5 A Return Client

The next morning, Maria drew the heavy curtains in the front parlor, allowing the light from outside to beam through the stuffy room. Tiny particles of dust floated around her like snow, settling over a card table with a paisley tablecloth splattered with candle wax. The dust drifted to the two folding chairs and onto Houdini’s cage, which was covered with seeds, feathers, and bird droppings.

Maria wondered why her mother never cleaned the birdcage herself. He was HER parrot, after all.

She took out Houdini from the cage and patted his feathers before feeding him a few seeds. “It’ll only be a minute. You’ll have your cage back in no time,” she said, placing him on top of his stand. She poured dish soap into a bucket of water, dipped a rag in, and scraped away at the rusty cage.

Maria worked quickly, the suds wrinkling her fingers. Then she threw the rag into the bucket, picked up a broom, and swept away the seeds that had spilled from the cage.

She listened for the sound of her mother and Mr. Fox at the other end of the apartment.

Ka-thud!

Someone must be kicking a ball outside the building, she thought.

Maria dropped her broom and peered out the parlor window. Behind the ripple of glass stood a boy, his face hidden in the shade of his red ball cap. Maria squinted.

Sebastian?

Yes, it was Sebastian kicking a ball against the steps. Maria ducked behind the birdcage and peered between the vertical bars. The ball bounced rhythmically back and forth with every kick. Sebastian must have seen her looking, because he stopped and waved.

It was almost as if he was taunting her. Or maybe he was trying to get her attention, trying to say hello.

The front gate swung open, and Sebastian moved aside, his ball rolling beside the steps.

Wavering before him like a lily in the wind was the widow, Mrs. Fisher. She smiled warmly at the boy and scooted past him, making her way to the front door.

Maria snapped from her trance.

Buzzzz! Buzzzzz!

The widow had returned to speak to her late husband! Maria dragged the bucket and broom into the kitchen as fast as she could, while the buzzer rang through the apartment. Her feet slid against the wooden floorboards, her body crashing to the mattress in the closet.

Buzzzz! Buzzzz!

Maria slammed her door and pressed her eye against the hole in the wall.

Footsteps tapped across the apartment to the front parlor.

Madame Destine swung open the door. “What is it!” she barked, but then stopped. “I mean—er—welcome, dear friend!”

“Madame Destine!” said Mrs. Fisher. “I’ve been thinking about my late husband’s request.”

Madame Destine folded her arms and leaned against the door. “Go on…” Houdini mimicked her order.

“And if you’re willing, I would like to make contact with him one more time.”

Madame Destine gave a dramatic bow and steadied her turban. “Well, I’ve been expecting you,” she said slowly. “Come inside, and I’ll summon his spirit.”

Mrs. Fisher tiptoed in and closed the door behind her.

Madame Destine yanked the curtains shut before she killed the lights. A match was struck and the two women were illuminated by soft candlelight. Madame Destine backed away from the table until she covered Maria’s vent with her bottom.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This was Madame Destine’s signal for Maria to get ready.

“Mr. Fisher is nearby,” began Madame Destine. “I can feel him in this very room,” she continued in a whisper. “Come and sit with me at the table.” She grabbed Mrs. Fisher by the hand and swung her in front of the card table.

Mrs. Fisher fell into her chair while Houdini was placed in his cage.

Madame Destine clapped her hands and held them high above her head. “Silence! I need absolute silence as I attempt to summon the dead.”

Mrs. Fisher shut her eyes and sat motionless in her chair. The room was deathly silent.

Madame Destine began, “Spirit of the late Robert Fisher, I summon you to this table on behalf of your wife wishing to speak with you ONE. LAST. TIME.”

Behind the wall, Maria felt the familiar frosty chill of Edward against the back of her neck. “Not now!” she whispered. “I have to work!” She waved her hand behind her while she peered through the grate.

She waited for Mr. Fox’s moans and clanging pipes from the basement and quickly turned on the fan.

But once she’d ducked away from the fan, the cool air continued to whip around her face.

“Edward! Can’t you see I’m busy?” she whispered. Maria felt around the floor for a pen and paper.

Ka-thud!

Maria stopped.

That must have been her mother’s head hitting the table. She reached for the fan and turned it off. Then she grabbed the pen and placed it between her knuckles against the paper.

“Okay,” she said out of breath. “Tell me. And hurry!”

Edward instantly took over, moving Maria’s hand across the paper. When she stopped and the pen fell to the paper, Maria opened her eyes and scanned the note:

Marilyn will give your mother

The prize that she is after.

Then follow the widow home

And tell her alone what I told you.

Maria crumpled the note.

Oh, Edward! Why was he asking her to follow this stranger home? Didn’t he know she could never get away long enough without arousing suspicion from her mother?

But she’d promised Edward she’d help him. She knew that helping the widow was the right thing to do. But why couldn’t it be a simple task? One that wouldn’t get her into trouble?

“Okay, Edward,” she whispered. “I’ll … I’ll try.” But Maria was not so sure of herself.

Madame Destine’s voice boomed in the next room. “Goodbye, my love! I look forward to our reunion in the next world!” Her bracelets jangled, the pipes clanged, and the moans sang through the apartment. Maria switched on the fan until she heard the thud on the table and turned it off again. Then she peered through the vent.

Mrs. Fisher dug through her purse and handed Madame Destine a twenty-dollar bill. The fake psychic tucked the money into her bosom and tore open the curtains. Houdini fluttered back to her shoulder.

The widow eased out of her chair and drifted to the front door. “Thanks again,” she said, taking Madame Destine’s hand with a bow. “Now, the Brooklyn Urban Youth Initiative for Tomorrow is on Waverly and Atlantic? Which way is that?”

Madame Destine released her hand from the widow’s grasp. “Take a left, and you’ll walk straight to it.” Madame Destine flung open the door and gave Mrs. Fisher a tap on the back, propelling her outside. She let the door slam behind her.

Maria backed away from the vent and threw on her hoodie. She had to follow Mrs. Fisher and do it fast! She took a deep breath and whispered, “Edward, you owe me.”

Then she kicked open her closet door and raced through her mother’s bedroom, gliding across the hall to the front parlor.

Madame Destine’s thin body charged for Maria. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Maria clenched her fists. “I forgot my library books. I’ll be back soon!” she said. She sped full throttle at her mother, causing the fake psychic to spin and lose her balance as she passed.

“No running in this house!” barked Madame Destine, her turban falling over her eyes. She swept her hands about the room for her daughter like a lobster’s claws in a tank.

Maria flew through the front door faster than Houdini could mimic “NO RUNNING!” She turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, passing the kids at play on the sidewalk.

“Hey, where are you going?” called Sebastian, running after her.

But Maria ignored him. She had no time to stop anyway.

She scanned the sidewalk for the widow until she spotted the familiar sway of Mrs. Fisher and her cape blowing in the wind.