The Sorcerer's House (27 page)

. . .

"No, we're not at all close. And of course he struck me, too. I'm sure you remember."

. . .

"Wonderful! I'd love a home-cooked lunch. Tomorrow about noon? I'll be there." I hung up.

"You didn't say anything about Alexander Skotos," Doris observed.

"Certainly not. That will come later."

"I see." Doris looked thoughtful. "The waitress took your plate. There was a little steak left and half your potato. She took mine, too. Do we want dessert?" When I said nothing, she added, "This is on me, you know. On my expense account."

I shook my head.

"What about a drink?"

"No. But go ahead if you'd like one yourself."

"You're driving."

"I'm driving, and I don't drink. I used to--used to drink too much, to tell you the truth. I've given it up."

"I'll skip the drink if you'll answer three or four questions."

"I'll try, and if I don't know something I'll say so." When I put the case of dueling pistols back on the table, Doris's face betrayed an unasked question. I said, "I want to put in flints and load them."

"Why?"

"Because I think we may need them on the return trip." There were rectangles of soft leather in the box of flints. I folded one over the back of a flint, put it in the jaws of the cock, and tightened them.

"Is this because of the white horse?"

I put down the pistol and stared at her. "Are you asking whether I intend to shoot it? Absolutely not."

"It didn't look like a regular horse to me."

"Nor to me." I got out the powder flask.

"Could that thing go off?"

I shrugged. "I have it on half-cock, but yes. That's always possible."

Doris ordered a whiskey sour.

"No more questions?"

"Do you love me?"

I sighed. "I don't say it often, because anyone can say anything. Words really mean very little. Men can be defrauded with words and women can be seduced with words, and it really comes to about the same thing. I'm not a fighter, Doris."

"I never thought you were."

"You were right. But if there is danger tonight I'll be out in front of you, fighting." I poured a measured charge of black powder down the
barrel of the first pistol. "I want to have something to fight with, and these are all I have."

That brought the smile I love so much.

"You're worried about the white horse, because you think you saw something you didn't understand."

She nodded.

"So did I, and since I got closer to it I probably saw more. I saw something else as well--something you didn't see. I saw that absurd car stopped beside the road. I saw you in the front seat, and I saw myself standing alongside it with these pistols thrust into my belt."

"Bax, have you gone crazy?"

Here I must close, George. There is no more paper. I will buy some tomorrow, and begin a fresh letter as soon as I can find time.

Yours sincerely,

Bax

Hey, Prof!

You probably are wondering why I am writing you so fast, and have I heard anything about the Greek. Okay, I have, but it is not much. And I am writing you real fast because of what you said about chicks. Having two can be a lot a fun. I have been there and I know. Only if one finds out she will rat you out in a New York minute. You know what she might sing better than me, but I know there has got to be stuff she might tell.

Listen up. You never trust a prosecuting attorney, a automatic, or a chick. Never!

Okay, here is the rest. I run into a guy they call Iron Mike. He had been out and come back about six months ago. He is a cat burglar, and
they say pretty good. He said yeah I talked to the Greek only I did not rat out the Prof or anybody.

Here is what he said. He was flat and wondering how he could buy a few tools when his ex phoned him. She said a guy had talked to her that wanted to talk to him, maybe, and if he had something the guy could use he would pay. She said Iron Mike should meet him in a diner. That did not sound too bad so he went.

The Greek came all right and had a long skinny torpedo with him. He says the skinny guy never said a word, just grinned the whole time. Mike says he took one look and knew he better not go anyplace with these guys only they never tried to get him to go anyway. The Greek said he would like something to eat, that Mike would. I guess he looked hungry. So Mike said he would and ordered a burger and fries and pie to go with his coffee. The Greek ordered two coffees, only the skinny guy never touched his.

The Greek said you were in quite a while. Mike said yes. Well, maybe you knew Baxter Dunn. Mike said, yes, we were like that. You are lying, the Greek said. Do not lie to me or you get nothing. Right, Mike said, I knew him but we were not real close. Who was? Mike says he did not know.

