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  And so, though his spirits were high and his resolve strong, the Miraclemaker would do nothing that night except watch, observe the victims and their loved ones in one of their final evenings of peace. In a way, he felt as privileged as a prophet, for he alone knew the dark fate which would soon descend upon those people. In that house, they moved and breathed and shouted and went about their blind business...but he could see, he could tell what would befall them, he knew the end of the story. He knew the next phase of their lives because he would be the author of it; like God, he would be the Great Manipulator, the arm of Fate, the supernatural force controlling all outcomes.

  More like God than a prophet. Yes, he would be like God.

  The cold breeze brushed his face, and he smiled proudly.

  *****

  Chapter 15

  It was the first day of final exams at Orchard College, and Dave knew that he should be spending his lunch break studying. Instead of meeting Darlene in the campus snack bar for lunch, he should have gone directly to the library and glued himself to his notebooks.

  He knew that he had an Investment exam scheduled for one o'clock, and he knew that he wasn't prepared for it. He knew that the exam was important, that it would constitute twenty-five percent of his final grade in that class, that it would mean the difference between the "C" that he'd earned so far and the "B" that he wanted on his transcript. He knew that an extra hour of concentrated study might enable him to land a decent grade, might compensate a bit for his limited efforts the night before.

  Dave knew all this, but still he went to eat with Darlene. He was eager to see her, to speak with her...to find out what she thought of Larry Smith.

  As had been the case every day since the events of Saturday night, Dave was thoroughly preoccupied with Larry. Starving for insight, Dave planned to continue his investigation by questioning his inner circle, seeking clues to Larry's secrets in fresh opinions and reports of his activities. Having already interrogated Billy, Dave thought it best to turn next to Darlene; she was quite intelligent and observant and perhaps had noticed something about Larry which Dave had missed.

  There was a complication, however. Darlene had witnessed the start of Dave's adventure in the woods; she'd been with him when Larry had dragged him away to stop Boris from killing himself. When Dave had returned from the harrowing foray, she'd worriedly confronted him, begging to know why Larry had swept him off in such a state of distress...but Dave had told her only that everything was okay. In several phone conversations since that night, he'd brushed aside her requests for details, but now he knew that he would have to tell her the whole story. He realized that once he brought up the subject of Larry Smith, he would have to fill her in, or she might get angry and refuse to cooperate. In addition, he felt obliged to satisfy her curiosity, since she'd seen enough Saturday night to know that something important had happened; it wouldn't be fair to keep her in suspense any longer. Though he'd so far remained true to his promise to Boris, hadn't even told Billy of the suicide attempt, Dave would tell Darlene.

  And so, at noon, Dave rushed to the snack bar in the Student Union. After going through the line at the lunch counter, he and Darlene found a table near the windows, then ate and made small talk for a while.

  Though Darlene seemed to be in a good mood, Dave thought that she was a bit cool toward him; he guessed that she might be upset because he hadn't yet told her what had happened in the woods. In the four phone conversations that he'd had with her since Saturday, he had noticed a similar chill, a half-measure of tension. The tension was scant, but it was enough to make him uncomfortable, and he grew more anxious to tell his story so that it would dissipate.

  "Hey, Darlene," he said, watching as she nibbled at her egg-salad sandwich. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

  Darlene raised her eyebrows inquisitively, took a moment to chew and swallow her food. "What's that?" she said tentatively, her eyes wide and expectant.

  "Uh, about the party the other night," Dave said slowly. "I haven't said much about it, and I guess you might've been wondering."

  "No, not really," shrugged Darlene.

  Watching her, Dave didn't believe that she hadn't been wondering about Saturday; her answer had come too quickly, her aloofness had seemed false. "Well, anyway," he continued, "it was kind of a touchy thing, which is why I haven't gone into detail with anyone yet."

  "Well, that's okay," she told him, shrugging again.

