Two women sat on the other side of the flapping fire, watching me. The flames gave their flesh the brown tint of American Indians, and their shining black eyes only enhanced the impression. They sat buried deep in towels. One had a pipe stuck in the corner of her mouth. This was the grubby one. Her sister—I assumed this because their facial similarities were remarkable—had no pipe and was bald. The hues of the fire danced red and yellow on her shiny dome.
“You’re Mr. Hammett.”
“I guess so.”
“We’re glad to meet you, Mr. Hammett.”
“Yeah, I could tell that by the way you slugged me.”
“We just had to be sure.” The bald one had done all the talking thus far.
“Sure of what?”
“That you looked up to the task.” This time the gray-haired one spoke. “I’m Elena, by the way, and this is my sister Stephanie.”
I struggled to a sitting position. Elena handed me a cup of something steaming. I peered inside. I didn’t see anything crawling around in there, so I started sipping it. It was tea and it was good, very good.
226
Ed Gorman
FOOL’S PARADISE
227
“I know you probably think we’re Indians, but we’re not,” Stephanie said. “We’re French, actually. Our parents came to Baltimore from a small town just outside Paris. Anyway, we got to the Riverworld along with Mr. Poe and all the others. Unfortunately, we had nothing in common with them back there and we have nothing in common with them now.”
I looked at Elena. “You’re the Witch of the Woods?”
Her sister giggled.
“Don’t encourage her. That’s what she wants you to do. She’s starting to believe all the myths people have started about her,” Stephanie said.
“Then she’s not a witch?”
Stephanie giggled again. “Hardly.” She smiled. “Though I’ll bet Mr. Poe wishes she was.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because the other night in the woods Elena caught him with another girl. If she were really a witch, Mr. Poe could ask her to put a spell on Arda so she wouldn’t be angry with his infidelity.”
I thought of Arda, of her sad little face and eyes, and of dramatic Poe seemingly so faithful to her. Even with Arda, he couldn’t leave other girls alone.
I sipped more tea and said, “You were going to tell me why you slugged me.”
“Easily enough explained, Mr. Hammett,” Stephanie said. “We want you to steal something for us tonight, and we just wanted to make sure that you were stronger than you looked.”
“We heard that you were a Pinkerton, but frankly, you don’t look all that hearty to us.”
“Well, maybe I can put on a few pounds for you.”
Both women giggled this time.
“What is it you want me to steal?”
“We’re not sure,” Stephanie said. “And that’s the problem.”
Elena offered more tea. I accepted.
Elena said, “There’s a little boy named Robert who lives in the woods here.”
“Yes, I met him.”
“Well, Robert’s actually a very nice little boy, but he has a secret.”
“A secret?”
“Yes, and it’s one he won’t share with us,” Stephanie said.
“Then how do you know he has a secret?”
“Because the oilier night we saw Mr. O’Brien beating him.”
“Beating Robert?”
“Yes,” Stephanie said. “I like to run through the woods at night, playing the witch, I mean. Gives people something to talk about and it’s kind of fun. Anyway, I was going through the woods and I saw Robert tied to a tree and Mr. O’Brien slapping him again and again. I tried to stop him, but Mr. O’Brien just pushed me away. He doesn’t seem to be frightened by witches.”
“It’s because you’re not a witch,” Elena reminded her.
“Anyway, he kept telling Robert over and over to tell him the secret. But Robert wouldn’t. He’s very brave for a little boy.” She sighed. “Then he took something from Robert. A piece of paper. He ripped it out of the boy’s pocket and then took off running. I’d been hiding in the bushes, watching it all, and so when he left, I ran up and freed Robert.”
“Robert didn’t tell you what O’Brien had stolen?”