Alice Hoffman - The Museum of Extraordinary Things

Eddie felt a bit dazed. He hadn’t been aware of any of this. Of course, the night had been dark, and cold. He’d been young and very sure of his opinions.

“You were with me when I called on the mother,” Hochman went on. “I assume you remember?”

It had been an honor to be allowed to accompany the Wizard, yet all Eddie recalled of the incident was the inconsolable mother, who sank into a chair to sob. He remembered shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortable in the presence of such sorrow, wishing he hadn’t been granted the privilege of coming along.

“There were other things to consider. The stains on the floor I knew to be blood. The mother told me the boarder had also disappeared. When I opened the door to the corridor where the boarder’s cot was kept, I could feel evil. Say what you will, but evil is real. It’s a living, breathing thing.”

Eddie felt shamed by how much he had missed.

“There was no reason for the mother to think her son’s death was anything but peaceful, so I paid the medical examiner for his silence.”

“And allowed the man who killed him to go free? What kind of justice is that?”

“Justice is God’s to give, not mine. All the same, I kept track of the boarder. He wound up in the Tombs prison and was murdered in a fight the following year. I still see the mother every now and then. She always comes to embrace me.”

“You should have told the police.”

“Exactly why I didn’t go after you when you left, Ezekiel. You were talented, but talent isn’t enough.” Hochman leaned in and lowered his voice, so as to continue in the greatest confidence. “Would you like to know your fatal flaw?”

Eddie flushed with annoyance. He could have easily made a list of Hochman’s flaws, enough to fill several pages. Still, he was curious. “Please do tell.”

“You judge what you don’t understand.” Hochman pulled out an engraved flask, took a sip, then offered it to Eddie, who waved it away. “You want my advice? I’ll give it to you for free, for old times’ sake.”

“I didn’t think you did anything for free.”

“Maybe this is a first. So pay attention. It’s not finding what’s lost, it’s understanding what you’ve found.” Hochman cleared space on his desktop, moving the gold pen set he used to sign his bold signature onto marriage contracts. “Let’s see what you’re looking for now. Put your hands on the desk.”

Eddie threw the older man a look of mistrust. He knew Hochman’s fortunes were often tricks, guesswork at best.

“You tell yourself I’m a sham, Ezekiel, yet you’re here. That just goes to show what a man thinks and what he feels are not necessarily one and the same. Considering you don’t believe in my talents, I would hate to imagine you’re too afraid to hear what I have to say.”

Eddie placed his hands on the desk, palms facing upward. He felt obligated to go along with Hochman. “By all means.”

Hochman grasped a wooden pointer and traced the life line crossing from right to left. “It seems you will have time enough to figure out your mistakes. You’ll live to be old.”

“Does that prediction deserve thanks?” Eddie mocked.

“Does life deserve gratitude? If so, thank your maker, not me.” Eddie noticed there was a white film over the Wizard’s once burning eyes. “This is unusual,” Hochman went on. “In the center is a line, as if there was a river inside you. But there’s an X across the river line, an opposition. So you haven’t changed as much as you think you have. You’re looking for the same thing now as you were when I first met you.” Hochman stared directly into Eddie’s eyes; despite his failing vision, his gaze was mesmerizing. “The only way to understand a river is to jump into it.”

Eddie withdrew his hand. “I don’t need a reading for myself.” He brought out Hannah Weiss’s photograph. “I’m looking for this girl. She went to work at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory on the morning of the fire, and there’s been no sign of her since.”

“I’m honored that you would come to me for advice. If you’re looking for her I can tell you only what I told you long ago. Go back in time as far as you must. Speak to everyone who knew her. If you don’t find her, then in all likelihood she will find you. But you know what to do. Despite your flaws, you were my finest student. So ask yourself this—did you really come to me to find this girl, or are you looking for something else entirely?”

“You have nothing that I want,” Eddie said dismissively.

Hochman pushed his chair away from the desk and bowed formally, his signal, Eddie knew, to dismiss a client whose time was up. But perhaps he was more than a client, for Hochman unexpectedly reached to shake his hand, an intimacy that surprised Eddie. He recalled when they were visiting the mother of the boy who’d gone missing, after Hochman had opened the door to the boarder’s sleeping area, he had made an excuse to send Eddie away. Go get me a glass of water. Make sure it’s a clean glass. Wash it yourself. But Eddie hadn’t done as he’d been instructed. Instead, he’d stood in the corridor. He’d heard Hochman recite the mourning prayer. At that moment Eddie had known his employer was trying to protect him. He’d known there was evil in the world.

It was almost Passover, the time of year when Eddie made certain to avoid his past, yet whenever he took Mitts for a walk, he found himself drawn downtown. He made his way to the address Weiss had given him. The apartment was the sixth-floor railroad flat of a tenement building on Thompson Street. The stairs were steep and worn, and through the flimsy walls it was possible to hear half a dozen conversations in Yiddish and Russian and English, some in all three languages combined. Eddie was reminded of the room where he’d lived with his father, the lingering odor of cooked cabbage and of stews, the dim hallways, the damp clinging to the walls. All he’d wanted was to escape.

He knocked at the Weisses’ door, expecting to be greeted by the old man, but it was the sister, Ella, who appeared. Their first meeting had been unfortunate, and now the girl glared when she saw Eddie, instantly suspicious. Before she could turn him away, Mitts barked cheerfully and stepped forward. “Oh,” Ella said, delighted. “I didn’t expect you!”

Eddie grinned. More than once, the dog had been his best representative, more lovable and social than he was. Ella turned to him after greeting the dog, less than charmed by his master. “I’m not sure I should speak to someone who accosted me on the street.”

“Your father came to me for help. If you don’t believe me, ask him.”

“I told him there was a man inquiring about Hannah and he asked me for a description. I said tall and obnoxious. Right away he knew it was you.”

Eddie winced, and his discomfort lightened Ella’s expression for a moment. Still, she was wary.

“He told me you have a gift, a special knowledge that will allow you to find my sister. He sits here waiting to hear from you. He has faith in you. So tell me, Mr. Detective, did you find her with your special powers?”

“I’m not a detective. I’m a photographer. He came to look at the prints I’d taken on the day of the fire. I never told him that I had the power to find your sister.”

“What good are you then?” There were spots of color on Ella’s cheeks. “Why did you let him think you could? Do you mean to say you can’t close your eyes and see her in the great beyond?”

“Is that where you think she is?”

Ella looked away, but a sob escaped from her throat.

Eddie reached to pull her into the hallway. At last he was getting somewhere. “A sister is something special. Maybe she told you secrets she might have kept from your father. A boyfriend? A problem?”