GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense)

by Polly Iyer

  “Did you really think one of my daughters would devise a plan to steal my paintings?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t. But like I said, I have to check out these allegations. In fact, I asked my captain if I could come here personally. As uncomfortable as it would be for me, when I learned your daughter wasn’t available, I thought you’d find being questioned by an acquaintance less awkward.”

  Only Compton’s lips smiled. “I appreciate that consideration, Ernie. I do.”

  Lucier didn’t know why the familiar use of his name from this man bugged the shit out of him. They’d spent time in a social atmosphere, but Compton had never invited Lucier to address him by his first name, as if he wasn’t quite good enough to be on a first-name basis with a man as exalted as Silas Compton.

  “Is that all?” Compton asked.

  “That’ll do it,” Lucier said, rising. He offered his hand. “Nice to see you again, Silas.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A Tangled Web

  Lucier questioned why dropping Compton’s first name at the end of the meeting gave him such a vicarious thrill. Childish, he thought. So what? It was worth the stunned look on Compton’s face.

  He returned to the station and his cluttered desk. His cell phone rang before he could get down to work. Private number, the readout said.

  “Morning, Lieutenant,” Jason Connors said.

  “How’d you get my cell number?”

  “Um, that’s what I do.”

  “Of course. What was I thinking?”

  “I knew the info Diana requested was for you, so I cut out the middleman.”

  “Glad you called my cell.”

  “Even if I called the station directly, there’d be no way to trace the call. I use a routing number. If anyone decides to check, they’ll come up empty.”

  “Maybe I should put you on the payroll.”

  “That’d be great, Lieutenant. Beat the hell out of writing computer code.”

  The kid’s computer talent was way over Lucier’s head. “What have you got?”

  “Not everything. Haven’t had enough time, but I thought you could use what I have now. I’ll get back to you with the rest as soon as I get it.”

  “Go. I’ve got a pen and pad ready.”

  “So far, the connection for Compton and the rest is Phillip Crane. The two men go back to when Compton first started at Barton. One article about Crane claimed he put Compton in the driver’s seat at Barton. Crane’s company is the leader in oil drilling technology, and Haynesworth and Easley hold high positions. Crane inherited the company from his father. It’s publicly traded, or else he’d probably be as secretive as Compton.”

  “What about Reyes?” Lucier said, cradling the cell phone on his shoulder to take notes.

  “He headed the engineering department at Barton. When Compton left to form his own company, Reyes went with him. So did many of Barton’s customers. Eventually Barton went under. The five men have stayed tight. Crane retired a few years ago. He turned the company over to his oldest son, but he’s on the board of directors. He’s probably on Compton International’s board, too, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. That information, like everything else in Compton’s life, is private.”

  “Hmm,” Lucier hummed. “Seems you got a good chunk of off-limit information.”

  “Digging is what I do, Lieutenant.”

  Lucier didn’t want to know that Jason did some digging for Diana’s act. He knew, but he didn’t want to. “Still doesn’t explain why Crane took an interest in Compton.”

  “Might be because of Compton’s first wife,” Jason said. “More specifically, her father, Gault Fannon, the senator.”

  “You mean votes for contracts?”

  “Nothing proven, but a huge government contract went to Crane’s company with a push from Fannon in the Senate.”

  Lucier wondered what Crane had on Fannon or his daughter to force him to back the bill. Or maybe Compton found the smoking gun. “What about Compton’s first wife?”

  “Socialite, beautiful, rich, much richer than Compton at the time, which is before he met Crane. He went after Ms. Fannon like a hungry lion looking for his next meal. Pictures of them filled the society pages. The man was moving up, and she was the top rung on the ladder.”

  “Any gossip about either the senator or his daughter that would lead to blackmail?”

  “Haven’t found any. If I found the link, the congressional committee investigating the contract would have found it. There’s something that Crane or Compton had on Fannon personally that’ll never see the light of day. But that’s only a guess.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “Even without proof, when Compton hooked up with Crane, the blowback from Fannon’s vote blackened his name. No one proved he was on the take, but a cloud hung over him from that point on. He never ran for re-election and died shortly after of a heart attack.”

  “What about Compton’s children with Eliza Fannon?”

  “Maia and Dione were originally named Susan and Meredith.

  “Why would Compton change their names?”

  “That would take more talent than I have to find out. However, the current names are from mythology, if that means anything.”

  “It might, if I knew anything about mythology. The name changes are one more bizarre aspect of this case.” What case? Lucier thought. There was no case, only suspicion. “What else?”

  “A son, Crane, followed a year after the birth of Dione. Interesting name, don’t you think?” Jason didn’t wait for an answer. “He was severely retarded. Eliza Compton shut herself off from everything to stay with the boy. His nanny wasn’t paying attention one day, and he drowned in the swimming pool. A year later, depressed by the death of her son, Mrs. Compton jumped out a hotel window. A few sensational days in the media and the story faded into oblivion, until an unauthorized biography of Silas Compton dredged it up again. The author claimed Compton cheated on his wife with Selene Crane, in addition to a few other assertions that painted an ugly picture of the man. Shortly after the book came out, the author, Donald Stanton, was killed in a hit and run accident. They never found the driver.”

