Free Wading Into Murder by Joan Dahr Lambert Page A

street deliberately?”
    “It felt like that,” Laura conceded reluctantly, “although someone the right height could have bumped my shoulder by mistake. Did you see anything?”
    “No, worse luck,” Violet replied gloomily. “A woman came and stood right in front of me exactly when you fell into the street and I couldn’t see past her. Still, what I did see was rather interesting.”
    “What was that?”
    “The person in front of me was one of the women with the long skirts and all those beads, except I got the distinct impression that she wasn’t a woman. I wish I knew who it was,” Violet went on in frustration, “but I couldn’t see the person’s face. He or she could easily have pushed you, though, and then melted back into the crowds.”
    Laura stared at her. “But that is incredible! A man dressed like a woman? Why would anyone do that? And why push me ?”
    Violet raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty obvious, I should think. Finding a baby in the Baths and taking it to the police has made you persona non gratis to someone.”
    William appeared and took a seat beside them. “I saw her too, or him, I guess,” he announced laconically.  “It was Dr. Bernstein. Or his lady double.”
    “But that’s impossible,” Laura sputtered. “I saw him going up the stairs over there to visit that psychic.” She pointed to the doorway.
    As if on cue, Dr. Bernstein emerged. His gloomy face looked less harrowed than it normally did, and Laura wondered what the psychic had told him until she remembered that according to William, Dr. Bernstein hadn’t talked to the woman at all. He had been busy attacking her. He might even have borrowed the psychic’s clothes for that purpose. He could have come back down the stairs as a woman, given her a shove, gone back up and put his own clothes on again, and reappeared exactly as he had. 
    To her astonishment, Dr. Bernstein came toward them with an expression that resembled eagerness. “Those people are really quite good,” he reported, sitting down beside Laura and turning his penetrating eyes full on her face. “She told me a number of things she could not have known except through some mystical source.”
    “A crystal ball, no doubt?” Violet contributed sarcastically.
    Dr. Bernstein shot her a hostile look. “Yes, she did have one as I recall,” he answered stiffly. “I don’t think they actually use them, except to help concentrate their attention on another reality they are seeing.
    “More is out there than we understand,” he added portentously. “Yes, the world is filled with mysteries.”
    Laura tried not to laugh. His German accent got stronger as the gravity of his words increased. It made him sound impossibly pompous – and gullible. Could a man like that really have attacked her only ten minutes ago?
    “Has anyone seen my lovely wife?” Dr. Bernstein craned his neck up and down the streets, looking for her. “I must find her. The bus is in five minutes. She always forgets her watch, though I bought her a beautiful one last year.”
    “I saw her in that shop some time ago,” Laura answered, pointing across the street. “She came out just before I tried to cross the street.” She said no more, wanting to test Dr. Bernstein. If he had been with the psychic all this time, he shouldn’t know anything about her near-accident.
    Apparently he didn’t, since his only reaction was dismay at Claudine’s whereabouts. “I was certain she would be in one of those shops,” he lamented. “She is angry with me because I went to see that psychic, so now she will spend money, a good deal of money. It is her way. I do not try to stop her. That is a small price to pay for marital harmony, is it not?”
    Quite a big price in this case, Laura suspected. The shopping bag in Claudine’s hand when she emerged from the shop had been very large.
    Dr. Bernstein leaned closer. His balding head was right in front of Laura, and she noticed that it shone with