  "It was a rough situation," frowned Dave, restlessly scratching the side of his neck. "I, uh, sort of promised I wouldn't tell anyone about it...but I figured I'd better let you in on it, since you were there and everything."

  "You don't have to," Darlene said softly, eyes dipping to the table. "If you made a promise, then you don't have to break it just to tell me."

  Though her words suggested ambivalence, a willingness to let the matter drop, her manner implied to Dave that she was more affected than she wanted him to know. He sensed that he'd been right all along, that she'd been bothered because he hadn't taken her into his confidence. "No, no," he said hastily, reaching over to take her hand. "I want to tell you. Matter of fact, I really need to get this off my chest."

  There was a pause. Slowly, she raised her eyes to again meet his; there were no clouds in that gaze, no mists of diffidence or withdrawal. "That's okay, then," she said. "Whatever you want."

  Dave drew a deep breath and then he told her, told her all about Boris and the gun. Once he got started, the story poured out of him like floodwaters from a burst dam; he hadn't lied when he'd said that he wanted to tell her, that he really needed to get it off his chest.

  He spared no detail. Darlene listened intently, eyes widening with shock and fascination at each dramatic twist in the tale. Caught up in the suspense, she was visibly tense throughout the account; when she heard of how Boris had finally dropped the gun, she relaxed with a sigh of relief.

  "My God," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't even know. Boris came back, and you and Larry came back, and everybody acted like nothing happened. I had no idea."

  "I didn't want to say anything," said Dave. "I promised Boris I wouldn't, and anyway, it wouldn't've done any good. It was kind of a private thing, y'know?"

  "Poor Boris," Darlene said sadly. "I wish I would've gone with you to help him."

  "I do, too," he told her, "but it was a pretty rough scene. If you'd been there...I don't know. Maybe he would've been too embarrassed to say some of the things he said." Pausing, Dave gazed thoughtfully out the window; as always, a traffic of students shifted past, going one way or the other along the sidewalk. "Anyway, I didn't know what was going on till we found Boris. Larry didn't tell me a damn thing till we got to him."

  "You seemed pretty surprised when he came and got you," remembered Darlene.

  "I was," confirmed Dave, "but that's the thing. That's what really got me about all this." Leaning closer to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "See, I had absolutely no clue to what was happening, but Larry knew. He knew all along that Boris was going to try to kill himself."

  Darlene's head flicked back, and her expression changed to one of puzzlement. "What do you mean? Did Boris tell him or something?"

  "No," Dave said firmly. "Boris didn't tell anyone. He really wanted to just go off by himself and commit suicide. There was no way Larry could have known, but he knew."

  Brown eyes narrowing, Darlene listened and frowned.

  "Not only that," continued Dave, "but he knew right where Boris would be. We didn't just go off wandering around the woods, hoping we'd bump into him. Larry took me to the exact place where Boris was hiding! We went straight to the exact spot, and as far as I know, Larry was never even through those woods before!" In the throes of his revelation, Dave was transfigured. His face flushed, his voice rose, his eyes lit with a gleam which seemed almost fanatic.

  "Really?" asked Darlene. "He did all that?"

  "Yes!" surged Dave. "He knew everything that was goi
ng to happen! He knew about it all night, too! Remember how we went outside and talked to him for a while? Remember how he told us to keep an eye on Boris, because he looked kind of down in the dumps?"

  "He didn't say anything about Boris trying to kill himself, though," Darlene said tentatively. "He just said Boris seemed depressed."

  "Yeah, but he had to've known! A couple hours later, he dragged me right to where Boris was gonna' do it!"

  "Maybe you're right," said Darlene. "It does sound like he must've known something."

  "He knew, all right," Dave declared confidently, squeezing her shoulder. "Now listen. I know this is gonna' sound crazy, but I think I might know how he knew. It's the only explanation I can think of, and it sounds crazy, but I want you to bear with me."

  "Okay," she nodded supportively.

