Chapter 24

By any standard, little Gussie Parker was Bruno’s most successful outing as a psychic detective. It was a textbook case of remote viewing—or astral projection, as the more spiritually inclined like to call it—and psychometrics.

First, he concentrated on the picture. That was a bit scary, because he saw nothing. Normally, when remote viewing works properly, you get to see and sometimes hear whatever the subject is seeing or hearing. It’s like a remote-operated video camera, without wires or electricity—or confusing instructions translated literally from Japanese. The fact that it wasn’t working indicated Gussie was probably unconscious, as in asleep, Bruno hoped.

That left the briefcase. Gary dusted the whole thing for prints. Of course the handle was full of them, so that was off limits. But there was the area along the bottom, which had an accordion fold that was all scuffed up and Gary said he could touch it there. Bruno wasn’t hopeful. But it turned out that Gussie must’ve sometimes held the case pushed right up under his armpit with a hand tucked under the bottom of the case for support. Maybe his arm was getting tired from carrying it the other way?

Then the whole scene played out as clear as day.

Gussie was walking home from school with another kid. Talking about the teacher. Homework. The girls in the class. Underpants. Their arms would get tired and they’d heave their briefcases. That explained the marks.

The other kid’s name was Don. He started teasing Gussie about his work at the racetrack. Shoveling horse poop a big theme.

“Yeah.” Gussie got all puffed up. “I know which horses are going to win all the big races.”

“That’s ’cause your dad’s a bookie, not ’cause you know anything about horses.”

“Oh yeah? My dad is an accountant. He works for the track. He doesn’t do anything illegal. Everything’s on the level.”

“You’re lying!”

They tossed their briefcases at each other. Both missed.

Don came to his turning, and Gussie continued on alone. He was hungry. Thinking about Tastykake. Chocolate Krimpets. Then a car drove up.

There was nothing subtle about what happened next. No dialogue. No trickery.

A man hopped out. He was wearing an overcoat with a watch cap pulled down low on his brow. He grabbed Gussie, who tried to hit him with his briefcase. But he was too close. There was no leverage. The briefcase fell harmlessly to the sidewalk. The man forced Gussie into the backseat, where he hit him over the head with something and knocked him unconscious.

Then things got sketchy. Gussie’s emotions were fading as he went out for the count. He tried to call for help and saw his mother’s face. He thought he was saved. But she turned her back and stole away. Now there were two men, both wearing Halloween masks—big rubber T. rex heads with enormous yellow teeth. Gussie was terrified. They tied him up and threw him somewhere. It was hard to make out. Bruno was tiring. He broke contact with the briefcase and went looking for the Chief.