Free The Case of the Vanishing Beauty by Richard S. Prather Page B

horizon, toward which we faced. Timed to the split second, Narda had waited till the just rising sun would outline his head and upper body. Then, down with the picture, out with the spot. Miracle. I had to hand it to him.
    The women very neatly herded us out and got the people started on their dazed way. I hung around outside. This was just the beginning for me. I felt a little dazed myself, and I was dying for a smoke.
    I dug in my pocket, found a cigarette, lit it, and dragged deep while I thought about Narda. I took a couple more big drags and damn near threw the cigarette over the fence. Ugh, I stopped myself just in time, lit a match, and looked at the weed. It was the little item I'd picked up in Maggie's office. I pinched it out and stuck it in my inside coat pocket.
    The women were off in the direction of the street, getting the last stragglers on their way. I leaned up against the fence and waited for them to come back. There was a little cold, murky light from the rising sun, so I slipped back inside the enclosure and walked over to the spot from which Narda had made his speech. There was a platform draped in black cloth, steps leading up from behind it. Farther back was the huge picture flat on the ground. Overhead I could barely see a dark blob that was probably a spotlight. I scooted back outside and waited.
    The two women came back chatting together as if they were telling about their operations. I stepped away from the fence and conversation died a miserable death. They stopped still and gawked at me as I walked up to them.
    "You may not remember me," I said. "You showed me the way here."
    The women looked at me as if I had nine heads and they were all bald.
    I added, "For which I shall be eternally grateful."
    I went back to one head.
    "I am Francis Joyne," I went on. "You may have heard of me, of my philanthropies. I feel that," I raised my eyes and lowered my voice, "Narda," I lowered my eyes and raised my voice again, "is leading a great work. I am most interested. I should like to help."  
    I think the best word I used was "philanthropies." They looked a little more interested, at least.
    "If I could discuss the movement with you, or with someone else connected with the movement…I do not expect, of course, that Narda himself would…but anyone. I was extremely moved." I didn't tell her where I was moved, but I let myself choke up a little. All I had to do was think about the taste of that damn cigarette.
    "Come," one said, and led the way.
    It was light enough now so that the walk back across the grass wasn't so eerie. We made it to the temple and I followed the women inside the front door and into a massive room covered on all four walls with black draperies. The woman I'd followed about half my time here, the one with the round, pixie face, seated me on the floor—no furniture, not a stick and seated herself cross-legged opposite me. I thought maybe she was going to contemplate her navel, yoga fashion, but no such luck. This deal was on a high plane.
    The other woman went through the draperies at the back of the room and disappeared. Maybe it was coincidence, but thirty seconds after she was out of sight, organ music swelled and throbbed in the room.
    We sat in silence relieved by the organ tones for another thirty seconds. I looked at the woman, wondering what I was supposed to do now. Maybe get myself shot.
    I still wanted a smoke.
    On my right, on the floor, appeared a couple of big, black shoes. Above them, hanging down to their tops, was a shirtlike circle of heavy black cloth. I looked up.
    Well, lo and behold. Nards. The old boy was going to handle this part of the caper all by himself. Strike while the iron is hot. I started to stand up but he stuck out a long, thin-fingered hand to indicate that I wasn't to rise. I couldn't, I'd have smacked into his paw. I eased myself back down and looked up at him. With that turban on his head he looked about nine feet tall. His head scraped the lofty