by N. C. Lewis
"I’m sure the owner of the newspaper was very understanding when you explained the situation," I said.
Professor Purple appeared. "Millie’s yet to make the call."
I gave Millie the "you know better than that" look.
"What? Something might turn up, you never know," she said, in a defensive voice.
"Like what?" I inquired.
"I don’t know, maybe another body. Anyway, I feel good fortune is just around the corner." She pointed to the hallway and continued. "I’m sure the Celebrity Guru will give me the key."
"Millie, the guy's a money-grabbing shark and much worse, I saw him throw..." But Millie didn’t hear, she had already taken off in the direction of room 403B.
The potpourri-scented calmness of the lobby disappeared as we hurried along the hallway, replaced by an excited murmur of indistinct voices, overlaid by the occasional sharp bark of orders. We turned to the left, and the hallway narrowed into the entrance at room 403B.
"Wow!" I said. "There must be two hundred people in front of us." Millie picked up the extreme cynicism in my voice and gave me ‘the look.’
"What?" I said. "It's just that for a personal audience there are rather a lot of us…"
Then suddenly, Millie let out a giggle and her eyes sparkled as if she had discovered a powerful truth, the voice so high-pitched it was almost a scream. "Yes...Ollie...so many people…so many people...this is going to be good."
I didn't want to rain on her parade so I zipped my mouth. But the huge dark eyes of those three frightened kittens came to mind. The steady rhythmic thud of my heartbeat increased as I thought about their intended fate. Mary Birdsong had called the smallest kitty Struggles. It had trembled so hard when we retrieved it from the creek that I feared the pitiful thing might fall apart. What was it John always used to say? "Ollie, connect the dots and the picture will become clear." I gulped in air and slowed down my breathing, seeking clarity.
A thought emerged out of the confusion. A man who could take the life of kittens so casually would probably do the same with a person. In my mind, I saw the Celebrity Guru’s huge hands wrapped around tiny Mary Birdsong's neck.
Chapter 28
"Tickets please." The security operative bellowed scattering my thoughts. Millie handed over her invite and the he waved us inside.
The huge crystal chandeliers which hung overhead glimmered brightly, although the room was devoid of natural light as heavy Bishop Sleeve drapery covered the large windows. The first row of seats was reserved for people with disabilities, and the second two rows, for residents of the Hill Country Residential Home. At the front, a raised stage with a poster of the Celebrity Guru wearing his signature white caftan formed the focus of the theater-style set up.
As we settled in our seats Millie spoke. "Well, I guess Johnny Spinner is off your suspect list, and Theodora Simon helped organize the fraternity club all-night fundraiser event, so I guess she gets a pass."
I shrugged. "I suppose."
Millie’s lips tugged into a wry smile. "Well, who does that leave?"
I thought for a moment. "Mr. Burlington."
Millie's eyes grew wide. "Mr. Burlington?"
"Yep. The man had an argument with Mary Birdsong remember? The body was covered by his tarp. And he's got a furious temper."
Millie shook her head. "Anyone else?"
I didn't want to mention Leon just yet, Millie might get too emotional and the puppets would make an appearance. I figured it could wait until after the ‘personal audience.’ "Well, I don't know. None of it makes any sense," I said.
"What about Carlos Castillo?" She looked at me with a sly expression on her face.
"I don't think…"
But before I could finish she said, "I'll do a little digging into Carlos."
The thunderous clatter of a drum roll interrupted our conversation as the entrance door slammed shut, and a pencil thin woman strolled onto the stage area with the microphone in her hand.
"My name is Denise Lee, and I’ve been specially selected to welcome you today." Her voice almost a whisper, her eyes darting around the jam-packed room, and she shuffled from one leg to the other as if she couldn't wait to get off the stage. "I'm very nervous," she confided, "definitely not a public speaker, but excited to be here this afternoon."
At these words, the crowd warmed to her; they didn't want to be up there speaking either, but they’d love the opportunity just the same.
