Linwood Barclay: Clouded Vision

Total bullshit.

Keisha clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap, never taking her eyes off Garfield.

“Would you like to call Nina’s father?” she asked. “I think I could arrange that.” Keisha didn’t think he’d take her up on the offer, but if he did, she had Larson, her boyfriend, on standby to take the call.

“No, no, that’s okay,” Garfield said. “That’s quite a tale.”

Keisha looked away then down at her hands. Trying to be modest.

“But I totally understand,” she said, “if you’d like me to leave. Perhaps you’ve got me pegged as a con artist. There are plenty out there, believe me. I don’t know whether you’ve been contacted by a Winona Simpson, but she’s definitely one to watch out for. If you don’t want me to share my vision with you, I’ll leave right now and you won’t hear from me again. And I just want to say, I hope the police find your wife soon, Mr. Garfield, so that you and your daughter can get your lives back to normal.”

She stood up. Garfield was on his feet, too, and when Keisha extended her hand once again he took it right away. “Thank you for your time, and I’m so sorry to have troubled you.”

“What will you do?” he said. “I mean, if you’ve had this so-called vision, and I’m not the kind of person who buys into that sort of thing, what will you do now?”

“I suppose,” she said, “I’ll go tell the police what I know, and see if there’s anyone there who cares. Sometimes, though, that has a way of backfiring. It doesn’t always work out the way it did with Nina. I’ve found that the police have a tendency to get their back up, and the tip you give them will end up being the last one they follow. I hope, for your wife’s sake, they don’t take that attitude.”

“So you’re going to the police,” he said, more to himself than to Keisha.

“Again, thank you for-”

“Sit down. You might as well tell me how this works.”

Wendell

Wendell Garfield didn’t know what the hell to make of this woman. Did Keisha Ceylon really have visions? The story about that little girl was pretty convincing, but it wasn’t enough to persuade him Keisha was legit. There was something about her, though, that was hard to dismiss.

His mind raced through the possibilities. The woman was trying to shake him down, plain and simple. He had a feeling that even though they hadn’t gotten around to the topic of money, it was coming. What better mark than a husband desperate to find out what had happened to his missing wife? Wouldn’t plenty of people in his position be willing to engage a psychic, a medium, a spiritualist, a paranormal expert-whatever the hell this fraud wanted to call herself-even if they believed there was only a one-in-a-million chance, at best, that she really knew anything? Isn’t that what someone who truly loved his wife would do?

Or maybe this woman wasn’t trying to con him. Maybe she really did have visions. Maybe she truly believed she had some kind of connection to people in trouble, and was here out of a sincere wish to help him. But maybe what she had wasn’t a gift. Maybe she was a nut. Deluded. Her visions were nothing more than the product of a twisted, disordered mind. Hallucinations.

And then, of course, there was a third possibility: She was the real thing.

Wendell considered that prospect highly unlikely. But what if, somehow, for reasons he was not yet privy to, she was onto something? Did he want her talking to the police?

Not really.

The smartest course, for now, seemed to be to hear her out. See what she had to say.

Once Keisha was back in the chair, with Wendell sitting across from her, he said, “First of all, let me apologize if I was at all rude before.”

“Not at all. I understand that what I do, the talent I have, is difficult for many people to get their heads around.”

“Yes, well, I have to admit, I have my doubts. But then again, I very much want to know what’s happened to Ellie. To find out where she is. I want her to come home. And I suppose it doesn’t make sense to discount what you have to say until I’ve had a chance to hear it.”

Keisha smiled, nodded. “I think that’s very wise of you.”

“So, if you want to tell me your vision, then what the hell, let’s hear it.”

“I truly appreciate your open-mindedness about this. I would have felt terrible, not being able to help you in your time of need.”

“Okay, then. Go ahead.”

“There is one other matter to deal with first.”

Here we go, he thought.

“This gift that I have is also my livelihood,” Keisha explained. “I’m sure, if you were to hire a private detective to assist you in locating your wife, you wouldn’t expect him to put in his time and use his experience without compensation.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say that.”

“And what sort of money are we talking here, Ms. Ceylon?” he asked.

“One thousand dollars,” she answered, not being the slightest bit shy about it.

His eyebrows went up. “You’re not serious.”

“I have a rare gift,” Keisha said. “I believe it’s worth much more, but it would be my pleasure to help you for that sum, which I think is quite reasonable.”

He thought about it. “I’m not a rich man.”

“I understand,” she said. “I took that into account when I quoted that fee.”

“I see. There’s a sliding scale? You take a look at the house and the kind of cars in the driveway, and if you see a Beemer you jack the price up? What the market will bear and all that?”

She started to get up. “I think I’ll just be on my way, Mr. Garfield, if that’s okay with-”

“How about this,” he said. “You give me a hint of what your vision was all about, and if it sounds credible to me, then I’ll give you five hundred dollars. And if the information you have leads to my finding Ellie, I’ll pay you another five hundred dollars.”

She considered his words for a moment, and then said, “I will tell you a bit about my vision, and if you wish to hear more, then I will tell you everything for the full amount. One thousand dollars.”

He let out a long sigh. He could only imagine what she must be thinking. His wife is missing, and he’s going back and forth with her like he’s buying a new Toyota. He was worried how that might look, so he said, “All right, then, we have a deal.”

“I’m very pleased,” she said. “Not just because we’ve reached a satisfactory arrangement, but because I do very much want to be able to help you.”

“Yeah yeah, fine.”

“Do you have something of your wife’s that I might be able to hold?”

“What for?”

“It helps.”

“I thought you’d already had your vision. I don’t get why you need something of my wife’s to hold on to.”

“It’s all part of the process. Some of the fuzzier details in my vision may come into sharper focus if I’m in possession of something that belongs to the person, something that’s come into close contact with them.”

“What do you need?”

“An article of clothing would be best.”

“Like her bathrobe or something?”

Keisha nodded. Wendell excused himself and went upstairs. A moment later, he was coming back down with a pink robe in his hands. It was faded and tattered from many years of wear.

“Thank you,” Keisha said, placing the robe in her lap and laying both hands on it. She ran her fingertips over the material and closed her eyes.

Several seconds went by without her saying a word. Finally, Wendell interrupted her trance state, saying, “Are you getting anything, or what?”

“Just a moment.” She opened her eyes. “I’m feeling some… tingling.”