PIECE BY PIECE
JOHN MCGUIRE
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Piece By Piece Text Copyright © 2014 by John McGuire
All rights reserved.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE
OTHER BOOKS BY JOHN MCGUIRE
PREVIEW CHAPTER OF THE DARK THAT FOLLOWS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Do you actually see the future or is it all smoke and mirrors?”
Jason Mills tore his gaze from the crystal ball positioned at the circular table’s center. The prop’s reflective surface played with the distorted shapes the candle-lit room birthed. During the times between customers, Jason would sometimes use it as a way to help clear his mind from the day’s earlier readings. It was never as good a mental cleansing as his nightly ritual of white noise and snow on the television, but it helped to pass the time.
The man attached to the deep voice stepped through the royal red curtains, which separated Jason’s area from the larger bookstore just outside. A graying gentleman, mid-forties, dressed in a nice dark colored suit with the shirt underneath to match. If there had been a tie, the man had long since discarded it. The navy blue shirt’s top button stood loose revealing just a hint of black chest hair underneath. Various wrinkles now crisscrossed along his pants, with the shirt partially untucked.
All in all, this man looked like he might be at the end of an extremely shitty day.
“I’m sorry?” Jason asked.
“It’s fairly simple question. Is there something wrong with your hearing? Are you for real or not?”
Jason ignored the bite underlying the man’s response. Plenty of people came and went through his little cave, but these first moments were the most important, most decisive, for a potential customer. It was why Jason kept his hair slicked back and wore the black cloak with crimson lining the inside. It was why the little bit of lighting in the room appeared more to dance and hide things than reveal them. And it was why, in the center of a table covered in red felt, there sat the crystal ball.
It was always about the show, the magician’s trick. Pure theatrics. How else could Jason convince them he could predict their futures?
Jason forced a smile before motioning to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”
“I think I’ll stand. I don’t have tons of time to waste. So which one is it?” The man leaned on the table in an effort to tower over Jason. However, Jason’s six foot four height made it a useless exercise, as he had at least a half foot on the smaller man.
Perhaps if he stood on his tiptoes he might have a chance.
“And what truth would you have me speak? How would you know if I was lying or not? Most people assume the lie and hope for the truth.”
The man shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Whether I believe you? That’s my problem.”
“Very well then, what do you think? Do you think it’s possible I can see the future? Or that all of this pomp and circumstance is just one more aspect of a long con and I have nothing to offer anyone who might come into this room.” Jason knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but such was the price that the image paid. Most people who came wanted to think they were true skeptics. It was easier to know that there was no mysticism, no gifts to allow someone to peer forward. Yet, those same people, at least the ones who weren’t doing it on a goof, possessed just enough of a hope within them to grasp at anything. They wanted to really believe in something impossible. And like seeing David Copperfield perform his tricks, they were willing enough to suspend their disbelief for a short amount of time… if you could dress things up a little bit and put on a good show. Lucky for Jason, the preshow made his talent much more appealing.
The man’s eyes darted around the room before refocusing on Jason. In his days as a cop, Jason was used to being the one on the other side of the table. Always questioning what he could and could not see. Focusing on an eye twitch, an upturned lip, or how someone’s body shifted under examination, rather than the actual words pouring out of their mouth. Every other potential customer wanted to do a full eye check, just to make sure. After the better part of a minute, the man relented and sat in the chair.
“I asked around. Got some odd birds in my extended family as it turns out. Friends of friends kept dropping your name, saying you were the real deal, though they thought I was a bit crazy to even think about visiting.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “What the Hell. I guess you’ll do.”
Jason shifted in his seat, not knowing if the man’s preamble was done, waiting for him to say something else, but he just stared at Jason.
“Are you doing it?” the man asked.
Jason shook his head. “Reading you? Not yet.”
“Well?”
“Do you have a name?”
“You mean you can’t just read it from me?” When Jason shook his head, the man continued, “Robert Jennings.”
“If you want to find out your future then you-“
Robert held up his hand. “It’s a little more complicated than that. I’m not here for…” He pointed around the room at the dim lighting, the muted colors, and then came to a rest on the crystal ball. “All of this crap.”
“Then it is I who am confused now. Why have you journeyed to this place?”
Robert took another deep breath. “I don’t need the show. You can save that for the others who come here for…” He focused again on the crystal ball. “Comfort, I guess. No, all I need is for you to help me locate my poor dead mother’s legal papers.”
Jason held up his hands. “Legal papers? I’m not sure… look, it doesn’t work like that.”
Reaching into his pocket, Robert retrieved his money clip. On the outside, Jason recognized quite a few pictures comprised of Benjamin Franklin’s wrinkled face. From the stack’s size, the roll contained a couple of grand at least. “Let’s make it work that way. I’ve given this a lot of thought. We do this until we find what I’m looking for. At that point, I hand you this stack and leave, but not a cent before we’re done. Deal?”
