Saxon's Ghost (1969) by Steve Fisher

Author:Steve Fisher [Fisher, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-10T21:00:00+00:00

XIII

SHE HAD FLED Las Vegas, coming to the closest large city, looking for him, seeking haven, comfort; and, he saw now, urgently needing to tell him there were desperate people who wanted to steal his Lida illusion, had threatened, perhaps even physically harmed her in the effort to get it. After what Sherry had told him yesterday in Chicago, he should have realized San Francisco would have been Ellen’s immediate destination; but he had been too distraught; aching, guilty sadness clouding his mind, and instead of reasoning it out had rushed here to Baton Rouge, only to talk to a boy she had known once: as though leafing through a musty scrapbook of yesteryear while the vital minutes of now, today, slipped away like quicksilver.

Hands trembling, he was at the telephone again, dialing the San Francisco code area, then his own number. Well, at least now, he thought, the frustration is over, I’ll be talking to her, not trying to reach her through a void of ESP. The phone began to ring at the other end of the line, and Saxon smiled over at Grant Sawyer, who wasn’t sure what was going on, and beginning to betray by his expression that whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

Two rings, three, four, five.

And it finally occurred to Saxon that although Ellen was standing there in his apartment, looking at the instrument as it rang on and on, she thought the call was for him, and out of courtesy would not answer.

He slammed up the receiver, Grant staring at him now as if at a madman.

“Who’d you try to call?”

Saxon took a five dollar bill from his pocket and put it down.

“Right now I’m going to make some calls to Mosiamt and see if I can get a flight out. That should cover the charges on the Hayes’ telephone bill.”

Mosiamt was the New Orleans International Airport and before the young man could answer, Saxon had put through the first of what was to be a marathon of calls from one airline information desk to another. No, there was no available space on any airliner going anywhere, not tonight, tomorrow, or even the day after. Oh, certainly, he could show up and stand by in case of a last minute cancellation, but there were other standbys already ahead of him, and it was extremely doubtful there would be anything at all.

Saxon put the receiver gently back on its cradle, and looked up at the boy.

“Nice meeting you, Grant.”

“Pleased to have met you, sir.” A wait, then: “Do you expect to see Ellen?”

“Certainly hope so.”

“Wonder if you’d do me a favor. Ask her to call me. She can reverse the charges. It’s very important,” he went on. “More important than even Mr. and Mrs. Hayes realize.”

It was important to an ex-high school football grid star who had stayed too long at the fair.

“I’ll tell her.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Saxon.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, son.”

Mosiamt. Skyport dining room. A plate of food in front of him he could scarcely touch.

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