Eye of the Beholder (33 page)

The shadow moved on. It was soon replaced by another, much smaller outline. A child. Alexa breathed out slowly in relief. The outside lamps were casting the shadows of any fair-goers who passed close by onto the fabric of the tent.

She turned back. There was just enough of a glow
coming through the tent to make out the figure of the aura reader.

“Hmm,” the reader said eventually.

“I take it we don't have interesting auras?” Trask said. He did not sound overly concerned at the prospect of having a dull aura.

Alexa sensed that his attention was on the shadow play taking place on the wall of the tent. She wondered if he was watching for the outline of the man in the jester's costume.

“On the contrary,” the reader said. “Both of you have extremely intriguing auras.” The dark outline of her veiled head turned toward Alexa. “Yours is strong and bright. The hues have great clarity and energy.”

“I take it that's good?”

“Yes.” The reader turned toward Trask. “Your aura, sir, radiates a degree of power that could be dangerous in some people. It requires a lot of control, but I see that you've got enough to handle it.”

“I'm into control,” Trask said easily.

“The hues are dark,” the reader continued, “but they are clear and pure.”

“The result of good, clean living,” Trask said absently. He was still watching the shadows on the tent fabric.

The reader cleared her throat. “I should mention that I sense an element of tension in both auras.”

“Can't imagine why,” Trask said. “We're just sitting here getting our auras read.”

Annoyed by his rudeness, Alexa poked his shoulder. “Ignore him,” she said to the reader. “He's hungry. I promised him we'd get a bite to eat right after we finished this.”

“I understand. Go feed him.”

Trask turned back, scowling. “Is that all there is to the reading?”

The reader moved slightly. Bells tinkled. “I could elaborate on how well-matched your auras are. Great yin-yang stuff going on. Together you've got darn near a full spectrum.”

“Is that anything like a full house in poker?” Trask asked.

“In the metaphysical sense,” the reader said. “I can also give you the details on how the light, bright colors in the lady's aura complement the dark shades in yours, sir, and how the tesla psychic currents harmonize. But I'm sure you two already know all that.”

Alexa stared at her. “Why would we know anything about it?”

There was a short, charged pause. The outline of the reader's head swiveled again as she looked from Alexa to Trask and back. “Sorry. I assumed that the two of you have a, ah, personal relationship.”

“Relationship?” Trask repeated ominously. “What do you mean by that?”

“Calm down,” Alexa muttered.

He ignored her. He kept his gaze on the hapless aura reader. “Have you been talking to someone about us?”

“Of course not.” The reader sounded indignant. “I'm a professional. I've got standards.”

“Are you connected to the Institute?” Trask demanded.

“No,” the woman said quickly. “I'm an independent operator. I just rented booth space for the fair. That's all.”

“Then what's all
this talk about a connection between Alexa and me?”

“Hey, I just read 'em the way I see 'em.”

Alexa groaned. “Trask, I really don't think you want to go down this road.”

“The hell I don't,” he said. “I want to know exactly what she knows about us and how she knows it.”

“It's no big deal.” The reader turned up the lamp. “I'll try and explain it without getting technical. The fact that your aura has begun to resonate strongly with the lady's in certain ways is usually an indication that two people have established a mutual bond.”

“A bond,” Trask repeated in a perfectly neutral voice.

“Yes,” the reader said. “A bond.”

Alexa thought about the uneasy partnership she and Trask had formed. “I think you could say we've been through a bonding experience of sorts.”

Trask gave her a strange look. “Is that what you call it?”

“For want of a better phrase,” Alexa said demurely.

The reader hesitated. “Uh, look, sorry if I put my foot in it. I figured you two were already engaged or, at the very least, involved in an affair or something.”

Trask regarded her in Sphinx-like silence.

“Good grief.” Alexa went hot all over.

“I knew this stuff was garbage,” Trask said grimly.

“Look, are you implying that I didn't give an accurate reading?” A belligerent, defensive tone had entered the reader's voice. “It's not my fault that the two
of you came in here with a couple of auras that have obviously begun to resonate.”

“No,” Alexa said cautiously, “it's not your fault.”

“Judging by your reaction,” the reader snapped, “I assume you're trying to keep your relationship a secret.”

“The thing is—” Alexa began.

“In my opinion, people who are involved in illicit love affairs shouldn't wander into an innocent aura reader's booth, ask to have their auras read, and then get indignant when the reader tells them what she sees.”

“It's okay, really, it is.” Alexa scrambled to her feet. “No one's blaming you.”

“I should hope not. Like I said, I'm a professional. I've got standards.”

Alexa nudged Trask, who still had not moved. “Come on, we'd better get going. We've got a lot to do tonight.”

“Hold it.” The aura reader put out her hand. “That'll be fifty dollars.”

“Fifty bucks?”
Trask finally emerged from his frozen state. He surged to his feet. “For a carnival show fortune-telling session? Forget it.”

“I didn't tell your fortunes, I read your auras.” The reader rose from her cushion. “Furthermore, this is no carnival sideshow. It's a serious business and I resent the implication that I'm a huckster.”

“This is a psychic fair.” Trask swept out a hand. “Hell, all the booths are run by hucksters.”

“You're entitled to your opinion.” The reader's veils shivered with the force of her icy indignation. “But I'm entitled to my fifty dollars. The sign out
front clearly states the fee. If you didn't want to pay the price, you shouldn't have come in here.”

“Pay her,” Alexa said through her teeth.

