by Mary Marks
“That’s a pentacle, yes.”
Jazz gazed at his cards as he sorted them. “Ooh, these are beautiful.” He held up a card marked Queen of Wands—a crowned woman holding a flowering staff in her hand and sitting on a throne. A lion and a black leopard rested at her feet. “They don’t look anything like regular playing cards.”
“That’s right,” Freddy said. “And each card has a meaning or characteristic associated with it.” When we finished sorting, he said, “This group of fifty-six cards is called the Minor Arcana, or lesser secrets. In reading the tarot, these cards deal with day-to-day situations. Now check out the twenty-two cards left over. These do not come in suits. They’re all different. They’re called the Major Arcana, or greater secrets, and deal with more significant events.”
“So are the Major Arcana the fortune-telling cards?” Giselle asked.
Freddy shook his head. “All the cards are not used just to tell us our fortunes and enlighten us about the choices we have in life. Tarot can’t tell us what to do regarding the future. It can only show us possibilities.”
He spent the rest of the morning talking about the history of tarot and how it started in Europe as a card game until the fifteenth century, when it became associated with the metaphysical. Some theologians went so far as to claim the tarot revealed ancient wisdom and divine inspiration. We learned that, over time, the tarot deck changed in composition and size (one version boasted ninety-seven cards and included astrological symbols and symbols of the four elements).
At noon, Freddy announced lunch was being provided in the Mystical Feather Society dining hall. “It’s just a short walk up the driveway. You can leave your classroom materials here. They’ll be quite safe with Little Fawn.”
That was the first time I noticed the girl had slipped into the bookstore area and sat quietly watching us from one of the plush purple chairs. She gave me a slight smile and waved her hand in greeting, causing the long sleeve of her white robe to slide back toward her elbow. I noticed with some alarm what seemed like small vertical scars on her wrist.
Giselle headed toward the genderless restroom, and Jazz approached Nkwa. “I love your hat, and I’m dying to know how you make it stand up like that.”
While they chatted, I walked over to Little Fawn. “How are you doing today, sweetie?”
She sighed. “I’m better, I guess. The sheriff finally took the yellow tape off of Royal’s house. I went inside and got my things.”
Five minutes later Jazz, Giselle, Nkwa, and I followed Freddy up the road, past the unlocked gate, and up the bumpy driveway. Giselle leaned toward me and whispered, “I didn’t spill the beans, did I, Sissy. Sometimes you don’t give me enough credit.”
I was breathing too hard to respond. I just nodded. We finally reached the top of the driveway and walked on level ground. By the time we reached the long, low building that served as the kitchen and dining hall, I felt like I’d climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Long tables with benches ran down the length of the green room. Someone had painted a mural featuring fruits and vegetables along the end wall. The piquant aroma of something delicious came from the kitchen and sharpened my appetite. Ten people, three of them nude, sat together eating and listening intently to Claytie Tolliver.
Darn! What if he recognized me? I retied the scarf under my chin babushka style and pulled it forward to hide my face. I turned my head away and prayed he didn’t notice me.
Freddy beckoned us to sit with him at another table, thankfully located on the other side of the room. A basket of fresh hot rolls nestled in a red-and-white-checked napkin awaited in the middle of the table. I tore a steaming roll in half, spread pats of soft, yellow butter on both pieces, and watched it melt.
Almost immediately two white-robed women carried out trays of food. They placed generous bowls of hot vegetable and barley soup in front of us.
One of the women said, “Is that you, Martha? You never said you were taking Freddy’s class.”
Oh no. “Hello, June.”
Freddy stopped eating, raised his eyebrows, and stared at us. “You know each other?”
“Oh yes,” June said. “I met Martha at that safe house in Encino last Sunday. Turns out, Martha is one of the people who found Royal’s body.”
“What?” Freddy’s smile evaporated.
“Yeah. Martha told me she feels guilty about getting those two psychics she brought with her in trouble. I’m guessing she’s trying to find out who really killed Royal.” She gave me a tight smile. “Right?”
Crap!
Freddy studied me for a moment. Then comprehension changed the expression on his face from curiosity to... what was it: panic, fear, anger? The edge of his voice sliced through the air like one of the swords on the tarot cards. “Is this true?”
I forced a smile. “Well, I did say I came because I was curious.”
CHAPTER 21
Immediately after learning I was one of the people who found Royal’s body, Freddy smiled woodenly and stood. “Excuse me, I just remembered I left something in my room.” He hurried out of the dining hall.
