Pall in the Family

by Dawn Eastman

  “Well, I’ll help you clean up, Seth,” Vi said. “Let’s get Tuffy settled in my living room, and we can fix up this room and Rose’s living room right quick.”

  The three of them scooted past my mother and disappeared down the hall.

  My mother’s face was returning to its normal shade of pale, which made me feel better.

  I knew what would calm her down.

  “Why don’t we have some tea, Mom?”

  “Okay.” She nodded slowly. “Then I probably ought to help them clean up, too. They’ll never do it right.”

  Over our cups of tea, my mother told me about Tuffy’s strange behavior that afternoon. He’d begun barking at the wall in the living room, cocking his head and looking up, wagging his tail a little. She had gone to get Vi to show her. They had gotten involved in a conversation about the neighbor’s cat and some gossip about their teenage daughter sneaking out at night. This made me grateful we’d never had a tattletale cat when I was growing up. By the time they went back out to find Tuffy, he had destroyed two rooms of the house.

  “Vi says it must have been Sara visiting Tuffy. Dogs can see Spirit better than we can. Sometimes it scares them. But really, did he need to shred every pillow in the room?” She tucked a stray hair back into what was usually a smooth bun.

  I felt a cold tingle run down my back when she mentioned Sara’s ghost. I thought back to that morning when I had felt something strange and Seth had said Tuffy was scared. Sensing, seeing, or talking to ghosts was not one of my gifts, thank goodness. But I had felt something. . . .

  “I don’t know, Mom. He’s a strange little dog. He’s always acted afraid of me, every time he’s seen me. The only person besides Sara I’ve ever seen him respond to is Seth.”

  “Well, at least we don’t have that small pony of Tish’s to deal with anymore.”

  “Mom, what’s up with you and Tish?”

  My mother suddenly took a great interest in her tea mug.

  “There’s nothing up with Tish. Same old, same old,” she said. But her voice was tight, and she had a death grip on the mug.

  “She hasn’t been here to visit since I moved in. She used to practically live here. What happened with you two?” I tried to catch her eye, but she avoided my gaze.

  “Oh, you know Tish. She can get herself all worked up over one thing or another.” She waved her hand to indicate the many things Tish could get worked up about. “She’ll come around.”

  “Yeah, but what is she worked up over?” I asked.

  “This and that. It has to do with the city council and Sara.” She stood and took her mug to the sink. “Nothing you would care about. Psychic stuff.”

  I hated this little game. She was trying to draw me in, and the next thing I knew I would find myself in front of the council applying for a license. Well, I had learned a few things since I’d left home.

  “Okay,” I said.

  As I walked out of the kitchen, I didn’t have to turn around to know she was staring after me with her hands on her hips.

  14

  I had left Seth and Tuffy to deal with the disaster at the house and finished the dog-walking on my own. It was nice to be out on a warm and breezy day walking the streets of Crystal Haven. But even the calming effects of exercise and gentle breezes through the trees weren’t enough to stop my brain from spinning with possibilities and suspicions. I headed to Diana’s hoping to catch her before closing.

  Moonward Magick was deserted. The Wednesday afternoon slump hit everyone, even the witches. Diana knew about my various battles with my mother and was always willing to listen. I found her in the back of the store, sorting through boxes of crystal balls and stands. She was muttering to herself and I waited, thinking she was casting some sort of selling spell. Then I heard “ordered three, not thirty” followed by a string of colorful profanity. I hoped it wasn’t a spell, or the person who had messed up the order was in for some interesting anatomical rearrangements.

  “Hey,” I said, and tapped her shoulder.

  “Aaah!” She dropped her packing list and spun around, eyes wild, her hand grasping for her necklace. This was an old and amusing trick. Diana was easily startled, but it never lost its charm.

  “You know better than to do that,” she said, clutching her amulet.

  “I do, but it’s really fun to watch,” I said.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t spin around and throw one of these at you.” She gestured to the crystal balls.

  “I came to hear the séance story, if you have time.” I glanced around the empty store and raised my right eyebrow.

  “Very funny. Okay, let me turn on the door buzzer. We can have some tea in the back, and you can tell me about your mother.”

  I sighed. She always knew what was really bothering me.

  After we were settled to her satisfaction with organic black tea and homemade carrot cake, she started her story. The séance had been scheduled partly as a demonstration, and partly at the request of Melanie Hicks. Melanie was recently widowed and desperately wanted to contact her deceased husband. Sara needed more people to complete the circle and, as word spread, the spots had filled quickly.

  “Obviously, Cecile and Joe Stark came,” Diana said through a mouthful of cake. “I think she’s addicted to psychics. Several of the readers in town will only see her once a year, but she has enough access that she’s probably getting a reading every week.”

  I nodded agreement about Cecile’s dependence on psychic advice. Some people did come to rely on it for just about everything, unable to make the slightest decision on their own.

  “There were six of us besides Sara, all sitting around the table.” She had closed her eyes, and she spoke as if she was seeing the table again in her mind. “Melanie, Tish, Milo Jones, Joe Stark, Cecile Stark, then me, then Sara.”

