Cheney said, “You make it sound like picking up a video phone and punching in the right numbers.”
Soldan merely puffed away.
Cheney was frowning. “Soldan, you mentioned the dead terrorizing the living. But that’s the movies. Do you think a dead person can really physically affect a living person? In other words, if Margaret Pallack wanted Charlotte Pallack out of the way, could she make it happen?”
“You’d need to be a federal assassin for that,” Ancilla said, and sneered at him.
“Usually,” Soldan said, “once a person crosses into
“Disadvantages?” Cheney asked.
“Liver disease, for example,” Soldan said. “That is why I indulge only in my Asian delight. The liver is a sensitive organ. It does not deal well even with the finest vodka.”
Cheney said, “So not all the dead lose their ability to assume a corporeal form?”
“Yes, they do, only—this is difficult but I’ll try to explain it simply enough for you, Agent Stone. Some of the dead appear to be able to tap into a source of energy—it’s black, this energy, and it’s frightening. I have no idea where it comes from, no one does. I myself have never tried to connect with any of the spirits who wallow in it, and I don’t ever want to. They scare me. I don’t know what it is they want. Do they truly terrorize people like you see in the movies? Maybe it’s all a myth. I don’t know.”
Cheney asked, “Have you spoken to August since he was murdered?”
Soldan said, “August roams, endlessly. He’s a nomad in
CHAPTER 45
Did you ask him who he thought might have killed him?” Cheney asked. “What an interesting question, Agent Stone. No, I did not put that question to him precisely like that, but it was obvious he didn’t know. He did mention to me that before his murder he was trying to locate a new cocaine dealer since the one he had was becoming unreliable.”
“Why has Thomas Pallack wanted to speak to his dead parents for so many years?”
“How very odd,” Soldan said after a long pause, eyes wide open now, sucking in his Asian delight. “When I look at you through my delicious smoke, the two of you appear to merge. It’s a lovely aura that envelops the both of you. Your aura, Agent Stone—I see clashes of purples and reds that show a formidable intelligence at the service of sheer determined meanness, a violence deeply controlled, beautifully controlled, yes, and channeled.
“Julia’s aura—right now it roils like dark clouds in the sky, with pulses of fear, so many unanswered questions. But there is hot excitement where you merge. She dampens your anger, you lessen her fear. It is quite remarkable.”
Cheney said, “That’s very interesting, Soldan. I can see you’re good at what you do. But answer my question, please. Why the obsession with his parents? It would seem to me they’d have nothing left to talk about.”
Soldan merely frowned at Cheney and continued puffing.
“Soldan,” Julia said, sitting back on her heels, “we’re thinking that the same person who killed my husband is trying to kill me. What Ancilla said about an accomplice trying to kill me, that simply isn’t true. You know I would never have harmed August. Neither would Agent Stone.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t have, but you didn’t love him, Julia. What you felt was immense gratitude toward him, not a passionate, full-bodied love, the sort of love a young woman would heap on a man who’d caught her heart, no, you cannot say that, not with any honesty. But gratitude, you overflowed with gratitude since August joined you to your dead son, provided you comfort in your time of need.”
Julia, Cheney saw, looked shell-shocked. She nearly tipped off the huge silk pillow. Then she stared straight ahead, as if unable to move. She said finally, “I know August didn’t tell you about Linc. He wouldn’t. It would be a betrayal of me. How do you know Linc died? How do you know August was there with me?” Soldan Meissen gave an elaborate shrug. The crimson robe nearly fell off one thin shoulder. “I know many things, my dear. August didn’t tell me, not exactly. I am telepathic, something August accepted, though it frustrated him that he was unable to channel that power within himself.”
“Or you did a bit of Googling,” Cheney said, eyebrow arched. Ancilla gave Cheney a dirty look.
Julia said, “Did August ever try to connect with you telepathically, Soldan?”
Soldan nodded, gave a dainty cough behind a narrow hand that sported three plain gold bands on his fingers. “Yes, of course, but he couldn’t connect to me. As I said, he didn’t have that particular ability. It was all by chance that I happened to wander into his mind when he was thinking about your boy. I removed myself immediately. I never said anything about it to him. Agent Stone, I would not stoop to Googling to find out a person’s secrets. I am psychic, nothing less than that, I assure you.”
Cheney said, “And did it come to you that Kathryn Golden was abducted today?”
“No, it did not, I regret to say. Perhaps if it had I could have done something. I did, however, see the special report on television. My poor Kathryn—all beautiful breasts and a lovely mind, two exceptional attributes in a psychic,” Soldan said. “Ancilla, I know you dislike Kathryn, but there is no reason for you to. Please bring me a cup of oolong. My Asian delight makes my throat dry.”
Ancilla, a huff in every step, left the room, her mules slapping on the tiles.
“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with Kathryn’s abduction?” Cheney asked him.
Soldan said nothing, merely frowned after Ancilla. “I told her to wear soft-soled shoes. I dislike the noise, but she said her footwear was none of my business. Can you imagine that?”
“Why don’t you zap her with a single bloody thought?” Cheney asked.
