Free Muller, Marcia - [McCone 02] - Ask the Cards a Question 3S(v1)(html)

a good pair.”
    Relieved that my calm response had worked, I stood up too. “Now how about letting me see the altar?”
    He shrugged angrily and strode up the aisle. In a moment pale light came up on the raised platform. It increased in intensity until it shone bright as daylight.
    “It’s a dimmer switch,” Neverman called. “They probably used it to make the services more dramatic. Can’t you see Anya with one of these? She could use it like this.”
    The light on the altar paled again.
    “Your life up to this time has been happy, honey,” he mimicked in a harsh voice that sounded remarkably like the fortune teller’s. “But…”
    The light increased several shades.
    “I see great trouble ahead. This trouble, it is awful.”
    Still brighter.
    “Honey, I can’t begin to describe this awful trouble. But…”
    The light flashed to full intensity.
    “There is help ahead! I will pray for you, honey! And rip you off with my wax birds!”
    It would have been funny, had his anger not been so fierce. I went up the aisle and joined him next to the round light switch in the vestibule.
    “You didn’t like my little performance,” he said mockingly.
    “Not particularly. I…”
    The front door opened behind us. Sebastian entered, tapping along with a white cane.
    “Neverman? Is that you in here?”
    “Christ!” Neverman muttered. “He’s like something out of Charles Addams.”
    Sebastian could not have missed the comment, but he merely said, “Who’s with you?”
    “It’s only me, Sebastian,” I said. “Sharon McCone.”
    “Miss McCone! You do turn up in the most amazing places.”
    “So what do you want, Sebastian?” Neverman asked impatiently.
    “You’ve got a phone call up at the dormitory.”
    “Oh, yeah? From who?”
    “It sounds like your wife.”
    “Jesus Christ!” He twisted the light switch angrily, and the church subsided into darkness. Without another word, he stomped out the door.
    “The man has a dreadful temper,” Sebastian commented.
    “I guess. Shall I help you back to the convent… dormitory, I mean?”
    Sebastian’s scarred face contorted into a smile. “That’s not necessary. I get around perfectly well with my cane in places I’m familiar with.”
    I glanced at my watch. It was close to eleven, and I was in no mood for further conversation. “In that case, I’ll be going. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at Gus’s new apartment?”
    “Very likely, Miss McCone.”
    Sebastian left me on the path in front of the church, where the full moon looked down coldly through the twisted branches of a tree. Yawning, I decided to go home for some sleep. I’d talk with Mr. Moe, the dark-haired man who spoke falsely to me, in the sane light of morning.
----
Ten
    « ^ »
    The sane light of morning saw me called back to All Souls for a pretrial conference on the redwood hot tub case. It had not been a particularly dramatic investigation, but I’d discovered that the so-called contractor had used substandard materials. We had, as Hank put it, an airtight case against an outfit whose tubs did not hold water.
    By one o’clock I was officially on vacation again. I returned to my office to fetch my bag and check for messages. There were two: one from Greg and one from Linnea.
    Greg’s message simply said, “What’s new?” Briefly, I wondered if this indicated repentance over the sarcastic tone on which he’d departed yesterday. No, I concluded, it probably meant he was bored and hoped I’d take him to lunch. I discarded the note in the wastebasket.
    The second message was disconcerting. Linnea asked that I call her; it was urgent. I lined the slip up on the blotter and stared thoughtfully at it, tapping my fingers on the edge of the desk. My friend had taken a turn for the better, but now I wasn’t sure how long it had lasted.
    When I’d arrived home the night before, all had been quiet in the apartment. A cloud of warm, steamy air and the scent of Linnea’s favorite perfume