Page 17 of The Other Lady Vanishes

“She does give a good performance,” Adelaide whispered. “The audience is captivated.”

Jake waved that aside. “So far she’s just done the usual mind reading tricks.”

“Yes, but it’s not the actual illusions that matter in this sort of performance,” Adelaide said. “The acting talent is the important thing. Zolanda is a certainly a fraud but you have to hand it to her—she’s a very good actress.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s always in character, not just on the stage tonight, but whenever she’s out in public. She’s been a customer at the tearoom almost every day since she arrived in town, and I’ve never seen her put a foot wrong. She is always Madam Zolanda, psychic to the stars.”

Jake gave that some thought. Adelaide was right. The ability to stay in character for an extended length of time required considerable acting talent. It also required a lot of stamina. No one knew that better than him.

“I see what you mean,” he said.

“It’s very hard to assume a certain persona and maintain it twenty-four hours a day. It takes a toll on the nerves.”

The cool certainty in Adelaide’s voice sent a flash of knowing through him. He could have sworn that she was speaking from experience.

“That is very... insightful,” he said.

“For a waitress, do you mean?”

The edge was back in her voice. He had inadvertently offended her again.

“For anyone,” he said.

Onstage, Zolanda was giving a demonstration of mind reading, speaking as though in the throes of a deep trance.

“Miss Leggett, I sense that someone in the third row is concerned with financial matters. Something to do with an inheritance... Yes, it’s coming through quite clearly now. Someone died but he... or was it a woman?... left something important to a person who did not deserve it...”

A woman in the third row shot to her feet. “That’s me, Madam Zolanda. My uncle promised to leave his house to me but my sister got it.”

Thelma Leggett went to stand at the end of the third row. “Madam Zolanda, do you have any advice for this lady?”

“I see money coming to her very soon from an unexpected source. But wait. I’m getting another message. It’s quite murky. Now I understand. She must be cautious because there are those who will seek to take advantage of her improved financial situation.”

“That’s for sure,” the woman said. “My brother and sister will have their hands out. Thanks for the warning, Madam Zolanda.”

The audience member sat down quickly.

“Fourth row, near the center, Miss Leggett. And—wait—also the seventh row. I perceive some ladies and gentlemen who suffer from insomnia.”

There was an astonished gasp from several members of the audience. Several hands went up in the fourth and seventh rows.

“I can now perceive their auras,” Madam Zolanda continued. “There is a great deal of negative energy in each one. That is the cause of their insomnia.”

There was another round of applause.

Jake leaned toward Adelaide. He caught her light scent—some delicate perfume spiked with spice and flowers mingled with her indescribably feminine essence. For a beat or two he felt a little light-headed. He wished that he really was in Burning Cove to relax.

“It doesn’t take any psychic power to assume that in an audience of this size there will be several people who have trouble sleeping,” he said.

“True.” Adelaide’s mouth tilted up a bit at the corner. “At Refresh I get a lot of requests for blends to treat sleep problems.”

Onstage, Thelma fitted Zolanda with a blindfold and then turned to speak to the audience.

“Silence, please,” she instructed. “Madam Zolanda will now endeavor to provide a demonstration of astral projection. I must warn you that this is not always possible. It depends on the energy in the atmosphere. Noise from the audience can distort the astral wavelengths.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Anticipation gripped the theater. For the first time Jake was mildly impressed. Madam Zolanda was doing literally nothing onstage and yet she had managed to rivet everyone’s attention.