Part 34 (2/2)
And then the low, echoey moan from the lady. The amp had been turned on.
”O Xultulan! We have a seeker after one who has crossed over, one with whom he shares a blood tie. Help us, O Xultulan!”
Jack tuned her out and concentrated on time. Foster should have s.n.a.t.c.hed the case by now. He'd have had his pick set open and ready and would be working on the lock. Jack had a key but he'd done a couple of test runs picking the lock himself-and had purposely left a few crude scratches around it. As expected, the little lock turned out to be an easy pick, complicated only by its small size. If Foster had any talent, he should be turning those tumblers just... about... now.
And now he's lifting the top... and freezing at the sight of rows of gleaming gold coins. Not bullion coins like yesterday's Krugerrand, but numismatic beauties from Jack's own collection, worth far more than their weight in gold.
He wants to touch them but the plastic dome stops him. He tries to lift it but it won't budge. It's locked down. But there has to be a catch somewhere, a release...
”My case,” Jack said, straightening and running jittery hands over his jacket like a man who'd just discovered that his wallet is missing. ”I want my case!”
”Please be calm, Monsieur Butler,” Madame Pomerol said, suddenly alert and aware and free of her trance. ”Your case is fine.”
Jack rose from his chair. He put a tremor in his voice. ”I-I-I want it. I've got to find it!”
”Monsieur Butler, you must sit down.” That was a warning to her husband to put his a.s.s in gear and get this turkey's precious case back on the settee. ”I am in touch with Xultulan and he has located your uncle. You can retrieve the case in a few minutes when-”
”I want it now!”
Jack feigned disorientation and wandered in the wrong direction first-he wanted to give Foster enough time to close the case and return it-then lurched around and stumbled toward the settee.
”We're okay,” Foster's voice said in his ear. ”It's back on your side.”
Jack couldn't see the settee in the darkness so he traveled by memory, and made sure he banged into it when he reached it. He felt around on the cus.h.i.+on and found the case.
”Here it is!” he cried. ”Thank G.o.d!”
As he was speaking he slipped that case into his left breast pocket and removed its identical twin from the right. He'd filled the mounts within the first with gleaming pristine beauties that anyone would recognize as valuable for their bullion weight alone. But when Foster saw the dates he'd know they were old. And since they'd looked up Matthew West on sitters-net.com, he'd a.s.sume they were rare.
The second case, however, he'd filled with lead sinkers.
”s.h.i.+t, that was close!” said Foster's voice. ”But worth it. You should see what's in that case. Gold coins. Not more Krugerrands, but old collectibles. They must be worth a f.u.c.king fortune. Think of something. We have got to get our hands on those coins!”
As Jack waded back toward the faintly glowing pool of red around the table, he noticed a look of concentration and distraction on Madame Pomerol's face as she listened to her husband.
She'd probably been ready to scold her sitter, but now she gave Jack a warm, motherly smile.
”See, Monsieur Butler? There was nothing for you to get upset about. You feel better now, yes?”
”Much.” He took his seat and used the moment to pull the stack of thirty bogus hundreds from within his sleeve and lay it on his lap. Then he put both hands on the table and clutched the case between them. ”I'm real sorry about that. Don't know what came over me. I just got scared, I guess. You know, the darkness and all.”
”That is perfectly understandable, especially on your first visit.” She covered her eyes with a hand. ”I have made contact with your uncle.”
Jack jerked upright in his seat. ”Really? Can I talk to him?”
”The connection was broken when you left the table.”
”Oh, no!”
”But that is not a terrible thing. I can reestablish it. But it was not a good connection, so I must ask you a few questions first.”
”Shoot.”
”Your uncle, his middle name was Thomas, yes?”
”You know, I believe it was. Yes, Matthew Thomas West. How'd you know that?”
She smiled. ”Your uncle told me.”
”d.a.m.n! That's scary.”
”He seemed upset about something. Do you know what it could be?”
Jack averted his eyes, hoping he looked guilty. ”I don't think so.”
”Something about an inheritance, perhaps?”
Jack looked awestruck. ”You know about that?”
He was perfectly aware that he'd told Foster about sharing the estate with his brother, but it was common for sitters to forget that their own loose lips were the source of most of what a medium told them.
”Of course, but communication was garbled. Something about you and your brother...”
Jack started with his story. It jibed with all the available information on sitters-net.com; he'd looked at it from different angles and couldn't see any holes. He hoped Madame Pomerol wouldn't either.
”Yeah. We were his only living relatives. Our folks were gone, and he had no kids.”
No kids, Jack thought. Must've died a lonely old man, going to mediums in a vain attempt to contact his dead wife. But that's not going to happen to me. Not now...
The realization lit a warm glow in his chest.
”Monsieur Butler?”
Jack snapped to. He'd drifted away. Jeez. Not like him. Couldn't afford to do that or he'd blow the sting.
”Sorry. I was just thinking about Uncle Matt. After he died, his will divided his estate between me and my brother Bill.”
”Yes, he told me his wife Alice had died many years before him. They are reunited now.”
”You know about Aunt Alice? This is amazing. And they're together again? That's great.”
”They are very happy. The inheritance?”
”Oh yeah. Well, I got the house and everything in it.” Jack frowned and pushed out his lower lip, just shy of a pout. ”Bill got the coin collection. Uncle Matt always did like him better.”
”These two things, they were not equal?”
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