“Has Callandra gotten back to you yet?” Kendall always felt strange, addressing Brynn by her fortunetelling name.
“Oh yes. We did a reading over the phone. It was wonderful, so helpful.”
Kendall wondered if the big question had still been that of Leona’s mortality, but didn’t ask. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“Can you join us for some dessert?”
“I’m afraid there’s no dessert on Morrie’s menu. Not unless you two would like to split a candy bar.”
“I make a wonderful candy-bar torte. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime, won’t she, Russell?”
“We’d be honored,” he said.
“I’m afraid I have to leave. I think my order is ready.” Morrie had three brown bags on the bar waiting for her. “I’ll tell Callandra you liked her reading.”
Russell stood and followed her to the bar. “Let me give you a hand,” he said and picked up her bags.
She tried to tell him she could handle it, but he was already walking to the back of the room, headed to the stairway to the apartments. When they arrived at her door, she opened it and thanked him.
“Have you given any thought to my dinner invitation?” he asked. “I could offer you something a little more substantial than a fish fry.”
A quick feeling of warmth swept through her at his nearness, his friendly smile, and his obvious interest in her. Should she tell him she wasn’t available? She wasn’t even sure what her situation was right now. Maybe a friendly dinner was just what she needed; it wouldn’t be as if she were cheating on Nash. But it didn’t feel right, not until she knew where things stood with them.
“Your offer is tempting, but I can’t right now.”
“I hope you won’t mind if I keep trying.”
“Not at all. And I’ll call you if my situation changes.”
She watched as he turned and went back down the stairs, thinking how easy it would have been to take him up on his offer. Chuck this greasy food and forget all her problems for a few hours.
Brynn had dinner with Kendall then returned to her own apartment later after she and Kendall had gotten Shirley situated for the night. The dog, still somewhat lethargic from the pain pills she’d been given, quickly fell asleep again after they took her on a short walk.
There was another meeting tonight of the grief support group. Brynn thought she should go, but didn’t feel much like going out. She looked in the mirror. Her nose, determined by the doctor Eileen had insisted on taking her to, not to be broken, was still swollen and bright pink. In sharp contrast to her white hair and pale complexion, it stood out like Rudolph’s on Christmas Eve. But she wanted to talk to Alice and Joel again, see if she could get a feel for if Alice had killed Wetzel.
She opted to go and added her blonde wig and a layer of makeup to dull the redness. She’d use the usual excuse for a battered face—she walked into a cabinet door. It wasn’t until she was on her way to the meeting that she realized she was going back for more than one reason. Even though she’d exaggerated the impact of her father’s death on her life and told them a big tale about how he died, she had to admit she enjoyed the welcoming feeling the group shared.
Alice and Joel greeted her warmly and encouraged her to sit next to them. Brynn didn’t know why, but when it was her turn, she talked about how much she liked being independent now but admitted it was hard to keep up with the costs of living on her own. She even shared with the group what had happened when she tried doing background checks and admitted she did card readings. They listened, enthralled, and made comments like, “how exciting,” and “it’ll all come together for you.” Feeling guilty that they were being so nice to her when she was there under false pretenses, she hurried to leave when the meeting ended.
Alice intercepted her.
“Will you do a reading for me?”
Brynn handed her one of her Callandra cards.
“I like the name. Callandra sounds so exotic,” she said. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
Feeling uneasy, Brynn said, “Sure.”
“How about right now?”
“I couldn’t. I don’t have the cards with me.”
Alice persisted. “You said you use an ordinary deck. I’m sure there are plenty of cards around here. They have a game night once a week.”
“Alice,” Joel said, “You’re putting Billie on the spot. She probably needs a special deck.”
Brynn did feel put upon to perform. She didn’t think she’d feel right doing a reading for Alice, but then, if she did, maybe she’d find out what she wanted to know—if Alice was the one who dropped Wetzel off at the wrong house and left him to die.
Kendall stopped at the theater to see Nat on the pretext of catching up, even though the schedule on rehearsal nights seldom varied. When she saw Kendall, Nat explained that she couldn’t take a break in the middle of rehearsal. After promising her she’d get in touch at a more opportune time, Kendall left the same way she had come in. Conveniently, she passed the wardrobe room where she quickly found what she needed. She pulled a white lab coat off its hanger and headed for her car.
Visiting hours at the hospital had ended more than an hour earlier, and the halls on Nash’s floor were quiet. Kendall had her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, wore no makeup, and had on a pair of nonprescription eyeglasses that she used occasionally when doing surveillance. The plan was to simply walk into his room as if she were hospital personnel, check his wristband, then excuse herself and leave. Her only words to the man she adored would be, “Sorry, I must have gotten the room number wrong.”
The door to his room stood open. With her heart beating much faster than her footsteps, she entered the room. Kendall kept a straight face, but only barely, and walked over to his bed. The bed had the head cranked up and Nash, engrossed in a TV program, appeared not to have heard her come into the room. When he noticed her, he took off his headphones. His head was swathed in bandages, one arm was in a cast, and the bruises on his face had reached a putrid shade of purplish-yellow like lilacs in July.
