Parallelities Read Online Free

wiped the crust of dried tears from her cheeks with a cotton handkerchief. “What do you have to say about what you have just seen and heard? What will you write in your
Skeptical
magazine now?”
    Glancing over at Tarashikov, he saw her watching him closely, trying hard not to appear too interested. It was a struggle, but he kept a straight face as he replied.
    “A most impressive demonstration, Mrs. Collins. It certainly gives one something to think about. Why, if I were in your position I would take every opportunity to utilize the extraordinary talents of Ms. Tarashikov to the fullest. Cabalistic perception like hers doesn’t come along very often. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything quite like it before.” On the other side of the table, the comely medium smiled softly as she expertly snuffed the candle.
    “You can be assured that I will. Skeptics!” Haughty, dignified, and flush with success, their hostess escorted both of them to the door.
    “Same time next week then, Mrs. Collins?” Tarashikov’s faux empathetic smile bordered on the artlessly predatory.
    “Of course, Madame.” Her face was shining, her enthusiasm unbounded. “To be able to hear my dear Eric again, after the accident…” Choked, she took the medium’s free hand in both of hers and squeezed thankfully.
    Tarashikov gently but firmly disengaged her fingers. “Rest assured that I am at your service, Mrs. Collins. And if I am not available because I am helping another poor soul in distress, please do not forget to fax me, or leave a message with my answering service.”
    A last parting handshake and they fled the house and its tearful but satisfied owner. Max escorted the medium to her parked car, enjoying the sway of her hips as they walked the short distance together.
    “You need an answering service? I thought the spirits would take messages for you.”
    She snorted derisively. “Sometimes even the spirits refuse to work overtime. On such occasions a little technological supplementation may be called for.” Grabbing his shoulder, she squeezed hard, the nails digging slightly into his flesh. “Thanks for backing me up in there.”
    He shrugged. “Hey, if it works out I might get a small continuing series out of this.”
    She leaned close and whispered. “You might also, as you said, get ‘the opportunity to utilize the extraordinary talents of Ms. Tarashikov to the fullest.’”
    He eyed her in surprise, then smiled broadly. “I’ve got a candlestick of my own you can manipulate. Speaking of which”—he indicated the one that was poking out of the oversized handbag she was carrying—“how’d you manage the levitation? That was well done. I didn’t see any wires.”
    “There aren’t any wires. I told you, there are times when a little technology is in order. Even a professional medium needs to keep abreast of the latest developments.” Pulling out the candlestick, she upended it to show him where the base was screwed tight to the shaft.
    “There’s a small but powerful magnet inside and a bigger battery-powered electromagnet in my purse.”
    “Which was under the table,” he filled in.
    “Right. This ring,” and she indicated one of the many bulky rings that decorated her long fingers, “holds the on-off switch. Makes it easy to raise and lower the candlestick. These new magnets are very precise. You can really keep control.”
    “That’s fresh. How about the dead kid’s voice?”
    “Tiny speaker inside the top of the candlestick.” They were approaching her fittingly sepulchral Mercedes and she nodded in its direction. “George, my assistant, is in the trunk. Don’t worry—he’s in there with air-conditioning and a cooler of cold drinks in addition to the base unit for the candlestick.Staying in the trunk keeps him out of sight and forestalls any awkward questions from the mark … from the customer. We found out by accident that it also adds a nice reverb to the voice. George is very