"I just wanted to let you know," she continued, "the Celebrity Guru has helped me and I know he will help you as well. All you need to do is believe."
I rolled my eyes.
The gathered crowd clapped and cheered, turning the atmosphere electric. Room 403B crackled and hissed with excited energy. It had an immediate effect on the speaker, Denise Lee, for she stopped shuffling. The butterflies vanquished she continued with a confident voice. "This is going to be a momentous event, isn't it?"
The audience roared, "Yes!"
Denise bounced up and down, hands extended toward the excited crowd. "Do you have problems you struggle to fix?"
"Yes." Came back the response from the audience in eager anticipation.
"Do you want to receive the key to success and prosperity today?"
Millie jumped up, her eyes wild. "Yes!" she yelled.
"Yes!" screamed the audience.
"Do you love generosity, to give without expectation of receiving?"
"Yes!" Everyone yelled as they jostled to their feet in an excited frenzy.
Then the lights dimmed as the opening melodies of Big Homestead on the Little Prairie boomed from the speaker system. On walked Dorothy Sadler dressed as Mama Weaver, at her side trotted a little black and white hound. Someone shouted, "It's Gypsum!" It couldn't be, I thought, the show ended over thirty years ago.
Mama Weaver and the dog played contentedly for several moments against the backdrop of the soft melodies of the show’s theme music. Then, as the music faded away, dutifully the dog trotted off the stage.
"Ok," I muttered under my breath, "the Hallmark Card moment is over."
Dorothy Sadler turned to the audience, her arms outstretched, and smiled that big broad Mama Weaver smile.
"Leon Rademaker is my personal guru and I share him willingly with you."
At this, the audience went wild, clapping and hollering and cheering the Celebrity Guru's catchphrase. Dorothy turned, back ramrod straight, and left the stage. The woman was taller than I realized, and as broad as a man.
The lights dimmed again. A man in a dark pinstripe suit with slicked-back hair appeared on stage. He spoke, his large lips smacking together at each word as if he was eating tiramisu. "Hollywood stars have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars searching for solutions to the problems in their lives. In Tinseltown, if you want a personal consultation with the Celebrity Guru you must first come up with ten thousand dollars."
He paused, his eyes slid back and forth surveying the audience's faces, not quite looking at any one face directly.
"Even then if he doesn’t like your movies he won't meet with you. Raise your hand if you would like to meet the Celebrity Guru."
The entire audience raised their hands. My arm shot up automatically, I pulled it back down and told it to behave itself.
"Shout out loud if you have a problem in your life you want solved."
The roar from the audience was deafening.
"Jump to your feet if you'd like to meet Leon Rademaker…" Before he finished the sentence the crowd, as one, were on their feet. A sour-faced woman with dark narrow eyes yelled, "I would sell my car to meet with Leon." Another person, a plump man with huge pink cheeks and a bushy black mustache, cried out, "I’d sell my RV." Then a skinny twig of a woman with thick, beer bottle-bottom glasses which amplified the size of her wide eyes shouted, "It’s an investment." Millie bounced up and down, "Instant returns, instant returns!"
I noticed a trace of a smile around the corners of the speaker’s mouth. He bent forward
, placed his index finger to his lips and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Now listen, here's what we're going to do for you, a unique deal only for the people in this room. At the end of Leon's presentation, if you would like to meet with him in person and shake his hand, line up over in the far corner."
He pointed to a table at the back of the room. "First-come first-served. There are only a limited number of spaces today. For the next five minutes, you can sign up. Our assistants will be pleased to take your ‘thank you’ contribution of five hundred dollars."
There was a frenzied rush toward the table as people lined up to make payments. Millie was at the front of the line.
Chapter 29
A mighty drum roll thundered through the speaker system as the lights dimmed even lower. Then the Celebrity Guru was on stage. He wore his signature white caftan, this time with animals braided along the lapels--rabbits, puppies, kittens and guinea pigs, each carefully woven so that their eyes glittered and sparkled in the dim light.
