Saddled with Murder

by Eileen Brady

  “The big reason,” she confessed, “is Daffy gave me a fifteen percent off coupon. But another friend of mine had a reading and said it was very revealing, in a good way.”

  My Gramps had worked as an arson inspector and a fireman in New York City most of his career, and he had some experience with the many storefronts that opened up overnight advertising readings and fortune-telling. His advice to me when I asked him about psychics was to enjoy a reading as though it was entertainment, because most of them were cons.

  Despite my warning, Mari stayed enthusiastic. “I’ll ask her if she has any messages from Frank and Eloise.”

  When I turned to give her the evil eye, she beat it with an evil grin.

  “Hey, it’s on my bucket list,” she added.

  * * *

  When Mari said we were going back to Daffy’s place I thought there had been a mistake. “We were just there,” I said. “Even Chihuahua toenails can’t grow that fast.”

  With her eyes focused on the computer screen Mari simply grunted a no. After pulling up a computerized Post-it note from Cindy, she explained. “She forgot to tell us. Little Man has a tick.”

  “Can’t you talk her through it?” Tick removal wasn’t difficult, but you wanted to make sure the entire body and mouthpiece were intact when you took it off.

  “That’s what I told Cindy, but I guess Daffy’s too squeamish when it comes to her baby,”

  “Alright,” I said, “but let’s make it quick.”

  Mari closed the laptop and agreed. “I’ll take my cookies to go.”

  * * *

  The tick turned out to be a gray skin tag impersonating a tick. I went through some options with Daffy for removal, but for now she was content to leave it.

  As we picked up our things, Daffy said, “Mari, I meant to tell you. Your litter box cake was very…inventive.”

  Coming from our hostess, that was a glowing recommendation, but it also signaled to me that our client had something on her mind.

  “Thanks,” my assistant said. “That cake is always good for a laugh.”

  “Someone is not laughing,” she said primly. “Your video and the unfortunate deaths that took place after your wish, Doctor, have stirred up some controversy in the psychic community. An unfortunate display that should never have been shown to the public.”

  Our costumed client prized decorum above all while secretly relishing gossip of any sort. Mari jumped in to explain. “We were all joking around. If you listen carefully, Dr. Kate doesn’t even name any names.”

  “No, my dear. She had you for that.”

  * * *

  My assistant and I debated about what Daffy was talking about until we were all talked out. Since there was nothing left to say, I stared out the window.

  With only two more clients to see, we headed toward a more rural area, about thirty minutes away from home. The scenic road, normally busy in season, was nearly empty.

  “It sure is beautiful up here,” Mari commented.

  I had to agree.

  The mountains glowed purple on the horizon as we climbed a long hill. A glorious panoramic view revealed itself. Stands of tall pines bristling with spiky green needles stood out among the stark trunks and branches of leafless trees. Each season brought its own visual reward. Maybe that’s why so many artists were drawn to the Hudson Valley.

  Spring was all about the flowers, summer gave us fruits and vegetables, autumn produced foliage, but winter—winter stripped the land down to bare bones.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Our last appointment over, Mari and I started to wind our way back to the animal hospital. When we approached Eloise Rieven’s home, I asked, “Do you mind a quick detour?”

  “No problem. I’d hate to have you explore this place all alone at night.”

  We drove slowly up the well-plowed driveway. Someone, most likely Joe Rieven, had smoothed over the ruts and filled them temporarily with crushed gravel. We parked in front of the front steps. I walked up and rang the doorbell, but no one answered.

  “Why don’t you stay here?” I suggested to Mari. “Keep the truck running. I’m going to check the porch and backyard.” What I was looking for I hadn’t a clue, but Babs had stirred my curiosity. Maybe something odd might catch my attention.

  There was no evidence of any logs ever being stacked on the porch, and it appeared from the lack of smoke in the chimney that Eloise’s son wasn’t using the woodstove. The woodpile, covered with a plastic tarp, was located near the side of the house. It stood unused, the bottom of the tarp held down by individual logs with several inches of undisturbed snow on top.

