by Eileen Brady
Devin looked down at his hands. “Most of the LARN board of directors carry insurance policies with the group named as a beneficiary. The board constantly gets death threats. Their larger office in North Carolina was firebombed in the middle of the night last year.”
I had no inkling of that level of violence associated with the animal rights movement.
“Rae even talked about getting a gun for protection.”
“Why are you telling me?”
In an agitated voice he answered, “If they arrest me, can you make sure all our animals are taken care of?” He dug into his jeans pocket. “Here, I made a list of them and who volunteered to foster them if anything happened to me. But someone needs to supervise.” A slightly rumpled piece of paper was thrust into my hand. “Raeleen and I promised each other that the animals came first,” he said.
“Of course I’ll help.” For the first time I felt genuinely sorry for him. “Please believe me, despite what she thought, I never spread any rumors about her. Ever.”
Devin’s hands clenched and unclenched. “Pretty sure I know who did.”
In anticipation I waited for him to reveal the name, but he simply retreated again.
“I’ve got to do the thinking for both of us now that she’s gone.” He stood up, still a bit distant in his manner, shell-shocked by the gift Raeleen had left him.
“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”
“Thanks, Doc. The truth is I loved Raeleen. Her and me, we were crazy about each other.”
* * *
When we walked back to the waiting room Greta greeted Devin like he’d been gone for a week, loudly asking him what he’d been talking about with me. Muffin wagged her tail and barked, demanding attention, while Beth and Pinky watched everything going on as if it was a reality television program. I realized Devin said he loved Raeleen but never said he was innocent of her death.
The psychic and the sidekick had vanished as swiftly as they’d appeared.
* * *
When Greta and Devin left, Cindy tried to catch my eye. I resisted. I had the feeling that after today Devin’s secret wouldn’t be a secret for long.
Things were about to change. What could be a better motive for murder than a million dollars in cash?
Chapter Thirty-Four
The rest of the afternoon Cindy and Mari tried to pry loose the secret Devin told me. But he’d trusted me with his news, and I wasn’t going to disappoint him. My friends would have to wait until someone else revealed the million-dollar surprise. His newfound riches made me focus on his alibi, rumored to be a woman.
Was he too much of a gentleman to rat out a lady?
* * *
Toward the end of the day, Cindy handed me a note. “I forgot—Athenina told me she’s excited to talk to you,” she said in a whisper. My receptionist doesn’t normally whisper anything, far from it.
“Who the heck is Athenina?” I asked. “A sales representative, someone who wants me to eliminate their boss with a wish? How about a hint?”
“She’s the psychic.” My receptionist shook her head in frustration. “Mari told me that Daffy said her friend saw her last week on one of the morning shows and raved about her.” Along with the note, Cindy handed me a colorful business card with swirly gray clouds and thin drifts of mist covering the printing.
What I read and heard confused me. “Wasn’t the psychic Mari saw named Delphina?”
“You don’t understand.” She spoke as though I just crawled out of a haystack. “There are two of them—a mother and a daughter. Delphina, who is the mom, is semi-retired now, gives local readings, but her daughter, Athenina, is very big in New York City. She’s more than a psychic; she’s a mystic and a life coach, too.”
Mari came by and said, “Your next appointment is ready.”
“Shoot, I’ve got to run, too.” Cindy took off in the direction of the reception area while my assistant handed me our tablet notebook.
“What were you guys talking about?” Mari asked on the way to exam room one.
“Mind reading.”
“Always kidding,” she grinned.
* * *
Being summoned by a pair of psychics was nothing I imagined I’d experience in this lifetime. The similarity of their names I was sure was deliberate, possibly stage-type names? One suggested the Oracle of Delphi while the other, Athenina, sounded like a variation on Athena, goddess of wisdom.
Ordinarily, I would have thrown this invitation away but for one thing: They wanted to talk murder.
* * *
When an appointment rescheduled, I took the free time and Googled Athenina. To my surprise she had pages of postings, most of them glowing recommendations. Her special interests were Guardian Angels, wish fulfillment, and something called the happiness quest. Now I had an inkling of why she might be eager to speak to me. With my “lethal Christmas wish” video garnering more looks every day, I presented an opportunity to prove the existence of wish fulfillment.
Did that mean more publicity, more unwanted notoriety, just when things around me had started to die down? Should I meet her?
I subscribed to the idea of knowing the worst. My personality type doesn’t like surprises. Using the animal hospital landline, I called the number on the card. As the phone rang, I clutched at the last-minute hope that the psychics wanted veterinary advice.
Instead, Delphina had a proposition for me. She invited me to join her and her daughter at a very expensive restaurant for an important “conversation” that might prove very “beneficial” to me. That was all she could discuss over the telephone.
Very hush-hush stuff.
“Tonight at the Tuscan Gardens out by the reservoir?”
“Don’t you want to go somewhere closer to town?” The restaurant was a good thirty-five or forty minutes away.
“If I had the energy to drive farther, I would. This is a very small community, Dr. Turner, believe me. Too many nosy neighbors.”
