Carlene Thompson

  "So you think she shot you?"

  Chris looked exasperated. "No, Lucy, not unless she had a gun stashed in those skintight jeans. She left her purse inside."

  "Maybe more time passed than you think."

  "I wasn't drunk. I know exactly how much time passed. And what the hell's the matter with you, anyway?"

  Caroline intervened. "What about Twinkle?"

  Chris tried to shrug, then winced at the pain. "I don't know, Caro. The doll might still be at the cabin. I left it in the bedroom."

  "Then it's all part of what's been happening to me," Caroline said softly. "It's all connected."

  Lucy looked like she wanted to say something but was forcing back the words. They were all three silent for a moment before Chris said, "Lucy, I do have a favor to, ask. They say I won't get out of here for a few days, and my cat needs care. Do you think you could take her to the vet for me? He'll board her until I get home."

  Lucy's eyebrows drew together in despair. "Chris, that cat hates me. It won't even let me touch it."

  "If you'll just try…"

  "I'll take care of Hecate," Caroline said quickly. "I have more experience with animals than you do, Lucy."

  Chris looked at her gratefully, almost tenderly. "Thanks, Caro. I really appreciate it."

  "It's no problem at all."

  Caroline made small talk as she and Lucy walked back to the parking lot, but Lucy wouldn't answer. When they climbed in Caroline's car, Lucy reached over and put her hand on Caroline's when she tried to slip the key in the ignition. "Caro, you have to stop this," she said quietly.

  "Stop what? I don't know what you mean."

  "Oh, yes, you do. You're trying to revive the past."

  "Revive the past? That's crazy."

  "Is it? First you're convinced Hayley has come back from the grave…"

  "I never said such a thing!"

  "And now you're getting chummy with Chris again. Obviously you visited him at the cabin."

  "Lucy, I wanted him to know what's going on, and he doesn't have a phone. If I wanted to talk to him, I had to see him."

  "And did you tell David about this visit?"

  Caroline took a deep breath and stared out the windshield at a young woman creeping across the parking lot with a crippled old man dragging at her arm. "No, I didn't," she said finally.

  "See what I mean?"

  "Yes, I guess I do."

  Lucy leaned back in her seat and said gravely, "Caroline, I'm your best friend. There have been times in the past when I've let you down, but I'm trying not to do that now. I see where you're headed, and it's for trouble. You still have a lot of romantic memories of Chris, and you've rationalized the way he treated you the last year of your marriage by blaming it all on his shock over Hayley's death. And maybe that is what changed him, but I've been around him a lot more than you have the last few years, and I can tell you he's not the man you married He's turned bitter and selfish. I think he might try to turn himself back into what he once was through you, but it won't work."

  "What do you mean that he might try to change through me?"

  "He was at his peak artistically with you. He wants that success back and I think he might do anything to get it, to get you."

  "Anything like what?"

  "Like lying about the doll."

  "Lucy!"

  "Well, think about it, Caroline. You go up there telling him about phone calls, about Twinkle, and wham! Twinkle's at the cabin, Chris is shot, and you're flying to his bedside like Cathy rushing across the moors to Heathcliff."

  Caroline was astounded. "How can you even think such a thing of Chris?"

  "Because I know him. Are you going to argue in favor of his virtues?"

  "He does have some. And besides, Lucy, he was shot."

  "Like I said, probably by some jealous husband. You know that isn't out of the question he's been asking for it for years."

  Caroline couldn't deny what Lucy was saying. "I guess it is something to think about, although I've never known Chris to lie before."

  "You haven't really known Chris for a long time. Maybe you never did. In any case, Chris's problems aren't yours. You have David and Greg and Melinda to concentrate on." She paused. "You know, Caro, I'd give anything to trade places with you."

  Caroline looked at her in surprise. "Lucy, you'd be bored stiff with my life. Husband always gone, kids growing up."

  "Still…" Lucy flashed her brilliant smile. "You're right. Madcap Lucille Elder would never fit in the domestic scene. Now, my dear, I have a design studio to run."

