Read Online The Case of the Vanishing Beauty by Richard S. Prather - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard S. Prather
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were just out for the almighty dollar. And they got it.
So I was in a skeptical frame of mind when I pulled into Silver Lake Boulevard, found a "For Sale" sign on a house a block or so from the temple, and parked my too distinctive Cadillac in the driveway. I walked up and took a fast look at the headquarters of the Inner World, or IW, Society. It looked the same as it had a few hours before when I'd trailed Miguel out here. Real fancy, what I could see of it in the darkness. Sam had told me the sessions were held behind the temple, so I went over to the white-graveled drive and on down to the end of it looking for people. I didn't see any mob, but there was a light over to the right behind the building, and a white-robed figure stood there holding a candle. I walked over. It was a woman, rather an attractive woman with a cute, round little face like a pixie's. She was dressed in white, flowing robes that covered her entire body, almost to the ground.
I didn't know whether I should say, "Good morning," or "Holier than thou," or "Where's the meetin'?"
I said, "I am Francis Joyne. I understand, ah, that there was to be, ah, a meeting. Ah…"
She said, "Of course. The entrance is really on the other side at the top of the rise. Off Apex Street. It often happens that people come in this way." She had a soft, quiet voice. "Please follow me," she said.
She held the candle over her head and led the way up a sloping hill behind the temple, along a path worn into the grass. It was dark except for the dim light from the moon and stars, and the candle flame flickered brightly in the darkness. It was a strange feeling, following the soft-voiced woman through the night, the candlelight making her shadow bob and swirl on the ground, and picking highlights in the folds of her robes. It was alien, eerie.
I could hear music coming from up ahead now. Organ music. I hate organ music. It gives me the creeps. We kept walking and the music got louder. I felt almost like looking over my shoulder to see if another woman in long robes was floating after us. Or maybe just robes.
Usually I'm a pretty levelheaded guy. I don't mind walking under ladders, black cats are just cats that are black, and I don't believe in spooks or haunts. But I could have picked a better setting for a morning stroll. Creepy was the word.
The woman turned to the left and I saw up ahead an arched entrance in what looked like a wooden wall. Another woman, clad in the same kind of white robes and also carrying a candle, stood in the entrance. My guide walked with me up to the other woman, turned, and left me without saying a word. The other woman turned, also wordlessly, and walked inside the enclosure. I followed her. She paused and held the candle over a small table on which was an open book and a quill pen and ink. Scrawled signatures were halfway down the left page of the book. Apparently I was to sign the damn thing. I scribbled Francis Joyne and a phony address on Alvarado in the places allotted, the pen scratching in the silence. I looked up.
In the faint light from the woman's candle I could see that wooden chairs were placed inside in rows facing east. People were there ahead of me, but there wasn't a sound other than the organ music. The candle stopped beside an empty chair on the aisle up which we'd been walking. I stopped and opened my mouth to speak.
The woman turned her head slightly to the side and quickly raised one hand and held it palm out, fingers curled before her face. It was as if she were saying, "Not one word." I sat down quietly.
She went away with a whisper of robes and seemed to float through the darkness and out the archway. With her leaving, even the meager light from the candle was gone and I sat in darkness relieved only by a faint glow from the sky.
I looked around me. I could make out the shapes of perhaps ten or fifteen other persons sitting in the chairs, and there must have been more that I couldn't see. I wondered if I'd have to
So I was in a skeptical frame of mind when I pulled into Silver Lake Boulevard, found a "For Sale" sign on a house a block or so from the temple, and parked my too distinctive Cadillac in the driveway. I walked up and took a fast look at the headquarters of the Inner World, or IW, Society. It looked the same as it had a few hours before when I'd trailed Miguel out here. Real fancy, what I could see of it in the darkness. Sam had told me the sessions were held behind the temple, so I went over to the white-graveled drive and on down to the end of it looking for people. I didn't see any mob, but there was a light over to the right behind the building, and a white-robed figure stood there holding a candle. I walked over. It was a woman, rather an attractive woman with a cute, round little face like a pixie's. She was dressed in white, flowing robes that covered her entire body, almost to the ground.
I didn't know whether I should say, "Good morning," or "Holier than thou," or "Where's the meetin'?"
I said, "I am Francis Joyne. I understand, ah, that there was to be, ah, a meeting. Ah…"
She said, "Of course. The entrance is really on the other side at the top of the rise. Off Apex Street. It often happens that people come in this way." She had a soft, quiet voice. "Please follow me," she said.
She held the candle over her head and led the way up a sloping hill behind the temple, along a path worn into the grass. It was dark except for the dim light from the moon and stars, and the candle flame flickered brightly in the darkness. It was a strange feeling, following the soft-voiced woman through the night, the candlelight making her shadow bob and swirl on the ground, and picking highlights in the folds of her robes. It was alien, eerie.
I could hear music coming from up ahead now. Organ music. I hate organ music. It gives me the creeps. We kept walking and the music got louder. I felt almost like looking over my shoulder to see if another woman in long robes was floating after us. Or maybe just robes.
Usually I'm a pretty levelheaded guy. I don't mind walking under ladders, black cats are just cats that are black, and I don't believe in spooks or haunts. But I could have picked a better setting for a morning stroll. Creepy was the word.
The woman turned to the left and I saw up ahead an arched entrance in what looked like a wooden wall. Another woman, clad in the same kind of white robes and also carrying a candle, stood in the entrance. My guide walked with me up to the other woman, turned, and left me without saying a word. The other woman turned, also wordlessly, and walked inside the enclosure. I followed her. She paused and held the candle over a small table on which was an open book and a quill pen and ink. Scrawled signatures were halfway down the left page of the book. Apparently I was to sign the damn thing. I scribbled Francis Joyne and a phony address on Alvarado in the places allotted, the pen scratching in the silence. I looked up.
In the faint light from the woman's candle I could see that wooden chairs were placed inside in rows facing east. People were there ahead of me, but there wasn't a sound other than the organ music. The candle stopped beside an empty chair on the aisle up which we'd been walking. I stopped and opened my mouth to speak.
The woman turned her head slightly to the side and quickly raised one hand and held it palm out, fingers curled before her face. It was as if she were saying, "Not one word." I sat down quietly.
She went away with a whisper of robes and seemed to float through the darkness and out the archway. With her leaving, even the meager light from the candle was gone and I sat in darkness relieved only by a faint glow from the sky.
I looked around me. I could make out the shapes of perhaps ten or fifteen other persons sitting in the chairs, and there must have been more that I couldn't see. I wondered if I'd have to
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