Yesterday's Thief: An Eric Beckman Paranormal Sci-Fi Thriller (24 page)

We exchanged a glance and tiptoed over. I put my eye to the viewer and opened the door.

Peggy bustled in and punched me in the shoulder. “Thought you’d be here, boss. Why didn’t you trust me?” She walked to the center of the room and crossed her arms. She tapped her foot.

“Viviana, I’d like to introduce my investigative assistant, Ms. Peggy Barbera. Peggy, this is Viviana … Petki.”

Viviana shook her hand. “Yes. I saw you at gym. Nice to meet you.” She looked at me and squinted. <
Is man, not woman, yes?
>

I nodded slightly.

Viviana jutted her chin out and peered at me sideways. <
I thought you turn off mind reading.
>

I shrugged.

Peggy looked from one of us to the other. “What’s going on? You guys have some secret lover communication already?”

I headed into the kitchen. “You found me from the—”

“Yeah, boss. That’s a funny story. Someone’s fancy new Tesla started sharing its location with your network. Our network. I’m thinking, hmm, maybe someone made a mistake, but then I see that the car is sitting right outside the office. I look out the window, and I see it. Guess what clueless PI is sitting in the driver’s seat?”

Yeah. I should have read the manual. Viviana and Peggy sat on the couch, and I got a trio of beers from the fridge.

Viviana stared at me. <
Ah. So that’s why you learn Romanian. To understand my thoughts.
>

I gave a tiny nod as I popped the tops off the bottles.

Peggy clapped her hands once. “Hey! Will you guys cut that out?”

I filled Peggy in, telling her about Zaharia, the energy ball, and our upcoming dinner engagement. I didn’t mention the mind reading, of course.

Peggy played with the label on her bottle. “Have you got a plan here?” She looked at Viviana, then at me. “I mean, the Gypsy sounds like trouble, and the uncle might have murdered his wife, right?”

I shrugged. “The plan is to find out what’s what at the dinner and go from there.”

“Why don’t you just call the FBI? Sure, the old man hasn’t done anything illegal, but the Feds are interested. They go in, get the doohickey, case closed.”

Viviana turned to me. <
Maybe is bad for Zaharia. What is doohickey?
> She’d gotten the hang of talking with her mind, but it was tricky for me. I had to follow two conversations at once.

I put my beer down. “If we got the police involved, maybe is bad … maybe it would be bad for Zaharia Dudnic.”

Peggy shook her head. <
Now he’s talking like her. Sheesh, he’s really hooked.
> “If this was a horror movie, you know what the audience would be thinking, right?”

I sighed. “Don’t go in there.”

Peggy pointed a finger pistol at me and pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Viviana took my breath away in a maroon, form-hugging dress. She modeled her high heels, and I liked them, but she settled on more sensible shoes, in case we had to run for it.

“Maybe you can wear the heels when we get home.” I winked.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “My uncle is excellent cook. You will be shocked.”

I saw disappointment ahead. I couldn’t picture the slow-moving man we’d met yesterday whipping up a wondrous feast.

We took my new car—what a dream. I turned on the active cruise control. “Are you ready for my plan?”

“Am all ears.”

I’d never seen her so happy. “Okay, here’s how it will work. The Gypsy thinks only in Romanian. Your uncle thinks in Romanian and English. When I read their Romanian thoughts, I will say them, phonetically, to you. I’ll try to do it softly, so they don’t notice.”

“Sounds tricky.”

“You translate and think the English version of what they said. I will then read your mind. Got it?”

“
Da
. Maybe will work.” <
Is why you told me about your talent?
>

I shook my head. “I wanted to tell you. Maybe I wanted to demonstrate to myself that I trusted you. But this is why I told you
today
. Let’s practice, you—”

“Got it. Here goes.” She puffed herself up and held her head back as if she were the Gypsy. Her thoughts flew past me, sounding like an Uzi on steroids.

Whoa, this was hard. She thought it so fast.
Ack! “
Sunt aht ety put ur ack. I can’t do it. Mundoa.”

Viviana shook her head. <
I am so … strong?
> “No, that isn’t going to work. You only got a few words. Accent good, but will only work for short thoughts.”

“Does everyone in Romania think so fast?”

“How hell do I know? Sorry, but is stupid question. ‘Yes’ would be my answer. Maybe ask Gypsy to please think slower.”

So much for my brilliant plan. We practiced some more, but I couldn’t remember many of what were, to me, nonsense syllables.

We arrived at the gate, and the Gypsy stood at attention, exactly as before. This time, however, he unlocked the gate and pulled it open. When we drove in, he stood in the middle of the road and pointed to a parking spot by the guardhouse.

I read his thoughts as he relocked the gate. I whispered, “Frum washa masheeno.”

Viviana nodded. <
Nice car.
>

Good, that worked. I got out, walked around the Tesla, and opened the door for my beautiful date. “Ask him to speak English.”

She said a few words in Romanian, and he shook his head. <
Nu.
>

No translation necessary.

The gigantic Gypsy led us up the long road toward the house. Something in the forest caught my eye. A man? No, it was a target. A man painted in black on a white background. A bull’s-eye pattern covered the heart. Viviana had said that Zaharia had been a hunter, but he was in no condition for that these days.

I spoke softly to Viviana. “What is the Gypsy’s name?”

She asked him in Romanian.

“Ferka.” He turned and walked backwards a few steps, looking Viviana up and down. It was a look I didn’t like. <
Viol.
>

Apparently, Viviana noticed the look as well. I sensed the anger building in her. When Ferka turned back, I whispered his thought to her.