  When they pulled into the store's small rear parking lot, Caroline glanced at the clock on her dashboard. "It's twelve-thirty. We could go get some lunch…"

  "No can do. I've got an appointment in half an hour. But thanks for the invitation. See you soon."

  The farewell was uncharacteristically abrupt for Lucy. What she said about Chris seemed to have a bigger impact on her than on me, Caroline thought, puzzled. Was Lucy really worried that Caroline would throw away her marriage for Chris? Because in spite of the recent contact that reminded her of her continued attraction to and even love for Chris, she knew what she had in David. She would never break up her home for Chris, and Lucy should know that. Still, as Caroline drove away, she glanced in the rearview mirror to see Lucy standing at the back door of the studio, her sad eyes following the car.

  Caroline was so distracted by the events of the morning that as she drove by Melinda's school on her way home she almost didn't notice the empty playground. At this time it should have been full of children basking in ten more minutes of freedom before the one o'clock bell rang. Alarmed, she rushed home to find Fidelia sweeping out the garage. David had wanted Caroline to let the woman go, but Caroline insisted that if she really was up to something, it would be easier to keep an eye on her if she was still working for them. Besides, although she knew her faith in Fidelia might not be logical, she really could not believe Fidelia had possession of Twinkle or was sending black bouquets around the city.

  "Bomb scare," she announced before Caroline had fully emerged from her car. "De school called and said dere had been a bomb scare. Noting to it, I'm sure, but dey can't take any chances. So I walked over and got Melinda."

  "Oh, Fidelia, thank-you so much," Caroline said. "And I bet you didn't wear a coat—just that skimpy little sweater."

  Fidelia grinned. "I don't mind de cold. Besides, I took George on de leash. He was so excited he kept pulling me along. I didn't have a chance to get cold." Caroline laughed. "Melinda is in de kitchen talking to a friend on de phone. She links dis bomb scare is wonderful."

  "I can imagine. It's a first for her."

  Sure enough, when Caroline stepped into the kitchen Melinda was talking at machine-gun rate, her little cheeks flushed pink with excitement. She waved at Caroline, who smiled back as she took off her jacket and bent to pet George's head.

  "My mommy's home now," Melinda was saying. "She wasn't here when they called from school, and Fidelia had to come get me. You should meet Fidelia. She's really neat. She tells the future." Pause. "Well, of course she can really tell the future. Honestly and truly, Hayley, she can."

  Caroline was across the kitchen in an instant, making Melinda yelp in surprise as she snatched the receiver from her hand. "Who is this?" Caroline demanded. "What do you want?"

  After three beats of silence, the child said, "Hi, Mommy. I bet you're real sad Daddy got shotten."

  DETECTIVE JEROME, PLEASE."

  Melinda was still staring at her with wide, frightened eyes as she cowered against Fidelia. While Caroline waited for Tom, she reached out and stroked the child's hair. "Sorry I scared you, sweetie, but someone is playing a terrible joke on us."

  Melinda's voice shook as she fought tears. "I don't get it. It was just Hayley."

  "That was not Hayley."

  The little girl looked at her in complete confusion, and Fidelia turned her around. "What you say I read de cards for you while your mom'
s on de phone?"

  "I guess that'd be okay," Melinda said without enthusiasm.

  "Good. I feel hot today." Fidelia snapped her fingers to indicate psychic prowess, and Melinda smiled.

  Fidelia was laying out the cards on the dining room table when Tom's low, intense voice came on the line. "Jerome here."

  "Oh, Tom, I'm so glad you're in. This is Caroline."

  His voice warmed. "Hi, Caroline. What's up?"

  "We just got another phone call." She tried to be calm and coherent as she told him about the call to Melinda and the mysterious child's comment about Chris.

  "You didn't recognize the child's voice?"

  Should she tell him it sounded just like Hayley's? No, of course not, not if she wanted him to maintain any confidence in her. "It's not one of Melinda's friends."

  "Do you know what she said to Melinda?"