  “Cecile must have dragged Joe. I didn’t think he was into séances,” I said.

  Diana nodded. “I think she did. Milo seemed to be really interested, but Joe just looked uncomfortable. Anyway, the séance started, and it was incredible. Almost immediately the room became frigid.”

  “Had you been to one of Sara’s séances before?”

  “Yeah, once or twice, and she was really good, but I had never seen things happen that fast.” She sipped her tea, and her eyes stared past me for a moment. “The dead husband started to give a message to Melanie. He was talking to her about her golf swing, of all things. I thought it was pretty silly to come back from the other side and waste your time talking about golf, but she seemed to think that was typical of him. Then, right in the middle of his message, Sara’s voice changed, and another spirit seemed to come into the room. This one made everyone feel uncomfortable.”

  “Was it the sound of the voice, or something else?” I asked. I put my fork down and tried to catch her eye. But she looked down at her plate.

  “I don’t know how to describe it, but it seemed angry, and for the first time I was scared at a séance. Sara started saying, ‘Where are you’ and looking around the circle. She didn’t sound friendly. Then she looked straight toward the end of the table, and said, ‘No murder will go unpunished.’ I couldn’t tell if she was looking at Tish or Joe or Milo. They were all at that end of the table, and Sara was unfocused and still seemed to be looking for someone.” Diana had been mashing her cake with her fork and suddenly seemed to notice what she was doing.

  “What happened after that?” I was getting all the signals that I usually tried to ignore: buzzing ears, cold hands, tight chest. Something important had happened that night.

  “Tish broke the circle.” Diana shrugged. “She stood up and sort of stepped behind Milo and Joe. Sara looked at her, and said, ‘I know what you did.’ But I couldn’t tell if she was talking to Tish. Tish was totally freaked out and backed up into the cabinet Sara has there in the dining room. A few of the display plates f
ell and shattered. That was the end of the séance. Sara came back from her trance and was disoriented for a minute, but she quickly recovered.”

  “Did she remember everything that happened?”

  Diana shook her head. “I couldn’t tell. She acted like she did, but she ushered everyone out pretty quickly. The rest of us were shaken up and didn’t linger to discuss the séance the way we normally would. I just wanted to get home and get warm again.” She rubbed her arms.

  “Wow, it sounds like someone got a message. It’s just not clear who.” I’d lost my appetite and pushed the cake away.

  “Well, they never really did clear Milo of that whole mess in high school.”

  “That’s true. . . . Did the voice sound like a man or a woman?”

  “You know how these things are. It’s hard to tell.” Diana lifted her shoulder and tilted her head.

  “Tish has been acting really strangely. My mother says it has to do with the city council and Sara, but I saw her arguing with Milo over at the Reading Room this morning. Do you think she could have something to do with Sara’s death?”

  She finally raised her eyes to mine and took on her serious tone. “Clyde, Tish was more like a mother to you than your own mother. She was always there for you, for both of us, whenever we got in trouble. I just can’t imagine her hurting anyone.”

  I put my hand up to ward off any further lecture. “You’re right. I just don’t know what’s up with her, and I’m not convinced it was Gary who killed Sara.”

  “If they arrested him, it sounds like the police believe it was Gary.”

  “I know. Mac won’t even talk about continuing to investigate. I haven’t been able to talk to Tom.”

  “Well, Mac hasn’t had the best luck with psychic intervention. . . .” She sipped her tea again and then focused on her smushed cake.

  I chose to ignore the comment. We had been over this ground too many times. Diana knew Mac and I had clashed over my psychic abilities in the past. I was about to launch into a whine about my mother when the buzzer sounded.

  Diana jumped up and peeked out into the store.

  “I’ll have to go deal with this. It’s a whole group and they look a little lost.”

  “Okay, I should be getting home anyway.”

  After pushing my way out through the crowd, I walked toward the police station, where my car was parked. I checked my watch and tried to remember how much time was left on the meter. When not fighting crime, the Crystal Haven police aggressively ticketed all expired meters.

  Rushing to rescue my car from a ticket, I almost ran right into Sara’s daughter Alison, who stood outside the police station wiping her eyes with a wad of tissue and breathing heavily. We had met about a month before when I first started walking Tuffy. She didn’t see me coming, and I didn’t see her until I was almost on top of her.

  “Alison! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” I grabbed her shoulders to keep her from stumbling.

  “Oh, hi,” she sniffed. “I met you at my mom’s right? Are you a client?”

  “No, I took care of Tuffy for her.” I stuck out my hand. “Clyde Fortune.” She briefly gave me a damp, limp hand. Must have learned that from her father.

  She nodded. “I remember. You’re the brave one taking care of him.” She gave me a watery smile.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.” She took a shaky breath. “I just found out that it was my statement that got my father arrested.” Tears began leaking out of her eyes again.

  “What statement?”

  “I don’t know if I should be talking about this.” She glanced back at the police station. “But you were a friend of my mother’s, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I think so. I didn’t know her well, but we were friendly and my mother was very close to her.”