June Tolliver’s face wrinkled in confusion. “But your soup will get cold.”
Giselle and Jazz looked at each other with wide eyes.
Nkwa said, “What just happened?”
“I’ll find out.” I got up from the table and hurried outside.
I found Freddy standing in front of the meditation yurt.
He waited for me to approach then looked around to make sure we were alone. “You’re the one who brought my brother and sister up here? Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m a friend of your family, Freddy... or shall I call you by your real name, Andre?”
“Shh!” He looked around again. “Why did you come back here?”
“Paulina and Mansoor, or Michael, or whatever you call your brother, are worried sick about you. They asked me to find out if you are still alive. Why did you stop communicating a month ago?”
“You know about that?” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Things out here were much worse than I expected. Royal had this nasty habit of randomly showing up in people’s rooms and going through their personal stuff.”
I wasn’t surprised. Birdie and Denver had said that when they returned from a hike in Sedona, they discovered Royal inside their Winnebago. “Go on.”
He opened his eyes and frowned. “One day I caught him in my room going through my papers. Luckily, I had taken my cell phone with me. But I figured if he ever got hold of my phone and saw my text messages, I’d be thrown off the mountain. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“You know, Martha, they say people sometimes disappear from here forever. So, I deleted all my messages and my contact list. That way, if he ever did manage to steal my phone, he’d find nothing.”
“Why didn’t you warn your family what you were about to do?”
“I panicked. It wasn’t until after I sanitized my phone I realized I should’ve told them.” He blew out a breath. “Who else knows about me?”
“Giselle and Jazz know. My fiancé, who is a federal agent, knows. The FBI knows, and I think by now the Ventura County Sheriff knows.”
“Jeez!” He hung his head. “You can’t blow my cover with the people up here.”
“Why not? Royal’s dead. Why continue to pose as Freddy Pea?”
“Me and Paulie and Mikey want to give Mystical Feather back to our mother. Where it rightfully belongs. But we can’t do that yet. There’s other stuff going on up here.”
“So, why didn’t you contact your family after Royal was killed to let them know you were all right?”
“I know this is crazy, but, at first, I wasn’t sure if Paulie or Mikey or both of them had gone off the deep end and shot Royal. I wouldn’t blame them if they did. Our uncle deserved what he got.”
“And now? Do you still think one of them could’ve done it?”
He shook his head. “No way. Natasha’s spirit told me the killer
is still on the mountain.”
Again with Natasha’s spirit? “Did you kill Royal?”
“Martha, if you could read my aura, you’d see pure blue.” He tried to charm me with a crooked grin. “I’m just not capable of murder. I’m a professional intuitive. I help people.”
“Where were you when your uncle was shot?”
“In the bookstore.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I was alone.”
“Did Natasha’s spirit happen to mention who did kill him?”
“Not yet. She said, ‘The killer will be revealed when the motive becomes clear.’ ”
“Why doesn’t someone just ask Royal’s spirit who his killer was?”
“Oh, Martha. You have so much to learn. Contacting the dead simply doesn’t work that way. His spirit is still disoriented by his sudden death. He’s not ready to communicate yet. I can tell you this, though. Royal used people. And when he used them up, he got rid of them. Any one of his victims could’ve shot him.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, we need to get back to the dining hall. I’m sure people are wondering what’s going on.”
“I’ve got more questions.”
“Later. Right now we need to get back. I can’t blow my cover yet.”
“After class is over, then?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Okay. You will keep my secret, won’t you?”
“For now.”
“I’ll call Paulie tonight to tell her I’m okay.”
Freddy and I sauntered back into the dining hall with reassuring smiles pasted on our faces.
As soon as we sat in our places at the table, Nkwa looked at me. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing bad,” I said.
Freddie cleared his throat. “I come from a long line of gifted psychics and mediums. Royal St. Germain was someone I looked up to.” He picked up his spoon and swallowed some soup along with the lie. “He was a mentor. His death hit me hard. When I found out just now that Martha had actually seen his body, I sort of lost it. But I’m better. Thanks for asking.”
I had to admire Freddy/Andre. He was as smooth a liar as I was. So, how much of what he’d told me was the truth? Had I just been conned by Royal’s killer?
After lunch we returned to the teahouse at the bottom of the hill for the remainder of the day’s lesson. Going down was easier than climbing up. Different leg muscles. Unanswered questions raced through my mind. Was Freddy really in the bookstore when Royal was shot? What was the “other stuff going on” he mentioned?