  "Just little-girl talk. Nothing about her background or anything personal about us. Not until I took the phone."

  "But she mentioned Chris's shooting," Tom said thoughtfully, "and as far as I know, it didn't make the morning papers."

  "Did you know that just before Chris was shot he found Twinkle on his bed?"

  "The clown doll?"

  Caroline heard the excitement in his voice. "Yes."

  "No, I didn't know. Well, that throws a new light on things, doesn't it?"

  "If the person who put the doll on the bed is the same one who shot Chris, I'd say it does."

  "Caroline, I know David threw out the doll the night you found it. Do you know if he stuffed it down in a trash can or just left it on top?"

  "I have no idea. The trash is collected about six in the morning. But I can ask him. Do you think someone picked up the doll from our trash?"

  "I can't think of any other answer. Listen, Caroline, I'm going to check into Chris's shooting myself. I'll go by the hospital and question him, then search his house for the doll."

  "It will probably have disappeared, just like the bouquets." Caroline shuddered, thinking of her night at Rosemont Cemetery. "Lucy said the guard regained consciousness but that you don't believe his story."

  "It's hard to take him seriously. I've been checking him out. Believe me, he's no hero. All he wanted to do was make two or three rounds a night, watch TV, and eat. Even if there had been a drug deal, which I find highly unlikely in this area, our man wouldn't have gotten himself mixed up in it"

  "But why would he lie?"

  "Because he's afraid of being hurt or killed, or else he was doing something he shouldn't."

  "Lucy said he had scratches on him like he'd been in a struggle, but you don't have any other evidence."

  Tom hesitated. "Actually, we do."

  She knew from his hesitation he was reluctant to tell her what the evidence was, and she tensed. "What is it?"

  "I didn't find out until this morning because I'm not working this case. But a few hairs were found on his clothes and under his nails, obviously from the person he struggled with."

  "What kind of hairs?"

  "Synthetic. Frizzy. Orange."

  Caroline let out her breath. "Like Twinkle's. Like the wig Hayley wore on her last Halloween and the one that child wore to my door this Halloween."

  "Let's not jump to conclusions, Caroline. There are probably a lot of orange wigs floating around."

  "This one just happened to turn up at Pamela's grave where a man was shot."

  "I considered not telling you, but I really think you need to know everything since this whole thing started with you."

  "Let's just hope it doesn't end with Melinda."

  "It won't, Caroline. I won't let it."

  As Caroline hung up she heard Melinda giggling in the other room before she came bounding into the kitchen. "Fidelia says I'm gonna be rich and famous!"

  "A prima ballerina, no doubt," Caroline said, bending down to enfold Melinda in her arms.

  God, I'm frightened for you, she thought wildly. Why doesn't the little girl call me instead of you? Then she pulled herself up short. Because she knows having Melinda threatened would frighten me more than anything, since I've already lost one little girl.

  "Either a prima ballerina or an actress," Melinda chattered on, pulling herself free of her mother's tight grasp. "I'm not sure the cards don't say exactly, but those are the two things I'm best at."

  "Did the cards say if Aurora is going to sprout?"

  Melinda frowned, going over to look at her pot of dirt carefully placed in a circle of faltering sunshine. "I forgot to ask."

  Fidelia was wrapping the tarot cards in a paisley silk scarf and slipping them in her purse. "I predict Aurora will indeed sprout"

  "Did the cards say so?" Melinda asked hopefully.

  "No, but I have belief. So must you, ma petite amie." She winked at Caroline, then asked, "Did you want me to start on de basement today?"

  Caroline shook her head. "No, we're having it painted in a couple of weeks and it would be best to wait until it's finished before you clean." She glanced at her watch. "It's nearly two o'clock. Why don't you just call it a day?"

  "Fine. I'm baby-sitting for de Richardsons tonight and I could use a few hours' rest. Dose kids and de four cats dey torment to madness…"

  "Cats!" Caroline exclaimed. Melinda and Fidelia jumped, clearly not sure what outburst to expect next, and Caroline laughed. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just remembered I was supposed to pick up a cat for a friend who's in the hospital."

