by Martha Carr
“Click, click, click”
The dark coffee beans made contact with the sharp, rotating metal teeth in the grinder, picking up small chards from all of the people who had ground coffee that day. Mixed in were also the smallest bits of residue left by a shopper just as the store had opened that morning. A few small drops of polonium 210, popular among some of the deadlier arms of the Management, had been placed inside of the grinder. It was all it would take to end the life of everyone who had a cup of the fancier coffee choices. It was also the kind of poison a local coroner wouldn’t detect unless they knew to look for it.
Later that night the grinder would be flushed out with hot water as it was every night and along with it the evidence would wash away as well. The teenage boys who were charged with cleaning the store would be wearing rubber gloves and inadvertently saving their own lives. Just a small, diluted drop on the skin was enough to stop a heartbeat.
But until then, sixteen random shoppers would stop to fill the little bags with different varieties of coffee before heading home. It would take time for all of them to get around to using the coffee, spreading out not only the locations of the deaths but the times as well and make it just a little bit harder for a pattern to emerge and the local police to figure out exactly what had happened.
The method had been carefully chosen. The oil in the beans stopped the poison from becoming airborne, which could have lead to a death too close to the actual murder weapon. It wouldn’t be until someone brewed the beans that the hot water would wash through the grinds and pick up the traces of the radioactive poison, depositing it into the pot and then a cup.
Yvette rolled the top of the bag down, clamping the sides shut and placed the coffee on top of the tall pile in her cart.
I’m going to save that for later, she thought. She looked up and saw a familiar face.
“Hey, Ginger, you shopping for tonight too?”
“Oh, hey Yvette, no, I already have my dish. I forgot to get something for the kids. See you there? Oooh, the expensive stuff, nice.”
“Sshhhh, it’s my little secret. I hide it in the back of the cupboard.”
The two women laughed as Ginger patted Yvette on the arm of her quilted red parka.
“I know what you mean. If I go first Larry is going to find a treasure trove of chocolate all over that house.”
Yvette held up the little bag of coffee. “Yeah, their inheritance.” The two women broke into laughter all over again.
“I better run. I left Larry with the kids and last time he let them eat pizza in the family room.”
“I’ll see you later, then,” said Yvette, as she leaned into the cart. She let out a small, “oof” as she got the cart rolling again. “Have to get back to the Y,” she mumbled, as she absently felt her waistline.
At home Yvette carried in all of the groceries, placing her small treat behind the bag of sugar in the cupboard next to the sink. She thought about making just one cup before getting ready for Bunko but wasn’t sure there was enough time.
“I’m gonna’ take the kids to McDonald’s, okay?” Bob was standing in the narrow doorway of the kitchen in his stocking feet holding his work boots in one hand.
Yvette raised her eyes in mock surprise. “What sparked this generous mood?”
“Don’t know, been having a good day. Thought I’d spread it around a little. Kids get to eat a Happy Meal, you get a little time to yourself before you head out. Everybody wins.”
“You are a good husband,” said Yvette, kissing her husband.
“I know that,” said Bob. “Kids?” he called out, “come on, hit the road. We’re gonna’ head for the golden arches.”
Yvette listened to their squeals as they raced around the house. It was a rare treat made all the more special by getting to ride along. Usually Yvette or Bob would run out quickly and bring it all back home. Three kids could cause a lot of mayhem and spilled soda in a minivan.
It’s a good life, thought Yvette as she turned on the TV to the local news and opened the cabinet by the sink. Just one little cup.
“Two deaths seemingly unrelated but both without a known cause were reported today in the West End of Richmond,” said the familiar anchorman on channel 12. Yvette always watched the same news stations. She felt like she knew the entire team and would even wave when she saw one of them around town. Richmond really is a small town, she thought.
“One man was a resident of the Penbrooke subdivision and the other was a woman who was living in the Fairview condominiums. Both were thought to be healthy but in the span of a moment dropped dead in front of their families. Police are not saying whether or not they believe foul play is involved but characterize the deaths as suspicious. A police official noted that it was an unusual circumstance. Autopsies are to be performed.”
“Hmph,” muttered Yvette. “Probably nothing.” Nothing much ever happened in Richmond, thought Yvette. Everybody knows that.
She hummed a little tune as she poured the water into the old coffee maker and measured out an even spoonful. She could hardly wait to taste it.
Later, her family would find her slumped over in the chair, her head on the table with a small purple bruise the size of a half dollar, right in the center of her forehead. The news would be over by then.
Bob had quickly called 911 as he pushed the children into the family room while yelling his wife’s name as loud as he could, over and over again in the vain hope that he could still demand she rouse.
The neighbors came running over as soon as they saw the ambulance and police cars gather out front.
“What happened?” said Bob, to anyone in a uniform. Surely, someone could tell him how he could turn his back for just a moment and the neat little lines around his life got the chance to fade away.
