Double Take

London. And all the old photos of the Crimean War, I wonder where those come from?”
    Bevlin said to Sherlock as he rose, “I don’t like Victorian fuss. I like space and views.”
    “You’re a hippie philistine,” Wallace said. “Red beanbags— just saying it makes me shudder.”
    “Those red beanbags represent small vibrant areas of being,” Bevlin said, whatever that meant, Cheney thought.
    “All of this is very interesting,” Julia said, aware that the three FBI agents and Sheriff Dix Noble were getting more impatient with each passing minute, “but we have more important things to do. Wallace, since you demanded that all of us come, let me make the introductions.”
    Wallace shook hands with the three FBI agents, pausing briefly in front of each of them. To Sherlock, he said, “Sometimes people look at you and smile, and don’t see your substance. That’s always a very bad mistake to make, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” Sherlock said, “one would think it is.”
    He turned to Ruth, looked at her closely, then slowly nodded. “You are extraordinarily good at your job, Agent Warnecki. You see so very much, don’t you?”
    “We all see too much sometimes, don’t you think?” Ruth said.
    When he reached Dix, he became very still. Finally, he said, “I see a nearly desperate man, Sheriff Noble, about what I don’t know, but it’s clear to me that you’re frustrated and angry.”
    “You think?” Dix said. “You’re a whiz at reading people, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I am. Sheriff Noble, you’re here, in a psychic’s house, plainly, because you can’t see any other options. I would say you are perhaps the most determined of all your colleagues to discount anything I may say or do. I ask you to be patient.”
    Dix looked at him, stony-faced.
    Wallace lightly laid a hand on Dix’s shoulder. “In the end, you will do what needs to be done, I imagine,” he said, and stepped back. And that made Dix think of Charlotte—he’d forgotten to call her.
    Wallace smiled at Julia, who stood very close to Cheney. “The two of you,” he said, and shook his head. “Life continually surprises me.”
    When Wallace’s eyes rested on Savich, he slowly nodded, but said nothing. He finally said, “I asked Bevlin to come over as well. As I told Julia, the more people here, the better for our efforts.”
    “What efforts?” Cheney asked. “Come on, Wallace, enough dancing around. Tell us why you wanted us to come.”
    “Very well. Both Bevlin and I are very concerned about Kathryn. Since you don’t know what this madman has done with her, we decided that a seance, of sorts, might help us locate her.
    “I wanted all of you here because I need all of your strength, your focus, your concentration. I can assure you, I am very serious. I cannot guarantee success, that is, I cannot guarantee you that I will connect to Kathryn, but I am going to try.
    “Before you arrived, Bevlin and I spoke about Kathryn’s vision—actually, I feared it would make the assassin hotfoot it right to her.”
    “I did too,” Bevlin said.
    Dix was still staring at them as stony-faced as before.
    Sherlock said, “So I gather you believe her visions are authentic?”
    “Oh yes,” Wallace said. “Well, for the most part. Sometimes Kathryn embroiders, and why not? Clients love detail, all the emotional stuff she dredges up, it pulls them in deeper. She says that the trappings, you know, the background, the stuff surrounding the dead person in her visions, aren’t usually very clear. It’s like there are filmy draperies blowing over everything but the person. But one thing I’m sure of—if she said she saw this guy, then she saw him. Do you agree, Bevlin?”
    “I know Kathryn’s a really good performer, knows how to cuddle right up to her clients. She senses very quickly what they need and want, and colors in her lovely pictures once they give her the clues she needs. But there’ve been times I’ve had the feeling she is seeing beyond what’s there, really seeing.”
    Wallace said, “The fact is, though—and I can see all of you are thinking it—anyone could have called up Agent Stone this morning, told him to beware the assassin, to watch for his car because the assassin was after him. It seems nothing more than common sense.”
    Ruth held up her hand. “You said we’re here to help you conduct a séance, Mr. Tammerlane, that you want to try to contact Kathryn Golden.”
    “Yes, that’s right.”
    Bevlin