward the corn field with scent-trained hounds on the leash. Within two hours, they found the boy, dehydrated, but alive.
For a few days, Miriam Danton was a celebrity. Soon after, she was approached by Experience the Unseen, a company that toured the country holding shows on retro-cognition, mediumship, and telepathy. They tested her and concluded that she did indeed have extra-sensorial ability. Her gift needed to be nourished, they told her, and offered her a job with the company. They also discovered that she was great at channeling. Most of the time, she was able to contact people who had passed on, even if her ability was limited to those who had died recently. They trained her to perform on demand. At first it was difficult, and it didn’t work all the time. In spite of this drawback, she stayed with the company for ten years, regularly performing in public. The company toured the country for a decade, presenting its Delphus Show, where Miriam was the main attraction. Her main task was to hold an object supplied by a member of the audience and describe some of the characteristics of its owner, such as how it was related to that member, where he lived, and whether or not he was still alive. It worked well in about seventy percent of the cases, either with objects from people alive but not present in the audience or with objects that once belonged to someone now dead.
For a while, Miriam improved on her appearance and on the way she communicated with the audience. When the company revisited cities where the show had already been presented, she was asked to embellish her presentation and talk about her personal experiences. Miriam described the two premonitions she had about her dog and her mother, together with others when she’d sensed the imminent death of some of her acquaintances. This subject wasn’t something she was eager to talk about, because the recollection of those experiences caused her physical suffering, like a sensation of energy being drained out of her body; she often quivered and felt icy cold. However, the audience was always fascinated by her ability and wanted to know more about it. And then, one day, after the show, some excited spectators asked her to predict their future. She hesitated at first, but the money she was offered was too good to pass up. She complied with those requests. Wherever she went, she carried a three-legged table and two folding chairs, which she sat on backstage. A colorful rotating ball, set on a pedestal, and a lamp that spread dim but colorful light in all directions created a psychedelic effect. The three-legged table, less stable than a normal one, would tip at a slight tilt, creating an additional effect of suspense.
There was good money in it. However, this activity wasn’t without problems. First, Miriam’s paranormal ability was spontaneous and often emotionally motivated. Second, her precognition worked almost exclusively in predicting tragic events. She could feel an aura of disaster or imminent death, but could hardly perceive much else. The company complained about her after-the-show consultations; upsetting customers was an absolute no-no. She became disillusioned with her job and left. With little qualifications to her credit, since she hadn’t finished high school, Miriam ended up as a part-time cashier in a supermarket. The money was much less than she’d previously earned. To pay her mortgage, she set up her own shop.
Miriam the Clairvoyant was born. She became familiar with astrology and the use of tarot cards to predict the future. She started to do things that had little to do with her extra-sensorial gift. She took advantage of people who put confidence in the stars instead of in themselves. She made good money, though.
Then it happened. A tragic event, and the memory of it still hounded her today.
***
The following morning, Miriam felt tired and restless. Nevertheless she shuffled her tired legs to the basement and opened the large wooden box where all the paraphernalia she used in the past were neatly stored. She righted the little three-legged table, took the long, sparkling blue gown she used for her séances and fluffed it hard to remove dust and loose lint. She didn’t know what would be more effective on Louis, the use of cards, or the nice crystal ball that reflected light all around. She brought all that she might need upstairs, and set the table in a corner of the living room with the crystal ball in its center. She washed her fancy gown by hand and hung it on top of the washer. She started to look at her appearance.
Miriam the Clairvoyant used to be an attractive person. She’d do her best to come close to her past looks.
When Louis came home, Miriam was ready to go into action. She’d locked the dogs in her bedroom upstairs and stood on the threshold of the living room.
“Oh, it’s you!” Louis said as he walked into the kitchen and glanced at her. “You look…you look different.”
“Just had a session with a client,” Miriam lied, and tapped on her blue gown to show off the glittering stripes. “I don’t do that often, but from time to time, somebody wants to have a snapshot of his future and comes here to consult me. I can predict what’s going to happen, most of the time.” Louis didn’t react, so she continued, “You see, sometimes a person doesn’t know what to do, so my session helps him or her make a decision.”
“Oh, that’s interesting.” Louis stared at her.
Miriam retreated into the living room, so Louis could see the little table and the shining crystal ball. She pointed toward the table. “Want to try it? Free for you.”
“Sure,” Louis said with enthusiasm, and joined her.
She turned off the main light, sat in a chair, and invited Louis to sit across.
“You have to free your mind,” Miriam said in a low voice. “You can’t think of food or the dogs.”
That little mutt of hers had heard Louis coming home and had barked since then. It was a soft, pleading bark to get Louis come to his rescue.
Louis sat and put his hands on the table, curiosity painted over his face.
