The Vision Read Free Page A

he’s gone?”
    “Must have run when he heard the sirens.”
    Sweating, aware of his too-rapid heartbeat, wondering how to fit clairvoyance and the other psychic phenomena into his previously uncomplicated view of life, Barnes followed the younger officer through the kitchen and laundry room. The woman stayed close beside him, asking questions that he didn’t bother answering.
    Hector Gonzales was waiting at the back door.
    “There’s an alleyway behind that chain-link fence,” Barnes told him. “Get back there and search for our man, two blocks in each direction.”
    The woman said, “I’m bewildered.”
    So am I, Barnes thought.
    To Malone he said, “Beat the shrubs around both sides of the house. And check out that line of bushes near the fence.”
    “Right.”
    “And both of you, keep your guns drawn.”
    Waiting by the squad cars in front of the house, Harry Oberlander was baiting the mayor. He shook his head as if the very sight of Henderson amazed him. “What a mayor you are,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “Hiring a witch to do police work.”
    Henderson responded like a weary giant spotting yet one more tiny challenger with delusions of grandeur. “She’s not a witch.”
    “Don’t you know there’s no such thing as a witch?”
    “Like I said, Councilman, she’s not a witch.”
    “She’s a fake.”
    “A clairvoyant.”
    “Clairvoyant, shmairvoyant.”
    “So clever with language.”
    “It’s just a fancier name for a witch.”
    Dan Goldman watched Oberlander, as weary of the argument as the mayor was. There are no worse enemies, he thought, than two men who used to be best friends. He would have to separate them if Harry became dissatisfied with words and started to throw a few fast but largely ineffective punches at the mayor’s well-padded belly. It had happened before.
    “You know why I sold you my half of the furniture business?” Oberlander asked Henderson.
    “You sold out because you didn’t have any vision,” Henderson said smugly.
    “Vision, smision. I sold out because I knew a superstitious fool like you would run it into the ground sooner or later.”
    “The store’s more profitable now than ever before,” Henderson said.
    “Luck! Blind luck!”
     
Fortunately, before the first punch could be thrown, Harley Barnes came to the front door of the house and shouted, “It’s all right. Come on.”
    “Now we’ll see who’s the fool,” Henderson said. “They must have caught him.” He ran across the sidewalk and the slippery wet lawn with that unexpected grace peculiar to certain very fat men.
    Oberlander scurried after him, an angry mouse snapping at the heels of a behemoth.
    Suppressing a laugh, Goldman followed.
     
 
Alan Tanner sat behind the steering wheel in order to be in the front seat with his sister. When he saw Harley Barnes at the door of the house, he said, “Did they get the killer, Mary?”
    “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice was hollow ; she sounded drained.
    “Wouldn’t there have been a shot?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “There would have been some commotion.”
    “I guess so.”
    From the rear seat Max said urgently, “Mary, is it safe for Goldman?”
    She sighed and shook her head and pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “I really can’t say. I’ve lost the thread. I don’t see anything else.”
    Max rolled down his window. The damp air carried his voice well. “Hey, Goldman!”
    The officer was halfway across the lawn. He stopped and looked back.
    “Maybe you’d better stay here,” Max said.
    “Harley wants me,” Goldman said.
    “Remember what my wife told you.”
    “It’s all right,” Goldman said. “Nothing’s going to happen. They caught him.”
    “Are you sure of that?” Max asked.
    But Goldman had already turned and was headed for the house again.
    Alan said, “Mary?”
    “Hmmmm?”
    “Are you feeling well?”
    “Well enough.”
    “You don’t sound good.”
    “Just tired.”
    “He presses you much too