Parlor Tricks

Chapter 15

A thick quiet surrounded Hank as he tried to focus on aligning the hood. Being someone that fixated, it was a tedious task that would typically relax him. Josie sat to the side, but may as well have been hanging from his back with her heavy presence. She strummed the same tune over and over that Hank vaguely placed as a Beatles song his father would play occasionally. It felt melancholy as it echoed around the garage.

"When did you know?" Her voice broke the silence but did not prevent her from her steady strumming.

As much as he wanted to lift his eyes to her, he continued to work as he entertained her most recent riddle. "When did I know what?"

"About the car." Her tone dripped with annoyance.

"I have worked on one before and many other Ford models that lend to this one," he knew his answer was accepting her riddle; he entered the maze willingly.

"Hank," she set her mandolin on the nearby workbench.

He heard the slide across the surface without needing to raise his eyes for confirmation, but he did to find her gazing back at him, "Josie."

"When did you know this was the same car?"

"I didn't know until now." He propped the hood open to reattach the latch, having settled on placement. "I suspected the moment I saw it. About as many Ford Consuls around as Eddie Cochran fans."

"I suspect if Mr. Cochran had a vote, this would not be his car of choice." There was a prickly frustration seeping through her that left Hank unsettled. Despite that, he gave her a nod of agreement on her observation. "Did you intend to ask me about it?"

Hank did not have to think about his answer, "no."

"My daddy gave it to my momma," the words hit with the grand blow that Josie had intended.

Hank's head spun as he tried to refocus on the latch. His hands trembled, causing the screwdriver to plunge into the car. The ringing muted the clang in his ears. His eyes fell on the engine, but he was blind to the world around him. He closed his eyes softly as he sucked in an even breath to steady himself. In the darkness of his mind, he pictured Josie, examining her features for familiarity. The curve of her face, the mosaic color of her eyes, even the soft curl to her auburn hair. Josie could not be his sister. His stomach turned as he tried to detach emotion from fact. Still, nausea from the previous night's comfort haunted him.

Josie didn't push any further; her intentional infliction was complete. Hank calmed himself enough to finish working, but his mind continued to dive deeper into the darkness of the unknown. Had she intended to inflict pain? The bonds forged with him, with his mother; had they been a trap set for revenge? The tender feelings that had grown in him crumbled feebly amidst the doubt hungrily building anxiety and fear.

Hank tried to pull his thoughts from Josie to the angles at hand. He knew his dad had the car and then Josie's mom. He tried to convince himself there was another set of hands between them but, if there were, whom they belonged to was lost on him.

"We should get going," his voice was hoarse and sounded more severe than he had intended; still, he felt no guilt.

Josie was an adversary now. She knew the entire time; he had been a target.

"I will follow you." How soft, yet deliberate, Josie spoke surprised Hank. The tone twisted in his mind as another facet of her trickery, an attempt to lull him back in.

"I have to look in on Peter." Other thoughts distracted him as the words spilled from him.

Hank shifted his shoulders to relieve the tension soaring through him, but he knew the root was not physical. He absently opened the car door, not even realizing he was ushering her in; he lost his focus to his mother. The thought of Josie alone with her filled him with unease; Clara was too fragile to be toyed with like this. His hands pushed the door shut, but his loud thoughts silenced the bang. Only the roar of the engine brought him back.

"Be kind to my mother," it was a plea as he backed away.

Josie's lips parted as if to speak, but Hank had already backed out of earshot; he swiveled on his heel and paced away.

Hank felt the gnaw of guilt as he rang the bell at the Dillard's; he knew it would be a short and distracted visit. Peter deserved better as someone who had always been a kind friend to Hank and his mother. Still, he could muster little more than to fulfill the commitment.

Rosie greeted him with a higher note of disdain than typical, but distraction shielded Hank from noticing. His mind still swirled on how easily he had let Josie in, how pathetic he had been in his blindness.

"He's in the study," Rosie spoke as she led him into the familiar home. "You should never have brought that girl to this house." Her words sliced. Hank already knew this; Rosie must have seen a family resemblance that Hank had missed. He let his silence act as his agreement.

"Oh Hank, how good of you to come check-up on an old man like me." Peter did not rise as he usually did when Hank entered the study. Instead, he remained seated behind the old oak desk. He looked frail in his exhaustion.

"Peter, I hope you are feeling better," Hank always spoke in a muted tone in the study, as though he were in a library.

"A little off my usual pep, but working my way back. I apologize for cutting our evening short. Is your lady friend still around; perhaps we could reschedule?" There was a peek of curiosity in his eyes that seemed to draw the golden flecks to a gleam within the sea of green and brown.

"I believe this will be her last night with us. I had hoped to see her off this afternoon, but unfortunately, I got delayed. The hood work was trickier than I had expected."

Peter seemed to breathe easier as they spoke. Each intake of breath seemed to draw new color to his cheeks. Hank wondered if Peter had also seen the dark intent of Josie. He bowed his head to hide his frustration that others found it so easy to see through her to her sinister core.

"Ah, well, we'll have you again soon. I'll have Rosie prepare tarts so you can bring one to dear Clara." He sat deeper into the chair as a pleasant smile spread across his face. "I should call on your mother soon. It has been ages."

"She would like that," Hank gave a distracted smile. The talk of his mother inflamed the worry of her being alone with Josie. "I should get going, or our houseguest will be stuck here longer," He mustered a smile that he was certain came as a grimace.

"Of course, of course. I wouldn't want to keep you." This time Peter did rise, extending a hand to Hank. He grasped it and was pleasantly surprised by the hearty handshake Peter provided.