Bunko was cancelled that night and all of the girls came over to help Bob with looking after the kids. Someone pulled out a notebook and a makeshift schedule was started with the different women volunteering for bringing over meals, cleaning or babysitting. By then the coffee that had been sitting in the cup next to Yvette’s body had grown cold and was poured down the sink. The pot had been left on in all of the commotion and was burned on the bottom. A helping hand shoved it into the dishwasher.
The small brown bag of ground coffee was finally shut and placed into the nearest cabinet as the counters were quickly wiped down. It would be weeks before anyone went looking for it again. Bob never drank coffee. He said it always gave him a sour stomach.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wallis stopped by the office on her way home. Laurel had called several times and said that Madame Bella was insistent that she see Wallis. She had forgotten about the appointment and tried to beg off but Laurel told her Madame Bella had climbed the stairs and was sitting in her office. She was refusing to leave until she saw Wallis.
“I’m going to have to miss Bunko and I forgot to tell Ginger,” she said to Laurel as she came in the door. “No time to call her now.”
“She’s got the turban and robe and everything,” said Laurel.
“Did she say what it’s about?” said Wallis as she handed Laurel her coat.
“No, and I tried, like a good assistant will do. She seems prepared to camp out if necessary. Very determined. Maybe she knew you were destined to come back here,” said Laurel, smiling.
Wallis rolled her eyes as she quickly took the stairs.
“Madame Bella,” she said, as the large woman turned in the chair to look at Wallis.
“This couldn’t wait,” said Madame Bella, in a firm voice. She was a familiar figure in this part of town. It was hard to miss a large Irish-looking woman who loved to wear Gypsy clothing as costume even while pushing a cart through the local Lowe’s store.
She was planted in one of the small side chairs facing Wallis’ desk, overflowing the sides in a purple robe with a continuous celestial pattern cinched in by degrees with a pale blue sash. On her head was a matching purple turban with a large yellow amulet pinned
in the center. Her hands were tucked into the opposite sleeves as if she were trying to stay warm.
Wallis had caught glimpses of Madame Bella in similar getups over the years and had stopped paying attention to the details a long time ago.
“That’s what I heard,” said Wallis as she sat down behind her desk. “What can I do for you? I didn’t even know you were married.”
“This is not about me,” said the psychic in a distinctive southern twang found only in the western reaches of Virginia. “I’ve come to warn you.”
Wallis tensed, “Are you here to make a threat?”
“That’s good. You’ve always said exactly what’s on your mind. But you’ve never really been tested like this before. I was a little worried you might turn cautious. No, no, we’re not enemies. I’m here to warn you about others.” Wallis suddenly noticed that Madame had pulled her left hand out of a sleeve and she was gripping an iPhone. Her thumb was deftly sliding across the face of it as she kept up a steady stream of conversation and glancing back and forth between Wallis and the phone.
“A storm has been brewing for some time now,” said Madame, leaning toward the desk until her ample chest rested on the top. “I was told to come and see you, to let you know.”
“Told by whom?” said Wallis.
“Not important and too distracting,” said Madame, with a dramatic wave of her right hand. Wallis suddenly could see that the hand was heavily bandaged over where there should have been a ring finger and pinkie.
“What happened?” started Wallis. Madame Bella didn’t even look at her hand.
“Again, not important. The other side sees it as a loss but as you can see, I escaped with my life so a minor fray. I am here to make sure you stay more intact.”
Wallis felt her stomach turn as she noticed the blood stain on the bandage covering the small stump.
“They got nothing for their troubles but two useless, arthritic fingers and a ring. I liked the ring, though,” she said, with a wry smile. “It was a nice citrine. I’m very sorry about your Mr. Blazney. That was a mistake.”
“Mr. Blazney? What about him?” said Wallis, wondering what her friendly, elderly neighbor could have to do with a complicated intrigue.
“I’m sorry, I thought someone would have told you by now. He was killed just yesterday. How did no one tell you?”
Wallis felt the outline of her cell phone in her pocket and thought about calling Norman but something made her hesitate.
“That poor old man was out walking at the wrong place and time, which happened to be right in front of your house. I was on my way to see you earlier that night and I’m afraid I was seen as well. Tortured in the back of a van near some park, very efficient.” She waved the bandaged hand again as if it gave some explanation.
“Nasty, brutal people. They thought the threat of a couple of fingers would reveal something. It did. It revealed that I always keep a spare knife strapped just under the boobs. No one ever likes to search an old, fat broad too closely, you see. Stabbed that one right in the eye,” she said, demonstrating the gesture with a twist. Wallis winced and found herself trying to sit up straighter.
“The other oaf was so surprised that he hesitated just long enough for me to get a good swipe at him. Fat old man. He survived but it’ll leave a nice mark just across his face.” Madame Bella spat out the last words. Wallis had sat there quietly listening, trying to breathe calmly.
“Do you know Esther?” asked Wallis. It was a calculated risk using Esther’s name like that but Wallis wasn’t sure what else to do. She was desperately trying to figure out how many sides were in this plot and how many of them wanted her dead.