  Taking a deep breath, Dave tried to calm himself. In the presentation of his theory, he wanted to appear more serious and restrained; he wanted her to believe him, though his idea would seem preposterous. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, "but I think Larry might be psychic or something. I think he might be able to see the future."

  Darlene's eyes grew wider than ever and her head bobbed forward. Dave couldn't tell if she was impressed or just stunned at the silliness of the concept.

  "Like I said, it sounds kind of crazy," admitted Dave, a trace of sheepishness in his shrug. "It wasn't just that one thing that made me think this, though. Other weird things have happened."

  "Like what?" asked Darlene.

  "At the party, remember how Jeff was complaining about the parking? Larry asked if we ever had any trouble with the cops over parking by the road. He said the cops get picky about that sometimes...and then, a little later, a cop stopped for that very reason."

  "I remember that," she nodded slowly. "Everybody said it was kind of funny, how he talked about it and then it happened."

  "That's right," he said. "Two times in one night, he knew what was gonna' happen before it happened. Both times, he knew exactly how things would go."

  "Huh," said Darlene. "That does seem weird."

  "There was another time, too," reported Dave. "You know how Peggy turned me in for sneaking chocolate milks? Well, the night before Fred called me on it, Larry warned Billy and me not to trust the people we work with. We were talking about sneaking chocolate milk and stuff at the steakhouse, and he told us we shouldn't let anybody know about it because they might turn on us sometime. The very next day, I was busted because somebody turned on me! How do you like that?"

  "Gee," said Darlene, a perplexed frown on her small, oval face. "Maybe you're right about him. Did you ask him about any of this stuff?"

  "Yeah," nodded Dave, "but he just laughed it off, or said he didn't remember it. I think he just doesn't want anybody to know what he can do."

  "So you really think he's psychic, huh?" she asked.

  "Or something like that," he affirmed with a nod. "I mean, I don't know for sure, but all those things that happened...especially with Boris...have me wondering. I just can't think of any other explanation."

  "Boy," sighed Darlene. "You were right about it sounding crazy, but from what you've told me, it might be true."

  At this preliminary acceptance of his theory, Dave felt recharged, redeemed in his obsession. "So, what do you think of him, anyway? Have you noticed anything strange, anything he said or did that might tie in with this whole thing?"

  For a moment, Darlene stared silently at the table. "I don't think so," she said finally. "I only met him Saturday night, though. I was only around him a couple hours."

  "Sure, but did you notice anything unusual?" pressed Dave. "Was there anything that struck you as weird?"

  "Except for how he ran in on us and dragged you away, I didn't notice anything. He just seemed like a nice, normal guy. At first, I thought it was...I don't know...kind of different having someone his age there, but I got used to it really quick."

  "Anything else?" asked Dave, hanging on her every word, hoping that she would spring a surprising insight on him.

  "I don't think so," she said slowly, still staring at the table. "I liked him. He just seemed like a fun guy, real easy to get along with."

  Nodding, Dave gazed expectantly into her eyes, willing her to produce some illuminating nugget. What she'd told him so far had been old hat, the same impressions of Larry that everyone seemed to share. He hoped that it wasn't all that she would tell him, and yet he sensed that she had nothing new to provide; she was obviously making a great effort to comb her memories of Larry, but she didn't seem to be able to fish out anything relevant. Though he was disappointed, Dave knew that even if she couldn't help him any more, the lunch meeting had been a success; at least he'd won a believer, a supporter of his cause.

  For another moment, Darlene earnestly struggled to cull an important detail from her memory; finally, though, she shook her head and shrugged. "I'm sorry," she said, "but that's about it."

  "Oh well," sighed Dave. "Like you said, you were only around him that one night. I'll tell you what, though. Would you do me a favor and keep your eyes open next time we see him? I mean, if you notice anything weird that he does or says, could you let me know?"

  "Okay," she agreed eagerly. "Are we going to see him again soon?"

