by Morgana Best
Could my attack have been a blessing in disguise? I had hoped to stake out the front of the Oxley Grove Police Station, but now, I was actually inside. I couldn’t have been happier.
I was presently even happier, because as soon as I hobbled in the entrance of the police station, a uniformed officer walked past me. From behind the desk, one of his colleagues called out, “Hey, Summers! You forgot this.”
Constable Summers turned back to the man with a smile. I took a good look at him, and was sure I would recognize him again. Maybe my luck had changed.
Later that night, I wasn’t so quite happy. I was lying on my couch, my ankle elevated and covered with ice packs. I was full of Advil and wine, perhaps not the recommended combination, but it had the desired effect. It had been a difficult drive home with my foot. I hadn’t seen a doctor, but I was fairly certain that my ankle wasn’t broken. It was taking my weight better as time wore on, although it was still quite painful.
At any rate, my foot was improving to the degree where I didn’t think it would hinder any future stake outs. And although my stake out attempt today had been thwarted, I had indeed had a good look at Constable Summers himself. Now all I had to do was follow him to the safe house and rescue Alum.
Chapter 12
I was awoken the following morning by the insistent tone of my phone. I groggily reached for it and answered it. As soon as I heard my agent’s voice, I knew it was big trouble. William very rarely called—he generally only emailed.
“Prudence, I have some bad news. Everyone has canceled!”
I struggled to sit up in bed and both cats meowed in protest as I did so. “What?” I said in my best No You Didn’t Wake Me Up voice.
“Yes, I’m afraid it’s true,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Tonight, too?” I said.
William didn’t speak for a moment, so I prepared myself for the worst. “No, not tonight. It’s going ahead, but Prudence, I’m awfully sorry to say that I don’t have anything else booked for you now.”
“Thanks anyway, William, for all your help,” I said wearily. “I’ll just have to think of another source of income.” I had visions of walking twenty dogs at once on my way to thrift stores where I would buy interesting bits of china for a pittance and sell them for fifty times as much on eBay. I should be so lucky!
William was still apologizing. “I’m doing my best, really I am. I’ll keep pushing for more shows for you. And this is just a suggestion, and I won’t get any royalties from this, but the highway runs through your town, doesn’t it? Is there a coffee shop or some sort of place in your town where you could give tourists tea leaf readings or something like that?”
I sighed. “William, you of all people should know I’m not psychic. Anyway, thanks for the suggestion, and I know you’re doing your very best.” I thanked him again and hung up.
As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I noticed that my ankle was no longer throbbing. All that Advil and ice compresses the night before must have worked, after all. The bruising had subsided, but the ankle was still swollen. I gingerly tested it as I stood up. It was vastly better, but not yet right.
I hobbled to the bathroom, hoping fervently that my ankle would be improved by my show that night. I felt a moment of panic as I thought it might be the last show that I would ever do. And at that, it was only a show in Armidale, not even a show in one of the big cities. Nevertheless, it was fully booked, but that was a small consolation if it was going to be the last bit of income I would ever receive as a clairvoyant medium.
I washed my face and stared in the mirror, and then instantly wished I hadn’t. There were dark circles under my eyes, but I supposed it was nothing that half a bottle of concealer couldn’t fix.
I was desperate for my morning caffeine, but thought I should lie on the couch for a while, just to process the information and give my ankle another rest for a few moments. Possum and Lily complained so loudly that they hadn’t been fed, that I had to abandon that plan and struggle to the kitchen. After I had fed them, I thought I might as well make the coffee, but just as I did so, there was insistent knocking on my door.
Constance! I thought with fear. Perhaps I could pretend I wasn’t home, but then again she would have seen my car. She was likely to keep banging on the door until I answered. Of course, it might be someone else entirely.
I walked over to the door as fast as my ankle permitted. “Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me, Barbara,” a voice said.
I opened the door.
“Who were you expecting?” Barbara asked. “You never ask who’s there. Were you expecting Constance?” She sniggered.
“Sort of,” I said, clutching onto the door and resting my bad foot. “But I was mugged in Tamworth yesterday.”
Barbara gasped, and then looked down at my foot. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me? Are you hurt?”
“I twisted my ankle when he pushed me in the gutter.”
Barbara gasped. “What? Who?”
“Come in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Barbara helped me to the couch and fussed over me, putting cushions under my foot so that it was elevated. “Can I get you anything?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “I’ve just made coffee in the kitchen. Please bring me a large cup, and get yourself one, too.”
Barbara did as I requested, and I filled her in on the previous day’s events. She sat there the whole time with her jaw hanging open. “But I’ve never heard of a mugging in Tamworth,” she said, puzzled. “I’m glad he didn’t get away with your keys or your purse.”
I nodded absently, as something she had said just struck me. I in fact had been thinking it was a random mugging. But what if it was to do with my murder investigation? The man had clearly not been trying to hurt me, but had in fact been after my purse. That was why I thought it had nothing to do with my investigation, but what if I was getting too close to the constable’s murderer? I had asked questions of both Constable Decker’s wife and his mistress. If either of them was the murderer, then perhaps they wanted my personal effects to see if they could get more information on me.
