“They saw him on television?”
“Yes, and I did too, clear as day sight on the TV pogrom. It was just after they showed that nice sergeant getting hit with the ax. They say fool’s names and fool’s cases are often aired in public paces, but I thought Mr. Free gave his case about as good as anybody could. He didn’t sound like a lawyer—he sounded like he was telling the truth.”
Barnes said, “That must have been while the rest of us were inside looking after that cop.”
The old woman shook her head. “It was the six P.M. Morning Report.”
Stubb grunted. “They had it taped, Mrs. Baker. Maybe even from before we moved in, when a lot of people were protesting the new ramp. What else did these ladies say?”
“Nothing match. Just that they had been looking for poor Mr. Free because he had crash coming, but when they got there he wasn’t here. Factually, the whole kitten caboose of you wasn’t. A missus as good as a mile, like they say, even if maybe they were married. They didn’t take their gloves off, either one.”
“They must have given you their names.”
Mrs. Baker hesitated, chin tucked in. She was sitting in the vanity chair, her back as straight as its own.
“First names? Last names? Anything?”
“I know they said them, but I was in a fluster. Then the little one saw Puff and asked what’s Puff’s name, and I told her Puff, and she run over and hid under the divan like she does, and I never thought to ask again. Do you think it’s a lot of crash?”
Stubb shook his head.
“Still, it
“But you don’t know?”
“He always seemed so widower-weedy, if you know what I mean. Not like a old bachelor—they’re always so crispy. The worst old women is the ones that wear pants in the family, they say. But I think old bachelors are worse even, and Mr. Free is so sweet. He casts his spelling over you.”
The witch asked quickly, “Just what do you mean by that?”
Mrs. Baker smiled her vague smile. “Why if I could say, it wouldn’t be spelling, would it? But Mr. Free used to come over and chew the rug now and then. The late Mr. Baker was a deer bomber in the war, and Mr. Free liked to hear about that and talk about his old company that he used to work for, Louise Clerk I think it was.” She sighed. “The closest I can put it is I never felt truffles was important when he was around. He had a beam in his eyes, like the Bible tells, and it lit up within.”
Barnes nodded and cleared his throat. “You know, I felt like that too. I felt like it wasn’t all that important whether I made the sale. I made some good ones too, just before we had to leave.”
“Yesterday I saw you go out my window,” the old woman said. “It wasn’t nosiness, it’s just that looking at the street’s more real-like, sometimes, than TV. I knew you were sailing because of those big valances you carried, and I thought someday you’d come to my door to sell me pans or bicyclopedias. You’d have thought I fell for your line hook and ladder, because I would have let you in and looked at everything. If you’d have told me about Mr. Free, I might have bought a new rooster too. I need one.”
Stubb was thumbing the telephone book. “No Louise Clerk & Company,” he said. “No Clerk, Louise in the residential section either.”
“I think they’re out of business,” Mrs. Baker told him. “They went backripped, I suppose. He said it was years black.”
Candy put in, “He would have retired at sixty-five, Jim, and I think he was over seventy.”
Stubb nodded. “I’m afraid we don’t know where Mr. Free is any more than you do, Mrs. Baker.” He slapped the telephone book shut. “But we’d like to find him. I’ll write down the hotel number and the number of this room for you. If you find him or hear where he is, I want you to call me. Don’t tell those women anything until you hear from me. I doubt that there’s any money. That’s something all investigators say when they want to find someone.”
“I was thinking—” Mrs. Baker took a handkerchief from her purse. “I was thinking if he’d crashed in he might have saved his house. Paid on somebody. I used to think how lucky all of you were to room in board there.” She blew her nose, a sound like Puff sneezing. “He told me all your names, but I think I’ve got them stirred up now and you aren’t who I thought. Just the same, I feel I know you from those years ago. The dark lady’s Miz Garth, because he said Miz Garth was an adventuress, and she’s so pretty. That makes the other lady—”
The bathroom door flew open. “I have my questions!” Sandy Duck waved her notebook triumphantly.
Catoptromancy
“Who was that woman anyway?” Sandy asked when she had settled into the plastic-cushioned hotel chair Barnes vacated for her.
“And is that the first of your questions?” The witch raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, no! I was just curious.”
“But you are not curious about the subjects of your other questions.”
“Yes, I am, of course. Very much so. Sandy’s round little face was confused and concerned.
“Then this question is of a piece with them, and counts as the first. Her name is Mrs. Baker, and—”
“Wait!” The notebook waved again, now a placard of protest. “You’re not in good faith. You’re just playing with me.”
