Pall in the Family

by Dawn Eastman

  As Tuffy happily snarfed down a piece of bacon, Gary reached over and picked him up.

  “It works every time,” he said. He stood and stuffed the rest of the bacon into his pocket, settling Tuffy more firmly under his arm.

  Seth and I walked with Gary and Tuffy to the door. Seth gave Gary the rundown of what Tuffy did and didn’t like based on his twenty-four hours of experience. Gary nodded politely and tried to escape with his dog as quickly as possible.

  We opened the front door to flashing red and white lights. The police cruiser was pulled up to the front porch, crushing my mother’s favorite rose bush under its back tire. Gary was caught in the bright spotlight trained on the door. I spotted Tom Andrews inside the car, placing his bullhorn on the passenger seat. He must have reconsidered its use when we stepped onto the porch.

  Officer Andrews walked around the cruiser, tripped over the roses, and got tangled in the thorns. After extricating himself, he bounded up the steps and approached Gary, who stood with his mouth open while trying to keep Tuffy from struggling.

  “Gary Landess?”

  “Of course I am! You just talked to me this morning.” He shifted Tuffy to his other arm and lowered his eyebrows at Tom.

  “You’re under arrest for the murder of Sara Landess.” Tom tried to put handcuffs on Gary. Tuffy began to growl and show his teeth.

  “Let me take the dog, Tom,” I said.

  But as I reached for him, Tuffy growled more and bared his sharp-looking canines. Gary clutched the dog tighter, as if that would save him from what was happening.

  We appeared to be in a standoff. Tom held one of Gary’s wrists, Gary held Tuffy with his other arm, Tuffy growled and looked like an armpit barracuda, while I fretted over what my mother was going to say about the roses. Fortunately, Seth was there. He stepped forward and put out his arms for Tuffy. Tuffy stopped growling and wiggled enough that Gary had to let go of him, allowing Andrews to get the other cuff on him.

  “I have an alibi,” Gary said, arms behind his back.

  “Not anymore,” said Tom.

  He led Gary down the steps, and said, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used in a court of law. . . .”

  * * *

  “I knew it!” Violet said at dinner that night.

  We were gathered again around the dining room table, this time minus Baxter but plus Alex. I saw this as an improvement.

  “I never trusted him, or liked him,” Vi said around a mouthful of meatloaf.

  “It would have been helpful if you’d tipped off the police before they questioned him and then let him go,” I said, just because I was feeling irritable.

  “Well, I had no proof. Now that Mac is in charge, no one will listen to anything my clients have to say.” Vi’s cheeks flushed pink in outrage.

  My stomach dropped at the mention of Mac.

  “It’s true that things will be different now,” said my mother.

  “What do you mean, Nana Rose?” asked Seth.

  “There was a time when Crystal Haven had no crime to speak of, and when we did, we knew who the culprits were.” Mom looked from Seth to me. “We didn’t need to go around investigating and snooping. It all got worked out. . . .”

  My father reached over to pat her hand as she fought back tears. She was in a fragile state this evening. Gary’s arrest on her front lawn had disrupted a difficult reading with a client.

  I raised my eyebrows in Alex’s general direction but covered it by taking a drink. My mother’s volatile emotional states had been the subject of intense discussion over the years.

  “Tuffy told me ‘bacon.’ That’s what he said. I should have listened.” Vi punctuated each of these statements with a fist to the table. “And then Gary waltzes in here and gives the dog bacon!” She threw up her hands and looked around the table. “You never should have let him go after that.” Vi waggled her finger at me as if Tuffy had been somehow harmed by the evening’s events instead of sitting happily on Seth’s lap at the dinner table eating meatloaf.

  “What did you want me to do? He’s the owner. He came to get his dog.” I reached for, and knocked over, my wine-glass in my agitation; Alex caught it before it could spill but tipped his own water glass in the process. Mom jumped up to get a towel.

  “You could use the senses you were given and realize when a murderer is standing in your living room,” Violet said, ignoring the frantic activity around her.