  Again I noticed how flat the well-worn pathway from the back stairs of the house to the woodpile was. What did Eloise trip on? The winter weather had faded the spray-painted outline of her body, but I could still make out the shape of her outstretched arm, hand splayed out as if reaching for something. Maybe my bulldog client enjoyed an evening nightcap and that had contributed to her fall. It wouldn’t be the first time alcohol played a deadly trick on someone. I made a mental note to see if the coroner’s report showed results of a drug and alcohol screening.

  “Pretty sad.”

  Mari stood slightly behind me, probably bored from sitting in the truck. She stared at the outline in the snow.

  “Yes. Sad to die from a needless accident.” I didn’t add the irony of freezing to death only a few steps away from warmth and shelter. A gust of wind whipped around the house making the dark tarp shudder. I noticed a motion detector light like mine over the back door.

  It stayed dark and still like the house.

  Mari remained quiet, lost in her thoughts.

  As I slid into the driver’s seat, I envied the sense of place, the sense of history some people had. Mari and Eloise both appreciated and felt protective of Oak Falls. The last few years I more or less lived out of suitcases, and the only sense of place I felt were destinations explored on the Travel Channel.

  Ever so slowly I backed up and turned around, leaving the farmhouse behind. Even after we turned back onto the road, the image of that outstretched hand stayed with me.

  So did a question: How did she intend to carry the wood?

  * * *

  I peppered Mari with that question on the way back. My assistant said she personally used a canvas sling to carry logs from her woodshed. Some of her friends had little rolling iron carts. Very rarely did she heft a log with her hands, and then always with gloves; otherwise you get bark and splinters all over your hands and clothes. A vague recollection told her Eloise used a canvas sling bag, too.

  But what if something else had been in her outstretched hand? A flashlight? A gun?

  Maybe she’d gone out to the woodpile for a different reason.

  * * *

  When we got back, Mari and I complained a bit about our long day. I think Cindy felt sorry for both of us, so she invited us on a shopping trip in town. With her husband busy playing cards with his buddies tonight, she suggested an impromptu girls’ night out—finishing with drinks and dinner at the Red Lion Pub. Being a bit more enthusiastic about Christmas, thanks to Gramps, I realized I needed to buy some presents. A hostess gift, at least, and something for my new siblings—my half brother, John, and my half sister, Jennifer.

  I didn’t even know what they looked like.

  That was going to have to change.

  * * *

  Once the three of us loosened up we had a blast. At first, all we talked about was work, but as we walked around the village of Oak Falls, darting in and out of specialty stores, art galleries, and a popular emporium down by the river, we started getting silly.

  Cindy made us laugh recounting domestic household struggles with her teenagers. No wonder she bossed us all around at the animal hospital. She had plenty of practice. I think she considered us all just an extension
of her family, except we weren’t sneaking out at night and driving her crazy.

  Mari’s dog stories and pet pictures on her phone looked unbearably cute, embellished with funny captions and filters. Our junk-food-eating athlete confessed a secret desire to compete in one more Iron Man. We both encouraged her to start training the first of the New Year.

  As I listened to their stories and laughter, I realized how private and withdrawn I’d become. My perception that everyone was interested in my love life, though, was true, said Cindy. For my entertainment they started listing the highs and lows of my dating life from the staff’s point of view. Not only was it hilarious, but strangely freeing.

  We ended up at the pub relaxed and hungry.

  “Hello, ladies,” the waitress greeted us. “Girls’ night out?”

  “You bet,” Cindy answered. “I got almost all my Christmas shopping done, too.”

  We had snagged a corner booth large enough for the three of us and our coats. Mari’s puffy jacket almost needed a booth of its own.