  Lucier wrote everything down. The information piqued his curiosity. Fannon and then Stanton, both dead.

  “So Selene Crane entered the picture before Eliza Compton’s death.”

  “So buzzed the gossip rags. The son named after Phillip Crane gives you an idea.”

  Mega-rich company presidents, senators on the take, beautiful women, adultery, back-door deals. The story teemed with elements of a potboiler movie script. But nothing connected these people to the occult, except the word of two losers with a far-out tale no one in his right mind would believe, along with an always-questionable vision by a psychic.

  “What about Crane’s offspring? Who besides Selene?”

  “Thought you’d never ask. The Cranes had five other children. I mentioned the oldest son who runs Crane Corporation. He’s equally as private as Crane. Selene has a younger brother Seth and three sisters. Guess who they are.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Sophia, Anastasia, and Reah. Those are their birth names too.”

  Lucier exhaled a long breath. “Jesus.” Now that he thought about it, he saw the resemblances.

  “I already mentioned I couldn’t find any record of Compton and Selene’s children, but I did for the other second marriage liaisons. Interestingly, all their kids were home schooled, all took the state tests and passed with exceptionally high grades, and all went to a small private college in Pennsylvania, Middlebridge.

  “The oldest offspring of the first wives head up divisions in Crane and Compton’s businesses, like Maia and Dione Compton, and are groomed to take over the top spots in the company.”

  Lucier detected a pattern evolving, but he didn’t know what it meant. “Tell me about the college. Is it a religious school? Who funds it, and where do the kids go when they graduate?”

&nb
sp; “That’s what I’m working on, but so far they might as well be on a different planet. Except for the ones employed by their fathers’ companies, the others are gone for months at a time, sometimes longer, to either represent the Crane/Compton international businesses or to do humanitarian work for one of their foundations. The latter sends them all over the place. I’d have to break into the Treasury Department and pull up their passports to find out where.”

  “Can you do that?”

  Jason’s nervous laugh echoed over the phone line. “Man, that’s tricky. If I got caught, they’d haul me off to someplace like Gitmo, and no one would ever hear from me again.” He cleared his throat. “Unless it’s a matter of national security and someone higher up on the food chain is asking―no offense, Lieutenant―I’d rather not. I have a feeling this doesn’t meet the requirement.”

  “No offense taken,” Lucier said. “Forget I asked. I’m over the line with this as it is. I’d hate to get you in trouble, and I’d hate to explain what I’m doing, especially since I’m not sure I know.

  Jason’s laugh came across full-throated. “I’ll call you when I get the rest of the information.”

  Without putting down the phone, Lucier tried calling Diana again. No answer. He couldn’t force her to stay home, but she seemed to enjoy flying in the face of danger. He wished she took the two threatening notes seriously. Lucier guessed where she was, which was why she didn’t answer her phone. He marshaled all his willpower not to go to the mission.

  * * * * *

  Diana sat at the now-cleared table in Slater’s office, demolishing the platters of food one of the women brought in. “You’re right. This meatloaf is delicious, and I’m not a big meatloaf fan.” Diana mixed the meat with mashed potatoes. “The corn pudding is excellent.”

  Slater heaped a spoonful of the yellow mixture onto his plate. “You’d think a man wouldn’t beat on a woman who cooks like this but beat her he did. She has a restraining order on him. They don’t work. If a man wants to get a woman bad enough, he’ll find a way. She’s safe here for the time being. Problem is most women go back for more. Don’t ask me why.”

  “I won’t because there’s no logical answer.” Diana wiped her mouth and sipped her iced tea. “You’ve piqued my curiosity with your lunch invitation, Edward. Three times. What will you start with, tell, show, or give?”

  Slater laughed and said, “Show.” He stacked the dishes and took them to the kitchen.

  She looked around, noticed the camera again. Annoyed, she wished she could turn it off. Was she finally going to learn what Slater kept behind the locked cabinet door?

  Upon returning, he wiped down the desk with a cloth he kept in the bottom drawer. “Don’t want to get crumbs on my treasure,” he said. Unfastening the key ring hooked to the belt loop of his jeans, he unlocked his bookcase.

  Yes.

  Slater brought out what looked to be a very old book and gingerly placed it on the desk as if it were bound in eggshells. “This is a first edition of Edward Burnett Tylor’s Primitive Culture, published in 1871.” His smile faded when he saw Diana’s face. “You don’t know what this is, do you?”

  Diana shook her head. “No, I don’t. Other than it must be valuable, I have no idea who Tylor is or what this book is about. Should I?”

  He sighed. “I thought you might, considering your interest in mysticism and religion, the spiritual in general. Tylor was a cultural anthropologist who reintroduced the ancient theory that the soul is the origin of the belief in spirits: animism.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’ve only dabbled in mysticism, a cursory education. I never studied it in depth.” She assumed Slater showed his treasure to Jeanne Highsmith and that their conversations were far more comprehensive than any he could carry on with her.

