A Stir of Echoes by Richard Matheson

would have looked more natural in overalls and a cap; maybe a grease stain across his florid cheek.
      "I come to get the rent," he said. "Figured I'd save you a trip over."
      "Oh." I nodded.
      "Who there?" Richard came padding into the room and I heard Anne call him back.
      "Well, isn't it two days yet?" I asked Sentas.
      "Figured you'd wanna get it out of your hair before then," he said.
      "I see." I cleared my throat. "Well, if you want to wait, I'll go make out a check."
      "I'll wait," he said.
      I went back into the kitchen and got the check book out of the cupboard drawer. Anne looked questioningly at me and I shrugged.
      "Who that?" Richard asked.
      "The man next door, baby," Anne said.
      "Man ness door?"
      I made out the check, tore it out of the book and brought it to Sentas.
      "Obliged," he said, taking it.
      "Oh, incidentally," I said, "I wonder if you'd get this door lock fixed."
      "Door lock?"
      "Yes. It can't be locked from the outside. When we leave the house we have to lock it from the inside and leave the patio door open."
      "Oh?" he said. "I'll see about it."
      "We'd appreciate it," I told him as he turned away and stepped over the plants onto the lawn. I watched him a moment walking toward his house. Then I shut the door and returned to my supper.
      "Is this going to happen every month?" Anne said. "I thought it was an accident the first two times."
     
      "I don't know." I shook my head. "I don't like it, though."
      Anne shrugged. "He's just worried about his money, I suppose."
      "His wife's money," I said. "According to Frank she's the one that's loaded."
      She smiled, shaking her head. "Good old Frank," she said. "Always has a good word for everybody."
      I exhaled. "Well, I don't like Sentas," I said.
      Anne looked up from her plate. "Is this your- medium business?" she asked.
      "Honey, you make me sound like some kind of freak."
      "Well, I’d say it's a little freakish, wouldn't you?"
      "Feakish," Richard said, "feakish, mama."
      "Yes, baby," she said.
      "Well, I don't regard myself as a freak," I said.
      "Oh, come on," she said. "Let's not be so sensitive about it."
      "You're the one that's sensitive."
      "Don't you think I have some reason to be?" she asked, irritably.
      "I know it's hard on you but-"
      "But you're getting a bang out of it, so that's that."
      "Honey, let's not argue," I said. "Look. I'll let it go on a little while longer. I promise you if it gets on your nerves, if it frightens you or anything, I'll-I'll go to Alan Porter. Is that fair enough?"
      "Tom, it's you that's getting frightened and nervous."
      "Well… Fm willing to stick it out a while longer," I told her. "I confess it makes me curious. Doesn't it you?"
      She hesitated before answering. Finally she inclined her head in a grudging gesture.
      "Oh, it's… unusual, all right," she said, "but… well, if it throws our whole life out of balance, is it worth it?"
      "I won't let it do that," I said. "You know that."
      Before we went to sleep that night, we came across something that provided a definite clue.
      I'd asked Anne to try and remember what had happened during the hypnosis and whether Phil had said anything that might have started me off.
      She remembered two things. Neither was definite, of course; you never do find anything definite in something like this. But both were highly suggestive.
      One remark was made when I was reliving segments of my twelfth year. Phil had said, in answer to somebody's question, "No, there's no limit to what his mind can do. It's capable of anything."
      The second remark came when Phil was bringing me out of the hypnosis-and here, to me, was the key.
      "Your mind is free now," he'd said to me. "There's nothing binding it. It's free, absolutely free."
      It's something he'd said a hundred times before to hypnotized subjects. As I understand it, it's a