money. Omay doesn't get angry, of course, which really pisses me off. Anyway, he hands me a little card and tells me to write anything I want on it - something significant about my life, a date, a lover's initials, whatever I wanted. I check the card. It looks like a normal white card, but I still ask if I can use one of my own. He tells me to suit myself. I take out a business card and flip it over. He hands me a pen, but again I decide to use my own - in case it's a trick pen or something, what do I know, right? He has no problem with that either. So I write down your name. Just Beck. He takes the card. I'm watching his hand for a switch or whatever, but he just passes the card to Wendy. He tells her to hold it. He grabs my hand. He closes his eyes and starts shaking like he's having a seizure and I swear I feel something course through me. Then Omay opens his eyes and says, 'Who's Beck?' "
She sat down on the couch. I did likewise.
"Now, I know people have good sleight of hand and all that, but I was there. I watched him up close. And I almost bought it. Omay had special abilities. Like you said, there was no other explanation. Wendy sat there with this satisfied smile plastered on her face. I couldn't figure it out."
"He did research on you," I said. "He knew about our friendship."
"No offense, but wouldn't he guess I'd put my own son's name or maybe Linda's? How would he know I'd pick you?"
She had a point. "So you're a believer now?"
"Almost, Beck. I said I almost bought it. Ol' Omay was right. I'm a skeptic. Maybe it all pointed to him being psychic, except I knew he wasn't. Because there are no such things as psychics - just like there are no such things as ghosts." She stopped. Not exactly subtle, my dear Shauna.
"So I did some research," she went on. "The good thing about being a famous model is that you can call anyone and they'll talk to you. So I called this illusionist I'd seen on Broadway a couple of years ago. He heard the story and then he laughed. I said what's so funny. He asked me a question: Did this guru do this after dinner? I was surprised. What the hell could that have to do with it? But I said yes, how did you know? He asked if we had coffee. Again I said yes. Did he take his black? One more time I said yes." Shauna was smiling now. "Do you know how he did it, Beck?"
I shook my head. "No clue."
"When he passed the card to Wendy, it went over his coffee cup. Black coffee, Beck. It reflects like a mirror. That's how he saw what I'd written. It was just a dumb parlor trick. Simple, right? Pass the card over your cup of black coffee and it's like passing it over a mirror. And I almost believed him. You understand what I'm saying here?"
"Sure," I said. "You think I'm as gullible as Flaky Wendy."
"Yes and no. See, part of Omay's con is the want, Beck. Wendy falls for it because she wants to believe in all that mumbo-jumbo."
"And I want to believe Elizabeth is alive?"
"More than any dying man in a desert wants to find an oasis," she said. "But that's not really my point either."
"Then what is?"
"I learned that just because you can't see any other explanation doesn't mean that one doesn't exist. It just means you can't see it."
I leaned back and crossed my legs. I watched her. She turned away from my gaze, something she never does. "What's going on here, Shauna?"
She wouldn't face me.
"You're not making any sense," I said.
"I think I was pretty damn clear-"
"You know what I mean. This isn't like you. On the phone you said you needed to talk to me. Alone. And for what? To tell me that my dead wife is, after all, still dead?" I shook my head. "I don't buy it."
Shauna didn't react.
"Tell me," I said.
She turned back. "I'm scared," she said in a tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Of what?"
The answer didn't come right away. I could hear Linda rustling around in the kitchen, the tinkling of plates and glasses,