Nearly Departed, Max Schlienger [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

“Oh, yes, a neat little thing, that,” said Elspeth. She pulled the object out of a pocket and put it on the table. “I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It calmed down as soon as I pulled you from her room.”

Dennis reached forward and tentatively held the stone between his thumb and forefinger. It was silent now, but the memory of it vibrating still resonated in his grip. Ghosts and magic rocks, he thought grimly. His clients suddenly seemed more sane. He slid the stone into his pocket and looked back up at Elspeth.

“Look, I meant what I said about not knowing anything about all of this,” he said. “My name isn’t even ‘September.’ It’s –”

“Dennis Goofy Hat, I know,” interrupted Elspeth. She nodded at the table, where Dennis noticed his wallet. “I hope you don’t mind. I went looking for your ID when you fainted.”

“Why?”

“To make sure you weren’t allergic to gin,” Elspeth said. Her smile said that she was joking, but Dennis couldn’t be sure. He took his wallet from the table, not even bothering to check if its contents were intact.

“It’s Gufehautt, actually,” said Dennis. Admittedly, it did sound very similar to the way that Elspeth had pronounced it, but he had tried desperately to leave the mocking nickname behind when he left high school.

“What should I call you, then?”

“You may call me what you wish,” Dennis replied automatically. “I mean… Sorry. Dennis is fine.” He felt an odd sensation on his chin, and discovered that some of the spilled alcohol had started dissolving the glue that held his beard on. Seeing no point in keeping an aspect of the ruined act, he reached up and pulled it off.

“Now, there’s a shame, I thought you looked nice with a beard,” said Elspeth. She sipped at her tea, her eyes not leaving Dennis’. “You still haven’t answered me, though. Will you help me?”

He was bumbling through uncharted territory. Clearly, the woman wasn’t in need of psychiatric help, and Dennis doubted that an explanation of his original purpose would dissuade her. Besides, Harding had made it clear that they should keep that bit of information as unmentioned. If he did take the case, so to speak, he would be on his own.

“Yes,” Dennis said, surprising himself slightly. “Yes, I’ll help you. I need a few days to get my head around this, but I’ll help you.” There, it was done, although he was still unsure if he had made the right decision. The last time he’d felt like this, he had just slid a letter under a prospective girlfriend’s door. As with then, though, it was too late to take it back. He could only hope that this attempt would yield more favorable results.

“Thank you,” said Elspeth. She reached behind the chair and brought out a white canvas purse, from which she pulled a thin checkbook. “Do you prefer to be paid by the hour?”

“Wait, what?” Dennis faltered. “I didn’t… I mean… You’re going to pay me?” Elspeth looked up again, and her face was a mirror of the incredulous expression that her sister had worn earlier.

“Of course I am, Dennis. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do this for nothing.” She scribbled something on a check, presumably Dennis’ name. “Will a thousand a week do?” Something caught in Dennis’ throat, and he let out a strained cough.

“Look, not to be rude, but… That’s very generous of you, but I really don’t need –”

“You’ll take it and that’s all there is to it,” said Elspeth firmly. Once again, Dennis felt like he was back in kindergarten. There was definitely something wrong with him, feeling like a check for a thousand dollars was some kind of punishment. Elspeth held it out for him, and he reluctantly accepted. “Now, when should I expect you back?”

“Uh… Wednesday,” Dennis replied. “I’ll come by first thing in the morning. Nine o’clock.”

“How do you like your eggs?”

Today was just a day for getting caught off guard, it seemed. “I’m sorry?”

Elspeth smiled with a trace of impatience. “I’m about through with repeating things to you, Dennis. I asked how you like your eggs.”

“Over easy,” he replied. And then, just because the situation could not get any stranger, he added: “With sourdough toast.”

“A man after my own heart,” said Elspeth. “Well, I’ll see you here at nine on Wednesday, then.” She stood and walked towards the door, and Dennis scrambled to follow her. She took down his damp overcoat and held it out, then opened the door as Dennis struggled to get his arms through the sleeves. He paused in the doorway and shifted his weight awkwardly as he glanced back towards Evy’s room.

“Should I say goodbye or something?”

“She won’t remember anyway.” The pair stood in the door for a moment longer. “Well, goodnight, Dennis.” She closed the door after him. He made it all the way back to the street before he threw up.

Dennis hammered on the glass door of the curio shop, pausing only to peer into the darkened interior.

“Draadtrekker! Open up, I know you’re still in there!” He pounded harder, drawing concerned stares from an elderly couple that was walking by. He gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile before turning back to the shop. “Draadtrekker!” he yelled again. He cupped a hand around his eyes and pressed his face up against the dusty glass. There was a dim light coming from somewhere at the back of the shop, probably through the doorway to a private room.

Dennis took a few steps back, almost into the street, and examined the building. There was an alleyway a few yards to the right, traveling into a refuse-laden maze of broken bottles and cardboard. He ran through the opening, hurdling over obstacles as he encountered them, and skidded out next to a collection of dented and stained dumpsters. There was an open door set into the unpainted brick, and a few wisps of incense smoke still drifted through the