Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)(23)

‘A soft drink would be fine,’ said Crosbie.

He settled into the vacant chair as McCormack made for the bar. He didn’t bother with small talk, instead addressing Valentine’s problem directly.

‘Sylvia tells me you are experiencing some level of distress.’

‘I suppose that’s one way of putting it.’

Crosbie removed his scarf and jacket, placing them over the back of his chair. His black lambswool jumper made him look like clergy to Valentine, who tried to suppress the image as Crosbie spoke again. ‘Everyone goes through this shock when they discover these abilities. I felt like I was walking on the moon when I realised I could use the sight.’

‘The sight?’

‘I always found that a strange term myself, especially as it’s more of a feeling. Perhaps insight would be better.’

Valentine watched McCormack put down Crosbie’s drink. He thanked her. ‘Sylvia says you had pains relating to your victims’ passing. I want to assure you that’s very common. There’s nothing to fear at all – it’s just a means of communication.’

‘Isn’t that just your interpretation?’ said Valentine. ‘I mean couldn’t it just be a coincidence?’

‘No. Not to me. But you can think that if you like. I don’t know how far you’d get blocking them out, mind you.’

The DI felt he had ruffled Crosbie. ‘I don’t mean to sound disrespectful.’

‘You don’t. You sound sceptical, just as you did when we last spoke. I told you then not to try and rationalise any of this or understand it with the tools you use in the everyday world.’

‘I just find that very difficult. It goes against the grain for me.’

‘Because you’re a rational man, Bob. You use reason and deduction daily, you use your mind to rationalise what you don’t understand, but this . . . these discoveries you are experiencing can’t be understood that way – they won’t subject themselves to the rational mind.’

‘That’s what I have a problem with.’

‘OK. Then let me ask you this. How do you read? How do you write? Spell? Add up?’

‘You just do, just the way you were taught.’

‘You missed the question. I didn’t ask how it was done, but how you do it, how your mind does it? No one can answer that – it’s a mystery. The mind is the greatest mystery of them all; no one can understand or explain how it works, but you seem to demand just that. Your belief isn’t tied to understanding, it exists in and of itself, whether you accept it or not.’

Valentine was silenced. He understood perfectly what Crosbie was telling him, but it made little difference to what he was experiencing. He raised his glass, hoping to hide the contemplation on his face.

McCormack spoke. ‘I think Bob’s a bit shell shocked by it all.’

‘Of course,’ said Crosbie. ‘And you’re not the first either, Bob. I was just as sceptical as you.’

‘Then how did you reach this level of understanding?’ said Valentine.

‘I accepted nothing, but I trusted myself. So I tested myself. I asked questions of these abilities, and I got answers. I suppose I became a little obsessed then. I asked lots of questions – looked at lots of answers too. I didn’t realise it, but I was training my sight, this insight, and soon I realised that it was so effective that I couldn’t question it. That’s when I found acceptance, and you will too, Bob, when you stop doubting yourself.’

Valentine reached for his drink and drew a large draught. He felt the pressure of contradiction all around him. He found he could agree and disagree with Crosbie at the same time. If he played with these thoughts enough, he knew, he would reach only mental exhaustion. But he would have to concede to one strain of thought at some point.

‘And how do you test yourself?’ said the DI.

‘How do you test anything? Set a challenge. Don’t wait for it to come to you, don’t wait for spirits to channel through you, call on them.’

‘Now, hang on, that sounds just . . .’

‘Be open-minded, Bob. Not with what I’m saying. Don’t get hung up on the words. Remember none of this can be understood at the level of words. Just give way to it and see what happens.’

‘You mean ask for answers to specific questions?’

‘You did before. You said yourself you were asking for the cause of death and your victim told you. The answers came to you because the energy was drawn to you. You can seek energy out like that.’

‘But how? I mean, at a simple level, do I just ask fresh air for answers?’

Crosbie clasped his hands together. His voice came low and deep. ‘You’ll find what works for you. I tend to go into deep relaxation; others put themselves in a trance state. You can even have an assistant help count you down or talk you through it. Of course sometimes the energy comes from other sources. Possessions hold the imprints of their owner’s souls. These images can point to you. In time you’ll be able to manipulate the images, even see through the eyes of those that have passed.’

‘It sounds incredible.’

‘It is, Bob. Life is incredible. But so is death. Can you honestly say you understand more than a very little about either?’





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