Murder at the Fortune Teller's Table

by Janet Finsilver

  “Summer, I’m happy to give you a ride home,” I said.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. My son is waiting for my call. He’ll come and get me.”

  The Professor closed the notepad he’d been writing in. “We’ll contact you as soon as we learn anything.”

  Ivan slowly released her, watching to be sure she was okay. With a wan smile at the group, Summer departed.

  “Well, not quite a needle in a haystack, but close to it,” the Professor said.

  “Ha! I know that one,” Ivan exclaimed. “Means hard to find. Ivan been studying idiot . . . idioms.”

  The group shared a laugh, remembering Ivan struggling with what he called idiotgrams. It had all started with someone mentioning that a situation was as clear as mud and Ivan wanting to know where he could see clear mud.

  Mary unzipped the mesh top on the carrier next to her and folded it back. Up popped the Chihuahua’s head. “I need to get Princess home and feed her.”

  The little dog stood up, put her feet on the edge of the opening, and blinked rapidly a few times. Mary rubbed the top of her head.

  “It’s close to dinnertime for all of us,” Gertie said. “I made a big stew last night. Wanted to use the rest of the vegetables I’d picked from my garden. Why don’t you all come over with your laptops, and we’ll work at my place.”

  Nods and yeses indicated agreement from the group. Michael Corrigan had purchased all of them computers as a thank-you for helping out in the last investigation they’d been involved in.

  Gertie stood. “Kelly, can you join us?”

  “I’ll pass. I want to mingle with the guests, and I have paperwork to do.”

  “Right, then,” the Professor said. “We’ll keep you informed of anything we learn.”

  Mary said, “Down, Princess.”

  The small dog dropped into her mobile home, and Mary zipped the top of the carrier closed.

  “Before I forget, I want to invite all of you over Wednesday afternoon at one. I’m going to have one of my auction parties.”

  “Ah, fair Mary, what have you got your eye on this time?” Rudy asked.

  Mary gave him one of her dimpled grins. “No, I’m not going to tell. That’ll spoil the fun. You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “What’s an auction party?” I asked.

  “I have an account with Terry’s Auction House. It’s one of the ways I find additions for my porcelain collection. I can’t wait to show it to you. I have pieces of Lladró, Franz, and a number of others.”

  Intrigued, I asked, “How does it work?”

  “You watch the auction live on the computer. You can bid via the Internet or arrange to have someone call you when your item comes up. They act as your representative. That’s how I do it because sometimes there can be a problem with the connection.”

  “Yah,” Ivan said. “Mary make special popcorn—caramel chocolate. Auction make good show like movies when people want same item.”

  “We’ve seen quite the bidding wars,” Gertie added.

  I said I’d be there, and the group filed out. I went to the parlor. Guests were relaxing in front of the fireplace. A couple playing backgammon asked me about local dining options, and I recommended the restaurants I knew about. I hadn’t been there long enough to have personal knowledge of an extensive list. That would require some fun homework.

  Returning to my room, I took out leftovers from the night before and put them in the microwave. The commercial-grade coffeemaker brought an amused smile to my face. My boss had his quirks, and one of them was the best coffee possible.

  The oven beeped. I took my food and a bottle of Pellegrino to the sitting area and placed it on the coffee table. After dinner, I checked my e-mail and found one from Scott Thompson, an executive administrator for Resorts International, saying he’d arrive later in the week. Scott had decided to accept Corrigan’s offer to develop a piece of property outside of town into a community center. Currently it was a company retreat and one of Michael’s residences.

  This would be a change for Scott. He’d traveled extensively growing up and had found a perfect fit with Resorts International, going to exotic locations for short periods of time to help in a variety of situations. He’d be in the area for at least two months—longer than his usual assignments—and Redwood Cove certainly wasn’t the bustling place he was accustomed to. It’d be interesting to see how he felt about it.

  I was glad he was giving it a try. Or at least I thought I was. A bitter divorce with a clichéd plot—best friend steals husband—had left me unwilling to get involved again. Scott and I had only worked together under emergency situations. This would be a chance to get to know each other under different circumstances.

  Polite, thoughtful, helpful, caring . . . words that described Scott. Shaking my head to stop the thoughts, I shied away from the tug at my heart. I wanted to take each step carefully, like a horse on a precarious trail. One slip could cause disaster, and I didn’t want to go down an emotional precipice again.

  I got ready for bed and checked e-mail messages one last time. The Sentinels thought they’d found the man. He was a very successful car salesman who owned a number of large dealerships in towns north of Redwood Cove. The Professor had attached a picture of a heavyset man with thinning, light brown hair, a blond woman with her arm wrapped around his, and four adults standing behind them. The caption gave their names and identified them as the Nelsen family.

  The message said the woman Summer sought was proving more difficult to locate, and they planned to meet tomorrow at Gertie’s.

  I wondered what the people meant to Summer as I turned off the light.

  * * *

  The next couple of days flew by. The Sentinels contacted me Sunday with the name and photo of the woman. Because she’d been married and changed her name, she’d been much harder to find. A photo of a society function showed a striking woman with a stylish short haircut. The caption said, “Diane Purcelli hosts the annual fund-raiser for San Francisco animal rescue groups.” The Sentinels had given Summer the information.

