by Morgana Best
That’s right, his model ex-wife, I thought. He must have been to tons of super-formal events when he was married. The idea of some super hot, impossibly skinny woman draped possessively over his well-dressed arm dampened my curiosity. “That makes two of us. Oh, the stuffy bit I mean. I for one haven’t done my time at these events.”
“Why don’t we sneak out?”
It was a tempting offer. Still, it would be awkward to go somewhere with Alum when I wouldn’t be able to speak if other people were present. I could hardly go to a café with him and talk to myself. That would be how it would look to others. And then there was the fact that Constance had given me the ticket as a Christmas gift. Still, if I left, Constance would likely not notice. I could see her darting from group to group like a hyperactive bee. She was definitely where she wanted to be.
I smiled an apology. “I really shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what?” a strange voice said from the doorway.
I turned around to see the actor that Constance had pointed out. Pete? Pablo? Rumpelstiltskin? His name evaded me. He looked so young, his name might as well have been Peter Pan, although the cocky, leering grin he gave me tempted me to give him a few choice grown-up words.
“Your friend did not do you justice. You look absolutely ravishing tonight, if I might be so bold.” He made his way into the hallway and looked around, a brow raised. Not another soul was anywhere in sight. “You’re the ghost whisperer, aren’t you?”
“I’m a medium,” I corrected him, wishing those silly movies hadn’t given people strange notions about my work. There were no candles, séances, possessions, or other Hollywood myths involved, and definitely no spinning heads. I had never coaxed any wild-eyed children from the ceiling. For some reason, I thought of Luke.
He gave me what he no doubt thought was his best Prince Charming smile. “I’ve always had a fascination with the occult. Why don’t you come to my place after the party? We could have a little séance.”
I did my best to keep my expression politely neutral. By his tone and shifty attempt at bedroom eyes, I could tell that he was looking for more than a connection with the dead. I was sorely tempted to ask him if his mother knew he was out past his curfew.
“No, thank you,” I said coldly. “I already have plans for tonight.” I hoped my tone was firm but not downright rude. I was aware of Alum’s presence close beside me. I didn’t need to be a clairvoyant medium to pick up on the anger emanating from him. “I need to go and speak to my friend now.” And give her a few choice words, I added silently. I had distinctly told Constance that I wanted nothing to do with Junior, but she had apparently pointed him in my direction regardless. I was keen to know what Constance had said to him to make him seek me out.
I pushed past the man to head back out of the corridor. I had made plans all right, and they were to ditch Constance, leave the party, and go somewhere with Alum. I’d rather spend time with Alum, even if people did think I was talking to myself.
I had only taken one step when the man suddenly reached out and forced me against the wall. “Come on, there’s no need to act shy about it. Why don’t we have our own party?”
“Hey!” Alum yelled. He lunged for the man’s shoulder. Only after his hand slipped through did he seem to remember that his protests were ineffectual.
The man leaned in, the smell of bourbon strong on his breath as it brushed against my face. He looked smug in his venture, not a trace of embarrassment or remorse to be seen. I brought up a hand to push him away, but he at once moved to pin it with a huge, forceful hand.
I had no choice. I kneed him as hard as I could. His grip slackened; his eyes bulged in shock, and he gaped like a fish, as all color drained from his face. He slumped down on the floor, and groaned as his hands fluttered and gripped his—no, that was not his chest he was gripping.
My sore knee throbbed in protest as I stumbled away from the man huddled and groaning on the carpet. I wasted no time getting back to the safety of the crowd.
“Where’s that Harris guy?” Constance asked within seconds of my escape. She was grinning like a cat that caught a canary. “Did he run into you?”
“Yes!” I said angrily. “Into my knee, to be exact!”
Constance gasped. “What happened?”
“He tried to kiss me against my will,” I snapped. “What on earth did you say to him?”
Constance looked horrified, but not, it seemed, at my distress. “Prudence! You need to go and apologize!”
“Are you crazy?” I said loudly enough to turn a few heads. Did I just hear Constance right?
Constance wagged her finger in my face. “You haven’t dated since the Dark Ages. I get it. Men are more forward these days. They all act that way. It’s just a normal part of dating in modern society.”
“Um hello! Man here,” Alum said irritably. He raised his hand for emphasis despite the fact Constance could not see him. “I can testify that we do not all act like that!”
“What nonsense, Constance!” I was furious with her.
“Okay, okay, just calm down. You’ll embarrass us both if you make a scene.”
“Seriously?” I snapped at her. “I’ve just been manhandled by someone half my age and you’re worried about what people think about me? I’m leaving.” I needed to get out.
Constance made no move to stop me as she turned to talk to someone else. No doubt they were famous. “Well, this was fun,” I said to Alum, as I made my way through the crowd.
Alum looked troubled. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but it’s not your fault.”
He nodded. “I know it’s none of my business, but you really need some new friends.”
“Not many people are willing to deal with a woman who speaks for the dead,” I said with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll put it on my list of New Year’s resolutions.”
He lifted a brow. “No one follows through on those things.”
“You never know. Maybe I’ll be an anomaly. I have one friend I can start the New Year off with, at least.” I turned to him, past caring if anyone thought I was talking to myself.
