Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [18]
Walt looked panicked as he began sidling toward the door, giving Miriam as wide a berth as possible.
“No … I can’t … don’t ask me … you can’t ask me.”
In a single quick move he jerked the door open and darted through.
Miriam dashed after him, calling, “Mister Erskine! Please, my baby. You’ve got to help her! I’ll pay you! Mister Erskine, please!”
Jack watched, stunned. What a crazy—
And then he realized that Walt hadn’t denied that he could do it. He’d said, You can’t ask me.
Just then Mr. Rosen shuffled in from the back, rubbing his eyes.
“Such tumel. Who’s making the racket?”
Jack stepped to the window and saw Miriam and Walt facing each other by the front fender of a beat-up old Ford station wagon. He noticed Mr. Drexler’s Bentley parked a dozen feet away.
Miriam was offering Walt an envelope. Money? Jack couldn’t read her lips but remembered her offer to pay him.
Walt pushed it back, shaking his head as he said something.
Jack edged toward the door as Miriam pulled a slip of white paper from the envelope and stuffed it into the pocket of Walt’s fatigue jacket. He pulled it out, looked at it, then threw it away.
As Walt waved his hands and walked off, Jack pulled open the door in time to hear Miriam call after him.
“I’ll be there till Sunday, Mister Erskine! Please reconsider, I beg you! If you change your mind you can come anytime. I’ll be waiting.”
She began to cry then, and her sobs tore at Jack’s heart. He watched her place her baby in the car seat in her old station wagon, then get in and drive away.
Jack jumped as Mr. Drexler spoke over his shoulder.
“Most entertaining.” He straightened and smiled. “I must make a note to come here more often.” He turned and nodded to Mr. Rosen. “Good day to you, sir. You have the most entertaining clientele.” Then to Jack: “Remember: the lawn and beds taken care of before Friday night.”
Jack looked at Mr. Rosen. “Can you spare me Friday?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Somehow I’ll manage.”
“Friday, then,” Mr. Drexler said and stepped out the door.
A big man hopped out of the Bentley and held the rear door for him. He seemed to be a combination of driver and bodyguard, although why Mr. Drexler would need either, Jack couldn’t imagine. Mr. Drexler called him Eggers.
He saw a piece of paper flutter in the wake of the car as it roared off—the slip Miriam had tried to give Walt. Jack ducked out and chased it. He checked it out when he caught it.
Lonely Pine Motel room 3
He stuffed it in his pocket and hurried back inside.
What an afternoon. Jack couldn’t get Miriam and her poor baby out of his head. He remembered his father telling him that Walt had worked as some sort of faith healer in a show in the south, but had been kicked out for drinking too much. He’d heard about faith healers who could make the blind see and the deaf hear and the lame walk, all things that could be faked.
But he’d never heard of a faith healer curing an amputee … or causing someone born with a bad arm or leg to grow a good one.
Had Walt done that? Could he really heal with a touch? Maybe. After all, there’d been that strange incident last month. And if he could, why would he refuse? Jack had a flash of insight: Was that why he wore gloves day in and day out?
The ding! of the cash register roused Jack as Mr. Rosen popped it.
“A store full of people and they bought nothing?”
“I guess they weren’t in a buying mood,” Jack told him.
Anything but.
6
“Oh, Jack,” Mrs. Connell said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Jack had decided on a direct approach to contacting Weezy. Rather than calling first, he rode his bike over and knocked on the front door. Mrs. Connell had practically hugged him.
“How’s Weezy doing?” he said, playing dumb like he had this morning. “She still sick?”
Mrs. Connell chewed her lip for a second, then said, “She’s not sick. She just won’t go to school.”
Jack feigned surprise—Eddie had told him in confidence—then put on a smile.
“And it works? Maybe I should try that.”
“It’s not funny,