Murder by Candlelight (19 page)

"I'm glad you asked that.
Because that's another thing that's not perfectly clear. I
can
say that, just by
being here, you're making the seance possible. With only one or two
people, the poltergeist is in control; the spirit may or may not
show itself, just as it chooses. It takes four or more people to
force the poltergeist out in the open, so to speak. And though, as
I explained to you the other day, Susan, it doesn't matter in what
proportion, both sexes must be present."

Hah! A Jamie-condition that would
force Susan to ask Z to the party. Clever little Jamie. Evil, but
clever.

"Poultry guys?" Wine had
just about
canceled
Rachel's evening, the girl reduced to a happy face in a
sailor hat.

"Poltergeist," Jamie emphasized, but
without much hope. "A noisy spirit. A ... presence ... that can
move objects. In this case, from what Susan's told me, a peaceful
one. Some of them have been known to throw dishes, even furniture.
But this one is quiet."

"A ... ghost?" June didn't say much.
But when she did ... she didn't say much.

"Not really. What we have with
poltergeists is more like a force. Like lightning. While they
sometimes seem to be fun-loving -- like to play pranks -- they have
neither form nor personality. They're just one of nature's more
unusual and unknown forces.

"For comparison, at one time, ball
lightning was thought to be a figment of the imagination. But that
rare electrical phenomena is now known to exist. St. Elmo's fire,
an eerie glow that sometimes appeared on the masts and spars of
old-time sailing ships, is another uncommon electrical
manifestation."

"So, how do I get rid of it?" Tiring
of talk, Susan wanted action.

"A good question. Generally, a
poltergeist, while it can move around, is located in one place.
Like one room in the house. Find that room, and the phenomena can
be neutralized.

"But we're getting ahead
of ourselves here. First, we have to determine that the
problem
is
a
poltergeist. That's where the seance comes in. We have to establish
whether or not I'm right about the poltergeist. If I'm not. If it's
something ... else ... you'll have to go to an expert. I'm not a
professional in this field. Just a talented amateur." Z figured
Jamie got "talented amateur" from watching reruns of "The
Avengers," "talented amateur," Steed's description of the
yummy-looking Emma Peel.

"So, what do we do?"

Jamie's unexpected answer was to stand
up!

* * * * *

Chapter 11

However many lies Jamie
had told tonight, she'd been a dramatic success; there was no
question about the impact she was having on the others. As for Z,
used to Jamie's tricks, his only fear was that Jamie would get
carried away and tell the
truth
!

"Do you have a card table. Something
like that?"

Jolted out of her Jamie-induced
"trance," Susan now got up, as did June and Z, the three of them
holding their places but ready to move at Jamie's command. As for
Rachel ... she was lucky to remain seated. "There's the dining room
table," Susan suggested.

"Too ... big," Jamie said, after
leaning over to look past the fireplace, the firebox used as a
divider between the living room and the small dining room.
"Something more ... intimate would be better."

"OK. It's not that
I
don't
have a
folding table. It's just that I thought we might be more
comfortable in there."

Though Z had considered
helping Rachel to her feet, to his surprise, the girl popped up,
still functional apparently, but with her reactions set on
delay
. Drinking
regularly would numb you to liquor's effects -- working for an
insurance company tempting you to drink regularly.

In the interim, Susan had gone to her
utility closet in the hall, was bringing back a rickety card table,
Z seeing why Susan hadn't wanted to drag the "less than new" table
out for company.

"Would it be better if I put a cloth
on it?" Susan asked, hopefully.

"It wouldn't matter. On
the other hand, I think I prefer a bare table. That way, everyone
is assured nothing 'funny' is going on under the tablecloth." Jamie
put up her hand to stop Susan's protest. "It's natural for people
to be suspicious.
Just
as it's natural for someone in
my
position, to want to allay that
suspicion."

While the women were debating
tablecloths, Z had taken the rickety wood card table from
Susan.

Unfolding one leg at a time, making
sure each locked into place, Z set up the table in the only open
space in the snug living room. Men were expected to help out in
that way, and do it without being told. In addition, men were
required to undertake any project that took standing on frail
chairs, climbing shaky ladders, or lifting gut-wrenching weights.
(Z wondered why there seemed to be perpetual puzzlement about why
women outlived men.)

The table set up, Z
tapping its legs out at the corners to make it less shaky, Z had a
"television" thought, the "latest revelation" in car manufacturing
putting the wheels near the corners of the car to increase
stability. An original idea filed under, "Take
that
, you sneaky
Japanese!"

Z now fetched the punishingly heavy,
chrome steel dining room chairs, placing them around the square
table, filling in with one of the straight-backed, living room
chairs. Adjusting the five chairs so they were spaced equidistant
from each other ... the arrangement looked ... odd.

Five chairs around a four-sided
table.

Z wondered if, noticing this, Jamie
would make some comment that the chair-table combination
represented the "mystic sign" of the pentagram. Decided she'd
already so mesmerized the others she didn't have to.

"Though it'll be a little crowded,
we'll all fit," Jamie commented, indicating the chairs. "I think I
want Susan near one corner, catty-cornered from me. June on Susan's
left. Rachel to Susan's, right. Mr. Zapolska ..." still playing the
game of "first acquaintance," thank God! ..." between Rachel and
me."

All locating their assigned seats
except Rachel -- Susan and June guiding her to her place -- with
some scraping back of chairs and hunching them forward, they all
got seated.

