Saddle Up for Murder

by C S McDonald

  “I would love to sit and talk with you, Nancy. Perhaps we could get to the root of your unhappiness,” Astrid suggested.

  Uh-oh.

  “Unhappy? My mom’s not unhappy. Mom’s one of the happiest people I know. Just the other day, I was telling Nathan, you know, Nathan, I said, I hope I’m always as happy and cheerful as my mother. Adored by my students, just like my mother was.” She wrapped her arm around her mother, pulling her into an affectionate squeeze. “It’s true, all her students at Langley High School just loved her. Be-because she was so delightful and…and…happy.”

  Just then, the teapot blew out a whistle, a most strident high-pitched clamor. All three women jumped. Mom said, “That’s the teapot. I don’t remember putting it on. Did you put on some tea, Fiona?”

  “Why yes…I certainly did,” she lied. Fact was, she knew exactly who’d brought the tea to an abrupt boil, Gramma Ev. The teapot’s whistle escalated. “Oh, Mom, you’d better get that.”

  “Excuse me, Astrid.” Mom hurried toward the kitchen.

  Fiona whirled around to face her kooky neighbor. “Well, off you go! Thanks for stopping by, Astrid.”

  “But I wanted to talk with your mother.”

  “Yes, well, we’re very busy today. Maybe another time,” Fiona insisted as she started to shut the door on her.

  Astrid grabbed the door to peek through the small gap. “Okay, I’ll go, but call me later.”

  “I won’t, but thanks.” Fiona closed the door and leaned against it.

  Mom returned to the foyer. “Where did Astrid go?”

  “Back to the mother ship. I hope,” Fiona replied, pushing away from the door.

  Mom crossed her arms over her chest. “Hm, that comment leads me to think you don’t believe she has psychic abilities?”

  Waving a flippant hand, Fiona chuckled. “Of course not. You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?”

  Mom drew her lips into a tight line while lifting a shoulder. “Let me see, we have a ghost living in the attic. How many people do you think would believe that? And of those people, how many do you think would think we’re crazy if we told them so?”

  “Point taken, but Astrid is…well, she’s…very…over the top…eccentric. She’s got this crystal ball that she’s named, Clementine, and she really truly believes it communicates with her.” Fiona let out a laugh. “In fact, you’ll get a kick out of this, right before you arrived yesterday, she came here claiming Clementine told her there would be…how, did she put it? Oh, yes, she said, there would be great turmoil in my house. And within a few hours, there you were.”

  Mom’s brows furrowed. “Oh, so you consider me a great turmoil, do you?”

  Fiona blinked back. Yikes, her previous statement was one big oopsie. “Of course not, Mom. But…your situation…with Dad, you’ve got to admit it is filled with turmoil. Don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose. With that said, you have to admit Clementine was right. Don’t you agree?”

  “Not really. I’m a kindergarten teacher, Mom. There’s turmoil in my life every day. Bloody noses, spilled milk, spilled paint, hurt feelings, impatient parents. The list goes on and on, but it all adds up to turmoil.”

  Uh-oh, Mom had that look about her, that look that historically spelled trouble. That look that historically indicated her mother had something stuck in her head, and nothing was going to dislodge it. Fiona was almost afraid to ask, no, actually, she was terrified to ask, but she dared anyway. “Okay, what are you getting at?”

  Shrugging, Mom spun around to chassé through the living room toward the dining room.

  Ugh!

  Promptly, Fiona was on her heels, along with Harriet and Sting. Mom proceeded to the windows that looked out over the Dingle household. She swept back the curtain to survey the house.

  “Mo-o-m…what are you thinking?”

  “Well, in my younger years, I used to visit a fortune teller fairly often, about four times a year. Her name was Madame Esme, if I remember correctly.”

  “Esme, which is short for Esmerelda, very original. Seriously, Mom, this is a bad idea.”

  “Why? Seems to me, Astrid’s crystal was correct about the impending trouble coming to your house, me. Maybe ol’ Clementine could shed some light on your father’s relationship with Claire Boyer. You know, how long has this fling been going on, what should I do from here?”