  “Oh, right, Rose’s daughter!” She rummaged in her pocket for more tissues. “My mother adored her.” This statement brought on a new round of tears.

  She scrubbed her eyes, smearing mascara onto her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after cleaning up her makeup using a small mirror she produced from her bag. “What were you saying?”

  I reminded her about the statement.

  “Oh, yeah. I’d given my father an alibi for the morning of my mother’s . . . death.” More tears but not as many.

  “And then you changed your statement?”

  She nodded while she looked for more tissues.

  “I know he didn’t hurt her, but after I talked to Tish, I just couldn’t lie anymore.”

  “Tish? What does she have to do with this?”

  Alison seemed to be gaining control of the tears. She took a deep shuddering breath. “She stopped at my apartment to tell me how sorry she was about my mother, but also to say she had been in contact with her and that she said I should always be truthful.” Alison’s eyes were wide and sincere.

  “Tish told you your mother wanted you to be honest? So you came to the police station and changed your statement, removing your father’s alibi?”

  She nodded. “I just wanted to protect him. I know he wasn’t at my mother’s house that morning, but I couldn’t lie anymore and say he was with me.” She gestured with her wad of tissues. “Her death has to have something to do with whoever was tormenting her on the Internet.”

  I was completely lost and must have looked it.

  Alison took a couple of bracing breaths. “There was someone who was threatening my mother through her website with comments on her blog. Whoever it was accused her of putting on a show to cover her lack of talent. They said she should stop doing séances or face the consequences. At first she just shrugged it off, but I know it started to bother her. That’s who they should be looking for; my father didn’t do anything.” This led to another round of sniffles and eye-dabbing.

  “What happened when you changed your statement?” I feared my question would set her off again, but I had to find out how much trouble Tish had caused.

  “My dad is scared. He won’t reveal his alibi, and since we lied, they think he did it and that I was protecting him. He’s facing murder charges, and they’re deciding whether to charge me as an accessory—to my own mother’s murder!” She began sobbing in earnest, and all I could do was gently pat her shoulder and murmur soothing lies about how it would all work out.

  * * *

  That night, Seth and I stood near the back porch steps and played fetch with Tuffy. It had been a tough day for all of us. Tuffy was no longer welcome in the house without an escort. He may or may not have been visited by his dead owner. Sara had accused someone of murder at her last séance, only we didn’t know who. Tish was acting strangely, and my mother was keeping something from me. Seth was sulky and I didn’t know if that was normal teenage behavior or some other thing to worry about, and Milo (Stark) Jones was back in town.

  “What do you think will happen to Tuffy?” Seth interrupted my morose thoughts with his own brand of doom and gloom.

  “I don’t know. Gary can’t take him right now, and it doesn’t sound like Alison will want him. I’m not really up on the custody rules with dogs. Maybe they’ll interview him and let him decide.” I tried for a smile, but Seth seemed to take this suggestion seriously.

  “I hope he picks me. I really like him.” Seth kicked at the grass. “I’ve never had a dog.”

  “We’ll have to wait and see what happens, Seth. I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”

  “I don’t think Gary did it. But I also don’t think Tuffy would want to live with him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know.” He continued to study the ground.

  “Well, Tuffy didn’t seem that happy to see him, I’ll give you that. But he was never happy to see anyone, except Sara and you.”

  “Vi says it was probably Gary, bu
t she never liked Gary and she lets it color what she thinks,” he said to his shoe.

  “She does have strong opinions. . . .”

  “Well, you can’t let your opinions influence what the animals are trying to tell you.”

  I turned to look at him in the fading light. His face was turned away from me, watching Tuffy follow the scent of a rabbit or squirrel, which was hours old but still entertaining.

  “Who do you think did it, Seth?”

  He shrugged. “But whoever it was scared Tuffy to death.”

  15

  I found myself on Thursday morning waiting for Mac in a coffee shop. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in just three days. I picked apart my scone and slowly sipped my coffee. The Daily Grind, owned by Alex’s partner, Josh, had the best coffee in town and the best scones in my known universe. It was small, with a half dozen tables in dark wood to match the counter, and two highly coveted couches. The room held the blended aroma of fresh-brewed coffee, cinnamon, and sugar. Mac was almost never late. I checked my watch, sighed, smiled at Josh. I had asked him once if I could live there—just use a sleeping bag in the back office—but he’d started in on health codes and whatnot. The only reason I had procured a table was because it wasn’t a weekend. The locals avoided the coffee shop on Saturday and Sunday as it became a take-out-only type of place by necessity, with a line snaking out the door and spilling into the street.

  Finally, I saw Mac round the corner down the street. I tidied the area to make it seem like I had just sat down, and looked at Josh with one finger to my lips. He shook his head and shrugged.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late. I got held up at the station and couldn’t get away,” Mac said as he limped into the café.

  “No problem. I just got here myself.” I waved off his apology. I heard a distinct snort from behind the counter but didn’t risk sending a glare that way.

  Mac left his cane at the table and went to the counter to order. When he’d settled with his food, he smiled and rubbed his hands together. Mac loved coffee and, apparently, scones.