Thankfully, the room was dark except for the light from the screen and a small lamp next to the bed, or he might have noticed her eyes moisten.
“You’re not another vampire, are you?” he quipped. “They already came for their pint about an hour ago.”
“No, I’m not here to draw your blood.” She approached him and reached for his wrist, pretending to read the name on the hospital ID band. “In fact, you aren’t Mr. Richards. I’m in the wrong room.”
He grinned. “No problem. Stop in anytime.”
Trying to control a trembling lower lip, she managed a weak smile before turning to leave. “Sorry for the interruption.”
She rushed out and ran to the nearest ladies room, where she emptied her stomach of her supper. Nash hadn’t recognized her. Kendall’s heart felt like it was being torn in two. She reminded herself that the only important thing was that he was going to be all right.
A broken heart was nothing compared to his life.
54
Through a small part of one window that wasn’t completely covered with grime, Rachel Geror saw the sky darkening. Her body ached with pain.
Her captor had shown up earlier today, at what she guessed was his lunch hour, although time had become rather undefined. He approached her without a word and released her only long enough to drag her to a pail in the corner of the room where he watched while she relieved herself. Then he chained one of her arms and proceeded to perform his disgusting acts again, taking his time with each one, and inflicting as much pain as possible in the process. Rachel, despite her earlier resolution to fight him off, did nothing, realizing that fighting him merely stoked his cruelty.
How pathetic it was that all she could think of was hoping he’d satisfied himself so he would leave her alone during the night. The police had to be looking for her. She couldn’t stop believing that they would show up any minute now. Hope of being rescued was the onl
y thing keeping her alive. Blessedly, she passed out.
55
Brynn, Alice, and Joel were the only people remaining in the church basement when Brynn picked up the worn deck of Bicycle playing cards. The overhead lights were off and the room’s only source of light was from an old lamp on a spindly blond end table next to an even older teal-blue sofa in the corner of the room. A few card tables were set up with a gray metal folding chair at each place, and one of the tables held a jigsaw puzzle with the border outlined, the rest of the pieces scattered in the middle.
Brynn took a seat across from Alice at an empty table. She’d never done a reading with a deck other than the one of Vadoma’s she used at home. For her purposes, the one Alice handed her would be fine, although Brynn felt that somehow Vadoma’s wisdom came through when she did readings with the old woman’s cards. Now she just had to figure out what to “see” in the reading to make Alice give her an indication of whether she had killed Wetzel.
After shuffling the cards, she handed the deck to Alice and told her to do the same. Brynn took the deck back from her.
“Is there something you want to ask about?”
“Yes. I want to know if my ex-husband had something to do with Charles Wetzel’s death. He’s the boy—well, man really—who killed my children.”
Brynn nearly fell off the chair but was saved from reacting when Joel said, “Now, Alice. That’s all over now. You need to forget about it.”
“I can’t. I keep telling you that. Danny said he wanted to kill him, remember?”
“But that was years ago,” Joel said. “And Charles Wetzel is gone. It’s time to let it go.”
Alice sniffed, ignoring her friend’s advice. “He probably waited until no one would suspect him anymore.” She turned to Brynn. “That’s what I want to know—if my ex-husband killed Charles like he threatened. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” Brynn whispered, stunned by the irony of what she’d just heard, and turned over the first row of four cards. Their faces blurred in front of her. It didn’t matter what she said anymore; she had her answer. There was no reason for Alice to ask that question if she had been the one to leave Wetzel in the snowstorm. Or was there?
“These four cards represent your past,” Brynn said. “They show that your life was interrupted at some point. Interrupted by something tragic, something that left you with a lot of pain.” Alice was nodding. Brynn could see Joel’s skepticism. What she just told Alice was, after all, not a new revelation. Brynn turned over four more cards.
“These represent your current state of mind. They say you’ve overcome the pain and are ready to begin your life again.”
Alice’s eyes glistened with tears.
Brynn turned over the third row. “These are your future. They show a turning point, a new direction, possibly a new relationship. A baby will play an important role in your life.” Alice, smiling now, had received assurance that her life was going to improve.
“What about my question?” she asked.
Brynn turned over the last four cards. “The cards agree with Joel. You need to move on. Enjoy what life has planned for you and forget about the past. There’s nothing here to imply that your ex-husband had anything to do with Mr. Wetzel’s death.”
Alice clapped her hands together. “That was wonderful. Thank you for indulging me. Do Joel now, okay?” Joel’s expression soured. He looked like he would rather have his fingernails ripped off, but Alice wouldn’t let it go.
She turned to Brynn, “Go ahead. Do him. I’ll pay for it.” Joel said nothing, and Alice seemed oblivious to his discomfort. She was too caught up in her own satisfaction.
Uncomfortable, Brynn answered, “You don’t have to pay me.” Brynn had what she wanted. Unless Alice happened to be an accomplished actress, she hadn’t been the one who left Wetzel to die.