  He pulled out the top desk drawer and extracted a paperback. “Now you can read it at your leisure. It’s the same book, though obviously not a first edition, printed in 1958.” He handed it to her, careful to avoid her touch. “Don’t worry, I won’t test you. I just thought you’d be interested.”

  “Of course. I don’t know what to say except thank you. I look forward to reading it.”

  A first edition tome behind the cupboard doors was not what Diana expected. Was she relieved or disappointed? What had she anticipated? No question about her host, however. Disappointment etched his face. He expected more of her.

  “I’ve let you down, Edward. You gave me too much credit.”

  “Not at all. I tend to assume things sometimes. Why would you know of this book? It’s not as if you had time to study this field in depth, always on the road. Your strengths are far more esoteric, more unexplainable than any written word. I apologize. You could never let me down.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to reading this.” She carefully tucked the book in her purse. “Now, you mentioned something you wanted to tell me.”

  “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Brigid and Nona Fulceri came by yesterday.”

  Chapter Twenty- Eight

  Hidden Meaning

  It took a moment for Diana to comprehend what Slater said. When she did, words failed her. She finally found her voice. “Why didn’t you call the authorities? Those girls are wanted for questioning. They were in that house, nursed the kidnapped babies.”

  Slater leaned forward in his chair, his arms folded on the barren desk. “You don’t know that. The police have no proof other than your impression from a vision. From a vision, Diana. Besides, the Fulceris said they weren’t there.”

  His voice was so persuasive she easily envisioned him convincing people to donate money to his worthy cause.

  “These girls have been through hell,” he said. “They trusted me when they came here to explain.”

  “You may not put credence in my visions, but I found that house, and then those young women disappeared. A man killed himself rather than talk about what went on there. Doesn’t that resonate with you?”

  “Obviously not in the same way it does with you. Both those girls were raped by their pedophile father from the time they were old enough to understand what he’d do to them if they told. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t turn them over to the police and their interrogation methods. They need counseling. I made an appointment with a psychologist. I begged them to go, but I forced them. Not because I believe they had anything to do with Deems, that house, or those babies, because I don’t. I want them to straighten out their lives.”

  “You made a judgment call. I don’t agree.” Diana rose. “Thanks for the lunch, Edward, and for the book. I’ll read it.”

  “You’re upset with me again,” he said, standing. “I push your buttons, don’t I?”

  “You impeded a police investigation. If I’m right about those girls, and I am, they might have helped us find the kidnapped babies. There’s something evil going on, and you’re purposely ignoring it, first with Compton, now with the sisters.”

  “If I were involved with the house on Parkside Avenue or thought the Fulceri sisters were connected in any way, would I have told you about them coming here?”

  Slater made a good point, but she was still angry at his duplicity. “I don’t know what I think anymore.”

  “I suppose you’ll tell your lieutenant about this.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I understand. Still friends?”

  “Of course, Edward. Still friends.”

  * * * * *

  Diana waited until she and Lucier finished dinner and were settled in her small den with the remainder of the bottle of wine to tell him about the Fulceri sisters. He reacted exactly as she anticipated.

  “I have a good mind to arrest your Brother Osiris for aiding and abetting,” he said. “And you―I’m at a loss for words.”

  Diana barely looked up from her notepad to say, “He’s not mine.”

  “You’re not listening.” Lucier huffed and sipped his wine. “First you go to the mission without telling me―didn’t answer your phone either―then
you report that those two women popped in there to say ciao and inform Slater they didn’t know anything about the missing babies. Now you sit here and ignore me while I make the case that Slater is in this up to his handsome neck.”

  Diana stopped doodling to focus on Lucier. “Am I supposed to tell you everything I do? Maybe you should get one of those GPS things and strap it to my ankle so you can track me every minute of the day. Put me on house arrest, why don’t you?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t live like that, Ernie. It’s taken me twenty-five years to break from my parents and acquire a measure of independence. I won’t get into a relationship where someone’s telling me what to do all the time and hovering over me like I’m a child. I’ve lived that life. I don’t want a repeat.”

  Lucier set his glass on the coffee table and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I worry about you. I can’t help it. I’m a cop. Cops worry about the people they love. If anything happens to you, I don’t know what I’d do. It took me a long time to find you, and I almost lost you once already. I don’t want to go there again.”

  “This isn’t always about you.” She brushed her hand across his cheek. “You won’t lose me, Ernie. Ever. But you can’t tie me to you. That’s not a relationship, that’s control. We can’t make this work to suit only your needs. I have needs too, and they don’t include a bodyguard.”

  He pulled back.

  “I wanted to tell you I was going to the mission, but you’ve been so overprotective and irrationally opposed to Edward, I decided not to.”

  “Okay, I concede being overprotective, but not on Slater. You seem blind to the possibility that he’s involved. He’s protecting those girls, and you don’t see it.”

  Conceding, she said, “I do, and I’m torn between what I felt in that vision and Edward’s faith in those girls. Maybe I’m wrong. I didn’t specifically see them in my vision, only that someone nursed in that chair.” She pulled Lucier toward her and told him the girls’ history, then kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. I got pulled into their story. Edward didn’t want them to go through a police investigation. I was very verbal in my opposition, if that makes you feel any better.”