by Ani Gonzalez
And Walter had definitely been in the second category.
Luanne glanced toward the front of the bus and tensed. Murray was looking at the cliff, his jaw clenched.
He whispered something to Carl and the bus turned, leaving the cliffs behind.
Murray pointed to the right side of the vehicle. "If you look out the window, you can see the Chessie statue off in the distance."
Luanne craned her neck, but she could barely make out the dinosaur-shaped statue. Murray was truly grasping at straws there.
"I still can't believe Leslie did it," Jean said. "She's so..."
"So much of a wuss?" Samira asked with a smile.
Jean winced. "I didn't want to put it that way, but yes. I can't picture her fighting with anyone, let alone pushing someone over a ledge."
"People do strange things when they are provoked," Samira said. "And Walter could be very provocative."
"Did he really steal Murray's television show?" Luanne asked.
"Oh, yes," Jean said. "A couple of us created pilots for the network. I did my exercise show and Murray did his history show."
"Even I bought a ticket for that ride," Samira said. "My show was a disaster, of course."
"You had retro charm," Jean said. "But the network wasn't enthusiastic about the scantily clad male assistants."
"Some people have no vision," Samira muttered.
"Murray's show was amazing, though," Jean continued with only a hint of a smile. "He's a historian, you know. He has a doctorate on the Victorian period."
"I didn't know that," Luanne said.
"His show was fascinating," Jean continued. "I learned so much. We were all sure the network would pick him."
"But they didn't." Samira said.
"They talked to him about it," Jean said. "I heard he was on the verge of signing a contract. The stars were all for it, too. He had Mercury in the second house and Jupiter on the tenth. It was an amazing chart."
"Charts aren't everything," Samira said. "And trying to read our own future is tricky even for the best of us."
"True," Jean agreed. "He was worried about that, and also because he got the Ten of Swords in a reading, which turned out to be a lot more accurate than his star chart."
Luanne's brows went up. The Ten of Swords was traditionally illustrated by a body lying on the ground pierced by ten blades. It was a dramatic card, and it heralded grievous treachery.
"Murray is a competent reader," Samira said.
"Yes," Jean replied. "Particularly in this instance. As the card foretold, Walter swooped in and waved his association presidency around. He said he would be able to bring in guests, and the network would get all the shows in one."
Luanne winced. Walter had used Murray's own success for his pitch. Yep, that was definitely Ten of Swords territory.
"And the network executives fell for it," Samira said. "Walter got his contract, and Murray went back to doing readings. Yet another Walter Farsight victim." Her lips turned up in a bittersweet smile. "Walter had a penchant for putting a wrench in people's plans. I bet he plotted and planned that for weeks. He loved schemes like that, and he gloried in cutting down his victims. Murray wasn't the first." She laughed, as if remembering a secret joke. "And he certainly wasn't the last. Poor Zoraida got her booty sued for trademark infringement. Walter made her spend money she didn't have on lawyers, and she eventually declared bankruptcy."
"Infringement?" Luanne asked. "But Zoraida's brand is very different from Walter's."
Samira smirked. "Well, it is now. Back then, she used a seventies-style blue velvet suit and gold jewelry. She changed her look after the lawsuit and adopted the goth look. She considered suing back, but she was out of money, so she ended up sucking it up and moving on with her life."
"But some victims have teeth," Jean said. "Murray also got the Five of Swords during that reading, and I think Walter was a little bit afraid about that. We passed him when I took Murray for a walk on the cliffs last night—he's a Taurus, you know—and Walter backed away pretty quick."
Walter ran away? Somehow, Luanne couldn't picture Walter Farsight backing away from anyone. The man was arrogance personified.
Although, come to think of it, Murray was about twice his size, and the previous evening had not gone well for Walter.
"You went for a walk?" Luanne asked. "When?"
"Yesterday afternoon," Jean replied. "We both arrived early. I think Murray was setting up this tour or something like that. Anyway, there was no one around, so we decided it was a good time for a walk." She smiled. "There's never a bad time for a walk, you know."