  “I hardly think you should take a crystal ball’s advice on how to proceed with your marriage, Mom.”

  “So, you’ve spoken to your father?”

  “I have not.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Fiona Nicole, surely you spoke with your father after I went to bed last night.”

  “I did not. Look, I’m sure this is all some kind of misunderstanding. At least, I hope it is. There are two things I am absolutely sure of: Dad loves you, and Gram does not approve of Astrid.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Are you serious? Dad worships you.”

  “No, how do you know my mother doesn’t approve of Astrid?”

  “First, I did not make the tea. Second, when Astrid moved in, she wanted to communicate with the entity in this house. That’s what she referred to Gram as, an entity. Anyway, Gram did things to let me know she didn’t want Astrid to bother her. Like, she used to slam the door in Astrid’s face. I seem to remember her slapping her in the behind with the screen door when Astrid was leaving, too.” Fiona chuckled. “Let’s just say, Astrid had a bruise on her forehead and possibly her derriere for a few days.”

  Dropping the curtain back into place, it was clear Mom was considering what she’d just been told. “Okay, I’m still interested in meeting Clementine, and Astrid said she has a studio in Charlie’s basement. Perhaps, I’ll go visit with her.”

  Trouble.

  As per usual, Mom was going to get herself into trouble. Only this time, she was going to get into trouble with her own mother. Not good.

  Just then, Fiona’s cell phone began to ring and vibrate inside her hip pocket. She pulled the phone from her jeans while marching from the dining room into the kitchen. The screen announced, Nathan Landry. Happy to hear from her boyfriend and most thankful for a pleasant distraction, she pushed the talk button and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Hey, Nathan, hope your day’s going better than mine.”

  “Uh-oh, what’s that mean?” he inquired.

  Fiona lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mom’s here.”

  “You didn’t tell me your parents were coming to town.”

  “My dad’s not here, just Mom. Turns out, she’s left him.”

  “Your mom left your dad? No way. What’s going on?”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you later. You are coming to rescue me, right?”

  Nathan laughed. “You bet. You wanna go to the racetrack tonight? Horseracing, I mean.”

  “Is this a case, or are we going for fun?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up around six, we’ll catch some dinner, then go bet the ponies and some other stuff.”

  “Hm, other stuff. I know what that translates into, a case. No matter, I’m in. See you then, if I survive the afternoon, that is,” Fiona groused.

  “You’ve got this. See ya at six.” With that, he disconnected.

  Shoving the phone into the pocket of her jeans, Fiona turned to find her mother standing at the threshold of the kitchen with Sting tucked under one arm and Harriet in the other. “Are you and Nate going out tonight?”

  “We’re going to dinner and the horse track. I’m not sure if he means the Meadows or Mountaineer. Those are the only two racetracks nearby.” A sudden twist of guilt shot through her. Should she leave her mom home alone when things were so unsettled between her and Dad? “Um, I know you always enjoyed going to the races. Would you be interested in coming along?”

  “No. You go and have a good time. I have my babies to keep me company.” She kissed each little dog. “You�
�re sure you haven’t heard from your father?”

  Fiona’s heart broke for her mom. Why hadn’t her dad called? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? This was insane. “No, I’m sorry, I truly have not heard from Dad. But I will keep trying his phone. Like I said, this is just a misunderstanding. I’m sure we’ll hear from him very soon.”

  In all honesty, she was starting to wonder.

  It was quarter of six when Fiona heard a knock at the door. Nathan was early. No worries, she was almost ready. She heard her mother’s hurried footsteps in the foyer along with a duet of high-pitched yipping and growling from Harriet and Sting.

  “Fiona! I think Nate’s here!” her mother called up the stairs.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  While dialing her father’s number for the hundredth time, she heard the front door open and her mother say, “Nate, I’m so glad to see you.”

  “I’m glad to see you too, Nan. What a nice surprise.”

  Her father’s phone rang and rang.

  Mom sniffled. “I wish it were under happier circumstances. I had to leave Garrett, you know.”

  Nathan was doing an outstanding job of feigning surprise. “No, I can’t believe it. Um…Snickers? Chocolate is a great pick-me-up, it always helps my mood.”

