by Eileen Brady
“Tonight’s session is sixty-five dollars. Payment is due before we begin.”
“Of course.” Mari fished around in her purse for a few bills from her wallet. The psychic made no attempt to give her a receipt. “Oh, I have a fifteen percent off coupon.”
“That is the fifteen percent off price. Now sit, sit.” Delphina took her place in the only armchair and positioned a red tasseled pillow behind her back. Mari sat opposite while I moved one of the chairs against the wall.
The psychic never asked who I was.
Once we all were seated, soothing New Age music mixed with nature sounds flooded the room. Chimes and bells combined with flowing water, the surround-sound speakers giving us three hundred and sixty degrees of melody. Sonorous temple gongs resonated in the background. The lights faded further while a rosy glow rose up, bathing the room in a warm pink.
“Take my hands.”
After a slight hesitation, Mari placed her hands in the psychic’s grasp.
Since my chair faced Delphina, I got a good long look at her.
Her silver-white hair was pulled into a tight bun, but curly strands escaped here and there. Wispy tendrils framed her flushed face. She was an obvious beauty, blessed with high cheekbones and a strong broad nose, but time hadn’t been kind to her. Multiple deep wrinkles around her mouth and brow spoke of a life of hard living, but her eyes were something else. Pale blue with large black pupils, their intensity mesmerized me, even though her attention had completely fixed on Mari.
“Relax your body. Free your spirit,” Delphina began. “Let your mind drift to a safe, joyous place.”
Without thinking I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. A soft, spicy scent of incense made the air taste exotic and delicious.
“Wrap yourself in a warm cosmic blanket. Take your tensions from your neck and shoulders and drop them to the ground. Let them slide away. Feel how freeing that is.”
Her raspy voice now sounded like honey pouring over pebbles. The voice made it so easy to release yourself and float away.
Then my scientific mind clicked into sharp focus. This was a subtle type of hypnosis. The lighting, the music, her suggestions, all guaranteed to induce a state of tranquility and a more suggestive frame of mind.
Instead of listening to Delphina, I silently recited the anatomy of the kidney and stared at specific items in the room. Although the lights had been dimmed, I noticed the chair legs looked old and nicked by use—and needed a good cleaning. The hem of the starry curtain was creased, one corner torn and frayed.
The oldest part of my brain, what my neurology professor called our lizard brain, gave me a sudden warning. With a slight turn of my head I locked eyes with Delphina, staring at me. Her black pupils dilated even further as she realized I’d slipped away from her self-inducing hypnotic state, no longer a participant but an observer. Our eyes held only a few seconds, then she shifted back to Mari, her honeyed words thick and flowing over everything in its path—like sweet lava.
“Tell me what you wish to know,” she asked Mari.
My assistant asked questions about her future. Delphina replied with predictions of travel, a relationship that wasn’t to be but would lead to another, more fulfilling destiny.
Then she lurched forward, eyes closed and said, “Katherine, remember to take your enemy’s hand.” The tone of her voice changed, the honey gone.
She’d used my given name, not Mari’s.
After a few seconds Delphina’s eyes opened, and she spoke of a possible illness for a loved one and future good fortune.
As I listened, her words ran together, bits and pieces designed to make you feel good. With so many predictions, some of them were bound to be right.
I sensed a subtle change in the lighting as Delphina murmured something about healing grace and being mindful of your third eye. Slowly, the lights brightened as the session came to an end. Mari stood up, smiling broadly, and thanked the psychic, promising to make another appointment soon. Our hostess explained in a much more business-like tone that for a limited time she offered a value pack of ten sessions for the price of eight, good for one year.
I trekked behind them retracing our steps through the hallway into the kitchen. Still at the table, the man began to pour two more glasses of wine. Mari gushed about how wonderful the session was and started down the ramp. As I walked past Delphina on the way out, she turned toward me and firmly grasped my hands in hers. A zap of electricity shot through my fingertips.
“You, Dr. Katherine Turner. You possess a power you do not understand. Be careful.”
I started to protest, but she shushed me.
“Listen to those who come, or you will bear the consequences.” Her eyes widened and then I found myself outside her door, standing in the cold wind.
* * *
Driving back to my apartment at the animal hospital, Mari went on and on about how uplifting and relaxing her experience felt. Although short on specific details that Delphina revealed, she waxed blissful on how much she enjoyed the evening, the stress of the last few days erased.
“She said something to me, did you hear it?” I asked.
“The Katherine thing? I’ve got a cousin named Katherine.”
I let it slide. Delphina had put on a nice show.
To be stress-free right now would be nice, I thought. My problem was that stress gave me an edge, an edge that sharpened my brain like a couple of cups of strong coffee. I liked the feeling more than I disliked it. Until the stress levels went overboard.
“There’s nothing like a one-on-one session,” Mari insisted. “It was very personal.”
In the comfort of the SUV away from that raspy silken voice, I had to agree. In person, on the radio, watching television or experiencing a movie, each type of experience produces different results in our brains. Marshall McLuhan was right. The medium is the message.
