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Schell reached up and patted her hand. "I know how difficult this must be for you," he said.
"Such a service…," said Greaves under his breath and stepped away.
Antony had applied the smelling salts to the Gallards, who were spluttering their respective ways back to consciousness. Trumball stood, leaned over the table, and lifted a small object. "Look," he said, "here's what the girl threw." He held it up for everyone to see. It was a blue drawing pencil. This prompted the others to turn their attention back to the picture on the easel, material proof that the spirit of the girl had been present. Mrs. Charles, attended by Mr. Collins and a few of the others, moved across the room to where the portrait of the strange figure stood. They blew out the candles in front of it and unfastened it from the easel. Gathered round, they held it up close to their faces in order to study it carefully.
Barnes had gone to the small bar in the corner of the room and fixed Schell a drink. He was making his way back to the table when a high-pitched scream came from Mrs. Charles. The sudde
"Good lord, Margaret," he yelled, "What ever was that for?"
Mrs. Charles turned and, holding the portrait that had been on the easel, displayed it to Barnes and the rest of us. "The drawing," she said. "It's disappeared."
"Right before our eyes," said Collins.
The large piece of paper that had held the likeness of the phantom was now totally blank.
"It couldn't last," said Schell, standing. "Charlotte did her best, but the spirit world reclaimed her efforts."
At this, the doctor shook his head and left the room. The rest were wrapped in a state of silent awe. Antony and I allowed a minute or two of respectful inaction to pass, and then we set to gathering together our props and putting them in the trunk. While the two of us worked quickly, Schell explained to Harold and Helen Barnes that he would phone them the next day to discuss more fully what had transpired. It was clear that they were eager to rehash the events of the evening right on the spot, but Schell cautioned that it was important to bring focused reflection to bear on the actions and words of the dead.
"Perhaps there's a clue we will miss if we rush to judgment," he said.
They reluctantly agreed.
Antony and I had the trunk packed and were ready to go in ten minutes. Schell made the rounds of the guests and shook their hands. Each and every one of them, even the Gallards, had only praise for his abilities and thanked him for the experience. The old crone, who'd sat next to Schell during the sйance, even thanked me, nodding slightly and calling me Mr. Fondue.
Then we fell into our parade formation with Schell leading the way and Antony in the rear, lugging the trunk. We made our slow, ceremonious exit from the dining room to the hallway and toward the front door. On the way to the exit, we encountered the doctor, standing off to the side of the hall, smoking a cigar.
"Good evening, Dr. Greaves," said Schell and extended his hand.
"Keep walking," said Greaves. "I've nothing to say to you."
Schell withdrew his arm and we continued.
Two miles down the road from the Barnes mansion, Antony turned into the parking lot of a grocery and drove around behind the building, where he stopped. We all got out of the car and went quickly to the back compartment of the Cord and retrieved the prop trunk. Laying it carefully on the ground, Antony unlatched the clasps and opened it. Schell reached in and took out the easel, the folding table, the candles, etc., handing each item to me in turn.
Once the trunk was empty, Schell took out his knife. Releasing the blade, he ran its tip along the bottom side of the trunk. A moment later what had seemed to be the bottom opened outward like the cover of a book to reveal a hidden compartment filled with the contorted body of Vonda, the Rubber Lady. She looked like a woman who had fallen into a car compactor.
Antony reached into the trunk and lifted her twisted form up into his arms, holding her as one would hold a child. Very slowly at first, and then with increasing speed, she began to open outward like a folded paper figure placed in a bowl of water. While this remarkable transformation took place, Schell and I replaced the false bottom of the trunk and began refilling it with our sйance implements.
Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, Vonda turned into a slight but perfectly normal-size woman in Antony's arms. As soon as the metamorphosis was complete, she said, "Okay, Henry, you can put me down."
As her feet touched the ground, she reached up and whipped off the curly wig she'd worn to effect the guise of Charlotte Barnes. I'd only met her once before, and briefly at that, at Morty's funeral. Now I could tell, even through the makeup job Schell had done on her to get her to look like a little girl, that she was a good-looking woman. Her own blonde hair was gathered in a tight bun on her head. She was thin but had a fine figure, and her face was youthful for someone who I knew to be only a few years younger than the big man. Despite what seemed to be a lazy left eye, Antony had done very well for himself.
"Are you feeling good?" asked Antony, gently touching her back.
"A little dizzy," she said. "It'll pass."
"You were in that trunk for a long time," I said, "I don't know how you did it."
"It wasn't the trunk, kid," she said, "that's a piece of cake. It was that fucking stuff you guys had burning on the back of that chair. It nearly gassed me. What is that shit? It smelled like dirty feet."
Antony must have been satisfied that she was back to normal, because he smiled broadly and bent over to give her a hug.
"Great work," said Schell. "Come on, we've got to beat it."
The trunk got loaded back into the Cord, and Schell gave Vonda the front seat so she could ride next to Antony. We pulled back out onto the road and made for home.
"Diego," Schell said, "did you remember to take the drawing? I doubt any of them would figure it out, but in the event someone analyzed it, we'd be sunk."
"Yeah," said Antony, "like that doctor. I wasn't feeling the warmth from him."
"That's what happens when you're educated in the sciences," said Schell. "You lose that charming quality of naive acceptance."
"All you ever talk to me about is getting a college degree," I said.
Schell laughed. "I'm talking about our marks, Diego. It's okay for us."
"Wait a second, there," said Antony. "I think Barnes went to Havard."
"That doesn't count," said Schell. "Absolute wealth befuddles absolutely."
"I did take the picture," I said and reached up to retrieve the folded piece of drawing paper from beneath my turban.
"How about the scream that old broad let out when the drawing disappeared?" said Antony.
"I heard that in the trunk," said Vonda. "It almost busted my glass eye."
"I love that effect," said Schell.
"I know you guys were saying the drawing appears and disappears, but how do you do it?" she asked.
"The boss never gives away his secrets," Antony said to her.
"It's all right, Antony," said Schell. "Since Vonda did such a marvelous job, and she has close personal co
"Yeah, yeah," said Vonda and turned slightly to look into the backseat.
I was glad she asked, because although it had actually been Isabel who'd originally drawn the portrait of the phantom with a solution that Schell had concocted, I had no idea what that special ink had been made from.
"Cobalt oxide dissolved in nitric acid," said Schell. "You could also use hydrochloric acid instead of the nitric. You render the writing or drawing with this solution on a piece of white paper and it's completely undetectable. When it comes in close proximity to heat, like the candle flames we placed directly in front of it, the drawing appears in blue lines. Breathe on it, as Mrs. Charles and Collins and the others were doing when inspecting it, and it disappears again. I got that one from Morty."