Pall in the Family

by Dawn Eastman

A server rushed up to the table. “Mr. Ferguson, there’s an emergency. There was a small fire. Then Hunter got behind on the orders and they’re freaking back there.”

  Alex jumped up.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said over his shoulder as he went to rescue his kitchen staff. And appease his boss.

  9

  Alex’s comment about Diana made me feel guilty. I’d been back for almost a month and had not yet stopped by Diana’s place. I’d called her as soon as I knew I would be returning to Crystal Haven, but we hadn’t seen each other in person. She’d been in and out of town all month, helping her brother, Dylan, get ready for the round of regional outdoor art fairs. But she’d been home for at least a week now, and the longer I delayed, the more awkward it became—she and Alex were my best friends. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her as much as I didn’t want her to see me. She always knew things I didn’t want her to know. She was unfailingly optimistic in the face of any setback and, frankly, I’d been enjoying my wallowing.

  Seth loved Diana’s store and had no interest in going back home so we walked the two blocks to Moonward Magick. The storm from yesterday was a distant memory, the sky a clear cloudless blue, the streets packed with shoppers and spiritual seekers.

  Moonward Magick is not the only Wiccan store in town, but it is the biggest and the best known. Diana is a very savvy Internet marketer. Between that and the fact that she plays to everyone’s fantasy of what a witch supply store should be, she does a brisk business.

  Incense hung heavy in the air, and merchandise crowded the dark wood shelves. Seth and I blinked in the doorway while our eyes adjusted after the bright sunlight outside. Diana had a huge selection of books covering every topic from psychic development and herbal healing to astral travel and tarot reading. Two young teenagers whispered near a section of stoppered glass vials and consulted a small black notebook. A young salesperson said hello and went back to her customers, a mother and daughter shopping for the perfect talisman for serenity.

  “You need to wear it close to your skin, and you’ll notice when you don’t have it on,” she told them. “I have this friend? And I can tell when she’s not wearing her amethyst. She’ll call me all in a snit, and I’ll tell her to call me back when she’s got her necklace on.”

  Seth went to the scrying section and began hefting the crystal balls—some as large as bowling balls, others smaller than tennis balls. He tried them in the various stands and seemed to have a preference for the dragons. When he turned to show one of them to me, he bumped into the display of semiprecious stones, spilling several bowls of them onto the floor. I rushed to help him re-sort the colored stones into their proper containers.

  “Blessed be. I should have known it would be you,” said a familiar voice from above.

  I glanced up to see Diana, looking almost the same as she did the day we graduated from high school. Her orange curls were cut to just below her shoulders, and she wore less makeup now, having moved beyond her goth phase, but otherwise she seemed unchanged.

  I jumped up to give her a hug and crashed into a rack of velvet capes. For its size, the store was really crowded.

  “It’s been too long,” I said, hoping she wasn’t mad.

  “It has been.” She hugged me back. “What took you so long? Is it Mac, or the fact you’re living with your parents again?”

  I stepped back; I had never quite figured out if it was touch or just proximity that brought out her ability to read me so well.

  “Just busy,” I said, gesturing toward Seth. “I’ve had Seth with me, and Vi’s got me walking all her clients’ dogs.”

  Her deep green eyes held my mismatched ones, daring me to try to wriggle out of this one.

  I cut my gaze to Seth, who was still busy sorting rocks. She tilted her head—a signal of a truce, for now.

  She walked toward the back of the store, past busts of Egyptian gods and goddesses in a display case, more bookshelves on astrology, kitchen magic, and paganism; shelves of bagged and bottled herbs; and books on herbal healing.

  “Can we trust Seth not to destroy the place if we leave him out here unattended?”

  I glanced back toward the front, where he’d finished with the stones and was looking at a display case of dragon statues. I shrugged, following her through a red velvet curtain.

  Diana’s office was the converse of her store. White cabinets held her paperwork and computer, leaving the space open and clean-feeling. The room felt organized and efficient. Considering how cluttered her store was, it seemed some other person was in charge of her private space. She had always seemed to hold two opposite personalities in one body.

  Diana’s family had moved to Crystal Haven for the open and accepting attitude. Plus, the proximity to the beaches of Lake Michigan and the lush wooded areas of western Michigan were hard to beat. They were Wiccans, and after a bit of furor by the less educated, they settled in and used their knowledge of the town to run boat tours, walking tours, and ghost tours. Elliot Ward also opened a used bookstore and pursued his passion for finding treasure in the form of first editions and private diaries.

  I was finding it difficult to navigate the social obstacle course and didn’t share the suspicions and fear of my peers, so fortunately, we found each other in third grade and had been friends ever since. Diana was named for the moon goddess, and when she opened her Magickal store, after converting her father’s dwindling bookshop, she changed her last name to Moonward. Diana’s parents had died a year before that in a car accident, leaving Diana and her brother to make their own way in the world. Dylan left to pursue his artistic interests, and Diana stayed behind to combine her business sense and Wiccan lifestyle. Moonward Magick’s success didn’t erase the fact that at times she was a haunted daughter still missing her parents.

  “What’s going on with you? I want to hear everything.” She sat back in her chair as if awaiting a good, long story.

