The Haunted Air (28 page)

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Authors: F. Paul Wilson

BOOK: The Haunted Air
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He wants to touch them but the plastic dome stops him. He tries to lift it but it won't budge. It's locked down. But there has to be a catch somewhere, a release …
“My case,” Jack said, straightening and running jittery hands over his jacket like a man who'd just discovered that his wallet is missing. “I want my case!”
“Please be calm, Monsieur Butler,” Madame Pomerol said, suddenly alert and aware and free of her trance. “Your case is fine.”
Jack rose from his chair. He put a tremor in his voice. “I-I-I want it. I've got to find it!”
“Monsieur Butler, you must sit down.” That was a warning to her husband to put his ass in gear and get this turkey's precious case back on the settee. “I am in touch with Xultulan and he has located your uncle. You can retrieve the case in a few minutes when—”
“I want it now!”
Jack feigned disorientation and wandered in the wrong direction first—he wanted to give Foster enough time to
close the case and return it—then lurched around and stumbled toward the settee.
“We're okay,”
Foster's voice said in his ear.
“It's back on your side.”
Jack couldn't see the settee in the darkness so he traveled by memory, and made sure he banged into it when he reached it. He felt around on the cushion and found the case.
“Here it is!” he cried. “Thank God!”
As he was speaking he slipped that case into his left breast pocket and removed its identical twin from the right. He'd filled the mounts within the first with gleaming pristine beauties that anyone would recognize as valuable for their bullion weight alone. But when Foster saw the dates he'd know they were old. And since they'd looked up Matthew West on sitters-net.com, he'd assume they were rare.
The second case, however, he'd filled with lead sinkers.
“Shit, that was close!”
said Foster's voice.
“But worth it. You should see what's in that case. Gold coins. Not more Krugerrands, but old collectibles. They must be worth a fucking fortune. Think of something. We have got to get our hands on those coins!”
As Jack waded back toward the faintly glowing pool of red around the table, he noticed a look of concentration and distraction on Madame Pomerol's face as she listened to her husband.
She'd probably been ready to scold her sitter, but now she gave Jack a warm, motherly smile.
“See, Monsieur Butler? There was nothing for you to get upset about. You feel better now, yes?”
“Much.” He took his seat and used the moment to pull the stack of thirty bogus hundreds from within his sleeve and lay it on his lap. Then he put both hands on the table and clutched the case between them. “I'm real sorry about that. Don't know what came over me. I just got scared, I guess. You know, the darkness and all.”
“That is perfectly understandable, especially on your first
visit.” She covered her eyes with a hand. “I have made contact with your uncle.”
Jack jerked upright in his seat. “Really? Can I talk to him?”
“The connection was broken when you left the table.”
“Oh, no!”
“But that is not a terrible thing. I can reestablish it. But it was not a good connection, so I must ask you a few questions first.”
“Shoot.”
“Your uncle, his middle name was Thomas, yes?”
“You know, I believe it was. Yes, Matthew Thomas West. How'd you know that?”
She smiled. “Your uncle told me.”
“Damn! That's scary.”
“He seemed upset about something. Do you know what it could be?”
Jack averted his eyes, hoping he looked guilty. “I don't think so.”
“Something about an inheritance, perhaps?”
Jack looked awestruck. “You know about that?”
He was perfectly aware that he'd told Foster about sharing the estate with his brother, but it was common for sitters to forget that their own loose lips were the source of most of what a medium told them.
“Of course, but communication was garbled. Something about you and your brother …”
Jack started with his story. It jibed with all the available information on sitters-net.com; he'd looked at it from different angles and couldn't see any holes. He hoped Madame Pomerol wouldn't either.
“Yeah. We were his only living relatives. Our folks were gone, and he had no kids.”
No kids, Jack thought. Must've died a lonely old man, going to mediums in a vain attempt to contact his dead wife. But that's not going to happen to me. Not now …
The realization lit a warm glow in his chest.
“Monsieur Butler?”
Jack snapped to. He'd drifted away. Jeez. Not like him. Couldn't afford to do that or he'd blow the sting.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Uncle Matt. After he died, his will divided his estate between me and my brother Bill.”
“Yes, he told me his wife Alice had died many years before him. They are reunited now.”
“You know about Aunt Alice? This is amazing. And they're together again? That's great.”
“They are very happy. The inheritance?”
“Oh yeah. Well, I got the house and everything in it.” Jack frowned and pushed out his lower lip, just shy of a pout.”Bill got the coin collection. Uncle Matt always did like him better.”
“These two things, they were not equal?”
He sighed. “Yeah, they were about equal in dollar value. But all Bill had to do was find a coin dealer to unload the collection. Know what he walked away with? A quarter of a million dollars.” Jack snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
“And you had to sell the house. Not so easy.”
“Damn right. Had to sell off all the furniture as well. I wound up with the same amount of cash, but I had to keep flying back and forth to Minnesota and it took me until just last week to get it. That's almost six damn months!”