  As her father’s phone continued to ring, Fiona had to giggle. She imagined Nathan, quick as a desperate ninja, snatching the bite-size Snickers from his pocket to offer it up to her emotional mother.

  “Why not? I don’t have anyone to watch my figure for anymore. Lord knows, Claire Boyer doesn’t watch her figure, and yet, she has my Garrett.”

  Poor Nathan.

  Her father’s phone went to voice mail. No. She was not leaving a message, he needed to pick up her call.

  Where is he?

  “Hoboy.” She heard Nathan groan. “Hey, Harriet. Hey, Sting, what’s goin’ on in your little world?”

  Tossing the phone into a small purse, Fiona quickened down the stairs to rescue Nathan. Half-way down, her eyes met his. Yep, he was looking pretty desperate.

  Relief washing over his face, he said, “You’re ready. Good. Hey, I’m really sorry, but can we use your car tonight? Wyatt’s Jeep overheated. I think he needs a new radiator. So, he asked to borrow mine. He dropped me off here. I know it’s an inconvenience, but I had to help the poor guy out. He was picking his mother-in-law up from the airport.”

  Mom shook her head, as she sank into a chair in the living room. Harriet and Sting jumped into her lap. “I hate when people impose on others.” Fiona and Nathan exchanged raised eyebrow glances. “Could you fix me a cup of tea before you go, Fiona?”

  “Coming right up, Mom.” On her way to the kitchen, Fiona leaned in close to Nathan’s ear. “True confession. I’ve always been secretly envious of orphans.”

  Nathan let out a quiet snort. “I hear ya.”

  A few minutes later, Fiona returned to the living room with teacup in hand. She kissed her mother on the forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Askance, she could see the panic in Nathan’s eyes. How fun.

  “No, but thanks for asking, sweetie. I’m sure I can find something on the Hallmark channel tonight.”

  Fiona squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “Okay, don’t worry, Mom. I’m sure this will all work itself out. Ya know, I was thinking, maybe Dad was making plans for something special, and he needed to talk with a woman. You know, something special for you. Your anniversary is coming up.”

  Mom sighed. “I would agree with that thought, if he was talking with Lainey Honeycutt.”

  “Isn’t she the one who calls herself the smokin’ hot mama?”

  Mom chuckled. “Yes, that’s Lainey.”

  “Mm, I’m not sure I’d trust a woman who has a nickname like that with my husband, but whatever. See you later.” Fiona took Nathan’s hand and out the door they went.

  They were gone.

  Nancy sat her teacup on the end table and waited. There it was—one slam of the car door…and the second slam. The Mini Cooper started. She craned her neck to look out the window to watch the vehicle with Fiona and Nathan inside roll down the street.

  Yep, they were gone.

  “Off you go, babies,” Nancy said, shooing the dogs from her lap.

  She trotted to the foyer to grab her sweater and purse from the hooks just inside the door. She hesitated to see where the dogs had gone, they were on the couch with their heads cocked to one side and ears perked, as if to say, where do you think you’re going?

  “Don’t worry,” Nancy assured the pups. “Fiona will never know.” Pushing her arms into the sleeves of the sweater, she rushed out the door. As she stepped away, the screen door bounced against the jamb to whack her in the fanny.

  Coming to a halt, Nancy rubbed her rump while glaring back at the door.

  FIVE

  Furtively glancing over each shoulder, a rush of excitement skittered through Nancy. A sweet memory of going to see the old fortune-teller, Madame Esme, with her girlfriends when she was a college student brushed through her mind. The old soothsayer’s studio was located in a small storefront near Slippery Rock University where Nancy had earned her teaching degree. Ah, she could still envision the black velvet curtains hung in the display windows of her shop with her name, Madame Esme, prominently arched over the words, fortunes told, tarot cards, palm readings, and of course, midnight seances. The services she rendered were meticulously painted dark purple in old world script with each letter outlined in fourteen-karat gold.