You lie, says the Greek and the skinny guy gets out a piece of clothesline and starts running it through his fingers. Mike said he had funny fingers. I said funny how but he would not talk about it. So Mike fingers a couple guys you were close with, one being me. How is he doing, the Greek says? He is doing swell, he is maintenance crew now and a cinch for parole, Mike tells him. He said people could push you around some but only so far and some other stuff and the Greek gives him a hundred and splits.

That is all I got, Bax, but I will keep my ears open.

Sheldon Hawes

Dear Mrs. Pogach:

Let me first thank you for your extreme kindness in visiting me psychically. For me, it was a new experience; and I mishandled it badly, I know. I apologize. I should never have left you as I did. From the bottom of my heart, I am most terribly sorry.

There has been a fresh development with which I ought to acquaint you. It is that the paranormal activity I had previously associated with my house exclusively appears to extend to an antique limousine I discovered in my garage. My friend Doris Griffin and I used this limousine to visit a restaurant some distance south of Medicine Man yesterday. There were oddities--to say the least--on our drive out. Still more on our return trip. Indeed, these were, if
anything, more marked and peculiar, perhaps because the hour was later.

I will describe one now. If you accede to my request, I shall be more than happy to detail the other. You may wish to quiz Doris as well; if you do, I will do my utmost to secure her cooperation.

When we left the restaurant, everything seemed quite normal. The familiar road carried only a little traffic, but that was to be expected as the hour was late. We had not gone far when we saw a young woman in a white gown standing on the shoulder of the road. We stopped and asked whether she required assistance.

"A ride. Only a ride." Her voice was thin and sad. "May I ride with you?"

"Certainly," I said. "Just get in back. Where are you going?"

"Where you are going."

That seemed a bit odd, but I supposed she meant that she was returning to Medicine Man. A window permitting passengers to communicate with the driver stood open. Looking through it, Doris Griffin introduced herself and asked the hitchhiker's name.

"Mary King."

Doris began another question, then screamed. I braked so hard and so suddenly that I stalled the engine.

"She's gone! Bax, she disappeared! I was looking at her!"

I got out and opened all four doors of the passenger compartment. There was no one in there. Some distance away from the road, I could just make out what appeared to be a ruinous church and a cemetery. Here I should explain that though the moon was full, it was often obscured by clouds.

I started toward the church and its tottering grave markers, but Doris called me back; she was terrified, and kept repeating that the hitchhiker had vanished while she (Doris) had been looking at her.

There were also, as I have indicated, other incidents.

Thus I ask your assistance. Please come. I will of course pay all reasonable travel expenses, and will gladly and promptly pay your fee if you succeed. (As per your letter.)

Yours sincerely,

Baxter Dunn

Dear Millie:

Have I told you that I have had a letter from your adviser, Madame Orizia? I have, and a most remarkable psychic visit as well. Now I have written her requesting her assistance.

In the meantime, I have begun to assist myself. Allow me to tell you about it.

Two incidents determined me. The first occurred last night, as Doris and I were driving back from a restaurant on the shore of Brompton Lake. Our car was surrounded by huge wolves. I could not be sure how many there were, but there were certainly half a dozen and there may well have been more. I have read that wolves do not normally attack human beings, but these did not seem to be normal wolves.

The road was narrow and rutted, and I was driving very slowly. Doris urged me to more speed, and upon my request contrived to squeeze through the window communicating with the passenger compartment to lock its doors from inside and secure all its windows. Is it a lie to conceal one's good motives?

If it is, I lied to Doris. I indicated to her that I feared the wolves would enter the passenger compartment; the truth was that I feared they would invade the driver's. Although the driver's seat is somewhat higher than his passengers', his compartment is open on both sides and thus much more accessible.

That is in fact what occurred. If it had not been for one of the antique pistols I had pushed through my belt, I would certainly have been badly bitten and might well have been killed. As it was, I thrust its long barrel into the brute's mouth and fired.

The second determining incident occurred this morning after my return home. Emlyn introduced me to a young woman he clearly admired; she was Lupine, the psychotic I had met beside the river.