Luanne frowned. "Walter had arrived already?"
"He'd just gotten to the parking lot and was stretching his legs." Jean laughed. "He headed back to his bus pretty quick when he saw Murray approaching."
"And you kept on walking?"
"Well, I did," Jean said. "Murray turned around after a few minutes." She shook her head. "Young people have no stamina anymore. They spend too much time on their phones."
Luanne didn't reply. Murray would have had plenty of time to turn around and give Walter a piece of his mind. He had, after all, gotten the Five of Swords during his Tarot reading, which could mean conflict and tension.
But it could also mean revenge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"THIS IS fun," Kat exclaimed as the sea spray hit her face. "We should do this back home."
"No, we shouldn't." Sean gripped the handrail so tightly his knuckles turned white. The boat's motions were stomach-churning, but the cool breeze helped to minimize the seasickness. He took a deep breath, letting the crisp, salt-tinged air into his lungs.
There, that was better.
"We only have a small lake," Fiona said, her blonde ponytail whipping around in the wind. "Hardly worth a tour."
"But there are devil monkeys around the lake," Kat replied. "And Caine was chasing Yetis there not that long ago. PRoVE could buy some ferries and do a tour."
Sean shook his head. "Knowing Caine, he'd buy speedboats and scare the tourists to death."
Kat laughed. "Not looking forward to giving out traffic tickets in the lake?"
Sean groaned. The thought alone made him queasy. "You just described my new worst nightmare."
"Wouldn't you need a dinosaur to have a tour?" Zoraida asked.
"I'm sure Caine can find one," Fiona shrugged, waving a piece of paper. "It doesn't seem to be that hard."
"That's what the town needs," Kat said, laughing. "A Jurassic devil monkey with long fangs and claws."
Fiona frowned. "I'm pretty sure it would be from the Cenozoic. That's when mammals first appeared."
Kat grinned. "There you go. You can help write the pamphlet."
They all laughed. When they boarded, they all had received flyers from the local monster-hunting company. The flyers recounted the history of the Chesapeake Bay monster and provided instruction on how to find evidence of its existence, mostly involving "look at the water and find a dark shape."
Caine and the PRoVE guys would be appalled.
"I see one," Kat exclaimed, pointing at the water. "Oh, wait, it's just driftwood."
"It's all just driftwood, if you ask me," Sean muttered.
Why was he even here? Luanne had asked him to keep an eye on the group, but everyone seemed fine. Most were just sitting and enjoying the scenery. A few were reading their pamphlets or trying to look for the monster. Most were ignoring the tour guide, who was a weedy college student with all the appeal of a wet rag. He managed to make a contemporary plesiosaur—no, wait, Basilosaurus—sound mind-numbingly boring, and was now rambling on about helicopter sightings in the 1970s. It made Sean long for Caine's whale-vs-dinosaur arguments. At least those were interesting.
But the group didn't seem too bothered. They appeared perfectly content as they admired the scenery and gasped at the odd piece of driftwood. The only other exceptions were Wanda and her husband, who were frowning openly at the tour guide.
&
nbsp; Zoraida winced in sympathy. "Poor guy, he really needs help."
"He sure does," Sean replied. "I wonder why he's doing this. He seems ill-suited for it."
"He's probably working on his crowd skills," Zoraida said. "This is a good environment to learn that part of the craft. You can learn the technical skills from the townsfolk and client management through a part-time tourism job."
Sean wasn't sure about the good environment part. Wanda's face was turning redder by the minute. Given his past experience with Walter's daughter, he was pretty sure she was about to explode on the poor guy. The tour guide, however, blathered on, unaware of any danger.
Sean frowned. "He's a fortune-teller too?"
Not that fortune-tellers could necessarily predict incoming threats or heckling. Sean had come to accept Luanne's uncanny talent for reading the future, but even she got mixed up on occasion.