  “If you want to know what my senses are telling me, I don’t think he did it.” I had to lean past Mom and Alex and the mopping frenzy to look Vi in the eye. “I don’t care what kind of alibi he does or does not have. It doesn’t add up to me. The divorce was over. They’d already had the worst of their conflict. Why would he kill her now?”

  “The tarot showed it was a man with money troubles that did it. I heard from Sara that Gary hadn’t managed his money very well after the divorce,” Mom said while she refilled the water glass.

  “Well, I guess that confirms it. Tuffy said ‘bacon’ and your cards clearly identify Gary, so let’s just bring all this evidence to the district attorney and we’ll be set,” I said.

  “There’s no reason to get snippy, Clyde. They’re just trying to figure this out,” Dad said.

  Violet and I were staring at each other, neither one willing to back down.

  Alex glanced from me to Vi. He hadn’t been in the middle of one of these fights since high school. Seth and Tuffy stared with wide eyes.

  “Stop it, both of you,” said my mother. “I agree with Clyde. I’m surprised that Gary is the killer.”

  Violet finally broke the stare-off, a win for me.

  “Let’s not turn on each other here,” said Dad. “The police know what they’re doing. They’ve arrested Gary, and that’s that.” He poured another glass of wine, ending the discussion.

  I was relieved that Dad felt that way. I hoped we could all go back to normal now that an arrest had been made.

  “I know . . . ,” Vi said, and drummed her fingers on the table. “We’ll ask the pendulum.”

  “Not the pendulum.” Alex groaned. He had not had good luck with the pendulum in the past. It was one of those things that Vi claimed anyone could do, but Alex had never managed to get that thing to swing. He was convinced that everyone else was moving it with their hands and he was the only honest one in the room.

  “What’s the pendulum?” asked Seth.

  “Well, we could do that.” Mom ignored Seth. “It is a yes or no question. Did Gary do it or not? I’ll go get it.” She hurried into her parlor and came back with a velvet pouch.

  She carefully tipped the bag onto the table. A pointed crystal attached to a short chain slid out. Seth’s eyes grew wide, my father’s eyes closed, and he seemed to be talking to himself.

  Vi produced a piece of paper that had a large plus sign on it. One direction indicated YES, the other NO. Mom and Vi flattened the paper in the middle of the table and muttered to each other about the proper orientation.

  “Okay, let’s ask the pendulum,” my mother said, surveying the table. “Clyde, do you want to do the honors?” She smiled as if she had offered me cake.

  “No. Why don’t you let Seth do it?”

  Vi and Mom exchanged a glance.

  “The boy has never done this. He doesn’t know how,” said Vi.

  “It’s not that hard. He can do it,” I said, holding her gaze. Alex snorted next to me.

  “Yeah, let me do it. What do I do?” Seth said, reaching for the crystal.

  Mom covered it with her hand. After a pointed look in my direction, she turned to Seth. “Hold the crystal and concentrate on your question.”

  She handed the crystal to Seth, careful to touch just the chain, allowing only his energy into the crystal itself. Seth gripped the crystal and closed his eyes in concentrat
ion.

  “What’s the question again?” he asked, one eye popping open.

  “Did Gary kill Sara?” Vi told the table as she cradled her head in her hands.

  “Oh, right. Got it.” Seth went back to concentrating. It looked painful.

  Mom used her soothing voice, and said, “When you’re ready, take the end of the chain and dangle the crystal over the center of the paper where the lines meet. Make sure it’s very still and that you hold your arm steady. Then ask your question.”

  Seth stood and uncoiled the chain, allowing the crystal to swing free. He steadied it and hung it over the center of the paper. The room seemed to hold its breath. We all jumped when Tuffy let out a sharp yip.

  Seth’s pendulum began to swing from the jerking of his arm.

  Vi looked at Tuffy, who was shivering again now that Seth had set him on the floor. “You’re fine. This won’t take long,” she said to the dog.

