Peter shook his head and sipped his drink.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you do that?”
Another moment of truth. There should have been a law that a person didn’t have to deal with more than one of those a day. Should he tell Snoop who he was, or continue to lie to his best friend? He decided to tell the truth.
“It’s called dark magic,” Peter explained, his voice barely audible. “It’s a special gift that I was born with. I can read minds, see into the future, and when I set my mind to it, move objects around by telekinesis. I also conduct séances with some of my psychic friends.”
“Do you talk to dead people?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are there really such things as ghosts?”
“Yes, and they’re everywhere.”
Snoop chewed on his bagel. He did not seem terribly surprised by Peter’s admission. Perhaps he’d known all along that Peter was psychic, and because they were tight, had never let on. A better friend he’d never had.
“What about the magic tricks? Are they your cover?” Snoop asked.
“I guess you could call them that,” Peter said. “If I slip up, I tell people it’s a trick, and no one’s the wiser. I’ve been doing it all my life, and never been caught.”
“Which makes you a very interesting guy. Does Liza know?”
“I told her a few weeks ago. The shock is starting to settle in.”
“That bad?”
“We went to see a shrink this morning. It didn’t go well.”
Snoop put down his half-eaten bagel. A knowing look spread across his face.
“Was the shrink’s name Dr. Sierra?” his assistant asked.
Peter’s coffee cup hit the table hard. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, wow, I fooled you. That’s a first. Let’s write this down and get it notarized.”
“Come on, tell me.”
Snoop took out his Droid. He carried the same model that Peter did, and was resisting turning it in for an upgrade, just as Peter was. They were alike in many ways, and often joked that they were twins separated at birth. Snoop punched an app, and a live shot of a surveillance camera outside Peter’s theater appeared on the tiny screen. He hit another button, and a live shot from the camera in the alley came on. Pushing more buttons, he revealed shots from the surveillance cameras inside the theater that ran 24/7.
“I didn’t know that was possible with a Droid,” Peter said.
“They don’t call me Snoop for nothing. The system also has a memory. Take a look at this video that was shot earlier.”
Snoop pushed another button. On the screen appeared a video showing a man standing outside the theater, banging on the front door. It was Dr. Sierra, wearing a hat and coat. With him was a second man, quite sickly in appearance, who carried a wooden cane. The second man wore a solemn expression on his face.
“I like to check on the theater and make sure everything’s okay,” Snoop explained. “I caught Dr. Sierra and his friend banging on the door this afternoon. He was there for a while. Then he went across the street to get a sandwich with his friend. Something told me I should call this guy, and find out what he wanted. So I called the restaurant, and asked to speak with him.”
“He must have been surprised,” Peter said, enjoying his assistant’s ingenuity.
“He was. He said he urgently needed to speak with you. I thought he was a kook, and asked him who his friend was. That’s when he clammed up.”
“He wouldn’t tell you who the other person was?”
“No, and I asked him a few times. It bothered me that he wouldn’t give me the other guy’s name or anything.”
Was this Hunsinger, the colleague Dr. Sierra had mentioned to Liza? If so, why had Sierra dragged him out on a Monday afternoon and brought him to Peter’s theater? Sierra had betrayed him in so many ways that it made Peter angry thinking about it.
At the next table, a college-aged girl enjoying a latte let out a yelp. Her cup was boiling over, the brown liquid singeing her manicured fingers. She looked bewildered, which was how most people reacted when confronted by the paranormal. Peter forced himself to calm down, and the drink went back to its normal state.
Peter glanced at Snoop. His assistant mouthed the word “Wow!”
“Can you teach me that?” Snoop asked under his breath.
It comes with a heavy price tag, Peter nearly told him.
“Afraid not,” he said instead. “What else did Dr. Sierra say?”
“He asked for your phone number. I told him it was private, and not something I could hand out. He got insistent, and I told him to have a nice day.”
“He wouldn’t tell you what he wanted, huh?”
“No. If you ask me, this guy is trouble.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re a public person. People don’t just come banging on your door unannounced every day, do they? This guy Sierra is unhinged. Take my advice, and stay away from him.”
“I’ve got another session with him tomorrow morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“I promised Liza.”
“Excuse me, but aren’t you Peter Warlock the magician?” the college girl at the next table asked. “Why, yes, you are. I saw your show with my girlfriend last year. We had the best time. Will you do that trick for me again? I’m just dying to know how it’s done.”
She held out her cup of latte, as if expecting Peter to make it boil again. Snoop pulled back in his chair. He was laughing under his breath and enjoying himself at his boss’s expense. Peter gave him the eye. It wasn’t funny, but Snoop kept laughing.
“What’s your name?” Peter asked.
“Sheri,” she replied.
Peter borrowed one of Sheri’s rings and made it magically pass through a coffee stirrer. The ring was put into a paper napkin and made to disappear. Peter then asked Sheri to pick a packet of sugar from the dish on the table. Sheri chose a yellow packet of Splenda. Tearing the packet open, he produced the ring and slipped it on her finger. Sheri squealed with delight, and seemed to have forgotten about the boiling latte. He stole a peek inside her head just to be sure. The memory was on a back shelf, never to be used. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Is it safe?” Snoop asked under his breath.
“Yes, it’s safe.”
Peter’s Droid vibrated. Garrison calling. He took the call in the street.
“We caught one,” the FBI agent said.
28
“You caught a shadow person,” Peter said breathlessly.
“Caught it dead in its tracks,” Garrison replied. “We spotted it coming out the Westchester train platform and watched it run across the main concourse. There were people in the concourse, so we waited until it ran upstairs into a hallway by the west-side exits. That’s when we hit the lights. You’d be amazed at how bright they can make them.”
“How did it react?”
“It screamed so loud I heard it upstairs. Then it turned to stone. We cordoned off the area, and are keeping people away. My boss wants it moved out of here. He’s telling me to take it to an empty hangar at Kennedy Airport so a bunch of pointy-headed scientists can stick needles in it. I didn’t like the sound of that, so I decided to call you. Is that a wise idea?”
Peter panicked. Violating a ghost or spirit would upset the psychic balance of the universe. Innocent people would perish as a result, not just here, but in other parts of the world as well. “That’s a bad idea. Lots of people will die in ways that you cannot possibly imagine.”
“How about if we just move it down the hall to a room?”
“Don’t. It will burn you. The scars will never heal.”
“Well, I can’t just leave it here. Too many people will see it.”
“You want my help?”
“I didn’t call to hear the sound of your voice. Of course I want your help.”
It was not uncommon for a spirit to become trapped in this world. When that happened, psychics often rushed to the spirit’s aid, and built makeshift walls around it to hide it from peering eyes. Those walls, along with a few well-placed sawhorses, usually did the trick.