The Sorcerer's House (33 page)

"Okay, I peeked. He couldn't think of her name, he said, but she had a little one-woman shop now. So I said, 'And she attended Alexander Skotos's funeral, sir? Is she involved with the will?' He said no, and he had no idea why she showed up for the funeral, but her name was Martha something."

When I heard that I was no longer tired, Millie.

Doris continued. "I couldn't hold it in any longer and there was really no reason to, so I said, 'Would that be Martha Murrey, sir?' and he snapped his fingers and said that was it. Now who was the third one, the short man?"

I said, "I hope to be able to tell you today. Not a guess, but a certainty."

Here I was interrupted by old Nick, Millie. You will get our conversation in its proper place.

After having my suspicion confirmed by Doris, I bathed again, shaved and dressed, called a cab, and visited the public library and the
county courthouse, where a twenty-dollar bill convinced a clerk that I was in serious need of her assistance.

Then, in an unaccustomed burst of genius, I revisited the elderly woman who had loaned me her mower and given me dinner. "I hope you can help me, Mrs. Naber," I said after a few preliminaries. "You told me once that you'd lived here all your life."

She nodded. "I have. I've lived here ever since I was born."

"There was a lady named Murrey--that's Murrey with an
E
--who used to live in my house. I've found something that belongs to her. It's valuable, and I'd like to return it. Have you ever known anyone with that name?"

She laughed. It is always pleasant to hear an old person laugh when there is real humor in it; or at least I have found it so. "Have I known anybody of that name? Why, at first I thought you meant
me
, Mr. Dunn. Murray was my name, but with an
A
." She spelled it. "I'm perfectly sure that there's never been a family here who spelled it the other way. I'd have known about them. Would you like to see a picture of my family?"

Of course I said I would, and five minutes later I was blessing the wonderful mother who had adopted George and me and taught me to be polite. The Murrays stood before me in black-and-white, preserved through so many decades in their sturdy silver frame: the parents stiffly erect but smiling, their twin daughters relaxed and giggling despite starched white dresses. It did not seem possible, but as I studied their faces I grew increasingly confident. "You were a twin! An identical twin? I'm one myself."

"An identical twin? Are you really, Mr. Dunn?"

"I certainly am, Mrs. Naber. I am the evil twin, and my brother George is the good twin. I am harebrained and poetic, you see, while George is solid and reliable."

She smiled, God bless her. "Harebrained, poetic, and kind. Yes, we were twins, Mr. Dunn. Perfect likenesses. Martha and Thelma. I'm Thelma."

It took very little urging to get Mrs. Naber to show me her wedding pictures. Though blond, the blushing bride might easily have been a
somewhat younger Martha Murrey. While longing with all my heart to hug Thelma Naber, I said as casually as I could, "I couldn't help noticing that your sister wasn't one of your bridesmaids. I hope nothing happened to her."

The tears that filled Mrs. Naber's faded blue eyes made me wish I had held my tongue. "Did something happen to her? Yes, I'm afraid something did, Mr. Dunn. She . . ."

"She isn't dead, I hope?"

"Dead? I've no way of knowing. She eloped, Mr. Dunn. I found her packing one evening. We shared a bedroom."

I nodded. "I understand."

"She said Mamma and Papa would never approve of the man, but she was going to marry him just the same. I watched out the window hoping to see him, but I never did. After that I kept thinking she'd write, or phone if they lived close. But there was never a word from her. I have just one hope. You're a twin, too? It's what you said."

"I am. George and I are identical twins."

"When one twin dies, the other one dies, too. Not at the exact same time, but not long after. Sometimes there's a medical cause or else an accident, and sometimes there isn't. I suppose you know about it."

"I've read about it, yes. It doesn't always happen, but it's not uncommon."

Mrs. Naber nodded, I would guess mostly to herself. "You've read it, so you know. Well, I'm not dead, am I? I'm getting close to ninety, Mr. Dunn. There aren't but a few people my age left, but I'm still here. So I think most likely Martha is, too. Not here in Medicine Man, but somewhere."

"I think so, too," I told her. Out of honesty I had to add, "Perhaps she's even here in town."

After that I got another cab and called on Martha Murrey.

Her smile faded when she saw my face, but she asked me to come in. "It's much too late for breakfast, I'm afraid, and I just finished lunch. I could fix something for you, if you want it."

I shook my head. "I want something you offered me when you gave
me breakfast. You offered to show me the instructions Mr. Black had left with you. May I have a look at them now, please?"

She got them without a word, a single handwritten sheet. I glanced at it and handed it back.

"You were so hungry that morning. I knew you couldn't have been eating regularly."

"You're right," I said.

"I thought you'd return soon--that you'd come back and I'd get to fix you another meal. Only the next time your face was all bruised. Remember?"

"I do. I've been grateful ever since."

"I saw the ring then, so that was when I knew with certainty. You know, too, don't you?"

Her reference to my ring confused me, Millie. For a moment I supposed she meant the gold band that Doris had given me, Ted's old wedding ring.

"You must know," Martha repeated. "Why don't you say so?"

"I know very little, Martha. Mostly, that one of your sons needs your help."

She started to speak but did not, and I said, "Yes?"