  Tuesday afternoon, Mary called and said Summer wanted to meet again in the morning. I checked, and the conference room was open. We made plans for getting together at ten-thirty.

  The morning of the meeting, Helen and I put out refreshments and finished reviewing some notes for an event on Sunday, the annual Wine and Flowers festival held at Redwood Cove Botanical Gardens. Inns were hosting a table with information about events throughout the year. Two people manned the table in shifts of one hour. I would be paired with a local, since I wasn’t familiar with the activities. I’d help with refreshments as well as get educated.

  The Sentinels arrived early and got their notepads out.

  Mary put a container of chocolate bars in the center of the table. “I’d like feedback on this new recipe. It uses mint chips as well as chocolate chunks.”

  The Professor took one and said, “Well, if you insist, my dear.” The twinkle in his eyes belied any notion that he was being pressured into taking the treat.

  Summer arrived a short time later and dropped into a chair. “Hello. Thank you for being willing to meet again.”

  The few days hadn’t done anything to improve Summer’s appearance. Her ghost-white face, with the dark, sunken areas under her eyes, added a zombie-like touch. I poured her a glass of water. Her hand trembled so much I was glad I hadn’t filled it to the top.

  She stared at us. We stared back. It was amazing how long a minute filled with silence and looks could be.

  “Thank you for finding the two people,” Summer finally said, breaking the silence. “I sent them registered letters. I have a signed postal receipt from both but haven’t heard from them. I asked them to contact me.” She stopped.

  We all nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  “I must talk to them . . . I must. It’s a matter of life and death.” Tears filled her eyes. “During the fortune telling with Auntie on Saturday, she saw the mati.�
�� She looked at us with a dread-filled face. “The evil eye. She said someone would die.”

  “Summer, is this all about a fortune you were told?” Gertie’s voice sounded like a teacher’s ruler hitting the desk to get the students’ attention. “That’s poppycock!”

  “You don’t understand. My son has a rare disease. He will die if he can’t find a donor. What Auntie said made me realize I had to do something quickly. These people can save him.”

  “Can’t you give him what he needs?” Mary asked.

  “No. I told him I couldn’t because of the medicine I take. But that’s not the truth.” She clenched her hands together tightly, the knuckles whitening as the bone pushed against the skin. “It’s been a lie. My whole life with him has been a lie. I’m not his mother.”

  Chapter 5

  “At least not his biological mother. I’ve loved him as a mother every minute of his life.”

  No one said anything. We waited for her to go on.

  Like a dam breaking, tears flooded down her cheeks. “He doesn’t know. I meant to tell him when the right time came, but it never did. I may lose him forever when he finds out.”

  Meant to. The phrase of regret.

  “Nonsense,” Gertie said. “You are his mother. I still remember him in my second-grade class and how excited he was about the Mother’s Day gift he made for you. At recess he went down the hall looking for every teacher he could possibly find to show it to.”

  Summer’s tears subsided, and a weak smile appeared. “I still have it—a papier-mâché crystal ball. We had a lot of fun spinning stories about the future.”

  Gertie got up, gave her a hug, and handed her a tissue.

  “The people I asked you to find are his real parents. The woman, Diane, gave birth to him on their wedding night. Auntie acted as the midwife, and I assisted. After a couple of days and nights of crying, Diane didn’t want anything to do with him. Said it wasn’t what she’d thought it would be like when she was growing up with all her dolls.”

  Gave up her baby because he wasn’t like her dolls. Wow! I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  “I thought he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. I offered to take him, and she readily agreed. She and Ken wandered off in a cloud of marijuana smoke.” She sagged into the chair. “They have what he needs to live.”

  “What can we do to help?” Mary asked.

  “I want to get them here to Redwood Cove, talk to them, and convince them to help.”

  “Do you have any ideas on how to do that?” I asked.

  Summer looked at me. “I want to offer them a place to stay here in town. Tell them someone wants to thank them for a present they gave her many years ago. Her gift in return is three nights’ lodging. Given my son’s condition, it needs to be as soon as possible.” She looked at me hopefully. “This weekend?”

  “We’re booked right now,” I said. “The festival has filled most of the places in Redwood Cove.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do? I’ll give them tickets for the event as well.”

  “We’ve been converting four rooms over the garage and work shed into guest quarters, and they’re close to ready. We’ve been waiting on some hardware for the doors and cabinets. There might be a chance we can make it work.”

  “Kelly, please. Please help me.”

  Her desperate tone tugged at my heart. “I’ll make a few calls and see if the shipment can be rushed or arrangements made to pick it up.”

  “I’ll pay for their stay in advance. Just let me know how much.”

  “We hadn’t planned on renting the rooms out this weekend. I’ll just charge you for the additional cleaning service.”

  “His parents . . . will you call them for me?” Her quavering voice made me doubt she could handle the conversations.

  “If I can provide the rooms, I’ll call them for you.”

  “Don’t tell them who I am. Since they’ve received the letters and haven’t gotten in touch with me, I’m scared they won’t come.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best,” I said.

