Murder at the Fortune Teller's Table

by Janet Finsilver

  Martha reached in her purse and took out two new chew bones. Unwrapping them, she gave one to each dog. They sat next to their respective owners and eyed each other as they worked on their treats.

  Mary put the lid on her cookies. “I can’t believe Summer and Auntie are gone or that Auntie made such a mistake.”

  “You know, my dear, if it wasn’t an accident,” the Professor said, “it means suicide or . . . someone murdered them.”

  We all sat up straighter at the word murdered.

  “Well . . . well . . .” Mary seemed at a loss for words. “I just meant she knew her plants. It doesn’t seem possible . . .”

  “Not suicide for either of them,” Gertie said. “Auntie was a devout Greek Orthodox, and Summer was committed to saving Mark.”

  “The process of elimination means someone killed them,” Martha stated.

  With her strident voice, the word killed leapt out. I doubted any of us wanted to go down that path, but there it was. The fork in the road. Accept that it was an accident, mourn them, and move on, or take a step toward a dark place where people took the lives of others.

  “Not everyone cared for Auntie,” Rudy said. “Some called her a witch.”

  “Respected in our country,” Ivan added.

  I turned to Mary. “Had anything unpleasant happened with any of Auntie’s customers?”

  Mary shifted uncomfortably. “There was one man, a fisherman, who yelled at her whenever he saw her. Told her to keep away and take her voodoo elsewhere. Auntie took remedies to his wife. They were really helping her. We tried to schedule those deliveries when he was out on his boat, but he surprised us by being there a few times.”

  “Did you help her make her deliveries?” I asked.

  “Summer and I took turns. One of us always went with her.” Mary sighed. “I also did her books.”

  “Anyone else you can think of?” the Professor asked.

  Mary frowned. “There was this one woman. Summer and I were both there that day. I was entering sales information, and Summer was handling the briki for the fortune telling. When Auntie had a client, we stayed in the back of the kitchen to give them privacy. We heard a shout and breaking glass.”

  A bark from Princess interrupted her. Having finished her treat, the little dog appeared ready for some attention. Mary bent down, picked her up, and put her on her lap.

  “We hurried into the front room and saw the coffee cup used for the reading shattered on the floor. The woman raged at Auntie and told her to keep it to herself. She turned to us and said we’d better not tell anyone what we’d heard or else. We assured her we hadn’t heard anything, but I don’t think she believed us.”

  Or else. That could mean many things.

  “Auntie muttered something about walk the path of deception and there will be a price to pay,” she continued.

  “Do you know the other woman’s name?” I asked.

  “No, but I can find out. Auntie only used initials for my bookkeeping, but she had a master list of names and what people wanted. She listed the homeopathic remedies they ordered and tracked their comments. She also kept a diary of the fortunes she told. Some people were regulars, and it helped them to discuss what she saw.”

  Sergeant decided it was his turn and patted Martha’s foot. She obliged and picked him up.

  “She left me instructions about where I could find them if something happened to her and what else I should do. I already know where to find the Book of Secrets.”

  “The Book of Secrets. That sounds intriguing. What is it?” I asked.

  “A family volume handed down for hundreds of years. It has an herbal remedies and fortune telling background. I need to retrieve it and call her sisters.”

  Auntie.

  The keeper of secrets.

  Maybe someone did have a reason to kill Auntie.

  Maybe Summer and Mary had become entangled in her web of secrecy, and someone decided they needed to be taken care of too.

  Chapter 8

  “You tell us name of fisherman, and we pay visit,” Ivan said.

  “His name is Jack Smith. It was on a sign at his house where he advertised his charter boat business.”

  Rudy jotted it down. “It sounds familiar. We’ll try to find him and strike up a conversation. Most of the fishermen meet at Barney’s after they unload their catch for the day.”

  Mary put her hand on Rudy’s arm. “Please don’t say anything about me telling you,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  Rudy patted her hand. “We won’t. We’ll just see what we can learn.”