Trask's jaw clenched in stubborn lines. “I'll be damned if I'll fork over fifty bucks for a two-bit performance.”

“This was your idea,” she reminded him.

“I'm not about to let this… this charlatan take advantage…”

“Okay, okay, stop making a scene.” Alexa fumbled with the catch of her satchel. “We'll split it.”

“It's not the money, it's the principle of the thing,” Trask declared.

“Sure.” Alexa got a twenty and a five out of her wallet. “That's what people always say when they're too cheap to pay the tab.”

“I am not cheap, damn it.” Trask dug out his wallet. “I'll pay for the reading.”

“Just worry about your share.” Alexa handed the reader the twenty and the five. “I wouldn't dream of forcing you to pay for my half. After all, this is a
partnership
, isn't it?”

“I said I'll pay her.” Trask ripped the two bills out of the reader's fingers and slapped them back into Alexa's hand. Then he gave the woman fifty dollars. “There. Satisfied?”

“Yes,” Alexa said.

“Yes,” the aura reader said.

“Terrific. Let's get out of here.” Trask shoved his wallet back into his pocket, seized Alexa's arm, and hauled her toward the entrance of the tent. “I think we now know why there was no line of people
standing in front of this booth. Who in their right minds would pay fifty bucks for an aura reading?”

“We did,” Alexa said.

The aura reader slipped the bills into her veils. “You get what you pay for.”

Trask did not bother to respond to that. He yanked open the tent flap and ushered Alexa outside.

Once back on the garden path they blended quickly into the crowd. Alexa glanced around. She saw no sign of the man in the jester's costume. She relaxed slightly and looked at Trask's grim face.

“I realize that was a bit awkward,” she said. “Nevertheless, I think you're overreacting.”

“Fifty bucks to have some fortune-teller tell us that we're having an affair? Give me a break.”

“She wasn't a fortune-teller,” Alexa said patiently. “And she didn't exactly tell us that we were having an affair. She said she just assumed as much because our auras resonate in certain ways.”

Trask gave her a speaking glance.

Alexa exhaled deeply. “I think we've exhausted that subject. Let's get back to business.” She surveyed the group of fair-goers on the path. “I don't see our jester friend.”

That got Trask's attention. He looked over his shoulder. “Neither do I.”

“Probably a false alarm.”

“A false alarm that cost me fifty bucks,” Trask muttered. “Resonating auras. What bull.”

Alexa glared at him.

“Okay, okay.”

“The main activities of the evening are about to begin.”
Alexa glanced at her watch. “Webster's talk will start soon, and then they'll set off the fireworks.”

“Let's work our way toward the seminar building.”

Alexa acquiesced with a sense of relief. She decided not to tell him that she had a strong hunch “resonating auras” was psychic-speak for falling in love. She was having enough trouble coming to grips with the ramifications of the aura reader's words as it was.

30
 

He had been right about the effect of Bell's speech and the timeless allure of fireworks. The combination of attractions had emptied out the seminar building. Even the receptionist had left his post to wander outside.

Trask stood in the shadows of the darkened hallway and took morose satisfaction in the knowledge that at least this part of the evening was going according to plan. After it was over, he would worry about the way the phony aura reader's mumbo jumbo had poleaxed him.

He glanced down the hall behind him. It was shrouded in shadows. Only the lobby of the building was lit.

It had been easy enough to get into the seminar facility without being noticed. He had simply joined the crowd milling around the Dimensions bookshop. When the others had left to see Bell, he had slipped into the nearest men's room and waited a few minutes. When he had emerged, he had the place to himself.

But not for long, he thought. He had to move quickly.

He adjusted the strap of the computer case on his shoulder and started along an unlit corridor. The passage was lined on each side by twin rows of glass-paneled office and seminar room doors. Assuming nothing had changed since the time Alexa had spent here, Radstone's office was up ahead and to the left.

He had made the decision to search Radstone's files first because everything he had indicated that it was Radstone who managed the Institute's money. And money was at the core of this. It was the only motive that explained both his father's death and Guthrie's as well.

He reached the junction of two hallways, turned, and started along the corridor that led to his destination.

A squeak sounded, unnaturally loud in the darkness. He recognized the noise immediately. It was the sort that was made by the soles of a pair of running shoes on hardwood floors. It emanated from the intersecting hallway.

So much for the theory that he was alone in the seminar facility.

Trask halted and looked at the door directly across from where he stood. There was a small sign printed on the translucent glass, but he could not read it in the dim light. He had to get out of sight. Whoever was coming down the hall might decide to turn right and walk along this passage.

He crossed the corridor in two strides and tried the doorknob. It refused to turn in his hand.

He swore silently and tried the next one. It, too,
was locked. He was thinking up reasonable excuses for hanging around dark corridors when he passed a third door. This one did not have a glass panel in it. It opened easily.

He caught a glimpse of a toilet and a gleaming washbasin before the door swung shut, leaving him in absolute darkness. It looked like he'd picked the women's room this time. At least it made a change of pace.

It occurred to him that he was spending a lot of time in rest rooms this evening. He hoped that was not a bad omen.

He heard the squeak outside in the hall and knew that whoever had come down the intersecting corridor had turned in to this one. It had been close. Five seconds later and he would have been seen, Trask thought.

He wondered who had just walked past the rest room door. A member of the Institute's faculty, possibly. Someone with an office in this hall. But if that was the case, why hadn't he turned on the lights?