  Soon we were enjoying food we didn’t have to cook and talking about our favorite subjects, including the ongoing murder investigation of Raeleen Lassitor. After we begged Cindy for any new information, she whispered that Chief Garcia was taking a closer look at Devin’s alibi, which involved a lady friend, and the FBI was actively following up on a death threat lead.

  “I thought there was a problem with his alibi?” I asked.

  Cindy explained that a close look at certain electronic devices on the night of Raeleen’s murder might put ex-boyfriend Devin back in the running for prime suspect.

  At the corner of the bar a young man stared at us then turned away.

  “Is that Aaron?” Mari asked.

  A waiter passed with a platter of burgers, blocking my view. When I looked all I saw were some strangers leaning on the bar drinking beer. “I don’t think so,” I told her.

  We chatted some more. I tried to dodge Cindy’s questions about Luke.

  Taking pity on me, she touched my forehead and asked, “What’s really going on up there, Kate? Anything Mari and I can do to help?”

  Put on the spot, I blurted out the truth. “I started out wanting to prove the wish had nothing to do with those deaths, but now I’m tired of it all. The jokes from clients, all the views on YouTube… I only want it to end.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Mari said. “I’ve never been involved in something so confusing in my entire life. These three deaths remind me of a magic show I once saw. Everything in the show that looked real turned out to be an illusion—a way of getting you distracted so you’d miss what was really going on.”

  * * *

  You’d miss what was really going on.

  Mari’s magic show story still rumbled around in my brain the next day. That visit to Eloise’s house brought up some questions. As I did chores and indulged in a long hot shower, I played with the idea of a noise or disturbance bringing Eloise out of her house in the midst of a storm. Without any proof, I let my imagination fly everywhere, as scattered as a shotgun blast. Babs and her questions about Eloise’s death had gotten under my skin. Gramps told me I was the most stubborn and tenacious person he’d ever met, and I was about to prove it.

  I sat down at the desk chair, Mr. Cat in my lap, and attempted to clear my thoughts. The world kept demanding too much. My neurons hadn’t adjusted. Here in the quiet, only one noise sounded. Purring. Purring would be my calming mantra for now.

  With my eyes closed I focused on the purr and used it as a focus of my meditation. Gradually, I noticed the tension ease down a notch.

  As always, when I tried to meditate, random ideas interrupted my concentration. The phrases Daffy had used to describe Raeleen bobbed to the surface like bubbles. Impulsive and naive, an orchestrator of her own disastrous end—descriptive words but no real help in finding the person who shot and killed her.

  The police were focused on Devin, her ex-boyfriend and former fiancé, Cindy said. Constantly fighting then reuniting, Raeleen nevertheless loved and confided in him. FBI agents took a different approach. As the vice president of Legalize Animal Rights Now (LARN), she was opposed to a wide range of animal abuse that put her in direct conflict with various food industries who preferred to keep their handling of animals a secret. Raeleen’s ability to make people mad drew constant attention—the wrong kind of attention.

  The purring became louder as I stroked Mr. Cat’s neck and head, his throat vibrating under my hand. What had Luke said? Most people don’t know what they are capable of.

  A familiar ring tone put an end to our session. Mr. Cat showed his disapproval by jumping off my lap, his back claws digging into my skin.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Don’t forget we have a date,” Gramps said. “They want us there at two, with dinner around three.”

  “How could I forget?” Especially since he’d reminded me at least three times and texted me twice. “It’s practically tattooed on my forehead.”

  His raspy voice sighed. “Yeah, I’ve overdone it a bit,” he admitted. “I think I’m more nervous than I thought I would be.”

  I reacted to that confession with disbelief. “You? Nervous? Funny, I never thought about that. Gramps, you handled everything so much better than I did. Even when I came to live with you, I heard you talking on the phone to my dad. Mostly at night, when you thought I was asleep.”

  “Not so much anymore, Katie. It became too hard for me…and truthfully…maybe hard on your father, too.”