Was this hypnotic pseudo-science message one that my assistant wanted to pursue?
“Of course not,” replied Mari. “It was fun. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“So you aren’t going to buy ten sessions from her?” I tried to keep the relief out of my voice.
“Are you crazy, Kate? I’ve got a bucket list of things I want to do like skydiving or learning to rappel down the side of a cliff.” She put the turn signal on and waited for a panel van to pass before maneuvering into our parking lot. “What’s on yours?”
“My what?” The gravel crunched under her big tires while my eyes searched for signs of life at Pinky’s house. Only the porch light shone above the front door. The other rooms stood quiet and dark.
“Have you even been listening?” she chided me. “Your bucket list. What’s on your bucket list?”
I was embarrassed to confess I didn’t have one.
* * *
The last thing I did before turning off the light was to check the latest number of viewings on the YouTube video. It had jumped to 18,996.
When I closed my eyes Delphina’s words slipped into my consciousness. “Remember to take your enemy’s hand,” her melodic voice whispered over and over. “Remember to take your enemy’s hand.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
When I dressed for work the next morning and reached for my scrubs, I realized how much science and logic were my refuge. The reading with Delphina had put that into perspective. Not for me were vague predictions of future adventures.
As for having a special power, everyone had a special power—they only needed to look deep inside themselves to find it.
The best thing that came out of that night? I started thinking about my bucket list.
* * *
Even Cindy’s rigid scheduling didn’t help during morning appointments as I tried unsuccessfully to keep on time. One of our patients needed much more time than usual, so each appointment after them ran a
little late. Mari worked at breakneck speed, trying to catch up with the increased lab work, zipping past me toward the treatment room. That’s why it surprised me to get a non-business-related text from Cindy.
WHATS YOUR DATING STATUS?
I shook my head in astonishment. Another topic to bring up in our staff meetings. Inappropriate texting. Trying to put an end to speculation, I texted back.
OPEN TO INTERPRETATION
She answered back with a smiley-face emoji.
* * *
Finally caught up, I was halfway down the hallway to my next appointment when Mari waylaid me.
“Why don’t you go comb your hair, or put a little lipstick on,” she suggested. In the six months I’d been working at the Oak Falls Animal Hospital, this was the first time anyone suggested a makeover between clients. Something strange was brewing.
“Mari,” I hissed, “what are you up to?”
Had they stashed Luke somewhere in the building hoping for a Christmas engagement? Or somehow pulled Jeremy back in the picture for a good old college try?
My technician put her finger to her lips, indicating there was someone waiting in the exam room right next to us.
I took the chart out of her hand, knocked on the door, and walked in, sure I was being set up. No such luck. The astonishment on Devin Popovitch’s face probably reflected mine.
“You’re the F-150 with the clogged fuel line, right?” he said.
His eyes tracked down to my doctor’s white jacket embroidered with my name. I watched his lips move as he sounded out the letters.
“And you’re the old dog whose owner died and now is having accidents in the house?”
We both laughed. “Well, the truck is working a lot better.”
“The dog isn’t.” He lifted an elderly gray terrier mix onto the exam table. “I saved some of her pee.” With a flourish a ziplock bag half full of a familiar yellow liquid emerged from his leather messenger bag.
I considered him very brave to lug that around with him. Or very foolhardy.
As if reading my mind, he said, “I double-bagged it.”
* * *
While completing my exam on the dog, it registered again what an attractive man Devin appeared to be both physically and personally. Given his lightly quiet, unassuming but confident demeanor, I could see why Raeleen had stuck around Oak Falls to be with him. But why did he stick with her?
Questions I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask while examining their dog.
“Do you think Rae’s death has something to do with Muffin getting sick?” he asked after we admitted the dog for X-rays.
That was a hard question to answer. “There are many documented cases of dogs mourning the loss of someone close to them—human or even another animal. Muffin may have reacted by not drinking or eating as much, which leads to dehydration. The dehydration could have precipitated her urine issue. Or it might be a coincidence. That’s the medical answer.”
I smiled at him. “The non-medical answer is every pet owner knows in their heart that their pets love them and miss them.”
He leaned against the table. “Well, Muffin loved her, that’s for sure.”
“It’s obvious she did.” It also was obvious Devin loved her, but I doubted he’d given himself enough time to grieve.
“You know, Rae was feisty and super smart, but I liked that about her. We must have broken up and got back together a dozen times over the last two years. Always jealous, though, or pissed at someone. After a while I didn’t want to listen to that anymore. I told her to keep the engagement ring, but we were done.” He picked up his leather bag and shifted it back and forth. “I still don’t know all the details of what happened. The police don’t say much.”
I felt the same about the assault on Jeremy. The M & M detective team from Kingston assigned to his case hadn’t contacted him again.
“Did you know she dropped out of law school? On full scholarship? Rae told me she got fed up with everyone wanting to make money. She wanted to make a difference.”
“That’s very idealistic and admirable,” I told him. Raeleen must have felt like she was fighting at windmills, and I was one of them.
