Sleight (7 page)

I WATCHED HER leave and stood there for a few moments to collect my thoughts. Suddenly, lying down didn’t seem like the best course of action. Breno’s problems and Justine’s newly manifested knack required attention, and I didn’t feel equipped to handle them on my own. Taking my time, so that I wouldn’t run into Justine, I trudged down the stairs and made my way out to the street. There were very few times that I had initiated a conversation with Kenwoode, but he was the only person I had access to that might be able to help me.

The pawnshop was closed and I resisted the temptation to let it bother me. At the moment it was more convenient that it wasn’t open for business. I knacked myself in, knacked the lock behind me and headed for the elevator to Mr. Goodturn’s apartment.

Through an unspoken agreement I didn’t bother knocking and just let myself in. Instead of bawling out his name I immediately made for the library where he typically set up to work. He was sitting at the large ornate desk set close to the leaded-glass windows, a mug of coffee on the desk in front of him. The early afternoon sun streamed through the windows behind, casting him in soft shadows, while fine dust danced in the shafts of light around him.

Looking up from a large heavy book he had resting on the desk before him, he arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Benjamin?”

His acknowledging me without my having to speak first was slightly out of character, and it caught me by surprise.

“Hi. I have something I wanted to talk about with you, actually a couple of things. Do you have time right now or are you busy?” I asked.

He slowly closed the book, leaving his hand on the thick leather cover. “I have time.”

There it was; the economic use of words that put most of the burden for conversation on me.

“Okay, thanks. Is Mr. Goodturn doing any better today?” I said as I sat down in one of the old-school leather wingback chairs that faced the desk.

“No change, but he continues to open his eyes from time to time.” Pushing the book to one side he sat back in his chair, making a steeple with his fingers, waiting for me to continue.

“So, I have a couple of problems that I need help with. Usually Mr. Goodturn and I would talk this kind of stuff over, but with him...since he’s sick I don’t have anyone else to go to.” He sat there in silence. Terrific, I thought. I pressed on because honestly, I didn’t have any other options.

“Mr. Kenwoode, you told me that Mr. Goodturn’s ability to slow things down, including his own body, was probably what saved him from dying when he was attacked. How much do you know about his stuff?”

“Stuff?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, the fact that he can do that, slow things down. What do you know about that?”

“Why is that important for you to know, Benjamin?” he raised his chin slightly, his blue eyes boring into me.

“Well, the things I’m worried about kind of relate. I just needed to know if you knew more about Mr. G and what he does. What he can do.” The conversation was starting to frustrate me. It was like my mom used to say
‘It’s like pulling teeth’.

He nodded. “I’m aware of Harald’s unusual differences.”

Why did he make that sound so cryptic? “Do you have any of those...abilities?”

“Why would you need to know that?” he asked, his expression neutral.

My sensing knack was also picking up nothing that would indicate how he felt about the question. “I figured that if you had your own knacks, that it would be easier for you to help me with my problems. My friends’ problems.”

“It would seem that all you truly need to know is whether I possess a working knowledge of Harald’s differences, rather than whether I possess some of my own. I’m very educated on Harald and his specific set of circumstances.”

Why did he keep using that word, ‘differences’? It seemed important. “Did Mr. Goodturn talk to you about me? About our friendship?” I shifted uncomfortably in the leather chair.

“Benjamin, I know about your bond with Harald and I know that you share some of the same circumstances and differences,” he said. I thought I saw a softening in his features when he said it.

“You know about my knacks?” I wasn’t necessarily surprised, but it was the first evidence that I had of Mr. Goodturn sharing my secret with someone.

He frowned, his bushy eyebrows drawing down. “Knack. I don’t like that word. Harald’s word. I prefer ‘differences’ or ‘attributes’. Knack sounds so crude, as though any child could acquire and become skilled in their use. Yes, I know about your attributes, although not all of the specifics and I know that you possess them to a degree that outstrips even some of Harald’s. Besides that Benjamin, don’t you think your means of entering and leaving the premises would reveal something about yourself?”

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows, and mentally kick myself. My comings and goings were obviously observed. Dumb. He was also offering me some new insight. I hadn’t known that Mr. G had seen some of my knacks as stronger than his own.

“So, do you have them too?” I asked again, resigning myself to the fact that at least some of my secrets were out in the open.

“That doesn’t seem to be the core question here, Benjamin. I am guessing, because you haven’t shared your problems yet, that all you truly require is an assertion that I possess a deep working knowledge of attributes and their challenges. I do.”

So, no answer again. He was right though. Whether he had any knacks of his own wasn’t necessarily crucial but it would sure help if he had the same ones that Mr. Goodturn did. He was obviously waiting for me to continue, resting easily in his chair, unreadable.

“I have two friends, one you know, Breno, who have knacks, and they’re having problems because of them. At least Breno is.”

“Why don’t you start with Mr. Giacomo and then we can discuss your other acquaintance.” He drew his hands back from the desk and placed them in his lap, waiting for me to go on.

I filled in some background on my first interactions with Breno, and shared the details of Breno’s and my kidnapping, finishing up with my discovering the connection between the ashes and food wrappers in Breno’s apartment and my bringing Breno back from the pier. I shared my suspicions about Breno having started the waterfront fire and having burned possibly two people in the process.

“So, now I think his knack has come back, or has been re-activated or something and he can’t control it. I’m worried that he’ll hurt himself or someone else. I was hoping you might have an idea of how we could either shut down his knack or help prevent him from manifesting again. That’s why I was hoping that you possessed knacks of your own; that you might be able to do what Mr. Goodturn did when Breno was a kid.”