  I was afraid of this. It was going to be hard to talk to Diana without telling her everything, and I wasn’t ready yet.

  “Well, actually, I came to ask you about Sara Landess.”

  “Sara? Oh, that was terrible news. I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt her. She was a really great person, always so nice. . . .” Her eyes became unfocused for a moment.

  Before we got lost in the shock of Sara’s death, I tried to redirect.

  “I heard you went to a séance of hers recently.”

  “Oh yes! It was great. She did a really nice job. I didn’t get any messages, though.” She looked down at her lap. “You know I always hope to hear from my parents.”

  “I know.” I looked at the picture of her parents propped on her desk. I’d never told her that I had known her parents would die. I hadn’t known how, or even exactly when, I just knew they would never see Diana’s success. It’s the kind of thing my “gift” lets me see, the tragedies and catastrophes.

  “Anyway, it was pretty exciting because Sara did have someone come through who had quite a bit to say.”

  Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen.

  “That’s my essential oils distributor. The last shipment came with half the vials broken. What a mess. Hang on.” She flipped open the phone and held up one finger to me.

  I listened to what didn’t sound like good news.

  “I’m sorry, Clyde. I have to go to the post office and file a damage report before they’ll send another shipment. I guess I’ll be looking for another source soon.” She stood to gather her purse and keys.

  “About the séance?”

  “Oh, I’ll tell you about it later. It’s way too interesting to describe in three seconds. I’ll call you.”

  I followed her out of the office to find Seth trying on robes by a mirror in the back. I watched as Diana turned the store over to her staff and rushed out the door with my only hope of moving ahead on this case.


  * * *

  I was in my room later that afternoon, surfing the Internet and reading Sara’s blog for clues. She had a nice section about developing psychic talent, séances, and tarot cards. I had just begun scrolling through the comments section when I heard a car barreling down the driveway. Seth was out back with the dogs, and my mother and Violet were with clients. I jumped up to look out the window in time to catch a glimpse of Tish’s white Tahoe pulling up outside.

  I ran down the stairs to stop her from knocking on the door. We have the bell disabled so Vi’s clients won’t be disturbed and feel the need to bark and protect the house from visitors during their sessions, but Tish always “forgets” and begins pounding on the door seconds after trying the bell. I got there just as she was winding up for her assault.

  “Tish, hi,” I said through great gulps of air.

  “Hi, honey. What’s the matter with you? Are you having an episode?”

  I had been known in my youth to have daytime visions of unpleasant events that left me breathless and exhausted, but I had found ways to avoid the visions, and Tish knew that.

  “No, I ran down the stairs when I saw your car.”

  “Baxter’s giving you such a hard time you have to race down the stairs to greet me?” Her laugh was a deep rumble. It always made me smile.

  “No, he’s been fine. He likes Seth,” I said, standing aside to let her in.

  Tish was the kind of person who filled a room, no matter its size. She liked to call herself a large medium. Everything about her was just a little bigger than it needed to be, except for her height. Her hair had been brutally teased. It stood out from her head, adding several inches to her five-foot frame. It was long and usually a blonde of one shade or another, depending on her mood. None of her clothes were the right size for her, and they swung to both extremes. In her daily life, she wore everything two sizes too small. This added an aspect of suspense: I constantly waited for her buttons to fly off or her zipper to give up its valiant effort. While working, she chose large, drapey fabrics seemingly worn right off the bolt. Today was a tight-clothes day. “Where is the big lug, anyway?” she asked, walking toward my mother’s office.

  I stepped in front of her and gestured for her to follow me toward the back of the house.

  “He’s out back with Seth,” I whispered. “Mom and Vi are with clients.”

  “That’s what all those cars are doing out there.”

  I gave her a look that said I wasn’t buying the act. She knew what was going on, but was hoping to get a peek at who was here. Her one vice was meddling. She liked nothing better than to find out that there was a problem somewhere and then try to fix it. Unfortunately, her information often came from other realms and couldn’t be proven. She had never messed around in my life, and for that I was grateful.

  She shrugged. “You can’t blame me for trying. Information is gold in this town.”

  “How was your trip?” I asked, hoping to steer her to the subject of why she had lied about her departure time.

  “Oh, just wonderful! I love those retreats by the Oneness Institute. We had a healing circle. My teacher channeled her spirit guides, and we spent a lot of time in meditation with our own guides. Such a fabulous group of people. I wish they offered the retreats more often.”

  “Have you heard about what’s been happening around here?” I led her into the kitchen.

  “Oh my, yes. Such a tragedy. Sara Landess was very talented; Crystal Haven will surely miss her.”

  “How did you hear?” I waved a pitcher of iced tea, and she nodded.

  “Jillian called and left me a message. We have to have our phones off during the retreat, but I got the message on my way back home. To think that all the time I was in communication with Spirit, I could have tried to talk to Sara.”

  I put a glass in front of her and took the seat across the table.

  “Not that she would have wanted to talk to me. We weren’t very close.” She sipped her drink, her multiple bangles jingling with every move. “Our auras were such that we tended to clash, and something was happening to her in the past few months. She got very cloudy and gray. She used to be a brilliant orange, but that got kind of muddy.”