I shook my head. No, that didn’t make sense. They both knew I was a clairvoyant medium. I had given each of them my business card, and Christine had even googled me.
“Toast?”
I looked at Barbara blankly. “Sorry, what did you say? I was away with the fairies.”
Barbara smiled patiently. “I asked if you would like toast? Or cereal? Have you had breakfast yet?”
“I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I would love some toast, please. With vegemite.”
Barbara went back into the kitchen, and I tried to push Possum and Lily away from my foot. They seemed intrigued by it and wanted to swat at it.
“You have a show tonight, don’t you?” Barbara asked when she returned and handed me a plate of vegemite toast.
I nodded. “I hope my ankle’s okay by then.”
“You look very pale, Prudence, if you don’t mind me saying so. Do you think your foot will be okay tonight, or should you cancel?”
I shook my head. “I’ve just had some bad news, in fact. My agent called this morning to tell me that the show’s now the only one he has booked for me. I’m going to have to look for another line of work.”
Barbara appeared to be puzzled. “But why? You’re been making a living doing this for years, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I said sadly. “My agent thinks it’s all the international clairvoyant mediums coming to Australia lately. Plus there are now a lot of local clairvoyant mediums. There used to be hardly any professional mediums in the country, but that situation has changed radically. I don’t think I can make a living out of it for much longer. In fact, I don’t think I can make a living out of it at all. Tonight’s probably going to be the last show I’ll ever do.” I did my best to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall.
“Oh, but that’s awful!” Barbara said. “Why didn
’t you tell me this before?”
I shrugged, and readjusted my foot on the pile of cushions. “I’ve only just found out myself,” I told her. “It’s only been in the last few days that people have started canceling shows.”
“But what will you do?” she asked urgently.
“I don’t have a clue,” I said, “but I’ll have to think of something soon.”
“What could you do?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a clue, not a single clue at all.” My life had gone from carefree to a life of worry. My main concern was, of course, that Alum’s partner would track him down and kill him. Then there were the secondary worries, such as what on earth I was going to do for a living now, and the further worry that Alum mightn’t recognize me in his waking state. I shook my head. It seemed my life was spiraling downhill.
I reminded myself to focus. If I could find Constable Decker’s murderer, I could ask him or her where the safe house was. I had to rescue Alum, and that was my primary drive right now. That, in fact, was a matter of life and death. I could worry about my finances later.
“You don’t think a rival medium sent that man to hurt you so you couldn’t do the show tonight, do you?” Barbara slapped herself on the head. “Forget I said that. That was a silly thing to say.”
“He wasn’t actually trying to hurt me,” I said. “He was definitely after my purse. Besides, I’m no threat to any of the mediums out there right now. Tonight will be my last show; I’m sure of that.”
“Try not to worry, Prudence,” Barbara said. “I know it’s easy to say, but things often have a way of working out.”
“I sure hope you’re right,” I said with a big sigh.
Barbara laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I asked her.
“I think I’m just getting paranoid,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “I thought Constance had bought a new car and was spying on you. When I pulled up in your driveway today, a car hightailed it out of there.”
My breath caught in my throat and my stomach clenched. “What color was the car?” I asked her. “Was it a white car?”
Barbara raised her eyebrows. “Yes, as a matter of fact it was. I think it was a white Toyota. Why?”
I felt myself shivering uncontrollably. “Barbara, that car’s been following me for days, well, for the last few days anyway. I thought I was imagining it at first.”
Barbara’s face was filled with concern. “Should you call the police?”
“But what could I tell them? I have no idea why anyone would want to follow me. It just doesn’t make sense. “
“And then you were mugged in Tamworth, of all places!” Barbara said. “Surely those things must be related.”
I agreed. “Yes they must be.” I could hardly tell Barbara that I was investigating the murder of a police officer and that I had been told about the murder by a ghost who wasn’t dead. In fact, I must be losing my mind to tell Barbara that I had been followed in the first place. I needed to be more careful.
Just then, the front door flew open, and Barbara and I squealed with shock. I had clearly forgotten to lock it when I’d let Barbara in earlier. I couldn’t be so careless again, not after being mugged and with someone following me.
Constance flung herself into the room. “I’ve been listening at the door,” she said without so much as an ounce of shame. “I was on my way to see why you weren’t speaking to me, Prudence, when I overheard what you said about being followed. I should appoint myself as your personal bodyguard. Did I ever tell you that I got my private detective’s license years ago? And that I hold black belts in karate, ninjutsu, aikido in two different styles, and judo?”
Barbara and I exchanged glances.
I figured that the most exercise Constance had ever done was lifting a glass of wine to her mouth. Then again, I supposed ordering people around took up a lot of energy, too.