“Ah yes, good egg, that one. And good question, my dear. Most would answer that she sells books but I will tell you that she is a bit more complicated than that,” said Madame, giving Wallis a wink. “I’m afraid this is my last night in this good town if I care to go on living, so I need to deliver my humble message and push on. I’d tell you that normally I’m not so pushy but that’s not true,” she said with a chuckle. Madame Bella raised an eyebrow and pointed her remaining fingers at Wallis.
“You have something that has travelled through a lot of hands, lately. Poor Ray Billings and that Stanley fellow.”
“What’s happened to Stanley?” said Wallis, in a hush.
“I’m not sure, but you need to stop looking for him and pay very close attention to what I’m telling you now. You are going to feel betrayed, my dear, by all of those you love most but let it go immediately. Too much is at risk for you to waste time sorting through what should have happened and you’d probably be wrong anyway. Just remember that if you start to blame one you will have to blame all. That is going to have a lot more meaning for you over time. Trust those who you have believed to be trustworthy regardless of what you will soon know about them. See the snakes for what they have always been and continue to listen to them without giving anything away.”
“Madame Bella, this sounds like a prediction.”
“No, no, dear. You know, in all these years you never came to see me read the cards for anyone. My predictions to the lonely and afraid had more to do with a stern lecture about less whining and more acceptance of what had already happened to them dressed up with some tea and tarot cards. What comes next for you will be hard to bear, I can promise you that. But you must take it all in quickly and think clearly if we are to make it through this time.”
“This time. You mean, this time after the last slaughter.”
“Ah, so Esther has filled in some of the blanks. Good, good, as it should be, praise something or other. Yes, yes, I believe in a divine presence and I pray all the time for deliverance but I never try to put any boundaries around what it’s going to look like. Today, apparently it looks like you. Just remember, child, everything was done by those around you in good conscience. Keep those you love close but trust no one with the information until you are sure.”
“When will that be?” She knew Madame Bella was talking about the thumb drive but she wasn’t ready to admit to anything. Just for a moment she saw them holding down the old woman and sawing off a finger and she wondered if she wouldn’t have started spilling everything she knew all the way back to nursery school. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t have had the nerve to be angling for her moment of revenge.
“You’ll know when the time is right,” said Madame Bella. “I’m afraid that as so often happens in times of great shifts it is impossible to know anything more beyond what the next step ought to be. Your next step is to go home and open your heart and your mind to the truth that has been with you all along. No, no,” said Madame Bella, raising her injured hand, “the rest should be from someone closer. To tell you now would be cruel.”
“Cruel as compared to what?”
“Very true, but you’re going to have to trust an old woman on this one. I’ve done what was asked of me. Besides I have very little time left to slip away and as old and useless as they may be, I’m rather fond of the rest of my parts.”
“Can I help you?” said Wallis, rising out of her chair.
“My dear, I was right about you,” said Madame Bella getting slowly out of the chair. “There is one thing,” she said, as she removed the turban to reveal a tight bun of grey hair.
“Madame?”
“Just one second,” said Madame Bella in her nasally twang. “Damn it, can’t get these buttons anymore on account of,” she waved her hand.
“How can you be so calm?” Wallis suddenly felt very tired as a shudder rolled through her body.
Madame looked up for a moment and held Wallis’ gaze. “You’re usually a pretty cool customer.”
“That may not be true anymore,” said Wallis. “Here, let me help you.”
Madame Bella had slipped her arms out of the purple robe and was trying unsuccessfully to unbutton a blue buttoned shirt and long peasant skirt underneath.
“Please, let me,” said Wallis. “I’m assuming you’re going to try
and slip out of the back? That may not work. You know as well as I do that one side opens on to a busy street and the other onto a wide parking lot. It’s impossible to get out without being spotted.”
Wallis undid each button as a smooth, black cotton front emerged underneath the loose top. She helped Madame Bella the rest of the way out of the shirt to reveal starched white sleeves underneath the top of a black cotton smock.
“Do you mind?” said Madame Bella, gesturing at the side of the skirt. Wallis gave her a look but did as she was told.
“I’m beginning to get the picture,” said Wallis, “but surely a conspiracy as big as this one isn’t quite this stupid.”
“You’re thinking one large woman in costume going in and only one large woman in a different costume going out has to add up to something. Me too, and it was me that you were calling stupid, my sweet.”
As the peasant skirt fell to the ground the rest of a nun’s habit was revealed. Madame Bella reached down toward a large black patent leather pocketbook. She snapped the small brass clap at the top as the sides sprang apart.
“It’s never been about trying to completely fool anyone, it can’t be. We work to plant just enough confusion and it’s more powerful cousin, suspicion to buy a little time. The rest we have no control over.”
“Are you saying that because you’re trying to get into character?”
Madame smiled as she dug around inside the purse.
“It looks like a small suitcase,” said Wallis, peering over the corner of her desk as she tried to get a better look inside.
Madame chortled as she pulled out a starched white wimple and black veil and proceeded to drape her head. She leaned over and dug around in her purse for a moment, coming up with a few bobby pins. She opened her hand to Wallis without a word.
“Madame Bella?” said Wallis, as she pinned the wimple and veil to Madame’s head.