There was a long silence before she said, "I want some coffee. Would you like some?"

"Your coffee was superb. If it's even half as good as it was the last time, I'd love some."

She hurried into the kitchen and returned with a tray. This coffee was fully as good.

"I made it about a quarter of an hour ago, and I'd just finished a nice big cup when you came. This is all there is, I'm afraid."

"That's a great pity."

"Coffee lasts half an hour or so. That's all. After that, you've got to throw it out and make fresh. I could make a fresh carafe, I suppose, if you want more."

"You're very kind," I said.

"I try. Won't you tell me which son it is?"

At that I relaxed. "It's Emlyn."

"Really? I--oh, never mind. You're going to say . . ."

"To say what?" I waited, but she only shrugged.

At last I said, "Will you help him?"

"I will if I can. How did you know?"

Sipping coffee, I collected my thoughts. "People must grow old more slowly there."

"They don't grow old at all, Bax. No one does. You don't mind my calling you Bax?"

"Of course not. Your sister Thelma's still alive."

"I know." Martha nodded.

I said, "Could you telephone her? Just once? Or write her a note? It would mean the world to her."

"If I promise, will you tell me how you knew? My promise is good, believe me." Martha sighed. "I'm a bad woman, I know. But I keep my promises."

It felt good to smile then. "Substitute 'man' for 'woman,' and I could have said that. I try to keep mine, too, which is all any of us can do."

She nodded gratefully.

"You said you would promise. Do you?"

"Yes, I do. I can swear by river and tree, grass, wind, and hill if you want."

"It won't be necessary, but I want you to promise something more. Promise that you'll tell me what I don't know, what I missed. If you'll do that, I'll help you save Emlyn. I'll do everything I can."

"I won't ask if that's a promise," Martha said. "I can see you'd do it anyway."

I shrugged, knowing she was right.

"We have an agreement, but you have to speak first. Now tell me, Bax, and you can ask me whatever you want to afterward."

"There is one question I want to ask first, because the answer may save me a great deal of talking. I think that Zwart Black and Alexander Skotos are the same person. Am I correct? If I'm wrong, then I don't know anything."

Martha nodded. "You aren't wrong. How did you know?"

"I guessed, that's all. I came here, and you told me a mysterious Mr. Black wanted me to have his house. It wasn't true. You gave me the house, and I thank you for it. But until very recently I believed you."

"I understand. You don't know why I did it?"

"No. Nor do I know why you said that Mr. Black was my benefactor."

"I think I'm going to tell you, Bax. But not now."

"Then I learned that Alexander Skotos had made me his heir. I asked some questions, and it seemed that Skotos had appeared about the same time that Black had vanished. I've studied Greek and knew that 'skotos' means
darkness
. I found Greek coins--valuable coins--in an old escritoire in the attic of the house that had been Black's. Clearly he had been interested in the Greeks, and had been rich enough to drop those coins into a drawer and forget them." I made some futile gesture. "It didn't prove anything, I know. But it seemed likely the two were the same."

"They were. Go on."

"I tried to get descriptions of both. Skotos was easy because a man named Jim Hardaway had known him well. Then I came across a woman who'd seen Black several times and told me about the last. He was with a woman who sounded very much like you. The description she gave me of Black checked reasonably well with Jim Hardaway's description of Skotos."

"You said that I was the one who gave you the house." Martha sounded thoughtful. "That was right, too. How did you know?"

"This morning I did something I ought to have done a long time ago--I looked into GEAS, the company that had owned the house before I did. It had been incorporated in this state, and I found a list of its officers on one of the computers at the library without much trouble. Vice president, Z. Black. Secretary and treasurer, Alexander Skotos. President and CEO, Martha Murrey."

"I see." It was a whisper.

"Alexander Skotos left me a cased set of dueling pistols. You didn't know about them?"

She shook her head.

"I can see it bothers you."

She waved my remark aside. "Go on."

"There was a note from him in the bullet box. I've done time--been imprisoned. That doesn't surprise you?"

"No. I knew it."

"Then you know I'm telling the truth. It's hard to make friends in prison, because most of us are people we wouldn't want for friends. I made two, however, and one is a forger. He knows a lot about handwriting and taught me a good deal. The note you showed me was signed by Zwart Black, but the writing was nothing like Skotos's. To me it looked feminine, confirming what I had concluded when I saw that you were the CEO of GEAS. You were my benefactor, and I'll always be grateful."

"I wish I could believe that," Martha said.

"No doubt you know more than I." I paused, waiting for her to speak again. "I've told you what I guessed and how I guessed it, and I'd appreciate some information from you. Was the man you eloped with Zwart Black?"

She only nodded.

"He took you, his bride, to the other place. To the place where he lives."

"To faerie. Yes, he did."

"Is that really what they call it?"

Martha shook her head. "That is what I call it."

I sipped my coffee. It had cooled a little, but it was still very good. "Just out of curiosity, what do they call it?"

"The real world. Reality."

"Of course they do--it was a foolish question. Emlyn and his brother are your sons?"

She nodded and smiled. "Twins run in my family, Mr. Dunn, and--"

I cut her off. "Go back to calling me Bax, please."

"I will, if we're still friends."