Lyle wandered into the waiting room; Charlie followed, saying, "Maybe he in the game."
"Not ours. Another game, but don't ask me what." Lyle had sensed something going on behind that white guy's mild brown eyes; something that said, Don't mess. "Some game of his own."
Lyle prided himself on his ability to read people. Nothing psychic about it, no spirits involved, just something he'd been able to do as long as he could remember. A talent he'd honed to a fine edge.
That talent had found the visitor named Jack a hard read. Bland-looking guy: nothing-special clothes, brown hair, mild brown eyes, not handsome, not ugly, just... there. But he'd moved with a secret grace inside a damn near impenetrable shield. The only thing Lyle had sensed about him besides the steer-clear warning was a deep melancholy. So when he'd seen his question-"How is my sister?"-Lyle's instincts shouted, Recently deceased!
If the reaction of the woman with him was any indicator, Lyle had scored a bull's-eye.
"But we came out okay," Lyle said. "We may have hooked a future fish or two, and after Moonie finds her long lost bracelet right where I told her it would be, she'll be singing my praises to anyone who'll listen."
Charlie sat down at the upright piano that had come with the house, and pounded the keys. "Wish I could play."
"Take lessons," Lyle said as he drifted to the front picture window.
He pulled back the curtain just enough to reveal the bullet hole at the center of its crack web. Before filling it with translucent rubber cement, he'd run a pencil through the hole with ease. So small, and yet so deadly. For the thousandth time he wondered-
Movement to his right caught his eye. What? God damn! Someone was out there!
"Hey!" he shouted as a burst of rage drove him toward the front door.
"Whassup?" Charlie said.
"Company!" Lyle yanked open the door and leaped.onto the front porch. "Hey!" he shouted again as he spotted a dark figure racing away across the lawn.
Lyle sprinted after him. Somewhere in his brain he heard faint cries of Danger! and Bullets! but he ignored them. His blood was up. Good chance this was the banger wannabe who'd done the drive-by, but he wasn't driving now, and he wasn't shooting, he was running, and Lyle wanted a piece of him.
The guy was carrying something. Looked like a big can of some sort. He glanced over his shoulder. Lyle caught a flash of pale skin, then the guy was tossing the can Lyle's way. It didn't go far-sailed maybe half a dozen feet then hit the ground with a metallic sound and rolled. Unburdened, the guy picked up speed and beat Lyle to the curb where he hopped into a car that was already moving before the door closed.
Lyle pulled up at the sidewalk, gasping for air. Out of shape. Charlie came up beside him, breathing hard, but not as hard as big brother.
"See his face?"
"Not enough to recognize. But he's white."
"Figured that."
Lyle turned and headed back. "Let's go see what he dropped."
He squatted by the object and turned it over. A gasoline can.
"Shit!"
"What he gonna do? Burn a cross?"
"Doubt it." Whites were in the minority on these streets. Another dark face moving in was a nonevent. "This is business. He was looking to burn us out."
He rose and kicked the can, sending it rolling across the grass. The New York psychic game had only so many players. One of them had done this. He just had to find out who.
But how?
4
"All right," Gia said. "We're finally alone. Tell me how Ifasen did what he did."
She'd been dying to know ever since they'd left the psychic's house, but they'd been stuck driving Junie home. Since Karyn and Claude lived on the Lower East Side as well, they'd tagged along. Jack had dropped all three outside Junie's apartment building and now he was ferrying Gia uptown on First Avenue.
Despite the late hour, progress was slow. Gia didn't mind. Time with Jack was never wasted.
"First let's decide where we're going," Jack said. "Your place or mine?"
Gia glanced at her watch. "Mine, I'm afraid. We're getting to the end of the sitter's time frame."
Vicky, her eight-year-old, still would be up. She rarely failed to cadge extra hours of TV out of her sitters.
Jack sighed dramatically. "Another celibate night."
Gia leaned close and nuzzled his ear. "But it's the last one for the next week. Did you forget that Vicky leaves for camp tomorrow morning?"
Gia had been trying to forget it. She'd hated the week Vicky had been gone last summer-the seven loneliest days of the year-and was dreading her departure tomorrow.
"I did. Forgot completely. I realize you'll miss her terribly, as will I, but I know just the thing to ease the pain of separation."
Gia smiled and twirled a lock of Jack's hair. "And whatever would that be?"
"That's my secret until tomorrow night."
"I can't wait. And speaking of secrets, what's Ifasen's?"
"No-no," Jack said. "First you tell me the question you asked. If 'two' was the answer, what was the question?"
She shook her head. She now found herself a little embarrassed by her question. If she could get away without revealing it...
"You first. Tell me how that man can give answers when he doesn't know the question."
"You're sure you want to know?" Jack said, turning his head to give her a smile.
A smile from Jack... so few of those since Kate's death. She missed them.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Might spoil the fun."
"I can handle the truth. How does he do it?"
"Pretty much the same way Johnny Carson did when he pulled his Karnak the Magnificent shtick."
"But he was reading off cue cards."
"Exactly. And in effect, so is Ifasen."
Gia shook her head, baffled. "I don't get it. We sealed those envelopes. We heard him give the answer, we watched him open the envelope and read the question."
"Things aren't always as they appear."
"I know that only I knew what was written on my card."
"Not after his brother Kehinde did his work."
"Kehinde? But he just-"
"Appears to be a gofer? That's what you're supposed to think. But Kehinde is key. Ifasen put on the show, but he couldn't have done it without his brother's help. The method is called 'one ahead.' If you remember, right after Kehinde collected the sealed envelopes he took the bowl around to the rear of the podium and made a show of covering it with the cloth. That's the key moment. Because while you think he's fiddling with the cloth, he's really slitting open one of the envelopes and removing its card-or billet as the psychics like to call them. He was also tossing in a marked envelope containing a blank card."
"Why?"
"Think about it. When Ifasen-and by the way, if that's his real name, mine is Richard Nixon-when he removes the white cloth on the bowl, he looks down and reads the question on the card Kehinde opened for him. Then he picks up one of the sealed envelopes and raises it above his head. But he doesn't answer the question in the raised envelope; he answers the question on the card in the bowl."
"I get it!" Gia said, feeling a burst of pleasure as all the pieces fell into place. "After he answers the question in the bowl, he tears open the envelope and pretends to read the question he just answered, but actually he's seeing the next question."
"Exactly. And for the rest of the show, he stays one envelope ahead-which is how the method got its name."
"And the blank card in the extra marked envelope is so Ifasen won't wind up one short." She shook her head. "It's so simple."
"The best tricks are."
Gia couldn't hide her chagrin at being so easily fooled. "Am I so gullible?"