A Stir of Echoes (20 page)

  I was glad when we got home.

  Anne wanted to stay with her but Elizabeth said she'd rather be alone. I felt glad about that. As we walked across the porch we heard her lock the door.

  "Tom, will she-do anything to herself?" Anne asked. There was a childlike trust in her voice now; a trust in my ability as a man who could see everything.

  I started to answer that she might, then stopped. I knew I had no right to say it. I had no idea what Elizabeth might do.

  "I don't know, Anne," I said. "I can't tell. I told you, I'm not a wizard."

  "I'm sorry." She took my arm. "I should stay with her, though."

  "She'll be all right," I said.

  When we got to the house, Anne went next door to Elsie's to see if Richard was still playing all right with Candy. I went up on the porch.

  The letter was in the mailbox.

  I took it into the living room and read it. I think I smiled a little. It was really an anticlimax now.

  When Anne came back, I handed it to her. I saw her lips part as she read it.

  "Your grandfather," she said quietly.

  "Great-grandfather," I said. "Castor James Wallace of Yorkshire, England. Funny; I'd forgotten all about him. I think my mother told me about him when I was a little boy."

  "So he was a medium," Anne said.

  "Apparently."

  After a few moments, Anne folded the letter and put it into her pocket.

  "Well?" I
said.

  She blew out a soft breath. "Well," she said, "I guess that's it then."

  "Do you accept it?" I asked. "Can you live with it now?'

  Anne sighed. She looked helpless.

  "You're my husband, Madame Wallace," she said.

  I hugged her until she groaned. "Easy on Sam," she said. "He doesn't like the pressure."

  "Sandra," I said.

  I rubbed my cheek against her soft hair. I remembered she'd asked me to tell her everything. Well, I wasn't going to tell her what had been going through Elizabeth's mind. I knew that I might have to temper my promise in the future. There were lies and there were lies.

  "Well," she said, after a few moments, "what now?"

  "One more thing," I said. "It has to be settled."

  "Helen Driscoll?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Helen Driscoll," I said.

NINETEEN

  MRS. SENTAS, ANSWERED THE DOOR. It was a few minutes past seven that evening.

  "Yes?" she said. She spoke in a withdrawn, regal manner.

  "May I speak to you and your husband, Mrs. Sentas?" I asked.

  "Speak to us about what?" she asked, frowning curiously.

  I cleared my throat. "It's-rather delicate," I said. "May I come in?"

  She stared at me a while as if she couldn't make up her mind whether I was human or not. Then, with an expression of distaste, she asked, "Is it absolutely necessary? My husband and I are getting ready to go out."

  "It's about your sister," I said.

  If I had jabbed her with a needle I couldn't have gotten a more forceful twitch from her.

  "My-?" She stopped.

  "May I come in?" I asked.

  Swallowing, she stepped back. I walked past her into the living room and she closed the door.

  "Sit down, please," she told me.

  I glanced around as I sat on the sofa. It was a duplicate of our living room as far as size went. There the resemblance ended. Where ours was furnished in early-American time-payment, the Sentas' was strictly French provincial and that of the most elegant variety-black-marble-topped tables, antique chairs and sofas, gilded mirrors, thick drapes and thicker carpeting. Without the aid of mediumship I would have laid odds that it was all the result of Mrs. Sentas' taste.

  She settled on the edge of a period chair as Mr. Sentas came out of the kitchen, a drink in his hand.

  "What's up?" he asked, looking over at me as if I were an intruding salesman.

  "Mr. Wallace says he has something to tell us about Helen," said his wife.

  "Oh?" Moving to another chair Sentas sat down.
"Well?"
he asked.

  I swallowed nervously. It was one thing to make statements to Anne; quite another to sit facing the Sentas' with what I had to say.

  "I-wonder," I began, "if you could tell me whether you've heard from your sister lately-"

  "Why d'ya ask?" Harry Sentas broke in before I'd finished.

  "I have a reason," I said. "Have you?"

  "Don't see where it's any of your-" he started.

  "Harry." She spoke quietly but it muted him in an instant. I turned to Mrs. Sentas. She looked a trifle drawn.

  "Why
do
you ask?" she inquired.