  Summer asked us to be with her if Ken and Diane agreed to come. We set one o’clock on Friday as the time and decided we would get together the next morning at ten-thirty to decide what to say. I went back to my living quarters.

  A few phone calls and some obliging customer service reps and plans were made for special shipments of the hardware. They’d arrive Friday morning. I did a quick check with Daniel, and he assured me he knew some people who could do the installation. I let Summer and the Sentinels know the rooms would be ready and then thought about calling Mark’s biological parents. It was such short notice. What kind of explanation could I give?

  Wanting to thank someone for something from almost fifty years ago sounded like putting one’s affairs in order. Generally, people took that to mean preparing in case of death, but literally it just meant good planning. It didn’t mean I’d be telling a lie if I said Summer was doing that, but it would add a sense of urgency to the situation.

  I looked at the information and the photos the Sentinels had given me. If everyone in Ken’s family came, it’d take the four rooms. Diane Purcelli could have my room, and I had a few thoughts on how I could work something else out for myself.

  I called Diane’s number and left a message on her answering machine. I dialed the man’s number.

  “Ken Nelsen here, your trustworthy source for buying a quality new or preowned car. What can I do for you?” His strung-together words sounded like a television commercial on high speed, the speaker aware that every second had dollar signs attached to it.

  “Hello. My name is Kelly Jackson. I’m manager at the Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast in Mendocino County. I’ve been asked by a woman in the area to contact you. You gave her something many years ago, and she wants to repay you for the gift. She’s providing you and your immediate family an opportunity to stay at the inn for three nights.”

  “What’d I give her?”

  “I don’t know. She wants to meet you and tell you herself.”

  “Well . . .”

  I pressed on. “It’s for this weekend. She’s aware it’s short notice, but she’s . . . putting her affairs in order.”

  “Oh. I see. Sort of tying up of loose ends.”

  “She’s also providing tickets to Wine and Flowers.”

  His voice perked up. “That’s pricey. Always wanted to go. Lots of fancy eats and expensive wine.” He paused. “Sounds like a good deal, and I’m never one to pass up something like that.”

  “So you’ll be able to make it?”

  “You said my family. I’ll need four rooms.”

  “The place you’ll be staying in has the requisite number of rooms as well as a common dining and sitting area. The woman wanting to see you would like to meet at one o’clock on Friday.”

  “I’ll check with the others and get back to you. I certainly wouldn’t want to deprive someone of a chance to thank me for a gift I gave her—you know, an act of kindness I did for her. It’s only right to take her up on the rooms and the tickets.”

  An act of kindness. Right. I thought “free” played a big role in his decision. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

  The phone rang about ten minutes later.

  “Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast.”

  “Ken Nelsen here. How early can we check in on Friday?”

  “There’ll be no one staying there the night before as you’ll be the first guests in this new addition. You can have access to the rooms at eleven a.m.”

  “Uh . . . you said the woman was putting her affairs in order. What if something happens to her, you know, like maybe she kicks the bucket before Friday?” His voice took on a bold, belligerent tone. “Do we still get the rooms and the tickets?”

  My face heated as he spoke, and my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to reach through the phone line, put a rope around his neck, drag him through it, and put my face in his.

  “I don’t want
us driving all the way up there and—”

  Rude or not, I couldn’t take any more of him. “You’ll get your rooms and your tickets.”

  “Well, just needed to be sure.”

  I heard an intake of breath on the other end of the line and spoke before he could utter another word. “If you have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to call. We’ll have the rooms ready Friday at eleven.” I hung up. There would be no customary “It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

  The phone rang again. What if it was Ken? I didn’t want to talk to him, but I had to answer. It could be someone else. I took a few really deep breaths.

  “Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Diane Purcelli. You left a message earlier, and I’m returning your call.”

  Her soft voice and clearly enunciated words cooled my anger like a Wyoming breeze on a spring day. My breathing slowed, and my hand relaxed. I’d been gripping the receiver like I was holding on to a recalcitrant mule. I explained the offer to her.

  “I don’t need a place to stay. I have a second home in Redwood Cove.” She paused. “Is the woman Amy Winter?”

  I wasn’t about to lie. “Yes.”

  “Is this about . . . her son?”

  I wondered if she’d been about to say “my son.”

  “Yes, it’s about Mark.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I gave her the time of the meeting, and we said our good-byes.

  Thank goodness the calls were over. Off to Mary’s auction party! I hadn’t been to Mary’s home before, and I looked forward to seeing it. Everywhere in town was close, so it took only a few minutes to get there. I parked in front and saw the Professor’s classic gold Mercedes Benz pull in behind me. Ivan and Rudy walked toward me on the boardwalk.

  Mary’s yard was a delightful riot of color. Red geraniums interspersed with sweet alyssum and intense blue lobelia spilled from flowerpots attached to the window. Their perfumed scent delighted the senses. Pink daises lining the walkway nodded their heads in the light ocean wind. A miniature Snow White, a red ribbon in her hair and wearing a long yellow skirt, viewed her entourage of seven dwarfs nestled among plants behind a white picket fence.