Now You See It by Richard Matheson Page A

back, thumping on the floor, his eyes closing.
    Max knelt to check for a heartbeat.
    Satisfied, he stood and moved to where Cassandra half sat, half lay against the door, eyes now closed.
    He knelt and pressed a finger underneath her left breast.
    “Done,” he said, “and
done.”
    Standing quickly, his expression grim, he moved behind the desk and reached beneath it.
    The door lock clicked in opening.
    Max returned to the door, bent over and, taking hold of Cassandra’s arms, pulled her to one side, leaning her body partially against the wall.
    He then walked over to me.
    “Well,
Padre,”
he said. “Had enough for now?”
    Could he see in my eyes the pain I felt?
    He must have, for he said, “I know; it’s terrible.” He squeezed my shoulder. “But necessary,” he added.
    He began to push my wheelchair toward the door.
    “Let’s get you cleaned up and changed,” he said. “Maybe a little lunch.”
    His tone was so matter-of-fact that I felt more dread than ever.
    Just before he opened the door, a distant flash of lightning bleached the shadowy room.
    “A storm is on its way,” he said.
    How was I to know that the nightmare was barely half concluded?

now you see it …

chapter 12
    Max took me upstairs on the elevator, wheeled me to my room, and gently cared for me—which meant removing my clothes, cleansing my withered body and re-dressing same.
    Throughout all this, he never said a word. I kept looking at his face, hoping that he’d seen the question burning in my eyes.
    Why?
    If he saw the question—and he must have, being the observant son he always was—he did not elect to answer it. Leaving me to wonder, pained.
    Two murders?
    Him?

    Presently, he took me downstairs once again and rolled my wheelchair to the kitchen. There, he fed me like the child I had become in my eating habits—bib around my neck, spoon scooping up what food I dribbled from my mouth.
    All this he did without a word, his expression unreadable—even to me, who had always read him so well.
    When I was finished eating, he finally spoke.
    “I’m going to leave you in the kitchen for a little while,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
    He kissed me on the cheek and left.
    I think I felt a tugging at the corners of my eyes; a hint of tears?
    Why had he done all this?
    Had his need for revenge on Harry and Cassandra been so rabid that he’d been driven to kill them both?
    It seemed hard to believe. Max had never been a violent man. Certainly, to me, he had been nothing but a loving son.
    Then
why?
    So there I sat in the stillness of the kitchen, bathed, changed, and fed—like the physical infant I’d become. Only my brain remained alert.
    Wondering and suffering.

    How long was it before he came for me? I would estimate the time as half an hour or so, perhaps a little longer.
    When he returned to the kitchen, he rolled me back to The Magic Room without a word and set my chair in its customary spot, patted my shoulder, and said, “I hope you’ll understand in time,
Padre.”
    With that, he left me there alone … as I had been before the nightmare had commenced.
    I looked at the desk clock.
    It was 2:33 P.M .
    A random flicker of lightning continued in the distance, an occasional rumble of thunder. They seemed closer now.
    The storm was still approaching.
    I looked around the room.
    Everything was back in order except for a single detail.
    The bloodstains had been wiped up.
    The fragments of terra-cotta had been gathered and removed.
    The pill vial was gone, presumably returned to the center desk drawer.
    The African blowgun was, as noted, restored above mantelpiece.
    The pair of dueling pistols had been similarly returned to their places.
    The Arabian dagger lay on the desk in its original position.
    Four changes had been made.
    On the bar, the silver bucket was filled with ice, a bottle of Dom Perignon protruding from its top.
    The globe had been covered with a red silk scarf.
    The casket was closed.
    The Egyptian burial case