  "What'd ya do, open a letter she sent us?" Harry Sentas challenged me.

  I looked at her a moment before answering.

  "No," I said, glancing at him.

  "Mr. Wallace, I asked you a question," Mrs. Sentas said coldly.

  I looked at her again. Behind that forbidding exterior I sensed an abject fear.

  "I asked, Mrs. Sentas, because I have something to tell you about your sister. But first I have to know if-"

  "Tell us what?" she demanded.

  "I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me."

  "Mr. Wallace I demand to know what you're talking about!"

  "I'm talking about your sister, Mrs. Sentas," I said. "I think she's dead."

  Mrs. Sentas twitched, then sat motionless.

  "What are you talkin' about!" Harry Sentas asked loudly. He put down the glass with a bang and stood up. "Look here, boy!"

  "Harry…" Her voice faltered as she spoke.

  It was silent. I regretted having put it so bluntly even if she had, virtually, forced it from me.

  Mrs. Sentas drew in a trembling breath.

  "Why do you say she's…" She seemed unable to finish.

  I braced myself.

  "Because," I said, "I've seen her in our house."

"What?"
Mrs. Sentas leaned forward, her dark eyes stricken.

  "I've seen her," I repeated.

  Mrs. Sentas shuddered.

  "Who the hell d'ya think you are comin' in here with a cock 'n' bull story like that!" Sentas flared. "God damn it, I got half a mind to-!"

  "It's not a-" I started.

  "I don't know what your game is," he said, pointing at me, "but you better watch it. I'm warnin' ya."

  "Harry…"

  He broke off and looked nervously at Mrs. Sentas. "Look, Mildred," he said, "this is some kind of-" He broke off again-instantly-as she shook her head.

  "You haven't heard from her, have you?" I said.

  Her voice was hollow. "Not since she went back to New York," she said.

  "How long ago was that?"

  "Almost a year now."

  "Look, fella, we don't want t'hear any more o' this, y'understand?" said Sentas.

  "Harry, please."

"Look,"
he said to his wife, "are we gonna sit here 'n' listen to all this bullsh-" He stopped and glared at me. "You get outa here," he ordered. "Right now!"

  I stood up.

  "Mr. Wallace, what do you mean, you've seen my sister in your house?" Mrs. Sentas asked, her voice rising.

  "I mean what I said," I answered. "I've
seen
her. If you want to see her too be at my house in an hour."

  "God damn it, boy, you get the hell outa here!" roared Sentas. He started for me.

  "Stay away from me," I said and headed for the door.

  "Mr. Wallace!"

  I turned. Mrs. Sentas was on her feet, staring at me.

  "If this is some kind of joke…" she began tensely.

  I opened the door. "It's no joke," I said.

  Sentas reached the door. He slammed it violently behind me, hitting the heel of my shoe.

  "You come back here again, I'll call the cops!" he yelled.

  I exhaled wearily as I walked out to the sidewalk. Across the street I saw Elizabeth sitting on her lawn. Anne was standing beside her and both of them were looking across the street at me. Doubtless the noise of the slammed door had attracted them. Anne said something to Elizabeth, then came across the street.

  "Well, that was a great big nothing," I said as she came into the house after me.

  "They won't come?"

  "Hell, no," I said, ruefully. "Sentas practically threw me out of the house. He'll probably evict us next month. That is,
she
will."

  Anne clucked. "Now what?" she asked.

  I shrugged and blew out a long breath. "Lord knows," I said.

  Anne looked at me without saying anything.

  "How's Elizabeth?" I asked.

  "How could she be?" she asked. "She's alive; no more."

  "That poor woman," I said.

  "I-told her about…"

  "What?"

  "About what's happened. Not all of it, of course. Just about Helen Driscoll."

  "Oh." I shook my head. "That's guaranteed to cheer her up," I said.

  "Well, she saw you going into Sentas' house and asked if you were having trouble with them."

  I nodded. Then I sank down on the green chair. "Well," I said, "we are exactly nowhere. If only-"

  The telephone rang. "Oh, it'll wake up Richard," Anne said hurrying for the hall as fast as she could.

  "Hello?" I heard her say quietly. Silence. Then, "Oh?" Pause. "Yes. That's right." Another pause. "Good-bye."