The guru trotted across the stage, back ramrod straight, fox-like cheeks tugging his thin lips into a grin as his snakelike eyes surveyed the gathered crowd. The room was full to capacity and he appeared to appreciate that, as his head nodded in satisfaction.
He pointed to someone in the crowd. I recognized the individual, it was Augustine Granger, the founder of the Medlin Creek Animal Shelter. "Calm, peace and dollars to you my friend." Augustine squealed with delight.
The Celebrity Guru outstretched his arms as if he was trying to gather the people into his embrace. "Live in peace, and abundant prosperity to you all." And the crowd as one responded. "All in peace and abundant prosperity shall we live."
A woman, in her early thirties with a tattoo of a turkey vulture along her neck, rushed forward. "Leon you're my hero." Another woman, this time middle-aged--who I felt should have known better--threw a single rose on the stage. "For all you've done Leon, for all you’ve done." Then a lanky young man with a spotty face dressed in an ill-fitting gray suit with a maroon tie with the letters ‘A&M’ embroidered in gold rushed to the stage area. He threw himself prostate on the floor. "So grateful for you Leon, thank you!"
"Ok that’s it!" I muttered under my breath. "These people can’t be for real. How many more actors has this snake oil merchant planted in the crowd?" I’d seen enough and was ready to leave but just then Leon began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I’m grateful you showed up here this afternoon. It may seem expensive to pay a thousand dollars for this private audience, another five hundred to shake my hand and receive personal advice, but all I obtain from you today are bits of paper; or if you paid with your credit card--electronic digits. You, my friend, will take away a bit of me."
He paused, his snake-like eyes scanned the faces of the gathered crowd as his left index finger pointed toward the ceiling like an English professor about to make a key point. "If you use that which is given today, it will prove priceless. If you don’t, it will be worthless. The choice belongs to you."
The Celebrity Guru stood motionless for a moment, raised his arms, foxy facial features opened wide and shined with extreme delight. His cheeks tugged his lips into a grin. "I want you to understand that every single dollar received today will be well spent, and that--ladies and gentlemen--is a cast-iron guarantee."
There was a sudden drum roll over the loud speaker system, the lights went out and heavy smoke filled the arena. As it cleared, the stage filled with kittens, rabbits, guinea pigs and puppies, each contained within their own area but free to roam that space.
The Celebrity Guru opened his arms wide. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen and good folk of Medlin Creek, every penny from today's event will go toward providing a safe place for these little fellows. I am donating one hundred percent of the proceeds to the Medlin Creek Animal Shelter!"
Suddenly, Donna Biggs, loan officer at the Medlin Creek Community Bank, along with the earlier speaker Denise Lee, walked onto the stage, each holding one end of a check the size of a billboard. The value of the check was over two hundred thousand dollars. I gasped. Millie gave me the "Told you so" look, then shrieked with delight.
"Come on down Augustine Granger!" yelled Leon.
Augustine, in tears, clambered onto the stage. Leon turned to face her and spoke in a soothing voice. "You may not know this, but like you, I am a vegetarian, not something I publicize, simply a life choice. I feel deeply that animals have rights too."
Donna and Denise came forward to present the check to Augustine. The audience erupted, clapping and stamping their feet in appreciation of the Celebrity Guru’s generosity. I cried.
As the applause died down the Celebrity Guru turned to the audience and said, "As many of you may know, a birth defect caused my unusual facial features, made worse by many rounds of surgery which were supposed to make my face normal--they didn’t. At school, the kids called me foxy! I didn’t mind because it was true that I love all creatures great and small."
He took several steps forward toward the audience. "In any case," he continued, "I have a photographic memory and know the names and addresses of all the name callers."
The audience laughed.
Now, he turned to look at Augustine, and then out into the smiling faces. "I love animals, and I love what Augustine is doing here in Medlin Creek, and so I have decided to match the contribution that you have so generously given today." At this point another billboard size check came on stage, this time held by Mayor Felton and Kidd Cole.