Finally settled, each
chair uncomfortable in its own way, the arrangement was: Jamie near
one corner, Z at a right angle to Jamie's left (so close he could
smell her dark perfume.) Susan, was clear across the table -- not
that anyone was
very
far away, the other two packed in to Z's left and Jamie's
right.

"In some seances, it's
customary, as I think I said, to have everyone holding hands. This
is generally done to keep someone from putting up his hand at the
wrong time and feeling a wire that's been lowered into position
overhead, a wire that a 'ghost' will eventually slide down. Or to
prevent a person from feeling under the table, thereby discovering
a lever that, when pulled, makes the 'ghost' groan." Jamie looked
at the others meaningfully. "I'm not going to have you do that. But
when the time comes, I
will
ask you to put your hands before you on the
table, palms down. Just to rest your hands lightly on the
tabletop."

"There are two reasons for this 'hands
on the table' position. First, it's a posture that helps you relax.
Secondly, since everyone can see everybody else's hands, it's a
guarantee that no one's cheating.

"Of course," Jamie continued with a
smile, "mediums have gone so far as to make flexible, rubber hands.
Hollow, of course, so that hot water can be put into them to keep
them as warm as human flesh. In the dark, it's impossible to tell
if you're holding a real hand or one of the phonies. During a
carefully staged, dramatic moment, the medium slips her hand away
from the person holding it, immediately substituting the rubber
hand in place of her own. This frees the spiritualist's hand to
work her 'magic.'

"It only pays to make elaborate props
if you have the opportunity to bilk people out of a substantial
sum, however. Which is not the case here." Her smile became a grin.
"Anyway, everything that's been done so far has happened in full
light. The table setup. Chairs brought in. While I have on a dress
with sleeves, they're tight as you can see. Nothing up
them."

Everyone chuckled.

"Now for the big surprise." Jamie put
on her "mysterious" look. "Even though it's customary to operate in
the dark, I'm not going to ask Susan to turn the lights out."
Speaking to Susan: "I did notice you have your dining room light on
a rheostat." Susan nodded, completely taken in. "If we could turn
the lights out in here, and soften the light coming in from the
dining room, that would be perfect.

"Again, what will take place," Jamie
continued, addressing everyone, "could happen in full light. It's
just that softer illumination will help us to concentrate more
fully."

Wanting nothing so much as to be
cooperative, Susan slid her chair back, got up and went into the
dining room to turn on the light there. Strode back to the living
room to switch off the mylar-shaded table lamps. Trekked back to
the dining room to begin dimming the ceiling fixture.

"Perfect," Jamie said -- sooner than Z
would have thought, Jamie allowing a stronger light than he'd
figured. Expecting tricks, he'd imagined Jamie would have wanted a
lower light level than she did.

Susan came back to the table, sitting
down, drawing in her chair to join the compact group.

"Will you all put your hands on the
table now," Jamie said soothingly. "Palms down. Just rest them
there. The point is to relax."

First brushing back her short blond
hair, Jamie put her own hands before her, palms down, to
demonstrate what she wanted, everyone doing as she asked, putting
their hands on the table's scuffed leatherette.

Z couldn't help but notice that his
hands were twice as big as anyone else's, making him feel like
Gulliver among the little people: more out of place than
usual.

"Next, make your minds a blank." A
cinch for boozy Rachel, Z thought. Though it was also fair to say
that June had contributed nothing of an intellectual
nature.

Bright as Susan was, Z wondered how
Jamie's razzle-dazzle could have taken her in; at the same time,
hoped Susan wasn't sharp enough to see through this
farce.

"Try to sense a foreign
presence," Jamie said. Whatever
that
meant. "What you're attempting
is that feeling we all get sometimes, that someone 's watching
us."

Again, a pause. And total
quiet.

It
was
a little spooky sitting there in
the half-light, no one moving, no one making a sound.

Just part of the effect, Z figured.
Nothing like being in a strange situation to make you
jumpy.

If Z tried, he could hear
sounds that
weren't
there. Just a matter of concentration. Anyway, there was no
such thing as complete quiet; if for no other reason than the sound
of your blood singing past your ears.

Now that Z was paying attention, he
even imagined he could feel ... a vibration ... in the table. As
unlikely as it was, "sensed" the table ... shift.

It was then that the table began to
rise, along with it, the hair on the back of Z's neck! At first,
only a hint of elevation. Two legs. Then four, the table floating
in the air at least a foot off the floor.

Quickly glancing across at June and
Susan, Z could see shock on their faces.

Fear.

Not that table levitation, in itself,
was anything to be afraid of. It was just that, having the table
rise, was against ... the laws of nature.

Without warning, as it had risen, the
table began to sink, until all four legs thumped down on the
carpeted floor.

"Something is in the room," Jamie
whispered, a bit of wisdom that was hardly a surprise. "Everyone
just be still. There's no danger."

The next thing Z felt was ... pressure
... on his leg. Something creeping up his shin. ...
Wiggling.

Sweating enough for drops to began
forming at his hairline, Z tried desperately to think what it might
be. Still crawling up his leg, the thing felt ... familiar. It felt
like .......

Jamie's foot.

The crazy woman had
slipped off her shoe and was playing footsie with him under the
table! And not just along his lower leg. The girl must be a
contortionist to get her foot up
there
.

How Jamie could be this "playful"
after the table had just risen, he didn't know.

Jamie Stewart; without a doubt, the
greatest mystery in the room.

The toes retreating, Jamie then said:
"That should do it," her voice soft, but echoing in the quiet of
the room.