“Prudence was mugged yesterday, and she is resting up now so that she can do her show tonight,” Barbara told Constance.
“Yes, I’ve already told you that I overheard that when I was listening outside the door,” Constance said waspishly.
I picked up a cushion and stuffed it over my face. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, and now Constance hadn’t taken the hint that I wanted a break from her. And I hadn’t been tactful either—I had told her in no uncertain terms. What more did I have to do to get through to the woman?
“I’ll come to your show tonight and be your bodyguard and watch dog,” Constance declared proudly.
I waved my arm at her urgently. “No! Please don’t come to my show. It makes me nervous when friends come,” I added.
Constance simply ignored me. “No, I am coming, Prudence, and you can’t stop me.”
“Yes, I can stop you,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s fully booked, and you need a ticket to get in.”
Constance’s eyes darted from side to side, as they always did when she was trying to find her way around someone’s wishes.
Barbara came to my rescue. She took Constance by the arm. “Come on, Constance. We need to leave Prudence to sleep. She needs a lot of rest before she does the show.”
“But you’re here!” Constance said in an accusing tone.
“I only got Constance some coffee and some toast, and then I was going to leave her in peace,” Barbara said, emphasizing the word peace.
She managed to get Constance through the front door, quite an amazing feat, given that Constance was struggling and complaining all the way.
As soon as they were outside, I hurried as best I could to the door and locked it. I leaned against it, and then the tears fell.
Chapter 13
I walked onto the stage, and at once began my usual preamble. I hesitated, thinking with sadness that this might be the last time I ever said these words to an audience. “Hello everyone, I’m Prudence Wallflower.” I waited for the applause to stop, before I continued. “I’ve been communicating with the spirits of the deceased since I was a little girl. Now my job is to connect the living with their loved ones who have passed on. I never know who I’m going to be reading, and I cannot summon spirits at will. Who I read is completely in the hands of the spirits. I get messages from the spirits that I will pass on to you. Sometimes these messages might be only a single word, or a name.”
Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, before I do readings, spirits contact me then and sometimes as I’m driving to a venue. Sometimes I experience the symptoms the spirit experienced when he or she passed on.
I didn’t tell them this, of course, but this was the first time I hadn’t picked up any information from spirits on my way in the car to Armidale, or for that matter, for the entire day. This was the first time this happened to me, and I can only assume it was because of all my worries about Alum. My biggest fear has always been that no information will come through, but that has never happened. I hoped tonight wouldn’t be the first time.
I walked around the stage, opening myself up to messages from the spirits. It wasn’t long before they started to come through, much to my relief. Then I had to sift out the more urgent ones, as I usually did. I walked up and down the stage to get a feel for the location of the living person who was connected with the spirit coming forward more strongly than the others.
As I did so, I noticed Christine Decker sitting in the front row, and to my horror, Becca Barnes was sitting only two rows behind her. I wondered if the two women had ever met or if they knew what the other looked like. I sure hoped not, but what a strange coincidence to have both of them at my show. Or perhaps not. I had given them both my card, so both of them probably wanted to come and check me out, given that Armidale is only just over an hour from where they live.
As I was focusing on them, Constable Decker came through. He was sending me the sensation that he was murdered, which I already knew, but I couldn’t quite feel whether he was murdered by either of the women. Surely he was murdered by one of them. Alum ha
d said that Decker was arguing with a woman, and the two likely suspects were sitting in front of me now. I tried to reach out to the spirit of Constable Decker once more, but I suppose his death was still too recent for him to come forward. To make matters worse, other spirits were clamoring for attention.
I walked over to the far left wing of the audience and pointed to the back row. “It’s someone in this section,” I said into my microphone. “It was a father figure, and it was expected.”
I always try to use euphemisms when referring to death. I like to say ‘pass on’ or ‘crossed over’, and I try to avoid the word ‘death’ as much as I can. “I’m getting the initial P. Oh yes, his name is Preston and his surname starts with T or D.”
A woman waved her hand in the air. “That was my father!” she said in a loud voice.
“Did he pass suddenly, but it was expected?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said excitedly. “He had a heart condition and the doctor said he wouldn’t get better. My brothers and I weren’t there when he passed, and we were always worried that it might have hurt when he went.”
I was able to reassure her. “No, I can tell you that he passed peacefully in his sleep. I don’t mean this to sound funny, but he went to sleep and woke up dead. They’re the exact words he’s telling me.”
To my relief, the lady laughed. “He always said he wanted to go that way.” The lady sitting next to her patted her shoulder in comfort.
That spirit then vanished abruptly, as they always did when I had delivered the message they wanted. By this part of the show, with the messages coming through, I was usually relieved, but this time I wasn’t, partly no doubt due to my sadness that this could be my last ever show, and more so, my concerns for Alum. If only I could think of a way to take advantage of having the two murder suspects sitting in the audience. Yet I had no opportunity to concentrate and formulate a plan, what with all the messages coming through thick and fast, one after the other.