Part 14 (1/2)

”Who is Mrs. Forbes?” said Foltz.

”That is Mary Cantwell's new name on the other side of the gla.s.s,” said Weems.

”Names change when people go through?” said Foltz.

”No-not necessarily,” said Weems, ”though a lot of people decide to change their names to go with their new futures, new personalities. In the case of Mary Cantwell-she married a man named Gordon Forbes a week after pa.s.sing through.” He smiled. ”I was the best man-and, in all modesty, I don't think anyone ever deserved the honor more.”

”You can go in and out of these mirrors any time you want?” said Foltz.

”Certainly,” said Weems. ”Self-hypnosis, the easiest and commonest form of hypnosis.”

”I'd sure like a demonstration,” said Foltz.

”That's why I'm trying to call Mary or one of the others back,” said Weems. ”h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo! Can anybody hear me?” he shouted at the mirrors.

”I thought maybe you'd you'd go through a mirror for us,” said Foltz. go through a mirror for us,” said Foltz.

”It's a thing I don't care to do, really, except on very special occasions,” said Weems, ”like Mary's wedding, like the Carter family's first anniversary on the other side-”

”The who family?” said Foltz.

”The Carter family,” said Weems. ”George, Nancy, and their children, Eunice and Robert.” He pointed over his shoulder at a mirror behind him. ”I put them all through that mirror there a year and a quarter ago.”

”I thought you just specialized in rich widows,” said Foltz.

”I thought that's what you specialized in,” said Weems. ”That's all you asked about-rich widows.”

”So you put a family through, too?” said Foltz.

”Several of them,” said Weems. ”I suppose you want the exact number. I can't give you that number off the top of my head. I'll have to check my files.”

”They had bad futures, sick futures,” said Foltz, ”these families you-uh-put through?”

”In terms of life on this side of the gla.s.s?” said Weems. ”No-not really. But there were far better futures to be had on the other side. No danger of war, for one thing-a much lower cost of living, for another.”

”Um,” said Foltz. ”And when they went through, they left all their money with you. Right?”

”They took it with them,” said Weems, ”all of it, with the exception of my fee, which is a flat hundred dollars a head.”

”It's too bad they can't hear you yell,” said Foltz. ”I'd sure like to talk to some of these people, hear about all the nice things that have been happening to them.”

”Look in any mirror, and see what a long, complicated corridor my voice has to carry down,” said Weems.

”Guess it's up to you to put on the demonstration, then,” said Foltz.

”I told you,” said Weems, very uneasy now, ”I am very reluctant to do it.”

”You're afraid the trick won't work?” said Foltz.

”Oh, it'll work all right,” said Weems. ”It's likely to work too well, is all. If I get on the other side of the gla.s.s, I'm going to want to stay on the other side. I always do.”

Foltz laughed. ”If it's so heavenly on the other side,” he said, ”what could keep you here?”

Weems closed his eyes, ma.s.saged the bridge of his nose. ”The same thing that makes you an excellent policeman,” he said. He opened his eyes. ”A sense of duty.” He did not smile.

”And what is it this duty of yours makes you do?” said Foltz. He asked the question mockingly. His air of being dazed, of being in Weems's power, had dropped away.

Weems, seeing the transformation, became in turn a small and wretched man. ”It makes me stay here, on this side,” he said emptily, ”because I am the only one I know of who can help others pa.s.s through.” He shook his head. ”You aren't hypnotized, are you?” he said.

”h.e.l.l no,” said Foltz. ”And neither is he.”

Carney relaxed, shuddered, smiled.

”If it makes you feel any better,” said Foltz, taking his handcuffs from his hip pocket, ”it's a couple of brother hypnotists who are taking you in. That's how we got this a.s.signment. Carney and I've both played with it some. Compared to you, we're mere amateurs, of course. Come on, Weems-Rumpelstiltskin-hold out your wrists like a good boy.”

”This was a trap, then?” said Weems.

”Right,” said Foltz. ”We wanted to get you to talk, and you certainly did. The only problem now is to find the bodies. What did you plan to do with Carney and me-get us to shoot each other?”

”No,” said Weems simply.

”I'll tell you this,” said Foltz, ”we respected hypnotism enough not to take any chances. There's another detective right outside the door.”

Weems had not yet held out his thin wrists like a good boy. ”I don't believe you,” he said.

”Fred!” Foltz called to the detective on the staircase outside. ”Come on in, so Rumpelstiltskin can believe in you.”

In came the third detective, a pale, moonfaced, huge, young Swede. Carney and Foltz were elated and smug. The man named Fred didn't share their delight. He was worried and watchful, had his gun drawn.

”Please,” Weems said to Foltz, ”tell him to put his gun away.”

”Put your gun away, Fred,” said Foltz.

”You guys are really all right?” said Fred.

Carney and Foltz laughed.

”Fooled you, too, eh?” said Foltz.

Fred didn't laugh. ”Yeah-you sure did,” he said. He looked closely at Carney and Foltz, did it impersonally, as though they were department store dummies. And Carney and Foltz, in their moment of triumph, really did look like dummies-stiff, waxen, with mortuary smiles.

”For the love of G.o.d,” Weems said to Foltz, ”tell him to put his gun away.”

”For the love of G.o.d,” said Foltz, ”put the gun away, Fred.”

Fred didn't do it. ”I-I don't think you guys know what you're doing,” he said.

”That's the funniest thing I ever heard,” said Weems.