  "You mean we're gonna cat-sit?" Melinda asked.

  "Maybe. This is a very temperamental cat. If I can't get her to behave, I'll have to board her."

  "I can make her behave," Melinda informed her. "I love cats. So does George."

  "It's just that cats don't love George back," Caroline said dryly. "Oh well, we'll have to do our best. I promised."

  "I'll go get a box and put a nice pillow in it for the cat. What's her name?"

  "Hecate."

  "Wow, that's weird. Anyway, I'll go get a box for Hecate. There's a nice big one in the basement…"

  She was already gone, racing through the house talking to herself. Fidelia looked at Caroline, her blue eyes shrewd. "I wish you'd talk to me. Maybe I could help."

  "I don't want to talk about it in front of Melinda. But the next time we're alone…" She trailed off, clasping her hands together. "Fidelia, do you believe in ghosts?"

  Fidelia's eyes did not waver. "Yes. Do you?"

  "No."

  "Your eyes tell a different story. Do you feel de presence of a ghost?"

  "I feel something," Caroline said vaguely, losing herself in Fidelia's aqua eyes. "It feels evil."

  "Surely you don't tink your little girl was evil."

  "How did you know…"

  "You're terrified when Melinda receives a call from a child named Hayley, den you ask if I believe in ghosts." She shrugged.

  "I guess it is pretty obvious. You're right—the trouble does revolve around Hayley. I'm just not sure how."

  Caroline watched Fidelia closely, waiting for any betraying signs of guilt at the mention of Hayley's name. Fidelia's leathery face remained impassive. Then she smiled. "You tink I have someting to do with dis trouble."

  "No, I…"

  "It's all right. I understand. I know about Hayley, and I work here. I was here de day de window upstairs was broken, and I know dere was more to dat business dan Melinda told me."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "You. You're nervous. You watch me. But you must believe, Caroline, dat I would not harm you or your family. However, if you want me to go…"

  "No, actually, I don't."

  "Den sometime soon you must tell me all dat is happening. You do not realize de power of de supernatural. Dere are such tings as witches, evil spirits which can be called up, death spells…"

  "Oh, Fidelia, I can't really accept all that," Caroline said sharply, thinking what David would have to say if he heard this conversation.

  "It is frightening, but it's re
al," Fidelia said calmly. "Just remember I care about you and your family, particularly Melinda. I will help you if you wish it."

  Caroline was tempted to say, "Yes, please help me," but realized that in doing so, she would be admitting she thought something supernatural was happening. Isn't that what Lucy had said? "First you're convinced Hayley has come back from the grave…" No, she could not let herself give in to such thoughts. They weren't rational, and her willingness to entertain them for even an instant frightened her.

  "I've got it!" Melinda reappeared, her legs peeking from beneath the box Caroline's new microwave oven had come in. "Is this big enough?"

  "Lin, Hecate is a cat, not a lion," Caroline laughed, grateful to turn her gaze away from Fidelia. "Couldn't you find something smaller?"

  "Nope. You threw out everything this summer, remember?"

  "Nothing good ever comes of being too efficient. And what's the nice pillow from the family room couch doing here?"

  "It's all I could find, Mommy, honest. And the kitty needs a pillow."

  "Oh well—it has a washable cover. Go get your jacket while I put this stuff in the car."

  "Can George come?"

  He was looking at them appealingly from melting brown eyes, his tail slowly sweeping the air. "I'm afraid not. He'd probably scare the cat away."

  Melinda bent to take his face in her hands. "Don't you worry, George. We're gonna bring that little kitty home, and then you can make friends."

  "Or so we hope," Caroline muttered to Fidelia.

  Ten minutes later, as they sped toward Longworth Hill, Melinda asked, "Who does Hecate belong to?"

  "A man named Chris Corday. He's an artist."

  "Oh, your first husband." In her amazement, Caroline accidentally pressed down on the accelerator.