"I'll feel very tired, very tired. In my mind, I'll begin to dream, standing straight up, and I'll see poor Charlotte. Maybe she'll tell me where she's hidden. Or I might see the place in my mind before I see it with my eyes."
"Why do you talk while you're walking around?" I asked.
"I'm not talking. I'm singing to pass the time until something happens."
"Have you found lost people before?" I asked.
"Everybody's lost in some way," she said. "I found you, didn't I, hiding beneath a turban?"
I'd been reminded of my identity once too often in recent days and the frustration of it made me bolder. "What are you hiding, Miss Hush?"
"Plenty," she said and removed her hand from my shoulder. "And it's Lydia."
"How's the fishing?" asked Antony as we drew near the car. He began to open the door to get out and do his chauffeur thing.
"Nothing yet," she said, smiled, and waved for him not to bother getting the door for her.
We drove out to Cedar Swamp Road, and Antony bought a few sandwiches and Cokes at a little market. Behind the place were a table and chairs set up beneath a huge oak tree, where we sat and ate. Miss Hush had nothing but a crust from one of my sandwich halves and a sip of Coke. No one said anything for the longest time until, at one point, out of the blue, she just started singing a Ruth Etting tune, "Ten Cents a Dance." Antony sat staring at her with his mouth open and a glazed look in his eyes. She sang the whole song, and when she was done, she bummed one of the big man's cigarettes.
After Miss Hush sang that song, Antony never complained about the boredom again. There were three more fruitless stops that afternoon, two more fields and a wooded lot. When the sun started to go down, we headed back to the Barnes estate.
Schell was waiting for us on the front steps of the mansion. As we pulled up and parked, he descended and walked over to open the door for Miss Hush.
"Anything?" he asked.
"Nothing today," she said. "But soon. I'd say in the next day or two."
"Will you need Antony and Ondoo tomorrow?" he asked as she stood up and stepped past him.
"If you would be so kind," she said.
"Shall I have them pick you up at your own address?" asked Schell.
"No, here will be fine. Ten?"
"Very good," said Schell.
Before heading toward the mansion, she turned and leaned over to look into the car. She waved to us and called, "I had a delightful day, gentlemen. Thank you."
Antony and I both waved back.
"You're quite a cozy trio," said Schell as he got in the car and shut the door.
"Boss," said Antony, giving the Cord gas and pulling away down the long driveway, "that Miss Hush is a cupcake."
"Anything else?" asked Schell.
The big man thought for a moment as we passed a long line of hedges. "She's probably crazy."
I noticed that up ahead another car, headlamps on in the twilight, had entered Barnes's drive and was headed toward us.
"And you, Diego? Did you find out how she knows who we are?" asked Schell.
"No," I said, and as I spoke, I turned to look into the passing car. There were three large shadowy forms in it beside the driver-two in the back and one in the passenger seat. I caught a clear glimpse of the driver, not noticing his face in any detail but focusing on the fact that he wore a large, broad-brimmed hat. The car passed quickly, but that hat looked awfully familiar.
SHE'S A CON
The air in the Bugatorium was very still that night, moths splayed out on the walls and butterflies closed tight on branches and stems. Only one two-tailed swallowtail drifted in circles up near the skylight.
"I'm sorry we never got to Barnes before his daughter disappeared," said Schell. "He and his wife are true believers. They've had spiritualists, cold readers, psychics, in their parlor. The missus claims to be an adept at the technique of automatic writing. The house is littered with talismans and volumes on the occult. We could have made a small fortune on them."
"How's Barnes strike you?" asked Antony, setting his wineglass down on the table.
"I have to question either the intelligence or sanity of anyone who goes in for the mystical to the extent he does, but otherwise he seemed a man distraught at the loss of his daughter. He showed me around the garden from which she was taken and then had to leave to attend to some business. After that, his wife did the honors. She's very quiet and clearly heartbroken."
"Well," said Antony, "anyone who can make the kind of money he does legally can't be completely stupid."
"Did you find anything in the garden?" I asked.
Schell shook his head. "Nothing there. We went through the entire house. Of course, I had to stop every now and then and make believe I was picking up an impression from the country of spirits-a shiver, a nod, a gasp. It was a pitiful thing to see the expectation bloom in the eyes of Mrs. Barnes and then wilt again when I had nothing substantial to offer."
"This whole thing gives me the creeps," I said.
"The charity angle, the fact that we're trying to do something real, has me all bollixed too," said Antony, nodding.
"Either of you can back out if you'd like," said Schell. "For me, I have no choice but to continue until there's nowhere left to turn or I've found the girl."
"Yeah, yeah, Johnny, save it," said Antony. "What did you find?"
Schell laughed. "I met the staff, questioned them a little, but detected no signs of dissembling. Then Mrs. Barnes led me to her daughter's room. It's on the first floor with a huge bay window, and has a view of the grounds at the back of the house. A lovely room for a child-dolls, a dollhouse, a canopied bed, rocking horse, just beautiful.
"I looked around, but found nothing remarkable until I got to a desk in the corner and began going through a stack of drawings Charlotte had made. It was the first time I got a sense of the child as a person and not merely an image. Mrs. Barnes told me that in the days prior to her disappearance, her daughter had complained about seeing a ghost at night walking the grounds, staring in her window. She'd cried out in the middle of the night two evenings before she was abducted, and Mrs. Barnes remembered going to her room."
"Did the mother see anything?" I asked.
"No, but the girl did three pastel drawings during that time, trying to capture what she'd seen. A male form, glowing in the night, head like a big white potato, and crystal blue eyes. In one, it crouches in the bushes, in another it's back by the tree line. The last is the most startling because it's a full-on portrait of the face at the window. As Mrs. Barnes attested, the child was a wonderful little artist and drew quite often."
"What kid doesn't see things in the dark, though?" said Antony.
"Maybe somebody was casing the place at night," I said.
"I thought both these things myself," said Schell. "Some of the girl's other drawings hung on the walls of her room-portraits of her parents, her kitten, and the like. I would say she had a knack more for realistic depiction than for fantastic imagining. Also, Barnes has two night watchmen who patrol the grounds, and a guard at the front gate."
"Did the mother seem to think there was a connection between the drawings and Charlotte's disappearance?" I asked.
"In the Barneses' view everything has some kind of supernatural connection," said Schell. "But she was visibly rattled by the drawings. She didn't use the word ghost when talking about them. The term she used was 'dybbuk.'"
"What the hell's that?" asked Antony.
"I don't know," said Schell, "but she used it in a way that indicated she expected me to understand. Not to shake her confidence in me, I simply nodded as if I did."