  Seth stopped the swinging crystal and held it over the paper again.

  When it was still he said, “Did Gary kill Sara?”

  The pendulum didn’t move. We waited. These things took time. After several minutes, my father eased his chair away from the table and snuck off to the living room to read the paper and listen to his police scanner. After a few more minutes, Seth lowered his elbow onto the table.

  Tuffy began a low growl but wagged his tail when Seth turned to look at him.

  “There’s something wrong. Ask again,” said Vi.

  “Did Gary kill Sara?” Seth asked, louder this time, as if the pendulum were hard of hearing.

  At last, it moved. We all leaned forward to watch. It was subtle but clear. It swung back and forth about an eighth of an inch along the NO axis.

  “That can’t be right. I’ll do it,” said Vi as she grabbed the pendulum from Seth.

  They wiped down the crystal with the velvet, and Vi took her turn. She got results within seconds. YES. We all decided on a tiebreaker. My best friend, Alex the traitor, voted against me, and I was chosen to hold the chain. My mother hadn’t looked so proud since I had predicted old Mrs. Dunhill’s death. She had been ninety.

  I held the crystal and felt it get warm in my hand, then hung it over the paper and stopped its movement.

  “Did Gary kill Sara?” I asked.

  The chain was warm in my fingers. I focused on keeping my hand as still as possible. I felt a muscle twitch, and the chain started swinging. NO.

  Vi grabbed the pendulum from me and thrust it at my mother.

  “You do it. You’re the only one who really knows how. You’ll be the final say,” she said.

  “But that was . . . ,” Alex started. I shook my head in warning. He caught on and sat back.

  My mother went through the whole process again. Her answer: NO.

  “Clyde, you have to talk to Mac,” Mom said.

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s obvious. The pendulum says it’s not Gary.” Mom gestured at the small piece of crystal. “Mac needs to know he has the wrong man in custody.”

  Alex grabbed his wine and took a giant gulp.

  “You’ve got to be kidding, Mom. Mac doesn’t believe in any of this. He won’t care what the pendulum has to say.”

  “But be sure he knows to look for someone who buys bacon,” Vi added.

  Mom nodded solemnly in her direction.

  “It’s practically impeding an investigation if we don’t tell him, Clyde.” Mom offered Alex more wine, and he held out his glass.

  “We could all be arrested!” Vi said.

  “Arrested? Who will take care of Tuffy?” Seth held Tuffy tighter on his lap.

  “No one is going to be arrested,” I said to Seth. “Fine, I’ll talk to Mac.” I had no idea how I was going to pull this off, but Mac would be easier to deal with than these two.

  “So can we keep Tuffy?” asked Seth. We turned to look at him and the ball of fur that was our only witness to Sara’s murder.

  11

  Wednesday morning started early for me. Tuffy woke up Seth with the sun and began whining to go out. After they crashed through the house and came back up the stairs, I was fully awake with no hope of going back to sleep. I got out of bed and went to my computer. I really wanted some coffee but didn’t want to risk going downstairs and meeting my mother in the kitchen. She was a morning person. I was a night person. Just one more thing we had to argue over.

  I checked my e-mail to discover that several friends were demanding I drive to Ann Arbor for a party that weekend. Not likely.

  A message from a friend in the department said they were still investigating the last case I had worked. I skimmed the details, not really wanting to know. They weren’t going to find anything that would fix what had happened. The decision about my police career would have to wait. I shut the laptop and decided to risk the coffee run.

  I crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky fifth step, and peered around the wall into the dining room. No sign of anyone. I didn’t hear any noise from Vi’s end of the house, but she hadn’t seen six a.m. in decades. I made it through the dining room and into the kitchen without incident. There was already coffee in the pot, which meant Mom was up, but where?

  I quickly grabbed a mug and poured a cup, liberally adding milk and sugar. I was just starting to rummage for some cereal when I sensed a shift in the room. I turned, but no one was there.

