by Ani Gonzalez
"But what does it mean?" Sean asked.
Luanne sank bank in her chair. "I'm not sure. The obvious answer is that it's an unfair outcome, and, of course, murder is unjust."
She glanced at Mary-Louise, who was standing at the bar nursing a drink. She didn't look happy. Actually, everyone looked dissatisfied. If Luanne had been reading these cards for a client, she would be panicking at this point.
Samira, however, was perfectly calm.
"Bit of an awkward card, no?" she said, smiling. "Anyone wants to guess what it means?" She craned her neck to better see the back of the room. "Wanda?"
Walter's daughter shook her head. Her husband put an arm around her, trying to comfort her.
Samira heaved a deep sigh. "Very well, I'll do it. Let me know if I get anything wrong."
She pointed toward the first card, the reversed Knight of Swords. "This was Walter, our imperious leader. He was showy, he was aggressive, he was—"
"A buffoon," Murray said.
Samira nodded and pointed toward the second card. "True, and one who could be jealous and treacherous. Many of us suffered due to that."
Murray nodded. Zoraida snorted. Morgana sighed and leaned back in her chair.
But Wanda stepped forward. "That's not the only possible meaning. Sometimes it's an internal betrayal. Something personal."
"It could be a desertion," Samira said.
That probably referred to Viola's desire to leave her employment. That didn't, in Luanne's opinion, rise to the level of deep betrayal, but this reading was being done from Walter's perspective, and he may have considered Viola's resignation as a stab in the back.
Morgana tapped her chin with her finger. "You know what, Samira? At times, I've read it as a disease."
Wanda's face crumbled, and Samira smiled.
"Exactly," the old woman said.
"Parkinson's," Sean muttered.
Luanne nodded slowly. She'd never read the Five of Swords as a disease, but it made sense, particularly from Walter's perspective. Walter felt he was omnipotent, so he would perceive having a disease as his body stabbing him in the back—the most tragic betrayal of all.
A sigh of frustration escaped Sean. "But which one is it?"
"All of them." Luanne replied. "The reading would address all of the factors."
"In one card?" Kat asked.
"Absolutely," Luanne said. "At least in the hands of a gifted reader."
That was the mark of a true talent, and Samira was surely that. You knew you'd succeeded when the cards covered every nuance.
"I've read it that way too," Samira said. She looked up at Wanda. "He was ill, wasn't he?"
Wanda nodded, her face red. "It came as a huge shock when he was diagnosed." A sob caught in her throat. "They told him the disease would likely progress slowly." Another sob. "They said he had plenty of time."
"But he didn't," Samira said.
"He thought he wouldn't be able to work anymore," Wanda explained, almost in tears. "He couldn't deal with that." She drew in a shaky breath. "Work was his life. If he couldn't be Walter Farsight..."
Her voice trailed off.
"It was all he could think about," she continued in a hoarse voice. "He wasn't sleeping or eating. They gave him medications—tranquilizers and anti-depressants—but—"
"But he didn't take them, did he?" Samira asked.
"No," Wanda said. "Not at first. Not until—"
She broke off, eyes wide with fear.
"Until Viola left?" Samira asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
"He was livid," Wanda replied. "I think he focused all the anger about the illness on her. They had a big fight. He said her boyfriend was a criminal and she replied that Walter had done worse things. He said he'd destroy her. He said he'd taken her from nothing and he would return her to nothing."
Murray's face was expressionless, but Zoraida visibly winced. Mary-Louise, Luanne noticed, had leaned forward, eyes focused on Wanda.
"He wasn't in his right mind," Wanda said. "He wouldn't have—"
Another sob overtook her.
The group fell silent. Luanne stared at the cards on the table. It seemed implausible, but given Wanda's testimony, there really was only one way to interpret this.
"Turn the other cards, Samira," Morgana suggested.
That would be the final answer. Those cards were the reading for the murderer. Luanne leaned forward straining to see.