“Put your hands on the ball.”
“I hope it isn’t hot,” Louis said and touched it with a finger. “Oh, good.” He placed both hands on the ball.
“No, not there, below, near the base.” Louis did as he was told. Miriam gestured with her hands in front of the sphere, whispering some ritual words, and closed her eyes for a few moments. Then she reopened them and looked inside the ball. “I see a man coming after you, but he’s in the background. He’s gone.” She waited for a reaction that didn’t come. “Now I see a girl, a young girl. You like girls, right, Louis?”
“Yes I do.”
“The girl is pretty but she is… Wait, I can’t see much.” She paused, hoping for Louis to give her a hint. Louis remained silent, his hands clutched at base of the ball. “This girl looks frail.” She glanced at Louis, but there was no reaction. “She’s sick or in pain,” Miriam ventured.
“Is she going to be okay?” Louis brought his right hand around his throat.
“Keep your hands on the ball!” Miriam switched her sight between the ball and the young man’s face. There was a girl in Louis’ life—at last, she had something to report to Jocelyn.
“Tell me, tell me if she’s going to be all right!”
“Can’t see much,” Miriam said at length. “Maybe if you give me your hands, I can see more.”
As soon as she linked her fingers with Louis’s, it happened.
His face seemed to become bigger, paled to a light gray color, surrounded by men’s and women’s faces. She couldn’t count how many. The faces were dark, some pitch black, and moved around; in her clairvoyant experience, this meant death—violent death. She shook her fingers to get them free, but Louis’ firm hold restrai
ned them.
“Tell me! You see something; I can tell!” Louis screamed.
Miriam remained immobile. The images didn’t disappear. On the contrary, the black figures scattered erratically around Louis and became bigger and bigger until they filled the room in front of her. Then a trail of vivid orange zipped in front of her, giving her the sensation of unbearable heat.
With an enormous effort, Miriam freed herself from Louis’ grip and jumped up. Her heartbeat was fast, and tremors ran along her entire body. She felt in trance, but there was no spirit with which she tried to communicate. It was a strange situation and sensation; pain seeped in her body, concentrated in her head, and made her feel like her brain was going to explode.
“Are you okay?” the young man asked. “Are you sick?” Louis’ loud voice finally dispelled her visions.
Miriam breathed deeply several times. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Did you see something bad?” Louis asked, concern in his eyes and voice. Miriam nodded. “About my girl?” Miriam shook her head no.
“Oh, good. You scared me for a moment. Would you like a glass of water?”
“Please,” Miriam murmured and leaned against the back of her chair to support herself.
Sixteen
No matter how hard he tried, Stevenson couldn’t forget the strange evening he’d spent with Jocelyn two days earlier. Her behavior still puzzled him. The day he interviewed her about the package, she’d openly flirted and joked with him. The other night, she pulled a complete turnaround. What provoked the change? Did she get a boyfriend? If this was the case, why didn’t she say so? She was a very attractive woman, full of life, and with a great sense of humor. She’d agreed to cooperate about getting information on Louis, but hadn’t given any indication she was interested in him as a man. Too bad, he concluded, because he really liked her.
His musing was interrupted by the approach of Nick Primo.
One glance and Stevenson already knew what the constable was going to say. “Louis spent the day at the garage, as he did for the last five days. Right?”
“Right on. He painted his motorcycle, left it in the garage to dry, and came back on the old motorbike. He still boards with that lady on Waterloo.”
Stevenson drummed his fingers on the desk. “We can’t continue spending money this way. There’s nothing we can do if he doesn’t want to talk.” He paused. “Maybe it was mistake to let him stay with Jocelyn’s friend. We probably would have gotten more action had he stayed at the Men’s Mission.” He looked at Primo. “Nothing new about that fellow…Camilo whatshisname?”
“Camilo Estorbar. Nothing of substance, just a couple of parking tickets.”
“Hmm.” The phone rang, and Stevenson snatched it up. It was Miriam.
“Jocelyn told me to report directly to you,” she said, her voice seeming to come from another planet. “Louis has a girl he cares about, and he doesn’t plan to leave for another week or so.”
“Oh, how did you find out all this?”
“I followed Jocelyn’s instructions. I set up a clairvoyance sitting. When I mentioned I could see a girl, he immediately asked me if she was in trouble. So, there’s a girl he cares for.”
“And then?”
“Another of Jocelyn’s requests was to find out if and when he intended to leave.” Miriam’s voice became even feebler. “So, when he offered to pay me for room and board, I asked him. He plans to stick around for a while, he told me.”
“I see. Anything else? Did he mention any names, locations, anything like that?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Danton.”
“Mr. Stevenson?”
“Yes, what is it?” There was labored breathing on the other side. “What is it?” Stevenson repeated.