  Sometimes this house really creeps me out. My grandmother lived here all her life, and my mother and aunt swear she’s still here, even though they’d never “contacted” her. Every once in a while, I’m sure they’re right. You couldn’t grow up in a town full of mediums and not at least entertain the idea of ghosts.

  I stood there, waiting, feeling a cool breeze where there should not have been one, and then it was gone. I heard the tap tap tap of Tuffy’s nails on the hardwood, and he and Seth came into the kitchen.

  “Ahh!” Seth said. He jumped back and stepped on Tuffy, who squeaked and glared at me.

  “What?” I said.

  “You scared me. I thought I heard something, and Tuffy was acting scared, so we came down to check it out.”

  “He probably sensed I was about to eat,” I said.

  “Very funny. He’s more sensitive than you give him credit for.”

  “What were you going to do if you found something? Scream at it?”

  “No. I just . . . I didn’t know you were awake, and then you were standing there and you scared me, okay?”

  “Fine.” I poured the cereal.

  * * *

  I dropped Seth back at the house after our morning rounds. I had some work to do and needed to be alone. I wanted to talk to Tish again and see if I could get any more information out of her. I was still bothered by the sense that she knew something about Sara’s death. It was strange that the usually gossipy Tish hadn’t asked any questions about Sara’s murder or the investigation. And there was something going on between Tish and my mother. It wasn’t like her to just breeze in and then leave. She hadn’t even stopped to gush with my mom and Vi about her retreat. She used to spend every Friday evening at our house, but I had hardly seen her since I moved back home.

  I went straight to the Reading Room. It was a converted city building that was used for psychic readings. The city council also offered workshops on tarot reading and psychic development, mostly in the summer months. Only the psychics that had been licensed by the city could give readings there, and it was a great way to get new clients. Tish was a regular on Wednesday mornings.

  I approached the building with some caution, as I didn’t want to meet Harriet Munson. She was in charge of organizing who was in the building and when. I had been involved in a small infraction of the psychic licensing bylaws as a teenager. Occasionally, I had come here with Tish and had offered my own brand of psychic advice before I decided to give it up
forever. Harriet had never forgiven me for working without a license. And more than that, for telling her daughter that she should definitely pursue a career in acting instead of getting married. Harriet still didn’t have any grandchildren. It would be best if we didn’t cross paths.

  I ducked inside the door behind a group of tourists and spotted Tish sitting in her usual place. She wasn’t alone, but I had planned for that problem. Tish was very popular, and I knew it was unlikely she would be without a client. I tried to stay with the group and keep my head down. I hoped to sneak over to speak with her between readings.

  I couldn’t see who was with her, but she wasn’t giving a reading. Normally, during a session, she sat fairly still and seemed serene. Instead, she was gesturing and getting red in the face, arguing with whoever was there. The man was trying to calm her down. I couldn’t tell who it was. My group was heading in the wrong direction for me to listen in on Tish’s conversation. I was about to break away from them when I spotted Harriet across the room checking in another group of hopeful tourists waiting to hear their fortunes or to contact a loved one. She hadn’t noticed me. I was up on tiptoe to see over the person next to me.

  Tish didn’t look happy.

  “Clytemnestra Fortune! What are you doing here?” said a high-pitched voice.

  I slumped down off my toes and tried to blend into the crowd, which was much smaller than I originally thought, consisting of only four older women and me. Very few people still called me Clytemnestra. Harriet was one of them. Harriet’s short heels clicked their way over to me in quick, angry taps.

  “Hello, Mrs. Munson. It’s nice to see you after so much time.” I tried for the charm angle.

  “You know I don’t approve of unlicensed psychics in the Reading Room,” she whispered as she approached. She stood pointing her finger at me, bringing herself to her full five feet one inch.

  The ladies had pulled away from me at her approach, but now they began to edge closer again at the idea that I was not just a psychic, but a rule-breaking renegade psychic at that. I kept one eye on Tish and her visitor, but I still couldn’t tell what they were talking about. The acoustics were arranged to maintain privacy by several people working at one time in the same area.