  She came back, looking surprised.

  "They're coming," she said.

  At eight-fifteen the doorbell rang.

  "I'll get it," I said. We were in the kitchen finishing up the dishes.

  "Tom?"

  I stopped in the doorway. "Yes?"

  "Will it be-terrible?"

  I started to lie, then restrained it. "I don't know, honey," I told her, "honestly, I don't know what will happen. That's why I want you to go over to Elizabeth's house until it's over."

  The doorbell rang again. Anne shook her head.

  "I won't leave you alone," she said. "If you-go off or something I want to be here."

  I smiled. "It could be nothing at all," I said, "but we might as well try to get this thing settled."

  The doorbell rang insistently. I could visualize Sentas pushing at it, thin-lipped, impatient.

  "You'd better let him in before he kicks it down," Anne said, trying to sound amused.

  "No fear of that," I said. "He wouldn't hurt his own property. His wife's property, that is."

  I walked across the living room and opened the door.

  "Hello," I said.

  Sentas grunted. Mrs. Sentas nodded once. They came in and I noted how they stared at the card table and four chairs in the middle of the living room.

  Anne came in. "Good evening." she said.

  Sentas grunted again. "Mrs. Wallace," said Mildred Sentas, stiffly polite.

  "Want to sit down?" Anne invited.

  They took their places awkwardly, without comfort.

  "Now look," Sentas started before we were seated. "Don't think for a minute we go along with this- story o' yours. We don't. But my wife here's worried about not hearin' from her sister, see? That's why we're here. If this is a joke or anything…" He didn't finish. He didn't have to.

  "I assure you it isn't a joke," I said.

  "Then what is it?" asked Mrs. Sentas. "What did you mean telling us to come over here if we want to see my sister?"

  "I meant-"

  "And what about your kid talkin' t'me the other night?" accused Sentas. "I suppose that wasn't a joke."

  I looked at his angry face.

  "You don't really think that was
him
talking, do you?" I asked.

  He started to blurt a reply, then sat with his mouth open. "What d'ya mean?" he asked then in a vaguely frightened voice.

  "I think it was your sister-in-law," I said.

"What?"

  "Mr. Wallace, I've had enough of this!" Mrs. Sentas interrupted angrily. "Either you explain yourself or we're leaving!"

  "I'll be glad to explain," I said.

  Quickly, omitting the variety of small detail, I told them about the hypnosis and its results.

  "This is-
true?"
asked Mrs. Sentas incredulously when I'd finished.

  "If you wish you can call Dr. Porter for verification," I told her.

  "I may do that," she said.

  "Well, I never heard such a load o' crap in my life," Sentas spoke up; but his voice lacked his usual blunt assurance.

  "I still don't see why you say my sister is-dead," said Mrs. Sentas.

  "I said I
think
she is," I answered. "That's why I asked you if you'd heard from her. The fact that you haven't…"

  "You're telling us that what you've seen is her-
ghost?"
she asked contemptuously.

  "I think it is," I said. I didn't look at Anne.

  "I trust you-"

  "Come on!" Sentas said.

  "I trust you realize what you're asking us to believe," Mrs. Sentas repeated, stiffly.

  "I realize it," I said. "But it's your sister I've seen. I'm sure of it now."

  "How do you know it was her?" asked Mrs. Sentas. "Assuming you saw anything-which I doubt."

  I told her about the dress, about Elizabeth verifying me.

  "You saw this?" she whispered. "In
here?"

  "Oh, for chrissake!" Sentas broke in. "He saw a picture o' Helen and he's tryin' t'pull somethin' on us! What d'ya-!"

  "Pull
what,
Mr. Sentas?" I interrupted, coldly. "Just what have I to gain by telling you these things?"

  He started to answer, then checked himself and glared at me. I turned back to his wife.

  "When did your sister leave California?" I asked her.

  "Last September," she answered.

  "I don't mean to pry," I said, "but-did she have any special reason?"

  She shook her head. "No, she did not."

  "She didn't act-strangely when she left?"

  "We didn't see her leave, Mr. Wallace."

  The words acted on me like an electric shock. I stared at her. "I don't understand," I said.