“I’m-”
“Listen, she was crazy as a loon.” There was a strain in Robert’s voice, but Jason wasn’t sure if it was due to grief or frustration. “Didn’t trust anyone to know where she put her important documents. Paranoid woman. Could’ve buri
ed them in the yard. Maybe under the house. Hell, there could be some secret panel in her closet. There’s no telling with her. And since she didn’t tell me the where, I’d rather not just dig up the entire yard, pull up the house, and tear down the walls if it is somewhere else. That’s where you come into the picture.”
“Let’s say I agree. I still don’t know how I can help you locate something you don’t have the first clue about.”
“Fair enough. I don’t know how you do what you do… hell; you might be full of it. So I have a couple of questions to ask before we even start. Ok?” Robert asked.
Jason found himself nodding.
Robert slid the money back towards his edge of the table. “When you do whatever it is you do, you’ll see my future, right?”
“Yes, but I’m-“
“Is that the end of it? Am I locked into whatever it is that you see? Can I change things? Or is this an absolute deal?”
Jason wasn’t sure where they were headed with this conversation, nor was he sure how he might be able to help if the man wasn’t supposed to find whatever papers were out there. Still, if I could even get half it’ll be worth it. What the man suggested though… he’d never tried to use his gift like that before. Then again, why not give it a try? This was his job after all, using his ability to provide a picture of the future for paying customers.
“No, you have it mostly right. I see a potential future for you. The scenarios that are going to domino from the moment you leave here into your near future, but nothing is completely set in stone. Even knowledge of the events I provide may cause some changes.”
Robert slapped his hands together. “Great. What I’m proposing is that I focus on a particular avenue of where I look. You do a reading, and we see I find what I’m looking for. If not, we try again. And so on until we get it to work.” He tapped the money.
Jason fixated again on the bundle. In truth, he could barely keep his eyes off it. Ben Franklin stared back at him, speaking to him of child support, fixing the car, rent, and a full refrigerator.
“Alright, but to do this I need physical contact. Extend your hands.”
If Robert was still skeptical, he didn’t let on as he stretched out to grasp Jason’s palms.
“Now focus on where you are going to look. Focus on what you want to find. Focus on the steps that you are going to have to take to execute this plan. In your mind there can be no other path.”
“Ok.”
Jason grasped hold of the man’s hands and felt the familiar rush of his gift. The images of Robert’s future flowed.
Rusted gate. Back door. Sledgehammer. Brick debris all over the living room. Anger.
It was always a jumble at first. In the beginning, it was more about zeroing in on the key bits from the connection. Focusing on those things and slowly a picture would form.
It was like watching a movie in fast forward. Everything Jason wanted to see was in there somewhere, he only needed to focus on the individual moments and slow things down. Get a grip on the story.
He saw Robert in front of a one-story red brick house. Bypassing the front door, he stalked around to the rear and entered a paint peeled wooden utility shack. Inside, a series of various tools lined the corkboard walls. At the far end, leaning against a workbench, sat a sledgehammer. Robert’s knuckles turned white as he wrapped his hand around it.
“You are in a one-story house. Blue shutters and a red front door. Seems pleasant enough-“
“That’s her house… or was her house. It’s a hole, but the land is worth a bundle to the realtors.”
Jason refocused on the reading. “You walk through-“
“Listen, I don’t need the blow by blow, just tell me yes or no on whether I’ve found it.”
Jason ignored Robert and refocused on the reading. Divided into three main sections, a long wall separated the living room from the dining room and kitchen. A hallway at the far end connected the pair of bedrooms with a bathroom in between them. Robert entered the home through the back door, passing through the kitchen. Inside the appliances within were mismatched collections. A newish refrigerator spotted with pages upon pages of art projects. Hand prints on some, crude drawings of the house with a stick figure version of Robert’s mother holding court made up the rest. But where the icebox was new, the stove echoed from much deeper in the past. It was at least 20 years old, rusted along the edges. The original white paint wore away long ago. Robert ignored it and moved with a determination toward the small fireplace in the living room, the sledgehammer swaying at his side.
The tool crashed down upon the bricks delineating it from the remainder of the wall. Sheer brute force scattered them, sending up a small dust cloud with each impact. Repeatedly he lifted the instrument before thundering it down… until rubble remained. Sunlight trickled in through a small hole Robert managed to create. When only wreckage remained, Robert sank to his knees and began to rummage through.
“You destroy the fireplace but…” Jason paused for the images to finish. Only when the last one passed and the connection ended did Jason open his eyes. “Whatever it is you are looking for, they aren’t within the fireplace.”
Robert pulled away from Jason. He slammed a newly free hand on the table between them. “Damnit!”
“I told you just because I might see the future doesn’t mean it will work.”
Robert waved him off. “I wasn’t sure you were the real deal. I’m betting you hear that all the time, but after you described the house… well, I believe you have something. I may not know what, but I think you are going to be the solution to my problems.”
“Are you sure you want to keep at this?”
As an answer, Robert gripped Jason’s hand tighter and growled, “Do it. Let’s go again!”