He smiled slightly, but the smile promptly disappeared as he stared ahead of him. I didn’t know it was possible for a ghost to look paler than he already was. I followed his gaze to a table where a group of sharply dressed men were mingling.
“That one. Right there.” Alum pointed out the young man at the head of the table. He had a neatly trimmed mustache, and his hair had too much gel. “That’s Jason Taylor, Martin Taylor’s son. Now, look at the next table to the left. That’s my partner.”
I stared at the man who had killed Alum. I could not hide my shock. My blood ran cold.
He noticed me staring and fixed his gaze on me, but right then, the door burst open and police swarmed in like ants. They shouted for nobody to move. I was in too much shock at seeing Alum’s murderer to make any sense of the sudden intrusion.
Chapter 15
I watched in disbelief as the police headed for the table of Jason Taylor and his friends. I thought they might be there to arrest Jason Taylor, but they seized a man at his table. His eyes widened as two cops stopped in front of him, and more approached.
“Me?” he choked out. He turned to the men he had been speaking with, as if to say, ‘What about them?”
The crowd was buzzing with whispers as everyone watched. I regained my senses and tried to edge closer, forcing myself into small gaps, and no doubt annoying people as I bumped my way past them. I found myself within ten or so feet of the man the police appeared to be arresting before I could go no further.
“Glenn Curtis?” a cop asked.
“You know who I am,” the man said defiantly. Where at first his eyes had been wide with shock, now they were angry, narrow slits in his face. “I’ve done nothing!” he insisted loudly.
The crowd’s murmurings grew louder, but I managed to hear the police tell Glenn Curtis that he was under arrest.
“Hey, what’s the meaning of this?” another man at the table yelled. He was older and bigger than Glenn, broad in the shoulder and chest. His hands were big and beefy, and as he spoke he clenched them and unclenched them. “This is a party.”
“Let us do our job,” another police officer said, putting his hand on the beefy man’s chest and pushing him back a step.
Glenn turned back to the table. “Not one of you will say anything?”
“I told you!” a shrill voice rang out, and for a moment I was confused as to who was speaking. Then I saw a woman standing nearby. She rushed toward Glenn, but was restrained by one of the police officers. “I told you they were bad news!” she yelled.
“Sarah,” Glenn said. “Be quiet.”
“You’ve set him up!” the woman screamed, turning to look at the men at the table. “I told him not to trust you. You’re all schemers! You set him up!”
“Sarah!” a voice boomed, and every head turned to look at Glenn, who was now being handcuffed, because the thundering voice belonged to him. “Enough!”
“But, but….” Sarah stammered.
Glenn shook his head. “But nothing,” he said. “Stop talking.”
Sarah looked at the floor.
“We can go over it all down at the station,” one officer said. “Let these people get back to their party.” He took Glenn by the arm and led him through the crowd, which parted like an ocean around a slow moving boat.
I looked back at the table to see the men whispering to each other. I noted that Stanfield Kelly was speaking with a small group of police officers. I then turned my attention to Sarah. I had expected her to sprint out the door after her husband, but she seemed frozen in place. Large sobs racked her body. She looked like a lost woman, unsure of what to do next.
Three women approached her. All were elegantly dressed, dripping with jewels, and beautifully tanned. I figured they were the wives of some of the men at Jason Taylor’s table. I hurried forward, working my way through the crowd, which was slowly starting to disperse. When I reached Sarah, she didn’t look at me, but the other three women did.
I ignored them and crouched as well as I could in my dress next to Sarah’s chair. “I’m Prudence,” I said. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” I had no idea what to say next, but I wanted to say something, because I wanted to make a connection to those men. If they had killed Brady Wayland, then Sarah might provide a clue in some way. It was worth a try.
At that moment, I got a lucky break. One of the women snapped her fingers. “That’s where I know you from!” she said. “My sister and I went to one of your shows! You’re Prudence Wallflower!”
Sarah looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Shows?”
“Sure, Prudence here can speak to the dead. My sister never believed in stuff like that, but she did after that night.”
Sarah scoffed. “I don’t need to talk to any dead people. I need my husband.”
“Prudence Wallflower?” a man interjected. “I’m Randal Hamilton, from the Newcastle Broadcaster.” I must have looked blank, as he continued. “You know, the newspaper?”
I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway.
“I’d love to interview you. I’m in town for a few days. Any possibility that could happen in the next day or two? Look, I know it’s bad time of year and everything, but can you give me your contact details?”
I pulled out one of my business cards from my small clutch and handed it to him. “I suppose so,” I said.
He looked it over, thanked me, and left.
I held out another business card to Sarah. Slowly, reluctantly, she reached out and took it. It was a long shot, but the suspects in the murder of Brady Wayland were the men she believed had turned on her husband. After she took my card, I stood up, and looked straight into a pair of eyes. Stanfield Kelly.
His face was set and neutral, hard to read. There was no doubt about it through—he was staring right at me. At that moment, Constance moved between us.
“Isn’t this the absolute best party?” Her voice was breathless. “This is just too fantastic. Everyone’s going to be talking about this party, and to think that we were actually here! Did you see them taking that man out in handcuffs? It’s like something out of a movie.”
