Now what? I thought.
149.
Max kept me inlay depressed with his thumb. Ca.s.sandra grabbed his arm and pulled it from the molding.
"I said wait a minute," she told nun.
"What is it?" asked the Sheriff.
"Why is he so anxious to dose it up?" she demanded.
Max made a weary sound.
"Give it up, Ca.s.sandra," he said. He depressed the scal- loped inlay/ and the bookcase started revolving again.
"Stop him. Sheriff," said Ca.s.sandra.
"Hold it," ordered Plum.
Max looked aggrieved. "For G.o.d"s sake, Grover," he complained.
"I said hold it," said the Sheriff.
Max removed his thumb from me inlay.
"I"d like to know why you"re so anxious to dose it, too,"
said Plum.
"I told you," Max replied, a little testy now. "I like to keep a tidy household."
He jerked around, a look of anger flaring on his face as Ca.s.sandra shoved him aside and pressed at me scalloped inlay once again.
"Don"t try to stop her," the Sheriff warned.
Motionless, Max watched as the bookcase dosed all the way; then, as Ca.s.sandra kept the inlay depressed, it re- volved once more. Again, the collection of Max"s more valuable volumes of magic (my volumes, really) faced out- ward.
"Now," said Ca.s.sandra.
"Leave it alone/" Max told her. All geniality had vanished from his voice now; he was deadly serious. Is this it? I won- dered.
Ca.s.sandra began to examine the bookcase.
Max moved to stop her.
Sheriff Plum stepped forward and restrained him.
150 Richard Matbeson
I sat/ lumplike, watching.
Max glared at the Sheriff. "This has nothing to do with Harry Ken-"
His voice broke off as Ca.s.sandra found a middle joint on the bookcase and began to pull open one side of it.
"d.a.m.n it!" said Max.
Both bookcase halves started to glide apart on rollers.
"No!" said Max. He tried to pull away from Plum, but couldn"t.
He stared at the opening bookcase halves, his expression harried.
I couldn"t see-or feel-my expression, but I wager it was no less distraught.
Ca.s.sandra hitched back with a gasp, and Plum"s grip tightened reflexively on Max"s arm.
I wanted to gasp, but couldn"t
What we were looking at was Adelaide Delacorte.
Adelaide"s back was turned to us, her hair and dress exactly as they looked in the painting above the fireplace.
"Holy G.o.d," Plum muttered.
"G.o.d d.a.m.n it!" Max snarled.
He jerked loose from the Sheriff"s grip and moved to close the bookcase halves.
Too late.
Ca.s.sandra had already touched Adelaide"s right shoul- der. Adelaide began to turn. Slowly. Uke a lifesized doll on a revolving base.
Which stopped.
We all stared at her face.
There was no face.
It was a faceless mannequin, wearing the dress and a wig.
I felt a sense of dreadful pain for my son-
What had been exposed was a sanctuary to his wife, her
Now You See It.. 151
dresses and belongings lovingly displayed. Her jewelry.
Her hats. Her books- Total silence in TMR. Immobility.