Augustine almost passed out with delight. The Celebrity Guru tilted back his head and let out a deep guffaw, tears rolled down his narrow, fox like cheeks, and I thought I saw tenderness glinting in his snake-like eyes. The crowd cheered and hollered and stamped their feet. As did I.
Chapter 30
In the hotel lobby, the bright summer light streamed through the large glass windows as people milled about discussing what they had learned. Eyes wide, and mouth still open, I tried to digest what had happened. The subconscious mind was still processing the information when Millie appeared from the handshake and personal consultation with Leon.
"How did it go?"
Millie, tearful, couldn’t speak, instead she reached into her handbag. Out came Madame Bleu. The eyes soft, a deep satisfied smile on the puppet's face. "Ooh la la! The guru gave Millie the key to, how you say..." She paused, then spoke the final words in French, "Succès futur."
Professor Purple appeared. "Millie is on the verge of a wonderful opportunity, one so momentous it has the potential to change her life. But…" Professor Purple looked at Millie, a deep frown in his forehead, "it will only appear when she is ready."
More mumbo-jumbo I thought, although my mind was a little more open than before. I gave Millie a huge smile, a hug, and uttered, "You deserve it Millie." Outside, I waved goodbye and made my way over to the Tahoe truck.
I looked up at a tiny scudding cloud which had temporarily blocked the sun as turkey vultures circled overhead, their beady eyes on the lookout for another unfortunate victim of the animal kingdom.
"Ollie."
I spun around. Peter Travis from the Speaker Circle stood three feet away. He worked with computers and didn’t speak much, but when he did it was always a little creepy.
His tiny mouth opened as the narrow pale lips curled into a weak smile. "Sorry." He raised his palms in the air. "Didn't mean to startle you." The man’s hands were huge, certainly large enough to wrap around Mary Birdsong’s fragile neck.
"Ollie, hope to see you at the Speaker Circle next week. By the way, what did you think of the Celebrity Guru?"
"Fascinating," I said backing away to reclaim my personal space.
"Sure was. Told me I'd be a great public speaker one day. I didn't tell him I've been a member of the Speaker Circle for five years and not made much progress. But who knows, the breakthrough may be just around the corner."
I reached for my keys to signify the end of our conversation.
"Sorry," Peter said, th
e intonation of the voice creepier than normal.
"About what?"
"About the Mary Birdsong thing."
"The Mary Birdsong thing?"
Peter stepped closer. "Yes. Mary had to die."
"She did?" I held my breath.
"I’m afraid so. I think we all can agree that she had to die, right?"
"We do?"
"We all do--die--I mean. It comes to us all. I guess Mary Birdsong’s time had come."
"I see." I let out my breath.
"Mr. Burlington was very upset, you know about the…body being wrapped in tarp from Gregg’s."
"Very disturbing," I muttered.
"Yes, it's just as well Mr. Burlington was…" he lowered his voice and looked around to make sure no one was in earshot, "…at the game when Mary was, you know… murdered."
"The game?"
"Yes." He nodded, "I was there as well."
"Are we talking football or basketball?"
Peter's eyes narrowed. "No, I'm talking about the game…poker. You know, the Wednesday night City Official and Business Owners Game."
"That’s a real thing?"
"Yep, it’s a city tradition, goes back well before my time. Every second Wednesday Mr. Burlington plays poker with a bunch of business owners and city officials."
"City officials?"
"Yes, sometimes Mayor Felton shows up, but it’s usually Sheriff Hays, Reverend Dibley from the Lutheran Church, Deputy Dingsplat and several owners of the brick and mortar businesses. The game usually takes place in the vicarage of Saint Francis, the Anglican Church on the corner of Trinity and Mopac Street--although Vicar Jane Braithwaite doesn’t play. But her husband has a mean poker face and plays a great hand."
"Oh," I said, "I see." And I did.
There was an awkward silence, then Peter continued. "Well, see you at the Speaker Circle. I’m presenting on the migration pattern of the red ant in Southwest Texas." He strode over to his car, gave a final wave, and was gone.