I moved away from Sarah. I was sure she had already overheard Constance’s glee over her husband being arrested. “I’m going home,” I said flatly. “Goodnight.”
“What?” Constance asked, “Are you tired? How can you be tired? I don’t think I could sit still. I’m not sure if that’s because of the excitement, or the eight glasses of white wine I’ve had. It could be the wine. I need to find the restroom.”
I was too angry with Constance to trust myself to speak, so I hurried away to call a cab.
It was only then that I noticed that Alum had vanished.
Chapter 16
When I got home, everyone had gone to bed. Clearly, Luke had ventured out of his room after everyone was asleep, judging by the half eaten chocolate bars thrown randomly around the floor. I sighed when I saw that he had ground a chocolate bar into my nice Persian rug. That was going to be hard to get out. I would tackle it after I had a nice cup of tea.
I opened my bedroom door so Possum and Lily could come out for a run around the house while it was temporarily a Luke-free zone, but they were curled up on my bed, fast asleep. I shut the door and went to the kitchen to make some chamomile tea.
I was disappointed that Alum was nowhere to be seen. I had been looking forward to escaping to a quiet little café with him. I sighed. Maybe it was for the best—there was no point getting too attached to a ghost.
I was still furious with Constance and needed to have a stern talk with her. I wasn’t looking forward to it, given she was bombastic and self-absorbed to the extreme. Still, it had to be done.
I took my tea into the living room and sat on the couch, then got back up to open the curtains. I turned off the light and watched the play of the moonlight outside. The light was echoed by the still water in the bird bath. I loved my moments of solitude.
My thoughts turned to the case. Alum had said that the cops had been unable to prove that Jason Taylor and his friends were criminals. Of course, everyone knew that Jason’s father, Martin, had been a ‘Mr. Big’ of organized crime for decades.
For some reason, the chamomile tea had not made me tired, so I looked for a pen and notepad. I lit a heavily scented apple and cinnamon candle, as I always think better with a lovely fragrance in the room. However, it only served to make me hungry, given that it smelled like apple pie.
I went to the fridge and fetched some fresh blueberries, and then turned the lights back on and sat at the dining room table with pen and paper in hand. What did I know? I knew that Alum suspected that Jason Taylor and his alleged gang were responsible for Brady Wayland’s murder. That made sense. And given the fact that the police had just arrested Glenn Curtis, it seemed that they finally did have evidence against Jason Taylor’s men—or one of them, at least.
I wrote ‘Motive’ at the top of the page and underlined it twice. The obvious motive was that Brady Wayland had uncovered something incriminating. I also suspected that Amanda knew more than she was telling me. Unless Sarah Curtis did call me, Amanda was my only lead. If only Alum would appear so I could talk to him.
The only way I could help Alum was with my clairvoyant abilities. I had already tried to contact Brady Wayland. He had given me the word, ‘Cyclops’, a word that meant nothing to Alum. However, Alum had admitted to losing much of his memory. Brady had also projected feelings of shock and anger. I supposed any murdered person would do the same thing. I shook my head and ate some more blueberries. I was not making much progress.
Nevertheless, it was good to have the cognitive space to think things through. I hadn’t had much of that of late. After my rushed tour, I’d had the guests, as well as the sudden appearance of Alum, to deal with.
I jumped
when the phone rang. I rushed to my purse to retrieve it before it woke up my guests. “Hello,” a voice said. “Would you like your roof retiled? We can do it for a bargain price.”
“Do you know what time this is?” I snapped, albeit quietly. “And how did you get my number?”
“Very cheap price,” the voice continued. “We can retile your roof for a good price.”
“Don’t ever call me again,” I said, “and my roof is iron.” I hung up. What on earth? Telemarketers calling after midnight? So much for cognitive space.
I took my cup to the kitchen, pausing to look at the mashed up chocolate bar on my rug. I would ask Uncle Tim to make Luke scrub it off tomorrow. That would be a good creative exercise for the little dear.
I hopped into bed, and Possum and Lily repositioned themselves so that they were lying on my legs. I turned off my lamp and stared at the shadows on the ceiling.
Where is Alum? Will I ever see him again?
Chapter 17
The next morning, Christina and I were driving to the shops in Armidale to buy more wine and beer. The local shops were shut. Rainbow was lying down with a headache, and Uncle Tim was minding Luke, much to Luke’s horror.
The long whoop of a siren blared once, and red and blue lights flashed in my rear view mirror. I looked in the mirror and saw with dismay that I was being pulled over by a dark sedan. It was an unmarked police car, the lights discreetly on the front of the dash so they could be seen through the windshield.
I pulled over quickly, stopping in front of an Armidale corner store. A man was outside the front of the store sweeping leaves away from the door. He made no attempt to conceal his interest, as the cop car behind me let out one more whoop from its siren.
I rolled down my window. The cop approached slowly, looking over my car as he did so.
“Ma’am, what’s your hurry today?” he asked me as he stopped by my open window. As he waited for me to speak, he fished his badge out of his coat pocket and unfolded it so I could see.