She stiffened more. <
Viol?
>

“Yes. Think the translation!” I kept my voice low.

She shook her head.

“It’s important.”

After a few more steps, she turned to me. <
Rape.
>

A terrible image flashed unbidden into my mind. Every muscle in my body signaled its readiness for murder. I pushed the unwanted image from my brain with a picture of me sending a bullet into Ferka’s head. I stopped and let him walk ahead. “Fuck this. We’re outta here. This isn’t safe.”

Viviana squeezed my hand. <
Don’t worry. You have gun. I must see Zaza.
>

Ferka glanced back and we continued on.

The house was a sprawling, one-story structure with angled walls of rounded stone, almost like a bunker. The front had only two small windows up near the roof.

Viviana was so busy scanning the details of the house, probably checking security features and such, that she almost tripped on a bump in the path.

Ferka opened a door and led us in, then disappeared into a hallway without a word.

The floor inside the house was hard and shiny. In the middle of the room, Zaharia sat on a scooter. It was like the things you see elderly or disabled people riding at Walmart, but this one was hovering.

It floated a few inches above the floor, with wisps of smoke around the base. Prototype hoverboards had been around since 2015, but their high power consumption made them impractical.

Viviana ran to him and hugged him. The scooter rocked a bit. She held him for a while.

His face remained passive. <
Plăcut
.>

I knew that word. It meant nice.

Viviana kneeled beside him, beaming. “Uncle Zaza, do you think you could speak English tonight?” She waved for me to come over. “Zaza, this is Eric Beckman. He is special to me. He doesn’t speak Romanian.”

I put out my hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Dudnic. Thank you for inviting us here tonight.”

At a glacial pace, he moved his hand up and clasped mine. His muscles were atrophied, and I did most of the shaking. For a moment, his thoughts were clear and slow. Viviana stood, and I whispered, “Um row.”

She looked at me, eyebrows raised. <
Bad man.
>

She gripped my arm. “Uncle, Eric is a saint. He is very nice person.”

He frowned, just a little bit.

I whispered to her, “Femaya ra.”

Her eyes widened, and the blood drained from her face. <
Bad woman.
>

She knelt again and hugged his arm. “Zaza, don’t you remember me? I’m Viviana.” She kissed his sunken cheek.

A little life appeared in his eyes. <
Viva.
>

It sounded like the “viva” in “Viva Las Vegas.” I leaned over and put my lips close to her ear, “Viva.”

Viviana whipped her head toward me then back at Dr. Dudnic. “
Da!
Viva. That’s what you used to call me. You
do
remember.” She smiled up at me, and tears ran down her face.

“I show you …
casa
.” He glided away, and Viviana let go of his arm and took mine.

The house smelled stuffy, like the home of a shut-in. Dust covered everything. A few cobwebs near the floor danced as the scooter passed.

We hit the mother lode in the fourth room. There, in the corner, sat his
minge de energie.
The
energy ball. It looked remarkably like a football, narrow at the ends. Thick wires emerged from its middle and passed into the house’s breaker panel.

A box of thick Plexiglas with a padlock encased it. A tube ran from a tank by the ceiling into the box. Zaharia had seemed to throw off much of his bradyphrenia or slowness of mind, so I asked him about the tank.

He answered slowly. “The world doesn’t deserve this. If threatened, I will release this corrosive acid mixture.” He pointed to the tank. “The device will be destroyed.”

Whoa. I added paranoia to his list of symptoms. Why build it if the world didn’t deserve it? Had he recreated it and then gone crazy? I knelt down and put my hand on the case.

“
Nu atingeti asta!
” Zaharia screamed.

Viviana yelled out her translation. “Don’t touch that!”

I yanked my hand off the case and looked at it. Too late. A gel coated my palm and the inner surfaces of my fingers. I smelled it. A pungent, garlic-like odor hit me and I sneezed. I wiped my hand on my pants. I hadn’t felt any buzzing or charge.

Dudnic raised his arm, pointing to the door. “Wash.”

When I came back from the bathroom, the door to the power room was closed and locked.
Shoot!
I found Viviana sitting alone in the dining room.

I sat next to her. “What was on that case?”

“I don’t know. He couldn’t say. After outburst, he retreated into shell again.” She took me by the wrist and looked at my palm. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all. But I have a strange garlic taste in my mouth.”

“Yes, have bad breath, too.”

“Did I before we came?”

She shook her head.

I smiled and went to give her a kiss, but she shook her head and put a finger on my lips. “Not tonight, dear. Have headache.”

“Where is your uncle?”

“In kitchen. Making dinner. You will like.”

I looked around the dining room. An interesting pattern covered the ceiling. “The colors in here are magnificent.”

Viviana followed my gaze and frowned. “Why do you think—”

The swinging door to the kitchen banged opened, and Zaharia pushed through on his scooter. He’d stacked three plastic trays on the shelf in front of his handlebars. He floated over to the table, and Viviana frowned.

I recognized the trays immediately: Hungry-Man frozen dinners. Some kind of beef patty. Salisbury steak?

Before I could say anything, a movement from the hall caught my eye. A person. Someone other than Ferka. My gut constricted. Something wasn’t right. This was important.

Jumping up, I ran into the hall. I caught up with him right outside the power room. His mind was a blank—no thoughts.

He stopped and stood at attention, facing away from me. “Are you ready for a shock?” His voice was familiar.

“Who are you?” I had a bad feeling about this.