Samira complied, slowly reaching out and turning the cards one by one.
The first one was the King of Swords reversed. The second one was the Five of Swords.
The room fell silent. Luanne held her breath.
Samira turned the last card with a dramatic flourish.
It was Justice, reversed. They were the same cards.
Luanne's eyes went wide. This was almost impossible. You wouldn't get the exact same cards for a reading, even if you were dealing with the same client, even if you did back-to-back readings. A person is constantly thinking and acting, adapting to internal and external stimuli, changing every second. The cards would vary accordingly.
To get the same cards, it would have to be the same person, in the same place, at the same moment in time.
The exact same—
Loud sobs echoed through the bar, interrupting the individual silences.
Wanda Farsight was crying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"WANDA SAW him jump," Kat exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief. "She saw him do it."
"And she didn't say anything," Sean said.
He knew, of course, that people were capable of truly outstanding feats. Witnesses, in particular, often brought their own biases and prejudices, and those always had to be taken into consideration, but he'd never seen a case as extreme as this.
"The Farsights," Samira said, still shuffling her cards, "are all hateful, spiteful people."
They were in the hotel's main porch, sharing drinks. The night was cool and dark, and greenish fireflies danced among the treetops. Mary-Louise had taken Wanda away, so she could make a formal statement. They were babysitting Carl, who was fiddling with his glass of seltzer and aiming anxious glances at the hotel entrance.
He was waiting for Viola to return from custody.
"She could have gone to prison," he muttered. "How can someone just stand by as an innocent—"
"Wanda didn't think Viola was innocent," Samira replied picking a seemingly random card. "That was the key. There's a big difference between Justice," she flipped the card around, revealing the veiled woman with the scales, "and Justice reversed."
She turned the card upside-down. "But it's often in the eye of the beholder."
Carl frowned.
"She thought she was avenging her father," Sean said.
"I wouldn't go that far," Samira said. "She can be mean, but ultimately she's a pretty passive person. She was used to enabling Walter's plans."
"And Walter planned it?" Luanne asked. "He planned the whole thing? I can't believe that."
Sean tried not to smile. Even given her history in Wall Street, Luanne still had deep faith in humanity, something he had lost a long time ago. He could absolutely believe that Walter planned it all.
"He announced it at the rest stop," Morgana said. "He set the stage and everything."
Samira nodded. "He was a consummate showman. If it hadn't been for that little performance, we would all have assumed that it was suicide, particularly when news of his illness got out. He planned to have his way, even at the end."
"He also set up that argument with Leslie," Sean said. "He needed those bruises for his autopsy and knew threatening to confess their fraud to Morgana would give him the desired result."
"He knew Leslie was volatile," Morgana said.
Sean nodded. The same impulsive nature that caused Leslie to eat a bowl of deadly chowder had led to her altercation with Walter. He had been counting on that.
"And he gave the tranquilizer bottles to Viola," he
said. "That was a big clue. Viola would not have kept those if she had murdered Walter."
"He thought of everything," Luanne said.
Murray shook his head. "The amount of detail involved is astounding. He even planned the bruises."
"He knew his audience," Carl said. "He could predict and manipulate us."
"We were watching his last show," Kat said.
Carl was still frowning at Samira, or rather, at her deck of cards. "Some of us were more than spectators," he said.
Sean nodded. Yes, the show would have been very costly to Carl and Viola.
Morgana downed her drink. "He knew we'd believe his murder foretelling. He had excellent crowd-reading skills."
Luanne shook her head. "But, still, to throw yourself off a cliff, just to spite someone."
Sean nodded. That was the key. To plan it all and then execute it so ruthlessly, when it was your own life at stake. That was true commitment.
A gentle smile crossed Samira's face. "You only knew the genial face he presented to the world, dear. He played his part well, but inside he was full of hate."
"But Viola?" Carl's question was full of pathos. "She admired him and looked up to him. Why her?"