Her husky voice came across as soothing and understanding. One more tool in her bag of techniques. If I didn’t already know her, I wouldn’t have agreed to go. “Alright. I’m coming from work so seven, seven fifteen at the latest.”
“And please come alone.”
Before I could protest, she hung up.
* * *
Anticipating an unusual night, I began to get ready after my last appointment. In a hurry as always, I flung a red scarf around my neck, as a fashion statement and camouflage for any pet fur I missed. During the long ride I would have plenty of time to think of questions for both psychics. How did wish fulfillment mesh with the deaths of Frank, Eloise, and Raeleen? Did they know any of the victims? Newly energized, I made my way to the truck.
My hand was on the truck door handle when I saw Pinky and Princess on their porch. A tentative wave from Pinky evoked a similar one from me before they made their way down to the last step, Princess cuddled in his arms. Only when she was safe did he let go of her, allowing her to explore and walk the cleared pathway next to the house.
On guard I slid into the driver’s seat. At least twice Pinky had come out of the house at the same time I did. I hoped it was a coincidence, but I didn’t think so.
* * *
Tuscan Gardens blazed with lights that reflected off the vast, icy reservoir far below. It was one of several destination restaurants run by a celebrity chef, and I’d been there just once, with Jeremy.
I almost didn’t go in. I felt I was stepping out of my comfort zone. Because of my work schedule I had no time or interest in keeping up with social media or pop culture. Once in a while an item might catch my eye, but for the most part I kept away from non-scientific discussions. Being immersed in the private lives of my staff and friends, whether I wanted to be or not, was exhausting enough. Hollywood gossip and the latest fads lived far off my radar.
But that didn’t make me naive. Gramps taught me you don’t get something for nothing, and these psychics obviously wanted something from me. Curiosity caught me again with its sharp little claws.
* * *
The inside of the restaurant glowed softly, the sense of money well spent everywhere, from the tufted leather chairs to the sparkling floral china. Flowers and garden references were scattered throughout, discreetly woven into the carpet and repeated in the artwork on the walls.
“May I help you?” The older gentleman at reception looked like part of the decor.
“Yes. I’m meeting someone here.” I’d forgotten Delphina’s full name. Embarrassed, I looked up at him, swiftly trying to scan the seated customers. “She’s very…dramatic looking.”
“Let me guess.” He held his fingers to his temple as though in deep concentration. “You seek a psychic.”
A tiny smile curved on his lips, just enough to tell me we shared the joke. “Yes.”
“Come with me.” He held a dinner menu and what appeared to be a drinks list close to his suit jacket and threaded his way to a table at the far end of the room, overlooking a sweeping water and mountain vista.
To my astonishment only Athenina sat at the table. Close up, her radiant smile, glowing skin, and carefully managed theatrical impression appeared more impressive. She wore a beautifully constructed high-end dress, hand-embellished with intricate embroidered crystals.
Athenina must have sensed my puzzlement because she asked, “Expecting someone a bit older? Delphina, sadly, is indisposed.” Her hand, decorated with a diamond ring and thin gold bracelets, brushed a stray curl from her face.
I’m not sure what I expected but not this professional, controlled individual. She seemed more at home in a boardroom than behind a psychic’s curtain.
“Forgive me, I’m confused. Delphina is your…”
“My mother. We have a tradition in our family of passing similar names down between mother and daughter. I assume you did some research on us? Daffy told me you were very cautious.”
The waiter came to take our drink order. Athenina chose a champagne cocktail, but I stuck with water. Between the long ride back and the grilling to come, I needed my wits intact.
“Since I had my mother ask you here tonight, please consider yourself my guest,” she began graciously. “I didn’t think you’d come simply on my invitation.”
“I’m not sure that I would have,” I answered honestly.
Not comfortable about this meeting, I pretended to peruse the menu but actually studied the woman opposite me. I noticed men and women alike stared at her. Her toned arms with a ballet dancer’s elegance complemented a long, graceful neck. I suspected physical beauty helped in whatever her con was.
“May I call you Athenina—and do you have a last name, too?”
“Silly. Isn’t Athenina quite enough?” Her laugh tempted me to laugh along. The lilt reminded me of the bubbles in her drink.
It occurred to me that she glittered like a jewel in a gilded setting, perfectly staged for maximum impact. The sudden appearance of someone very different confirmed my suspicions.
“Sorry, darling, business,” said the dark-haired man who kissed Athenina’s hand. “Also set the thermostat in the weekend house. ” He turned toward me next. My impression was of a sleek sea otter who might slip away at any moment. “J. D. Dowd, and you must be Dr. Kate Turner. Glad you could make it.”
He settled into the chair next to Athenina and immediately signaled for a waiter. “Vodka martini, very dry.”
“Have you ordered?” Impatient dark eyes focused first on me then our hostess. A gold watch gleamed subtly under his starched white cuff.
Everything about him was slim and slick, from his gelled hair to the subtle sheen of his Italian suit. I wondered what his relationship with Athenina was and why he was here. Once the food had been ordered, he got right into it.