Madame Pomerol gave a Gallic shrug. “But still you have much money now, yes? You should be happy. But none of this tells me why your uncle is so upset.”
“Well …” Jack looked away again. “I guess it has to do with this little case.”
“Yes?”
He took a deep breath and sighed again. “Last week, as I was cleaning out the last of Uncle Matt's stuff before the closing, I came upon the case. It was locked and I couldn't find the key, so I brought it back with me. I was planning on finding a locksmith to open it for me, but …”
“But what, Monsieur Butler?”
“I don't think Uncle Matt wants me to have this.”
“Why do you say that?
“You won't believe this.” He gave a nervous laugh. “But then again, maybe you will, seeing as how you're a medium and all.” Another deep breath, a show of hesitation, then, “It's the case.” He tapped its shiny surface. “Someone or something keeps moving it on me.”
“Moving it?”
Jack nodded. “I keep finding it in places where I never put it. I mean that:
never
put it.”
“Perhaps your wife or—”
“I live alone. Don't even have a cleaning lady. But I'm looking for one. You know of anybody? Because I—”
“Please go on.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, it kept moving and I kept making excuses, blaming my memory. But Saturday … Saturday really got to me. You see, I'd planned to take it down to a locksmith that day, but when I was ready to leave, I couldn't find the case. I looked everywhere in that apartment. And finally, when the locksmith was closed and it was too late to do anything, I found the damn thing under my bed. Under my bed! Just as if someone had hidden it from me. In fact I know it was hidden from me, and I have a pretty good idea who did it.”
“It was your Uncle Matt.”
“I think so too.”
“No. It
was
your uncle. He told me.”
“You mean to tell me you knew about this all along? Why'd you let me go on so?”
“I needed to know if you were telling me the truth. Now I do. What you say agrees with what your uncle told me.”
Yeah, right.
Foster said,
“There were a bunch of scratches on the case lock. Looked like this jerk tried to pick it himself. Hit him with that.”
Madame Pomerol cleared her throat. “But you left out a few things.”
Jack wished he knew how to blush on cue. Probably wouldn't be noticed in this light anyway.
“Such as?”
“How you tried to open the case yourself and failed.”
He covered his eyes. “Oh, man. Well, yeah. Tell Uncle Matt I'm sorry about that.”
“Also, you believe the case holds valuable coins, and if so, they belong to your brother, yes?”
“Now wait just a minute, there. Uncle Matt left the coin collection to Bill and the house and its contents to me. This here case was part of the contents. So it's rightfully mine.”
“Your uncle disagrees. He tells me they are silver coins of little monetary worth.”
Jack could feel her eyes on him, looking for some sign that he already knew what the case held. He avoided a quick, negative reaction, but he didn't want to appear too accepting.
“Yeah?” he said, frowning as he hefted the case. “Seems kinda heavy for just silver.”
The lady brushed past his doubt. “I know nothing of such things. All I know is that your uncle told me they were of great sentimental value to him. They are the very first coins he collected as a boy.”
“No kidding?” Jack was getting an idea of where she might be heading with this.
“Yes, your uncle was hoping to take them along with him when he crossed over, but he could not manage it. That was why they remained in the house.”
“Take them into the afterlife? Is that possible?”
She shook her head. “Sadly, no. No money in the afterlife. At least not permanently.”
“Can't take it with you, eh? Well, I guess that settles it. I'll just have to give this to Bill.”
“Don't let him
get away!”
Foster cried.
“I'm telling
you
there's a
small
fortune in that
case!”
Jack slapped his hands on the table, picked up the case, and made as if to stand. Wasn't she going to say anything? Was she going to let him walk out with all those rare gold coins? A mook like her? He couldn't believe it.
“One moment, Monsieur Butler. Your uncle wishes me
to apport the case to the other side so that he can see them one last time.”
“I thought you said that was impossible.”
“
I
can do it, but only for a very short while, then they return.”
“All right. Let's get to it.”
“I am afraid that is impossible right now. It is a grueling procedure that takes many hours, and for which I must be alone.”
“You mean I just give you this case and walk away? I don't think so. Not in this lifetime.”
“You do not trust me?”
“Lady, I just met you two days ago.”
“I have promised your uncle this favor. I cannot break a promise to the dead.”
“Sorry.”
Madame Pomerol closed her eyes and let her head fall forward. As they sat in silence on opposite sides of the table, Jack debated whether to ask for some security. He decided against it. Better to let her come up with the idea.
Finally Madame Pomerol raised her head and opened her eyes.
She released a heavy sigh. “This is most unusual. Embarrassing almost. But your uncle thinks—”
“Wait. You were just talking to him?” He didn't ask how she'd managed to do that without all the amplified moaning and groaning.
“Yes, and he says I should provide you with a show of good faith.”
Even better! Let the idea come from Uncle Matt.
“I don't think I understand.”
“As a show of good faith I will put one thousand dollars in an envelope for you to keep while I apport the case to the other side. When I return the case, you will return the envelope.”
“A thousand dollars … I don't think that's enough. What if the case doesn't come back from the other side? Then
I'm out everything.” He tapped the case. “I'll bet the coins in here are worth a couple-three thousand.”

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