Devin pointed to the messenger bag over his shoulder. “She gave me this. It cost her a week’s pay,” his voice cracked. “Nobody’s telling us what happened to her.”
“I’m sure Chief Garcia is doing his best,” I said, trying to distract him. “Anyway, Cindy will go over the treatment plan again with you, and I’ll try to get Muffin back home tonight. I don’t think your little girl needs any more surprises in her life.” We walked toward reception and I handed him off to Cindy, who had freshened up her makeup since the last time I’d seen her. “Take good care of Mr. Popovitch,” I told her.
“Devin, please,” he said. “Thanks, Doc. Thanks for everything.”
* * *
“That hunk was Raeleen’s boyfriend?” Mari asked in disbelief. Morning appointments finished, we started working up our sick patients.
“Ex-fiancé.” I picked Muffin up and brought her into X-ray.
“Even worse. He was engaged to her?” she commented. “He seemed so nice and she seemed so…”
“Not nice?” I suggested.
“I was going to say something else.”
“Well, he’s pretty broken up about it.” We laid Muffin down to measure and position her for the X-ray. Unlike most dogs, she stayed still. “Mari, I’d like to see if we can do this without any tranquilization. She’s being very good.”
We got Muffin ready to take the X-ray and darned if the little girl stayed still for us. Mari brought her back to the cage while I wrote up the labs and began the urine analysis. Muffin could have anything from a urinary tract infection right up to bladder or kidney stones, or worse. She didn’t like the special kidney diet, of course, when we tried to feed her, but after spiking it with a teaspoon of canned kidney diet cat food, she ate almost the whole serving.
Devin needed to stay strong if he was going to take care of a menagerie of Raeleen’s rescues.
* * *
Around lunchtime Mari tapped on my office door where I sat multitasking in front of the computer. Reviewing my clinic notes competed with eating a pear, so between the juicy half-eaten fruit in my left hand and typing with one finger of the right hand—well, let’s say it didn’t look too attractive.
“You’re dripping on your keyboard,” Mari said.
“Ahhhh.” A quick backward slide with the desk chair simply left a dappled pattern of drips on the floor.
As I cleaned, Mari talked. “Meeting Devin and Muffin today made me remember Raeleen as a person who had a lot of problems but a good heart. We’ve concentrated so much on Eloise and Frank because of that dumb video, I started to wonder why Rae was murdered and who did it.”
“In case you were wondering I didn’t kill her, so that’s a million suspects left, minus one.” With the floor cleaned up, I used hand sanitizer on my sticky fingers before I stood and stretched.
“The murderer can’t be Devin. He’s too nice to be a killer.”
“A classic killer move.”
My assistant tried to see the good in everyone, not always successfully.
Ignoring me, she continued. “Well, we know Rae didn’t shy away from speaking her mind. That I can swear to.” I hadn’t noticed, but Mari was also multitasking, a Post-it note in one hand and a giant bag of corn chips tucked under her arm.
I snuck a chip from her before going back and sitting down. “Other than being shot, I don’t remember reading much about the circumstances or anything else.”
Mari’s face grew thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I’m sort of foggy on what happened the night she died, too. You know what that means?”
We both smiled and said in unison, “Ask Cindy.”
* * *
Annoyed slightly at being called away from her desk, Cindy took one look at the two of us munching chips and said, “What are you guys up to?”
“We’re a little curious about what happened to Raeleen, especially after meeting Devin,” I began, “and wondered if you knew anything about the case?”
Cindy folded her arms in front of her. “What’s it worth to you?”
That, I didn’t expect.
Mari picked up the challenge seamlessly. “What do you need?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something.”
Cindy always won.
Mari usually put up more of a fight, but she must have succumbed to the holiday spirit. As the “Little Drummer Boy” kept a slow steady background beat, Cindy spilled the story.
“At eleven Raeleen got off work at the supermarket. Only a few employees work that late shift. She walked to her car alone, before saying good night to everyone, as usual. The last one to leave said when he looked in his rearview mirror, she was standing with her clicker in her hand pointing at the car lock. A video from the supermarket security camera confirms that. Then for some reason she looks over toward the dumpsters. After a moment Raeleen leaves the car, walks into the trees, and disappears.”
“Was she alone in the parking lot by then?”
“Yes, as far as they know.”
Mari and I looked at each other. We knew that parking lot. In fact, we’d parked near the dumpsters the night of our encounter with Raeleen.
Cindy continued. “Someone tried to jump her, they think, in the trees. She struggled. Rae’s hands and face showed multiple defensive wounds. There’s some confusion as to the gun. Forensics hypothesizes there was a struggle and she got shot at point-blank range in the abdomen. The second wound was to the head after she’d collapsed on the ground. Rae’s hands also showed gunshot residue.”
I shuddered. Someone really wanted Raeleen to die.
“Where did it happen again?”
“That’s the weird thing. Not next to her car. Whoever killed her hid in the trees behind the dumpsters in the employee parking area. It’s tucked over to the side near the building.”