His voice did not soothe. It grated, insistent and pedantic like a sledgehammer. J.D. was her business manager and agent. They’d been working on a pitch with a publisher and wanted to “buy” the rights to my story.
“What story?” I asked, determined not to give in to any demands. If they pressed, I’d blame it on my business advisor, Gramps.
A couple swept by, the man stopping to greet J.D., who turned on the charm by promising to get together soon. Once they left, he went right back to his spiel.
“What story? Your wish, of course, and the aftermath. Haven’t you checked your YouTube video lately?”
“Checked it yesterday.” I put my phone on the table and opened the screen.
“Don’t bother. You’re up to almost 230,000 views, thanks to a newscast in China. You’re about to go viral.”
“Oh, no. I’ve got to stop that.” The thought of all those people watching me made me choke on my appetizer.
J.D. shook his head. “Are you kidding? I could get you a small advertising deal linked up to the video with one phone call. You might make a couple of thousand, or more if you actively promote it.”
“Why did you say I could make money from that video?”
“Sales, kiddo, linked with products being pushed to viewers. Data capture can be sold and resold. It’s a brave, screwed-up world out there.” He buttered a piece of bread and smoothly hailed our waiter for another drink. “You ladies want anything else?”
Athenina said no and pushed away her calamari, not even half-finished.
“Discipline,” J.D. said with approval. “She’s loaded with it.”
“I need to keep myself at a strong and healthy weight,” Athenina replied. “Long ago spirits told me that my future depended on discipline and discovery.”
Her voice and manner seemed sincere. That made me curious. “Spirits have been talking to you for a long time?”
She sighed, as if explaining was some enormous effort. “The spirits claimed me for their own when I turned twelve. Sometimes they warn me…or help me with a task. They’re always nearby, whether I want them or not. As I became older, I learned to harness my energy.”
“That’s where you come in, Doc,” J.D. added. “One of her online classes is about wish fulfillment. What happened to you she thinks is an example of destructive wish power instead of constructive. Athenina just finished a self-help book about channeling your inner power and making your wishes come true. I can negotiate a better deal if I have your story on board.”
“You must be confused. I didn’t record that video. My friend Mari did.” This was fast moving out of control.
With his refreshed martini in hand he explained, “Don’t need the video. We need your firsthand account.”
Now I got it. “So, you want to tell my story as an example of what not to do?”
“Probably.” A look passed between the psychic and the agent.
“Why do you need to buy my story? People are watching it for free.”
J.D. explained this too. I suspected he had plenty of explanations in his pocket. “Our proposal is based on controlling access to your story. It’s perfect. We’ve got tons of free publicity, and people are curious about the wish and you. You’re a public relations gift. You haven’t spoken to a single member of the press, which is unbelievable.” He leaned back and eyed me with snake eyes while he sipped his drink. “If we pay you for your story, in your own words, you can’t sue us if it’s in the book. Her publisher has a bunch of corporate lawyers involved, and they’ve got pretty strict guidelines for this stuff. So, what’s it worth for you to sign it over to us?”
Now, I might only be a veterinarian, but I grew up with a very savvy grandfather who emphasized that salespeople never present their best deal first. Also, get everything in writing and never commit to anything before you read it. Especially don’t trust lawyers who pitch deals over drinks.
They stared while I casually sipped my w
ater. Did I sense a hint of panic in the supremely confident J.D.? After a second deliberately long sip, I countered, “Why don’t you come up with a package proposal, and I’ll have my lawyer take a look at it?” Then I casually speared a leftover sprig of broccoli.
“Hey,” he turned to Athenina and said, “I thought you said she’d be an easy mark. Guess your psychic powers were wrong, honey.”
“Not at all,” her voice purred like a kitten. “Our kind doctor is just too smart to be taken in by you. Get all her info and send her something tonight. And make it worth her while, J.D. I’m sensing there are some huge student loan debts in her background to pay off, isn’t that right?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth.
It felt like I’d won. Or maybe that’s what they wanted me to feel.
* * *
When the waiter came by with the after-dinner drinks and dessert menu, I excused myself, citing having worked a long day. I’d listened to J.D. boast nonstop about his client list for a half hour, at least. His partner in crime, Athenina, sat back in knowing silence, preferring to insert periodic esoteric comments that occasionally made sense.
While their conversation was fresh on my mind, I decided to call Luke and ask for some advice. After all, he was studying to be a lawyer. If he didn’t know the answers to my questions, maybe he could steer me to someone who would. Besides, with this news about the video going viral, I wanted to hear his voice.
Driving the truck around toward the back of the restaurant, I put it in park and dialed his number.
After five rings he picked up, music blaring in the background. Why were all my friends at parties when I called?
“Hey, Luke. Bad time?”
“Kate. No. Let me go into the bedroom and get away from the noise.”
I vaguely heard a door open and close. “Much better,” I told him. “Are you at a party?”
“I’m at my sister’s house. A bunch of relatives dropped by and now they’re dancing in the living room. You know how it is.”
No, I didn’t. Not much dancing in my family. “Maybe I should call back.”