“I set up the session for Louis as Jocelyn suggested. It started as a means of getting him to talk, nothing serious, but...”
Stevenson waited a few seconds. “Yes, Mrs. Danton? What happened then?”
“I saw fleeting shadows around the boy. They were black; it means they don’t have much energy but...”
“But what?” Stevenson was close to losing his patience.
“I mean, bad things lurk around the boy, something bad is going to happen…” The phone went dead.
Stevenson put the receiver back in its cradle, pensive.
“Something important?” Primo asked.
“Not really. Louis has a girl he cares about. Mrs. Danton didn’t get any name or reference to where she might live. And he’s going to be around for at least another week.” Stevenson sighed. “We can’t shadow Louis without more evidence that he can lead us to the dead girl’s identity or the woman who took her to the hospital.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “End of the line, so end of surveillance.”
***
Louis admired his handiwork. He’d polished and polished until the chrome accessories of the vintage Guzzi, which was now his, sparkled. He felt good about himself; he was free, and people appreciated his work. He had a future after all. Now it was time to see if he could contact Selina. Fastening his helmet under his chin, he took off for The Tranquility Resort. Last time he hadn’t been able to enter from the back door and the guard at the front had discouraged him from trying anything else. In addition, he wasn’t equipped for a fast escape, as he was now.
The clouds were low, and a cold wind pierced his old coat, which was plagued with creases that had dried up and split in several places. He should buy himself a new one, and he soon could, since the owner of the garage in Lobo had offered him a steady job.
When he reached the resort complex, it started to drizzle. He turned off the engine, jumped off his motorcycle, and sought a secluded weather barrier. Not too much to choose from. The little path that led to the complex was cut amid bushes, wound around trees, and was flanked by boulders. He deposited his vehicle under a pine tree and proceeded on foot.
Brushing off the wall of the girls’ building, he reached the front corner and peeped. No guard patrolled the place. That meant the girls were at work. Good to know. Since he had the key to the main door, he’d have a chance to enter and hide inside. He waited a few minutes to be sure nobody was around, and then approached the door. He tried the key. It didn’t work. Once again Camilo or The Frog had taken precautions. The lock had been changed.
Disappointed, he was ready to leave when a tall woman came out of one of the fancy cottages reserved for the sex clientele and marched toward a blue Hyundai. He’d seen that woman before, and he assumed she was The Frog. Louis memorized her car’s make and retraced his steps. He should find out where that woman lived—he had no other lead that would take him close to Selina. He didn’t dare make any noise. He retrieved his motorcycle and pushed it through the woods up to the restaurant of The Tranquility Resort. He stayed out of sight until he saw The Frog’s car coming by. He started to follow her, keeping a good distance.
They were still on Highway 2 when The Frog’s Hyundai signaled a turn to the left. In order to avoid suspicion, Louis kept going straight. He soon stopped, made an about-face, and restarted the chase. It was raining hard, and he had problems following The Frog’s car without getting too close. When a subdivision of low-income townhouses came into view, The Frog stopped at a one of them, and parked her car in the carport. Drenched to the bone, Louis was tempted to stop pursuing and go home, when a woman, running from the street, caught up to The Frog coming out of the car and pulled on her arm. A confrontation, thought Louis in a flash. It could be interesting. He should find out what that was all about. He stopped his motorcycle and chained it to one of the just-planted trees near the road. On foot, he moseyed along the street and stopped a few feet from the driveway. The women’s argument had become physical.
“No!” The Frog screamed, as she fenced off the other woman’s punch.
“Yes. You will. I saw you picking up the package. Since you aren’t scared of the police, I’ll send my boyfriend to convince you to give me that twenty t
housand. It’s the right amount.” She attempted an uppercut but The Frog avoided it by leaping back and running around the car. She clicked on the panic button of her car key. Immediately a piercing sound filled the air.
It was enough for Louis. He shook off as much water as he could from his coat and got busy unchaining his means of transportation. He should be out of sight before people came and asked questions.
Seventeen
When Stevenson entered the Investigative Response Unit, Constables Lopes and Primo were commenting on the news from the night before.
“Have you seen what they said?” Primo asked Stevenson.
“I have.” No need to remind him his unit’s ability had been severely questioned; the public was astonished that a girl, whose age was assessed to be around fifteen, had died of sexual abuse and malnutrition in one of the most affluent and well-policed cities in the country. And the authorities couldn’t even find out who she was! Stevenson sighed. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Not much. One little incident in a subdivision off Highway 2. A woman, one Gisela Cunnigham, had pushed the alert button of her car keyset, rousing concern in the neighborhood. When I arrived at the scene, she said it was a mistake, but a witness said she’d been fighting with another woman, who later took off on foot.”