  The Professor put his clippings away. “I’ll see if I can find out anything more about the Lunch Thief. I know a couple of the people mentioned in the newspaper articles as those who were robbed. Maybe they have something to add that didn’t make it into the paper.”

  “I need to go home and get Auntie’s information,” Mary said. “I have a letter from Summer as well. I’ll check with Deputy Stanton, and if it’s okay, I’ll go to Auntie’s this afternoon. Her sisters will be coming for the Book of Secrets as soon as they know of her death.”

  Martha picked up Sergeant and put him in his carrier. “Mary, I won’t be able to take you to the fortune teller’s place. When I decided to come up, I called some friends, and we’re getting together this afternoon at the house. Since I’m watching over you, I thought what could be better than to have a group there.”

  “I can take you,” I volunteered.

  Mary gathered up Princess, put her in the dog purse, and tucked a small, light blue flannel blanket around her. “Thanks, Kelly. I’ll let you know what Deputy Stanton says.”

  The group made their way out with promises to be back at twelve-thirty the next day. I put the refreshments on a tray and took them to the kitchen. Helen was sitting at the counter, going through a notebook. Placing the dishes next to the sink, I joined her.

  “Hi, Kelly.” She pointed to a couple of recipes. “I’ve been deciding on what to make for Wine and Flowers.”

  Picking up her choices, I scanned them and saw butterscotch brownies and chocolate-chip cookie bars. “I’m looking forward to the event.” I put the recipes down. “These sound delicious.”

  “I wanted something I could cut into small squares. They’ll be perfect for you at the display table while you’re taking care of the food and water, as well as keeping pamphlets out, while someone who knows the area can talk with visitors.”

  “Makes sense. I’ll be able to help and learn at the same time. Daniel’s my partner for the hour slot.” I hesitated to tell her about the deaths, but she’d hear about them at some point. “I don’t know if you heard, but Amy Winter is dead, as well as a woman known as Auntie, a fortune teller.”

  Helen’s head jerked up from the list of supplies she’d started to write. “What happened?”

  “The police think it’s accidental poisoning. Amy was at the fortune teller’s place having tea, and an officer found hemlock in some of her herbs.”

  “How awful!”

  “I know.” I didn’t say anything to Helen about Summer’s reason for meeting with the Sentinels, respecting the privacy she’d clung to for so long.

  My phone alerted me to a text, and I saw a message from Mary saying she’d been given permission to go to Auntie’s.

  “I’m going to pick up Mary and take her on an errand. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  I parked my Jeep in front of Mary’s colorful garden. This time when I knocked, Princess barked with a someone’s-here yip. I saw Mary glance through a side window.

  She opened the door, holding the Chihuahua with one arm. “Come in, Kelly.”

  I entered, and she shut the door behind me. Martha gave a little wave from the dining room table, Sergeant in her lap.

  “It’ll only take me a couple of minutes to get my things. Please look around. You didn’t get a chance to look at my collection with the ruckus going on yesterday.” She disappeared down a hallway.

  Display cabine
ts lined the walls, each one filled with sculptures. As I wandered down the line, I recognized themes. One had women in ball gowns, men in dress uniforms, and miniature orchestras. Leaning in, I examined one of a woman in a blue gown covered with tiny light blue bows, hair piled high, head tilted to the side, as she looked toward a handsome blond man. The detail spoke of a fine artist and many hours of work.

  Mary came up next to me. “I see you found Samantha. She’s one of my favorites. Her gaze seems so real. The artist did an exquisite job.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she shared her passion for her collection. Then the shine disappeared. “We should be leaving for Auntie’s. I let her sisters know I was going to get the Book of Secrets.” She turned toward her sister. “Martha, will you take care of Princess for me?”

  “Sure thing.” Martha looked at the Chihuahua. “Though I might take that nail polish off.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Mary retorted. “She’s my dog now.”