He’d listened patiently, hadn’t taken notes, just focused on me and what I was saying. If he didn’t look as much like a military officer it would have been easy to see him as a psychologist.

Stroking his goatee he stared hard at me, as though trying to determine whether I had left anything out. The only bit of information that I had kept to myself was that Mr. Goodturn had ‘spoken’ to me when we had last been in his room together. I’m not sure why, it just felt right to keep that to myself.

He leaned forward and locked in with his pale blue eyes. “That is quite the story. I was, of course, familiar with Mr. Giacomo’s history, but not these recent developments. Your decision to track him down and bring him back was the right one. Your deductive skills in that matter were quite impressive. Well done.”

I felt an involuntary blush spread over my face. In the time we had known each other Kenwoode had never paid me a compliment. It felt good, if unexpected.

“Thank you, sir.”

He waved off the thank you. “What’s good is good. Now, as to how best to proceed. The possibility that he injured two people is a concern, and not one to be taken lightly, but at present we have no definitive proof. So, we should move forward carefully. The fire, we’ll need to table that discussion as well until we can determine what, if anything, we can do at this point. I agree that his attribute and its unpredictable nature are the primary concern. While I do not have Harald’s attribute for restructuring a subject’s mind or thought processes, I do possess a certain skill with hypnosis. I may be able to introduce a suggestion in his mind to prevent the inadvertent use of his pyrotechnic difference.”

That was a veritable speech by Kenwoode’s standards; in fact the whole conversation was entirely new ground in our relationship. “That would be great. I just don’t want him to get hurt. Could you maybe also help him forget a few things? Like the fact that he even rediscovered his knack at all?” It felt a little odd how fast we had moved on from the very strong possibility that Breno was responsible for arson and possibly manslaughter. Yet, having Kenwoode know about it and recommend patience made me feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Making a wry face he shook his head. “Possibly. But the more complex the suggestions the greater the possibility they will unravel later. I’ll see. Now, you had mentioned another friend? Does this friend possess differences as well?”

There was that word again. “Why do you call them ‘differences’ Mr. Kenwoode? I mean, I know why you don’t like the word ‘knack’, but why ‘difference’?”

He leaned back and looked at the ceiling as though searching for an answer there. “Mmm. The answer to that question lies in a complicated debate that Harald and I have been engaged in for many years. Harald believes that these attributes are natural abilities that pop up from time to time with no pattern as to why and who. He also believes that these abilities are the basis for folklore over the centuries that ascribed supernatural powers to individuals. The Salem Witch Trials, stories of demonic possession were all, according to Harald’s theories, a byproduct of these differences, and while there is some merit to their contribution to legends, my belief in their provenance is based soundly in science.”

When I was super chatty or rambled on about something my mother used to ask
‘Who put a nickel in you and wound you up?’
meaning I guess that I was a wind-up toy that was just spinning along for spinning’s sake. Based on that country philosophy someone must have stuck a whole roll of nickels into Kenwoode.

“Science? Like how?” I asked.

Settling back into the chair again, he made himself comfortable. “Yes, science. I believe that there are physiological variables, identifiable reasons for these manifestations. That is why I call them attributes or differences. Knack, natural or ability all speak to something that can be developed or encouraged. These attributes are differences that occur unbidden and in some cases, like Mr. Giacomo, unwanted. I see them as an aberrant to the norm.”

This was news. Mr. Goodturn had never gone into detail as to how knacks occurred. He had just accepted that they did. There was something in the way Mr. Kenwoode talked about them that made them sound like more curse than gift.

“Aberrant?” I was unfamiliar with the word.

“Aberration. Mutation or...difference. Just so.” He responded.

“What causes them then?” I was curious. If there was a scientific explanation then maybe it would help me to understand what had happened to Justine, as well as what had created my own knacks.

Clearing his throat and tugging at his vest he said, “Undetermined at this point. My research does not have the advantage of the latest technological advancements. It is theoretical at this point.”

I smiled. “So, we don’t really know then, right?”

Those massive brows lowered again and his voice took on a gravelly tone. “Theoretical, I said. Not guesswork. The theoretical nature of my documentation does not change my convictions in the slightest.”

It wasn’t hard to guess why this argument with Mr. Goodturn over the nature of knacks had gone on for so long. I added stubborn to the list of Kenwoode’s qualities. Challenging him on the issue wasn’t going to endear me to him, or get him to help me.

“Gotcha. So, the other person is Justine. She’s the girl that got kidnapped with me and then never turned up.”

“And how, at this late date, does her disappearance concern you?” he asked, quickly composing himself.

“It’s not her disappearance that bothers me, it’s the fact that she showed up yesterday and again today. She hasn’t even contacted her parents yet and she just randomly showed up at my apartment.”

He folded his hands on the table top. “Give me the details, Benjamin. The devil is in the details.”

Yeah, so that was a creepy way to put it. I tried to get comfortable in my chair and started filling him in on my relationship with Justine, the dramatic change in her appearance and what had happened when we’d been out together. His reaction wasn’t exactly what I had expected. He seemed intrigued.

Leaning over the desk, hands placed flat upon it, he asked, “Was she angry then, when you believe that she used her attribute?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Her eye color, did it change when you believe she exerted her difference?” he pressed.

“Sort of. They sort of glowed but I thought—”

Cutting off the rest of my comment he said, “When you fell, and she knelt over you, what was her demeanor?”

“Well, she was worried about me. She didn’t—”