  "As a matter of fact," he said, "that's something else I wanted to ask you. Billy's having another party Friday night, and I was wondering if you might want to go."

  "Sure," she replied, nodding enthusiastically. "I'd love to. You think Larry will be there?"

  "I'd say that's pretty likely," asserted Dave. "I'm not psychic or anything, but I bet he'll show up."

  *****

  Chapter 16

  Racket, chatter, beer, laughter, smoke: Billy Bristol was having his second party in six days.

  As always, the trailer was packed wall-to-wall with Wild West cronies and affiliates, the usual suspects. As always, a keg of beer was posted in the bathtub, continuously employed. As always, a jubilant ruckus pervaded the place, a celebratory hymn of youth.

  As always, Dave Heinrich was obsessed with Larry Smith.

  "So, what do you think of him?" he asked Ernie Dumbrowski. "What's your impression of him?" It was an hour into the party, and Dave had managed to corner Ernie in the trailer's hallway. For the moment, Larry was in the kitchen, so Dave was free to question his comrade without worrying that Larry would overhear.

  "Well," said the tall, stocky guy, leaning against the paneling of one wall. "I think he's an interesting person. He's very intelligent, and he seems to have been well-traveled."

  "Huh," nodded Dave. "He does seem to have been around, all right." Raising the cup of beer that he'd just refilled at the keg, he had a swig of the stuff.

  "I think it's interesting to talk to someone like that," continued Ernie, reaching up to brush stray strands of slick black hair from his forehead. "He's had a lot of unique experiences."

  "Yeah, that's true," agreed Dave.

  "I kind of enjoy having him around," said Ernie. "It's good to have some new blood at the parties."

  Nodding shrewdly, Dave glanced down the hallway; through the muddle of guests, he glimpsed Larry, standing by the kitchen table, talking to Darlene. Dave wondered what was being said, and was glad that Darlene was now working as an agent of his investigation. It was as if he now had an extra pair of eyes, an extra set of ears, extended senses to watch and listen for vital clues.

  "Ernie," he said then, still looking down the hallway. "Have you noticed anything...I don't know...anything strange about him?"

  "Why?" smirked Ernie. "Have you?"

  "Maybe," shrugged Dave.

  "What exactly is it you've noticed?" wondered Ernie. "Maybe if you told me what you're referring to, I'd be able to come up with something."

  "I just want to get your first impression," said Dave. "Just tell me what you think."

  "All right," Ernie shrugged gamely. "Let's see...anything strange about Larry. Hmmm." Thoughtfully, he stared at the ceiling
, lifting his beer for a drink.

  A moment passed, during which Dave directed his gaze once more down the hallway. He could still see Larry in the kitchen, talking to Darlene, gesturing expressively. The guy seemed as relaxed and gregarious as ever, completely at ease; since arriving, he'd said nothing unusual, at least not within earshot of Dave.

  "Sorry," Ernie sighed at last, wagging his head. "I really can't think of anything."

  Snapping his attention back to his friend, Dave frowned. "Have you noticed any, uh...any weird coincidences when he's around?"

  "No," replied Ernie. "What are you getting at, anyway?"

  "Well, what about last Saturday?" pressed Dave. "You know, when Larry was talking about the cops hassling us about parking by the road, and then a cop showed up and hassled us about it?"

  "Oh, yeah," nodded Ernie. "I remember you asking if he was psychic or something."

  "Right," said Dave, "and I was only kidding at first...but now I'm starting to wonder. There've been a couple other times he's predicted stuff, or at least come pretty damn close."

  "So you think he's psychic, huh?" smirked Ernie, his deep, breathy voice adopting a trace of friendly mockery. "Is that why you've been asking me all this stuff?"

  "Well, yeah," Dave admitted sheepishly. "I mean, things have happened that make me think there's more to Larry than meets the eye."

  "That's an interesting idea," grinned Ernie. "A psychic phenomenon, right here among us. We ought to see if we can get him to tell us what the answers on our final exams will be."