Touchy and Feely (Sissy Sawyer Mysteries) by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page A

of the field, another man was hysterically laughing.
    Two more bad Predictor cards. And neither of them gave her any advice about leaving New Preston to spend the winter in Florida. La Poupée Sans Tête meant that a child or children were going to be tragically orphaned; and La Faucille Terrible warned that somebody was going to be injured while performing a mundane, everyday task.
    All of the Ambience cards said that these events were going to happen here, and that she (the widow) was going to be part of them. If she were going to Florida, the Imminence cards wouldn’t have warned her about traps, and childless women, and the wind changing. This was her future, and she knew from experience that she couldn’t avoid it. One morning four years ago she had turned up Le Pêcheur Perdu, the Doomed Fisherman, which showed a man on a desolate beach, surrounded on all sides by crabs. She had known then that Gerry’s prostate cancer was going to kill him.

Breakfast in Canaan
     
    F eely opened his eyes. He had never felt so cold in his life. In fact he was so cold that he thought he must be dead. The car windows were covered in plumes and feathers of frost, and the interior was filled with brilliant white sunlight. All that was missing was a heavenly choir.
    It was only when he tried to move that he realized he was still alive. Every joint in his body had seized up. He had wedged himself sideways in the Chevrolet’s front passenger seat, with his head resting against the window. His hat was actually frozen to the glass.
    ‘Urrghh,’ he said. He managed to sit up straight, and look around. At first he thought he must be alone, but then he heard a catarrhal snort from the Chevy’s rear seat. He peered over and saw Robert lying under several spread-out sheets of newspaper, his stubble sparkling with ice. For the first time, Feely saw that he had a large BandAid stuck to his left temple.
    Robert opened one eye. ‘What time is it?’
    ‘I don’t know. Hold up. Five after eight.’
    ‘Jesus,’ said Robert, pushing the newspaper onto the floor. ‘The dreams I’ve been having.’
    ‘Me too,’ said Feely. ‘I dreamed I was back in school, and my teacher was throwing broccoli at me.’
    Robert sat up straight and rubbed the window with his sleeve, but the ice was on the outside. ‘God it’s cold. Let’s get the engine started up.’
    The rear door was stuck fast with frost, and he had to throw his whole weight against it to get it open. He eased himself into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine made a groaning noise, but at first it didn’t fire up.
    ‘Come on, you bastard,’ he snarled at it, and tried the key again. This time the engine burst into life. ‘You see?’ he told Feely. ‘You don’t have to take any crap from anything; or anyone. Your life is your own. You have inalienable rights.’
    They waited while the interior of the car warmed up and the ice gradually slid from the windows. When it did, they discovered that they were alone in the middle of a disused railroad yard. The sky was golden, and the sun sparkled on the snow.
    ‘Can you feel your feet yet?’ asked Robert.
    Feely nodded. His feet were beginning to itch, as if his boots were crawling with fire-ants.
    Robert said, ‘This is when you have to respect guys like Peary.’
    Feely said nothing, but blew on his gloveless hands.
    ‘You know who I’m talking about?’ Robert asked him.
    Feely shook his head.
    ‘You never heard of Robert Edwin Peary, the first man to reach the North Pole? April 6, 1909.’
    ‘I never heard of him,’ Feely admitted.
    ‘Schools today,’ said Robert. ‘Just because Peary was white, and male. I’ll bet you’ve heard of Malcolm X.’
    ‘Malcolm X? Sure.’
    ‘There you are, see. But Malcolm X never went to the North Pole, did he? Malcolm X never went within a thousand miles of the North Pole. Just as well for him. He probably would have been eaten by a polar bear, mistook him for a giant