  Whatever short-term peace I’d enjoyed shattered. I didn’t want to admit that my father might have some redeeming qualities. As far as I was concerned, he’d moved on and forgotten my mother and brother, just as he’d forgotten about me. Thinking his heart might also have been broken gave me too much pain.

  * * *

  With the hospital closed and Jeremy safe at his sister’s place, I found myself getting more and more restless. Gramps uncovered a nerve in that phone call. Even my dog, Buddy, became tired of my pacing around and retired to his bed for a well-deserved nap.

  When I’d gone shopping with Cindy and Mari in the village, I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to get each of them a Christmas present but wasn’t sure what they liked. In a gift shop chocked full of specialty items Cindy had lingered over a silver letter opener.

  “Look. Isn’t this pretty?” she asked us. Her fingers slid over the raised sunflower design on the handle.

  “Do you think someone would use that?” Mari, ever practical, held up a pair of potholders depicting a snowy woods scene.

  “Haven’t you ever broken a nail opening up an envelope?”

  “Yes,” my assistant said, “but the world is going paperless. Right?”

  With regret Cindy put it down. “I suppose so. Then what about one of these journals, or a sketch pad?”

  “You keep an electronic journal on your computer and graphic tools on your…”

  “I know. On your computer. You’re no fun to go shopping with,” Cindy said and strode away through the cinnamon-stick-scented air.

  Mari shrugged. “I like to find something, buy it, then go home.”

  “The antithesis of the shopping mentality.” Feeling a little bad for Cindy, I asked, “Do you see anything in here you’d love to have but don’t really need?”

  Her answer told me a lot. “Yeah. This.” Mari picked up a geode on a stand. In the center of the rock was a cluster of amethyst crystals. “I had one as a kid, but we lost it somehow during one of our moves. I always meant to get another one, but now…” She placed it back down. “This will have to move to the back of a very long line.”

  I decided to go into town and buy the anti-technology letter opener and the geode loved by a young Mari.

  * * *

  Armed with knowledge of what caught their fancy, I set out to purcha
se gifts for my friends, beautiful things they didn’t need. The entire town was lit with twinkling golden lights. Rich velvet ribbons and fantastic cornucopias of frosted glass and pine cones decorated the gazebo in the town square. Once I found a parking spot, I strolled toward the gift shop, pausing to admire several decorated store windows. One of my favorites had turned the curved glass front window into a miniature child’s room. Above the bed tiny fairies danced and played with sugar-frosted plums. Above a headful of sleepy curls another fairy hovered to bestow a sugary kiss.

  The town bustled with visitors, happy to wander around such a picturesque village. All the locals contributed to keeping it that way, since the season was always a profitable one for everyone. Spoiling the beauty momentarily, a gray-paneled van veered close to the curb, lightly splashing the busy sidewalk.

  I held open the Gift Shoppe door as a young couple, loaded down with packages, inched past me and offered a thank-you and a Merry Christmas. The bell on the door tinkled with each coming and going, creating a nonstop melody. A steady flow of customers came and went while I was there, all with smiles on their faces.

  First, I needed to find the two gifts I was after. The stock was down to a final silver letter opener, so I immediately grabbed it. Thank goodness I hadn’t waited. I could see Cindy skillfully opening mail with the opener, now nestled in a plush-lined box. Mari’s geode turned out to be a bit harder to find. The store had restocked and moved many items around. I wanted to get her the same one, which meant opening at least ten cardboard boxes and sliding wrapped geodes out of them. When I came to the last box, her amethyst rock popped out. A salesperson explained they rotated them throughout the store to spark new interest.

  Happy and relieved with my purchases, I took out my credit card. The young girl behind the counter with a gold eyebrow piercing stared at the name and expiration date and then said, “You’re the one, aren’t you, the one with the death wish on YouTube? Was that for real, or did you stage it?” Her face lit up with excitement and an enthusiastic manner that belied the ending of three lives.