The dark basement was getting colder; apparently the heat went down automatically after the meeting, and the group assistant had turned off the ceiling lights as she left. The damp, the chill, and the paltry, indirect lighting made the atmosphere creepy. Brynn wanted to be at home with a cup of tea, and Malkin on her lap. But she’d put herself in this predicament by talking about her card reading. It would be best to just do it and leave as quickly as possible.
When Brynn laid out the first row of cards for Joel, they read much like Alice’s, not surprising since, like Alice, Joel had a tragic past. For his question, Joel asked if he would be rich someday, an obvious attempt to keep things light.
The next row, expressing his current state of mind, was different. The cards were all black suits. Possibly, they merely represented his discomfort. But an awful chill ran through Brynn, one that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
She gave him the mildest explanation. “This row shows that right now you’re uncomfortable with what we’re doing. You shouldn’t be. A card reading is simply a guide to help you understand where you are right now.” Joel smiled weakly.
The cards for his future got even more interesting—another row of black cards with only one red one—a predominance of malevolence. Brynn memorized the layout to study later. She said, “They don’t say anything specific about your future, just that you are the one directing it. Don’t let outside influences lead the way. Follow your heart.”
The last row at least showed some positive elements for the answer to his question “Will you be rich?” Brynn said, “The possibility is there, again if you follow your own interests and don’t do what others may want you to do.” Brynn was making it up as she went along. She suddenly realized there was a familiarity about the layout; many of the cards were exactly the same as the ones Kendall had laid out for Leona that had really been about Kendall. Both layouts had something to do with Wetzel.
Brynn fought to keep her face from revealing her increasing unrest. Was Joel the one who had something to do with Wetzel’s death? The man, obviously in love with Alice, could have done it for her to put her mind at rest about her children’s deaths.
Alice, delighted with the readings, forced a check on Brynn, then stood up and suggested they all go somewhere and have something to eat. Her treat.
“Uh, sorry, but I can’t. My dog’s been sick, and I need to get home and give her a pill.” Brynn saw relief in Joel’s eyes. He wanted this session over with as badly as she did.
When Brynn got home there was a note under her door telling her that Kendall had given Shirley her pain pill and the dog was sleeping so soundly when she left that she didn’t want to wake her up to take her back to Brynn’s apartment. Kendall and Shirley were bonding.
Brynn rushed to her card-reading table and unwrapped her reading deck from its silk covering. Before she forgot the exact placement, she laid out the same cards she’d turned up for Joel.
She heard a soft knock on her door. Expecting it to be Kendall, she opened it to see Ryan.
“Hi. Have an extra cup of tea around?”
Brynn knew he didn’t like tea. Something was on his mind. “Sure. Come on in.”
Like he always did, he looked around the room. “Just do a reading?”
“Something like that.”
He stood in front of the cards. “So what are they saying? Some little old lady only has two weeks to live?”
Should she tell him? Ryan approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey. Something’s bothering you.” He pointed to the cards. “Is it this?” You can tell me anything, you know that.”
Now she had to tell another lie. She couldn’t tell anyone what she suspected about Joel. Not until she had time to review the cards and think about it some more.
56
The next morning’s meeting with all the detectives did nothing but remind them of how little they had to go on. The only new break was the report from Holmes’ computer. Not that it helped anything now, but it turned out he’d been working as a smut broker. Anyone looking for a select type of porn could have Holmes locate it for a fee; his specialty being the darker
perversions.
After the motorcycle incident, Schoenfuss had agreed to put surveillance on Dalton. Overnight surveillance. Dalton hadn’t left his house the night before. If he was the one who kidnapped Rachel Geror, he had to be visiting her during the day.
“We’ll never get the okay to watch him 24/7,” Paula complained.
“Do we even know anything for sure about this guy?” Someone else asked.
“We do,” Ross said. “We found a dead girl in his garbage. And three nights ago, he snuck his bike out of the garage to take a joy ride. He must have been visiting Geror wherever he’s holding her.”
“But where? It has to be indoors with the weather we’ve been having, and the guy doesn’t own any property.”
“He could have an apartment under another name,” Paula suggested.
“Wait a minute,” came a voice from the back of the room. “I own a Harley and my wife hates the noise it makes when I take off. I always wheel it over a block or two before hitting it. Didn’t anyone think of that?”
Ross answered and told the guy it was possible, definitely something to check into. He had mentioned that point to Kendall the night Dalton went out on the bike, but Kendall, doubting that Dalton’s after-hours ride could have been completely innocent, hadn’t given it much credence.
Kendall concluded the meeting. “Thanks for all your hard work.” She nodded toward the back of the room. “And good suggestion about Dalton’s Harley. Since you came up with it, I’ll assign you the pleasure of going back and talking to his neighbors again. Find out if he’s always that courteous when he leaves on the bike. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
Ross joined her as she walked back to her desk, his left arm in a sling to take pressure off his broken collarbone. “I told you that about the Harley. That guy could be right. Dalton lives in a quiet neighborhood.”
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