Fadeaway Girl by Martha Grimes Read Free Book Online Page A

me, but then I thought (being philosophical), just look at my life; how could it?
    The woman who opened the door to me lived here with Mrs. Louderback and was always silent and grim. I thought she was bad-natured and wondered why Mrs. Louderback let her be the door greeter. Maybe she thought that if one of her clients could be discouraged from coming because of this woman’s peevishness, well, maybe that person’s fortune was already set in stone and no turning over of cards would change things.
    Inside, the house was very cool and shadowy. I was led through the living room full of dark lion-footed furniture to a small room off the kitchen. It was in the kitchen that fortunes got told, and this small room was a parlor, a waiting room.
    There were two other people there who looked to be mother and daughter. The young one might have been my age, and was dumb-looking. Say what you will about me, I am not dumb-looking. This girl sat with her head against her mother’s shoulder and stared at me. I was never a person to hide from a stare; I stared back. She did not move an inch, and her eyelids did not flutter. She stared and stared.
    The mother just flipped the pages of a Ladies’ Home Journal, flipping, not reading, as if she were mad at the magazine for its uselessness. She was unaware of her staring girl, certainly. I was about to get up and go over and ask the mother if she knew her daughter was dead, when the door opened and a middle-aged woman walked out and crossed the room woodenly and left without looking at anybody or anything. I wondered if Mrs. Louderback hypnotized people and left them to find their own way home.
    â€œEmma, hello.”
    Seeing I was next, I got up from my chair. But I felt some reluctance to go on. I didn’t know what it was I wanted.
    The kitchen smelled of recently baked bread. It was a very neat and clean kitchen. There wasn’t a mark on the white counters, and the white enamel stove looked as if it had just come from the new Sears outlet.
    Mrs. Louderback started placing cards in a row and the first was (yes, there he was) the Hanged Man.
    â€œThis does not mean bad news,” said Mrs. Louderback.
    It would to me if I were hanging upside down. I nodded and waited for the next card.
    Orphans in a Storm. “Here they are again. Don’t tell me they’re okay.”
    She laughed, briefly. “It depends on what you think is ‘okay.’ ”
    â€œFor one thing, not having to tramp through snow and rain in ragged clothes.”
    Mrs. Louderback grew thoughtful. “But they may be moving toward something brilliant.”
    I hoped this was not a cue for God to walk onstage. I changed the subject. “Last time we were talking about the Slades’ baby being kidnapped. You know, from the Belle Ruin.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDo you know what I think? I think maybe the baby wasn’t even there. At the Belle Ruin, I mean. They just wanted people to believe it was.”
    Mrs. Louderback looked astonished. “But why would parents do such a thing?”
    â€œI don’t know. To make sure people thought baby Fay was alive at that time. And remember, the baby’s nurse wasn’t with them. They said she was sick. They said their baby was sick too, maybe to keep people from insisting on seeing her. What if the parents had to account for the baby’s absence for some reason? Now if Fay was allegedly kidnapped, well, that would sure account for it.”
    Mrs. Louderback was looking at the cards but I don’t think she was seeing them. Then she said, “This Spiker girl, the babysitter. She said she left the room and was gone for twenty minutes talking on the phone. When she returned, the baby was gone and Morris Slade was in the room.”
    I nodded. I thought Mrs. Louderback was doing awfully well in remembering details for a person her age.
    She continued: “There’s a problem there, isn’t there? How would the