Samira snorted, drawing another card. "Precisely. Her betrayal hurt his pride even more. He never helped people, you see. She was the first person he actively promoted."
She turned the card. It was the Five of Swords.
Sean frowned. Wasn't that one of the cards she'd used in the reading?
"I'm with Luanne," Murray said. "Walter was a coward. I'm shocked he had the courage to throw himself off that cliff."
"He was heavily drugged," Sean said. "And one of his medications was a strong anticoagulant. It would have been a fairly fast death."
"He even planned that," Morgana exclaimed.
"He was fantastic at setting up the acts," Rachel said, sipping her drink.
"And this was it," Zoraida said. "His final act."
"Trust Walter to go out with a bang," Morgana muttered.
"And he would have gotten away with it," Carl said. "If it hadn't been for Samira."
He was still staring at the old fortune-teller's deck of cards.
"Yes," Luanne said, eyes narrowed. "That was an epic reading."
Morgana raised a brow. "A reading for the ages. Congratulations." She slowly got up from her chair. Murray, ever the gentleman, stepped up and gave her a hand. "And with that said, I am going to bed."
"Tomorrow is another day," Zoraida said, getting up as well. "And we still have the breakfast buffet to look forward to."
"Would you have breakfast with me?" Morgana asked. "I hear you have some ideas as to how these conventions should go, and it's never too early to start planning the next one."
"Of course," Zoraida said, looking both surprised and pleased.
One by one, most association members left. Only Samira remained, laying cards out for a reading, and Carl, who kept staring at her.
"I think we're going to head home," Kat said, getting up. "This has been an interesting, but exhausting experience."
"I'm all packed and I'm too wound up to sleep, so a midnight drive sounds perfect," Fiona said.
"Great." Kat glanced back at Carl and Fiona. "I have one little thing to do and then we can go." She sighed as she dug into her purse. "Too bad I didn't get to wear my dress."
Luanne's eyes widened. "You mean—?"
Kat took out a large envelope labeled "Banshee Creek Lottery Prize" and smiled. "Yes, Carl is our winner. I wasn't sure what to do what with him being a murder suspect and all, and I was just going to take the check back. Thanks heavens for Samira."
"Indeed," Sean said. Carl and Fiona had been lucky, in more ways than one, and it was all due to the elderly fortune-teller.
"See you back home, guys," Kat said to Luanne and Sean, as she stood up brandishing her check.
And with that, half of the Banshee Creek contingent left to give the lovebirds their good news. Sean tried to catch Luanne's eyes, tying to ascertain whether she wanted to go home too.
But Luanne was staring at Samira, frowning. She didn't look like she was ready to go yet.
"It really was an amazing reading, Samira," she said.
The old fortune-teller smiled. "Wasn't it, though?"
She had laid three pairs of cards down. The exact reading she had done before.
"It's always easier," she said, flipping the cards one by one. "When you know the cards you want."
Luanne gasped. Sean stared at the cards. Two Knights of Swords, followed by two Five of Swords, and then two Justices.
It was the same reading.
"I knew it," Carl exclaimed. "I knew it was a card trick. They still tell stories in Vegas about you. They call you the Turbaned Terror and say the casinos banned you for life."
Samira laughed. "They did, and with good cause. Oh, well, I learned a few tricks during my tenure there."
"But, but," Luanne stammered. "That is unethical. We can't pick the cards."
"Oh, don't talk to me about ethics, missy," Samira snapped back. "This was a murder, and I had no proof. Absolutely none. The investigation was closed, Walter had framed innocent folks, and all I had was a bunch of cards that no one would believe. My only hope was to have Wanda confess and I had no idea how to get her to do that." She glanced down at the book on the table. "Then I remembered the book Walter gave me. He said I would find it useful." Her lips curved into mischievous grin. "And he was right. The book told me to get out of my comfort zone, exploit hidden talents, and reach for the stars." Her chin went up. "And so I did. It worked, so I feel my little trick was fully justified."
"It was," Carl replied. "At least for me and Viola."