  I had to interrupt the flow of aura-talk or she would go on for days. “Tish, when you went to the retreat, why didn’t you call ahead to arrange for Baxter?”

  “I told you on the phone, hon. There was a wait list, and they called me at the last minute.”

  “You just packed up that morning and left around nine-thirty?” I picked up my own glass and tried to act casual.

  “I don’t remember what time it was.” She studied her tea. “I was in quite a hurry, as you can imagine. Packing, cancelling appointments, arranging for Baxter . . .”

  “You didn’t see Sara on your way out of town, did you?”

  “Of course not! Why would I do that? As I said, her aura was changing and I really didn’t want to have much to do with that. I always say karma will catch up to you. I think hers finally did.”

  “You think she deserved to be killed?” I leaned forward, glad that no one else was hearing this.

  “No, I didn’t say that.” She flapped her hand. “I feel terrible about her death, especially since we didn’t always get along. In fact, I stopped and talked to her daughter Alison on the way home. Have you ever met her? She lives in Kalamazoo. We got to be friendly a while back over some things Alison had going on. She didn’t want to tell her mother, so she came to me. You know how that can be.” Her expression told me she knew very well how strained my own relationship with my mother was.

  Tish could be a great listener. She had helped me through some unpleasant times. I was furious with myself for wanting to question her whereabouts on the morning of Sara’s death, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was keeping something from me.

  I nodded. “That was nice of you.”

  “Well, anyway, sugar, I’d better be on my way. Is Baxter out back?”

  “I’ll get him for you. I think Seth is playing fetch with him.”

  I gathered Baxter’s things and went outside to collect him. I was uncomfortable letting Tish go without getting more answers but couldn’t see a way past it without openly accusing her.

  I found Seth and Tuffy with Baxter in the far corner of the yard playing some version of fetch that seemed to involve Seth chasing the ball about as often as the dogs did.

  Tish had followed me outside and when Baxter caught sight of her he loped across the yard and flung himself at her, almost knocking her down in his enthusiasm. He then charged back toward our small group, nudged Tuffy, and trotted back to Tish.

  She waved from the back porch. Then they walked around the side of the house and disappeared.

  “Do you think he said good-bye to Tuffy?” I asked Seth.

  “Of course. They’re friends,” he said, and the look he gave me said, “duh.”

  10

  With Baxter gone, Tuffy fell into a funk. We brought him inside to the living room where all attempts to cheer him with toys and treats failed. I was starting to fear we would need Baxter to come live with us for the duration of Tuffy’s stay when I heard tires on the gravel again.

  Mom opened the door with a loud creak, and quiet voices floated in from the front hall. A moment later, she edged into the living room, tight-lipped and pale.

  “Gary Landess is here to take Tuffy,” she said.

  Seth put his arm around the dog in a protective gesture, which caused Tuffy to renew his shivering. He must have recognized his name and figured something was up.

  I left Seth and found a distraught Gary standing by the door. His hair was thin on top. It stuck up all around his head from running his fingers through the nearly nonexistent strands. A wrinkled and stained gray suit did nothing to improve his appearance. His puffy, red eyes darted around the r
oom as if he were being hunted by some unknown predator.

  “Hi, Mr. Landess. I don’t know if you remember meeting me.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Clyde Fortune. I took care of Tuffy for Sara while she was working.” He stared at my hand for a moment before reaching forward to grasp it briefly with a quick, damp squeeze.

  “I remember. I met you once—here, over the holidays, I think.” He didn’t meet my eyes and mostly examined the floor. “You were living in Ann Arbor then.”

  “I’m so sorry about Sara,” I said.

  He nodded and sniffed.

  “You’re here for Tuffy?”

  “The police told me yesterday that you were taking care of him. Thank you. I thought I should come get him.” He shrugged.

  I imagined the two of them, Tuffy and Gary, sitting in whatever apartment he lived in, staring at each other.

  “We’re happy to keep him for you if you’d prefer . . . ,” I began, thinking of Seth losing both of his friends in one day.

  “No, no, I’ll take him.” He squared his shoulders, bracing himself, I assumed. “We’ll have to get used to each other again.”

  I showed him into the living room. He followed behind, shoulders slumped again. Tuffy looked up as we entered and seemed to shake even more as he leaned closer to Seth.

  Gary grimaced a smile, and said, “Here, Tuffy. C’mon, boy.”

  Tuffy leaned closer to Seth, his eyes darting from me to Gary.

  I felt sad for both of them. I was surprised that he’d fought Sara for custody when clearly Tuffy liked Gary even less than he liked me.

  “I brought a bribe. This always works,” Gary said, producing a baggie with bacon in it.

  Gary crouched down on one knee, and said, “Here, boy, I’ve got your favorite. Bacon!”

  He shook the bag and then opened it to give Tuffy a good whiff. Tuffy stopped shaking. He sat up straight and sniffed the air. He jumped off the couch and cautiously approached Gary. Seth was sending me all sorts of warning messages with his eyes. What can I do? I shrugged back. Tuffy belonged to Gary now.