Zoraida's eyes narrowed. "No, no. I don't think he's one of us. He's probably a magician, like Carl. They do a lot of street performances at the boardwalk during the summer."
"Carl, the hotel porter?" Fiona asked. "He's a magician?"
That seemed unlikely, as stage magic was complicated and Carl seemed incapable of accomplishing even basic tasks, like driving.
"I know it's hard to believe," Zoraida said. "When I arrived yesterday, he almost ran me over with a golf cart, but I've been told he's quite good."
"Well, I wouldn't want to be his assistant. He'd end up sawing me in half for real," Kat said, shaking her head.
Zoraida laughed. "Nah, although he did almost give Samira a heart attack with that cart. Carl is a mentalist, not an illusionist."
Sean kept his face free of expression, but his mind was on overdrive. Carl had been driving Samira right before Walter had been killed. If he'd almost run over Zoraida, that put her very near the scene of the crime. Actually, the three of them were at the right spot at the right now.
"What's the difference?" Fiona asked.
"A mentalist is not a stage magician," Zoraida explained. "They do clairvoyance, hypnosis, and some divination. A lot of it is suggestion, reading body language, targeted guessing, and pure showmanship." She shrugged. "In some ways, it's similar to fortune-telling. That's why they're attracted to this town." She glanced at their tour guide. "Unfortunately, this guy is still very raw."
"He's certainly not reading Wanda's body language right," Kat muttered.
No kidding. Wanda's fists were clenched so tight they were turning white, and Sean's cop instincts were tingling like crazy now.
On the bright side, his seasickness was almost gone. Adrenaline was a heck of an anti-nausea drug.
"Oh, her," Zoraida scoffed. "Wanda's temper is legendary. Her bark is worse than her bite, but not by much."
"Sounds like personal experience talking," Sean said, keeping an eye on Wanda.
"She came after me when I was starting out," Zoraida said. "She threatened me, saying I had to work with Walter as his assistant. Said they would destroy me if I didn't pay my dues." She snorted. "But being a fortune-telling Barbie is not my speed."
"There were threats?" Sean asked.
Zoraida nodded. "And repercussions as well. I was shocked when I realized the Farsights could make good on their threats. I was blackballed for years." A bitter smile crossed her face. "It was probably worth it, though. If I had accepted, I would have ended up killing Walter." She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "I probably shouldn't be saying that."
"It sounds like an unpleasant situation," Sean said, choosing his words with care.
"It was scary," Zoraida said, a slight shudder running through her. "Walter would get these bizarre obsessions with people. It happened to Murray too. Walter tried to get him to join his television show, and wouldn't give up." She shook her head. "It actually got physical that time."
"Murray hit him?" Sean asked.
But Zoraida waved it off. "Just a little pushing and shoving. Walter wouldn't take no for an answer, and became vindictive afterwards. He would go out of his way to destroy your career if you defied him." She glanced at Wanda. "And Wanda was even worse. She left nasty messages on all my social media for almost a year. I even looked into getting a restraining order. She is—was, I guess—obsessively protective of Walter. She'd do anything for him."
Sean nodded, but he wasn't thinking of Wanda. What Zoraida described sounded like stalking, a situation he knew could turn violent.
Had it?
Zoraida frowned, still looking at Wanda. "I'm not sure why she's so upset with this guy, though. She's usually only like that when she has a personal interest." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless it's not the tour guide she's looking at—"
But Sean didn't have time to listen to the rest of Zoraida's comment. As the hapless tour guide droned on and on about giant serpent-like creatures with dubious paleontological origins, Wanda finally came to a decision. Sean stepped forward to protect the guide, but before he'd crossed a third of the distance, Wanda leaped out of her seat and launched herself toward her victim—Viola.
"It was you," Wanda shouted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"WANDA ATTACKED Viola," Luanne repeated, still trying to wrap her head around this development. "Harmless, colorless Viola?"
They were back in their hotel suite. The sun was setting and the room was awash in a warm, orange glow that contrasted sharply with Sean's dark news.