  Martha grinned at the rise she got from her sister and went back to reading a book.

  We got in my vehicle, and Mary directed me to an area on the outskirts of town. I drove down a short gravel lane lined with tall grass, with a meadow beyond, and parked in front of one of the most incredible cottages I’d ever seen.

  Bright cornflower-blue shutters opened against the startling white building. The same blue adorned the front door, porch railing, and roof trim. Vines filled with trumpets of yellow flowers encircled porch posts.

  “Wow!” I exclaimed. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Auntie was born in Greece and took pride in creating a bit of her old country here.” Mary picked up her purse and got out of the car. “She rarely locked her door, but Deputy Stanton told me he had done so. Luckily, I know where she hid her spare key. It’s at the back door. We’ll need to go around the side of the house.”

  I followed her down a path with a wire fence full of berry vines cascading down, covering the ground, and inching their way toward the path. The berries ranged in color from pink to reddish purple to deep blackish blue Bees buzzed around orange poppies randomly growing like someone had dropped seeds from a hole in their pocket as they wandered the glen. A jeweled hummingbird whizzed by.

  Mary stopped and gazed around. “Auntie loved this place. She sat out here for hours.”

  “It feels almost enchanted. I half expect to see an elf or a fairy popping up in the meadow.”

  “With Auntie’s powers and connections, anything was possible,” Mary said.

  “What do you think is going to happen to the cottage?” I asked.

  “Auntie didn’t have children, and the will she left said her sisters inherit everything. They might choose to live here and keep doing Auntie’s work.” She turned and continued walking. “I’ll miss her.”

  We rounded the corner of the house. The backyard had several raised, wooden, boxed-in areas where a variety of plants grew. Mary reached under the bottom step of the porch, retrieved a key, and walked up the stairs. She unlocked the door to a glass-encased porch. A couple of chairs and a small outdoor table filled the corner on my left. The right side had a long counter with a sink and rows of round wooden rods hanging from the ceiling above it.

  Mary pointed to the dowels. “Auntie grew some herbs and harvested others in the wild. She washed them, let them dry next to the sink, and then hung them in bunches. The police must’ve taken them all.”

  Mary opened the back door, and I followed her into a dim hallway. Ahead of me, Mary flipped a switch, illuminating the area. In a corner next to the door, I saw what looked like a shrine on a shelf about chest high. I stepped over to it and saw a small sculpture of Jesus. Red plastic surrounded a light approximately four inches high with an on/off switch on the side. A miniature Parthenon stood next it.

  Mary had continued on, and I joined her. A kitchen was on my right, and I could see the living room through an open doorway. A parlor area straight ahead contained a table draped in dark blue fabric, covered with a white lace tablecloth. A coffee set on a tray rested on it.

  Mary sighed. The deep, sad sound filled the quiet room. “Deputy Stanton said he found them at the table where Auntie read fortunes.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe it.”

  I put my arm around her and gave her a hug.

  She pulled a tissue from her purse. “It’ll take me a few minutes. Auntie hid items in different places.” Mary headed down the hallway with slow steps.

  It was eerie being in a room where two women had died. It felt like I wasn’t alone, that they were still there. I moved away, into the living room.

  Oriental rugs covered the floors. A collection of framed photos took up most of the space on the coffee table. I saw another tiny figure of the Parthenon and a circular string of light green beads painted with red flowers and gold leaves. A long tassel attached to them spread across the table. Lace and throws covered a brown couch and a chair with plump pillows.

  Moving on to examine the pictures covering the wall, I saw a photo of a man in military attire wearing the traditional skirt of the Greek army. Another one showed a young woman flanked by two others with strong facial resemblances to her holding a large book. I couldn’t make out the words written on it in intricate letters.

  I moved back to the parlor and looked down the hallway.

  Mary approached, holding two black binders. “I need to get the Book of Secrets from the pantry. I’d appreciate it if you’d help me.”