"And for Leslie," Samira said.
Samira's face hardened, giving her the look of a silver-clothed avenging angel.
"But it was also important for the group as a whole," Samira continued. "This should have torn us apart. I think that was part of Walter's plan, but it brought us together instead." She patted Carl's arm. "You are young and do not yet understand, but I've supported this group for decades. I was never president or anything like that, but it was my life's work, just as it was Morgana's. I couldn't let Walter destroy it."
"But how did you know Wanda saw it?" Sean asked.
Samira tilted her head toward Carl, and looked at Luanne. "I saw her in the parking lot while loverboy here was driving me around. She looked frozen to the spot and her face was a mask of horror. At first, I thought maybe she'd seen Walter do something and then murdered him. Then I read the cards and realized she may have seen the death."
"But then why wouldn't she say anything?" Sean asked.
"Exactly," Samira said.
"It could be because her husband was the one who did it," Luanne noted. "Really, there could be several reasons."
"True," Samira said. "But, you see, I knew Walter." She picked up the cards and put them back in the deck. "That's the most important part of the craft, you know. You have to know people." She looked up at Carl. "Remember that, young man."
Carl let out a breath. "I won't forget. I pro—"
But he was interrupted by a shout.
"Carl," Viola shouted as she ran into the room, Mary-Louise walking more sedately behind her.
Viola's flowing dress was now wrinkled and stained, and her face was devoid of makeup with dark circles clearly visible under her eyes. Her beaming smile, however, radiated joy. The young man ran to embrace her.
Samira got up, still smiling. "We should probably give the young couple some space."
That made Sean chuckle; there was little need for privacy. Carl and Viola were kissing and laughing and whispering in each other's ears. They were in a world of their own.
But the group filed from the porch into the hotel nonetheless. The lovebirds would get all the time they needed.
Once inside, Samira excused herself.
"I have stayed up past my bedtime," she explained, eyes twinkling.
"A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know. Good night all."
She grabbed her cards and her book and stood up, leaning precariously. Sean stepped forward to help her.
"I'm alright dear," she said. Then her eyes widened.
"I almost forgot." She dug into the pockets of her silver caftan with her free hand. "I have something for you.
She pressed a piece of paper into his hand and winked. "Remember Walter's words. Get out of your comfort zone and reach for the stars. Oh, and make sure it has aquamarine and amethyst. You can't go wrong with those."
Then she left in a flurry of silver fabric and lavender-scented perfume.
Sean turned toward Mary-Louise. "You don't need us anymore, do you, Sheriff?"
"No," Mary-Louise said. "Are you going home? I think most of the association members are staying until tomorrow."
Luanne glanced at Sean. "I'd rather go home, if you don't mind the midnight drive. They seem to be in a planning mood, and I would rather not get saddled with a role for the next convention." She heaved a deep sigh. "Right now, I'm this close to quitting this fortune-teller gig and asking PRoVE for a ghost-hunting job. This was not exactly a dream beach vacation."
Relieved, Sean put an arm around her shoulders and chuckled. "Don't worry, in a couple of hours, you'll be back in your little haunted house, far away from any beaches."
Luanne laughed. "Perfect."
Mary-Louise grimaced. "Next year's convention? Oh, great, now I'm going to have nightmares tonight." She craned her neck to look onto the porch. "Looks like those two will be busy for a while, so I'll be going. Have a good trip, you two."
"Thanks," Sean replied, already looking forward to the drive to Banshee Creek.
Mystic Bay was nice, but ghosts and devil monkeys sounded mighty attractive right then. He heaved a deep sigh, still holding Luanne.
They were going home. Finally.
Then he remembered he was still holding the note Samira had given him. He raised it to the light. It was a small rectangle, folded in half, with an intricate design engraved in gold leaf. The material felt thick and substantial.
It wasn't a note. It was a business card.
He opened it. It contained a name and a phone number engraved in glittery ink. His heart raced as he read.