The town tour had returned to the Aquarius Cove Resort to find that Viola was under arrest. At that point, Morgana had thrown up her hands and given up on the day's agenda. They were supposed to have had an evening cocktail reception, but this last shock was too much for the association, and the get-together had been cancelled. With Leslie in the hospital and Viola in custody, no one was in the mood for a celebration.
The convention was over and everyone was leaving.
So much for the slinky green dress Kat had given her. Luanne wouldn't get to wear it now, at least not in public.
Luanne and Sean were packing, readying for their departure. They had the room for another night, but they didn't really feel like sticking around. Luanne stuffed her dirty clothing into a bag, but the action felt curiously dream-like.
Viola had killed Walter?
Viola?
"I was sure it had been Murray." Luanne muttered as she reached for a pair of dirty socks.
Murray still seemed a likelier suspect than hapless Viola. Murray was big and strong and he'd deeply resented Walter. Viola was a Shakespearean tragic heroine, a dreamy Ophelia.
Could Ophelia push someone to his death?
"And I thought it was Zoraida," Sean said, as he placed folded shirts into his suitcase. "We were both partly correct. Zoraida and Murray both hated Walter because he victimized them because they could become his competition and they refused to work for him. We were on the right track."
Luanne walked around the small room, looking for more dirty clothes, as Sean continued. "We just didn't realize that Viola was in the same situation. She was just starting out and becoming successful with her readings when Walter latched onto her. She ended up giving up her own work to become his assistant."
"But she seemed to like working for Walter," Luanne protested, finding her black camisole behind the bathroom pedestal sink. So that's where it went.
"But she liked working with Carl even more," Sean said. "They met in Vegas, while she was there with Walter. He was a budding mentalist, still trying to make his name in the industry, and they fell in love. They were planning to develop an act together. She would be his assistant during his acts and would do fortune-telling on the side."
Luanne stepped out of the bathroom. "So she tried to leave Walter?"
Sean nodded. "When she told him, Walter promised to destroy Viola's career, as well as Carl's. Carl had a record, you see. He'd done time for fraud. That's why he kept avoiding me."
"Walter could do that," Luanne said, dropping the laundry bag into her duffle. "Samira and Jane said he sabotaged Murr
ay's television show."
"He did something similar to Zoraida," Sean said, carefully adding a folded sock to a pile next to his suitcase. "I couldn't get the details out of her, but she seemed resentful."
"And she should be," Luanne said. "Zoraida used to wear a blue velvet suit for her act. She had a retro-seventies look, but Samira told me that Walter sued her for trademark violations. That's why she changed to wearing all black with blue hair."
Sean looked surprised, which gave Luanne a fair amount of satisfaction. Sure, she wasn't as organized as Sean—who now was now carefully putting a pristine set of symmetrically piled dirty socks into his laundry bag—but she could still ferret out clues.
"That solves the last puzzle," Sean said, placing his laundry bag to fit perfectly in his suitcase.
Luanne sighed. "Does it? Somehow, I can't picture Viola in the role of a villain. Murray, yes, absolutely. Zoraida, for sure. That girl is ruthless. But Viola? Not so much."
"I agree," Sean said. "She seems so passive and lost. When I first saw her, I classified her as a born victim. You know, those people that predators naturally go for."
"Which explains her appeal to Walter," Luanne said, looking around for her flip flops. "I guess even doormats can be pushed too far."
"There's also Carl," Sean said. "His career was also on the line, and they were both in the parking lot at the right time. Too bad there was no golf cart involved. Then we would have found the culprit right away."
Ah, Carl, the weedy hotel porter. Was that a more likely culprit? Luanne wasn't sure. He seemed so, well, insignificant.
But cornered rats and all that, and speaking of people in dire straits—"How about Leslie? Did she wake up?"
"Yes, Mary-Louise spoke to her. She denied killing Walter, but admitted to having an argument with him in the parking lot. She said it may have gotten physical, but she didn't remember the last few days very well. The doctor said that was probably due to the allergic reaction."