The Girl in the Glass

SLEIGHT OF MOUTH

The Cord sat at the edge of a field that had been burnt brown by the summer sun and now was strewn with fallen leaves from the woods that bordered it in the distance. The sky was bright blue, and there was a cool and steady breeze. We had the windows rolled down, and both Antony and I sat in the front seat. The big man was smoking his third cigarette since we'd stopped forty-five minutes earlier. Off to our left, halfway across the field, Lydia Hush traipsed slowly in wide circles, talking to herself. It was the fourth such stop we'd made since leaving Barnes's place.

"This detail's a snooze and a half," said Antony, blowing smoke.

"Miss Hush's powers seem somewhat less than startling," I said.

"Well, one thing's for sure, not that we should talk, but that name's phony as a three-dollar bill."

"I thought it was poetic," I said.

"Poetic, maybe. Phony, for sure. Besides that, though, Miss Hush is a fine-looking woman, even if she's got the complexion of a snowball."

"She must live under a rock," I said.

"Did you see the boss's face when she coughed up our real names?"

"I doubt she could see his surprise, because he covered it with that smile."

"Yeah, the business smile," said Antony. "Sleight of mouth."

"Maybe his best trick," I said.

"Do you think she pulled that information out of a dream?" he asked.

"I don't know. She seems like she could either be a con or the real thing, if there's any such thing as the real thing. Schell's pretty much convinced me there isn't."

Antony blew a smoke ring, then flicked his cigarette butt out the window. "Once I was with this traveling show in Georgia for a few weeks, wrestling a bear-"

"Here we go," I said.

"No, it's true. The sorriest fucking bear in the world. It was sort of like rolling your grandmother, like moving furniture. Had to quit; I felt sorry for the bear. Anyway, with that show, there was this old hag, and I mean hag. She sat in a tent and you went in and paid your dime and she'd tell you your future. And for an extra nickel she'd tell you the day you were gonna die."

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"We're talking the loneliest of occupations," said Antony. "But in the short time I was with that crap outfit two people actually took her up on the nickel special. One was a local guy in a little town outside of Atlanta. She told him he had two days to live. Two days later, sure as shit, he's walking home from work and gets struck by lightning. Blood boils, head pops like a grape."

"She got lucky," I said.

"That's pretty damn lucky. Well, not for the guy. But there was another guy too. A midget who was with the show. He went to see her after the first guy got hit by lightning. The midget's show name was Major Minor. He dressed in a military outfit; was a real self-important little prick. The hag gave him a date in six years. So what? Right? Who's gonna remember that? But about maybe eight years later, I ran into Bunny Franchot, the Alligator Girl, one of the most screwed-up-looking broads I ever knew, in a carnival in South Jersey. She'd been with the outfit in Georgia when I was there. We got to talking, and it came out that the Major, who had this Model T rigged so he could drive it standing up, went out one night, got loaded, and ran himself into a tree. He'd forgotten the prediction, but Bunny never did. It was the exact day she predicted."

I shook my head.

"There's more bullshit in heaven and earth, than you can dream up in your scenario," said Antony.

"Well put," I said.

"Now," he said, "go out there and tell Miss Hush it's time for lunch."

I adjusted my turban, opened the door, and got out. My legs were stiff from sitting all morning, and it felt good to be out of the car. I took my time crossing the field. As I approached, she turned to face me.

"Are you feeling anything, Miss Hush?" I asked as I drew near. I didn't bother with the Indian accent, since she already knew who we were.

"Cold," she said, and I could see she was shivering slightly.

"Does that mean we're close?" I asked.

"No, it just means I'm cold," she said and smiled. It was a real smile, not that vague one she'd flashed at the Barnes place. This time I thought I caught a glimpse of her true self.

"Antony wants to get something to eat," I said. "Is that all right with you?"

"Okay," she said and walked up beside me. She was beautiful in a kind of fairy-tale way, and I thought about a story I'd once read called "The Snow Queen." Her closeness to me made me nervous to begin with, but when she put her hand on my shoulder as we walked, I had to swallow hard.

Of course, the silence was too much to bear, so I said, "And what will it be like when you discover the location?"

"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.