  Mary went to a door next to the kitchen. “Auntie had me help her with the book from time to time. Her arthritis made it difficult for her to handle it because of its size and weight.”

  She opened the door, revealing a small enclosure lined with shelves and filled with supplies. She went to the back. “We need to clear this shelf,” she said, indicating one in the middle.

  I helped her remove tissue boxes and paper towels. It only took a few minutes.

  Mary pushed the back wall, and a door sprung open. “Auntie had this made many years ago when she had the house built. It’s been home to the book. There’s an area behind all the other shelves as well where she kept some cash and what little jewelry she had. The lower shelves were harder to reach, so she didn’t use them often.”

  She reached in and pulled out a box, though calling it that didn’t do it justice. The box was made of some kind of metal, and the cover and sides were embedded with jewels. It glowed in the faint light.

  “Auntie polished the box every Sunday. Then she took the book out and looked at the inside cover, where all the keepers of it were listed, and thanked them for the safe care they’d given it. She showed me one time. It went back centuries. The front cover was full and almost all of the back. Tiny letters. Imagine people writing in it so long ago.”

  I ran my hand over the surface, admiring the ornate design.

  “Let’s take it to the kitchen.” Mary shook her head. “It seems a lot lighter than I remember.”

  The tiny kitchen reflected the minimal space of the rest of the house. A small table with its round end folded down occupied an area under a window, looking out onto the backyard. Mary placed the box there, undid the clasp, and opened the lid.

  She gasped. “Oh, no. It’s gone! Who could’ve taken it? Summer and I were the only ones Auntie had helping her, and we were sworn to secrecy.”

  I looked into the empty container, as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside.

  Car doors slammed. Mary moved over to a side window.

  “It’s her sisters.” Mary began to cry. “On top of losing their sister, they’ve lost their family treasure. They’ll be devastated.”

  Before I could say anything, the door burst open. Ocean wind filled the entry. Two elderly women strode in, their black clothes swirling around them.

  “I am Adrasteia, and this is Fotini,” one of them said. “We are Despina’s sisters and have come for the Book of Secrets.”

  “It’s gone,” cried Mary. “I don’t know what happened.�
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  They both stopped. Strands of gray hair had escaped from their black scarves and moved gently in the breeze.

  “Only two of us knew where it was. One was Amy Winter, and she’s dead. And me. I swear I told no one.”

  “I believe you,” said Adrasteia. “Despina knew who to trust.”

  The other sister spoke. “Despina knew many things. They say she picked hemlock. She made a mistake.”

  The other one shook her head. “No. Not true. Despina didn’t make mistakes. Someone killed her. She was murdered.”

  Chapter 9

  A drasteia strode into the kitchen and opened the window above the sink. “Despina’s spirit will be with us for forty days. She will help us find the book.”

  The breeze from the backyard picked up the scent of the basil growing in a pot on the windowsill and carried it throughout the room. Adrasteia grabbed a clear, flask-shaped glass bottle filled with liquid next to the plant and removed the cap. She began sprinkling the corners of the room, top and bottom.

  She looked at her sister. “Despina kept another container of holy water in her bedroom. Please get it and begin in the living room.”

  Fotini obligingly left to retrieve the liquid. I stood there, mesmerized by the ritual. Mary stared along with me.

  Adrasteia finished the corners and turned to us. “There will be a service for Despina in three days and another one in forty to say farewell to her spirit. We will move into the house after that time.”

  “Will you be taking over her herbal remedy customers and fortune telling clients?” Mary asked.

  “Probably. I will get in touch with them and ask if they’d like to continue with us,” Adrasteia said.

  “I have their contact information here, but I need to give it to Deputy Sheriff Stanton.”

  Fotini had entered the room with an identical glass bottle. “Maybe the police will find who killed her.”

  “Had Despina said anything to you about problems with clients?” I asked.

  Fotini headed toward the living room. “Only about the usual unhappy people when they didn’t get the fortune they wanted to hear.”