  Nancy and her friends were giddy when they pushed through the heavy emerald-green door to step upon the lush red carpeting. The brass bell attached to the door rang as it dropped closed, making them jump and laugh with anticipation. Madame Esme would emerge from behind a curtain of dazzling beads. Nancy and her friends huddled together, giggling like bumbling idiots.

  Madame Esme was thin and well-aged. Her gray eyes were set deep amongst the wrinkles of her ivory skin. Her eyeliner was heavy and dark and winged. The gypsy dress she wore was colorful, with embroidery about the bodice, a long black cape dragged over the floor behind her. Ahh, she was a sight, stunningly mysterious with the promise of a most Delphic experience. Oh, yes, Madame Esme was a fortune-teller extraordinaire!

  Smiling the memory away, Nancy knocked on the weathered, slightly rusted metal door. Charlie’s basement door was not exactly as ornate as the one she remembered at the entrance of Madame Esme’s shop, but then again, Astrid was just getting started. Only a moment or so passed until Astrid opened the door. Her smile stretched up to her eyes. “Nancy, I’m so glad to see you. Come in, come in.”

  On a braced breath, Nancy stepped through the door. Astrid had created a small waiting area made up of black portable wall screens. Several well-used, green, wingback chairs were placed on a tiger-striped area rug. An abundance of tall pillar candles had been set in seemingly specific patterns on the tables. Only one lamp provided dim lighting. At the far end of the make-shift room was a threshold that evidently led into the actual fortune-telling studio. Across the top of the small opening, she’d hung what appeared to be a shower curtain rod draped with strings and strings of colorful beads and tiny gold bells.

  “Of course, I wasn’t expecting you, so I’m not quite prepared. But if you’ll have a seat, I’ll step into the other room and get ready. It will only take me a few moments,” Astrid explained, grabbing a box of matches from a table, and then hurrying around the room, lighting the candles.

  Unexpectedly, Nancy was feeling less than confident with her decision to visit the newbie soothsayer. However, there she was, and regardless of her abrupt doubts, she was currently committed to said decision. “No problem. Fiona’s out for the evening. I’ll wait,” she managed, trying not to reveal her hesitation. She eased into the nearest chair, holding her purse in her lap. Astrid rushed through the beads, leaving them to swing and the bells to softly jingle.

  Astrid’s harried footfalls could be heard fussing in the next room. The s
ound of matches being struck against a box and then the sound of fabric being tossed around. Most likely she was changing her clothes.

  Trying to quash her rising doubts, Nancy shrunk deeper into the chair and that’s when she was shocked by an unexpected snap followed by a soft thud. Eyes wide with trepidation, she jerked forward in her seat, dropping her purse to the floor. If she wasn’t mistaken, the sound seemed to come from directly under her chair. Guarded, she bent down to retrieve her purse from the floor, and that’s when she saw it, a dead mouse caught in a sprung trap. Directly under her! Letting out a strangled cry, she snatched the purse from the rug and pulled her feet onto the chair. She searched the room. Even in the low lighting, she could see several mouse traps stationed in corners, near the small tables, and under the chair across from the one she was seated in.

  She cringed.

  The beads tapped and the bells jangled. Nancy looked up to find Astrid pushing through the cords. She had stuffed her hair into a purple turban with a sparkling gem dead center. Several wayward gray strands spilled from the headpiece, about her neck, and cheeks. She was sporting a long dark caftan with a gold rope belt fastened around her waist. She finished her look with a long purple cape, much like the one Madame Esme used to wear. Only it was beginning to become abundantly clear Astrid was no Madame Esme—not by a mile.

  The bangle bracelets dangling from her wrists clanged together as she let the beaded curtain drop behind her. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. Folding her hands together in front of her chest, Astrid said in a husky voice, “I hope you don’t mind, but perhaps we should get the formality of payment out of the way first. My fee is twenty-five dollars per half-hour session. Do you have a credit or debit card?”

  Nancy jumped up and away from the chair almost dropping her purse, but she managed to catch it before it fell to the rug, or anywhere near the dead mouse. “Yes, of course, I’ve brought my own card. Garrett needn’t know what I’m doing.” She rifled through her purse with nervous fingers until she finally produced the card and held it out to the seer.