At one point his voice cut through my thoughts. “The querant, or seeker, cannot be a passive participant. Although she must approach the session with a specific question in mind, the tarot will not reveal her fortune but will address the essence of her inquiry.”
I raised my hand. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’ll use my recent traumatic experience as an example.” Freddy ran his fingers through his hair. “Suppose I was looking for a specific person. The wrong request would be, ‘Who killed Royal St. Germain? ’”
My whole body tensed, and I could feel Giselle shift in her chair beside me. I glanced at Nkwa, who seemed mildly curious but calm.
Freddy continued. “The tarot cannot provide such a specific answer. The proper question would be, ‘What path of inquiry should I follow?’ or, ‘Am I on the right path to find those answers?’ ”
He looked straight at me. “Do you see the difference?”
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
“Good.” He turned his wrist to look at his watch. “We have about an hour left. Time enough to do a reading for each of you.”
Jazz beamed. “I’ve always wanted to do a tarot reading.”
“Good. I was hoping you would.” Nkwa did a little chair dance.
Freddy rubbed his hands together and picked up a deck of cards and shuffled them. “There are different patterns for laying the cards on the table when reading tarot. There’s one design for True Love, which uses six cards; another for Success, which uses five cards; another for Spiritual Guidance, and so on. The more complicated spread is called the Celtic Cross, which requires ten cards. In the interest of time, I’ll do the simplest spread of three cards for each of you. Even though it’s simple, it can be the most powerful. So, think of a question. You first, Martha.”
“I want to know if I’m looking in the right places for answers.” If he knows something more, something he hasn’t told me, maybe he’ll reveal it in this reading.
“That’s a good example of an open-ended question to ask the tarot.” He handed me the deck of cards and I shuffled them four times as instructed. Then I cut the deck in half and he dealt three cards from the lower half.
The first card he uncovered was the Moon card with a painting of a woman wearing a long white garment against a dark blue background scattered with white stars. Behind her head shone a large white moon emitting light rays of white and blue and yellow.
Freddy smiled. “The Moon card is one of the Major Arcana. It tells you that you have great sensitivity and imagination. It also tells you to trust your inner instincts. Don’t let your rational mind interfere with what your body is learning from the universe.”
Jazz nodded. “I can vouch for the fact Martha has great intuition.” He turned to Giselle. “But she’s not always right.”
Giselle poked his arm. “Shh. Don’t interrupt.”
The next card Freddy uncovered was upside down. It showed the King of Swords, a man wearing a crown dressed in red and purple, sitting on a throne with purple snakes in the background. “This card is one of the Minor Arcana. It represents your rational, analytic mind. In the reverse position or upside down, it cautions you to be extra analytical. Thoroughly examine ideas and theories you may hear and don’t rely on assumptions. Use your own judgment.”
The third card, the Three of Cups, showed a woman and a man dressed in flowing blue and green robes. She held a golden chalice, while he hoisted an infant in the air. The details were outlined in black, suggesting segments in stained glass. “This card is also part of the Minor Arcana. It represents cooperation and teamwork. Don’t rely on yourself alone as you follow your path. Remember to turn to your support network for help and encouragement.”
“He’s right, Sissy. Don’t run off on your own like you sometimes do. That has gotten you into real trouble in the past.”
My tarot reading was disappointing. It encouraged me to keep on going, but I didn’t hear anything specifically helpful. On the other hand, what was I expecting? Like the daily horoscope in the newspaper, the advice Freddy gave was vague enough to apply to anyone. Still, a small part of me wondered if there was a hidden message in his remark about “teamwork.” Was he hinting he wanted into my investigation? If so, why? And what else did he know?
As Freddy conducted three more readings, I admired the art nouveau illustrations on the cards he used. We learned in class that tarot decks weren’t all the same. Literally hundreds of versions existed, many of which had themes like fairies, animals, fantastical creatures, or Egyptian gods. The artists’ mediums also varied, including colorful woodblock prints, paintings, photographs, or even black-and-white etchings.
Sometimes, inspiration for quilts could come from unexpected places. For example, it occurred to me that tarot illustrations could translate beautifully into appliqué patterns. I visualized a quilt with twenty-two blocks, each showing one of the Major Arcana. The possibilities were limited only by the quilter’s imagination.
When the class finally ended, I got up to stretch. Little Fawn signed with a furtive wave that she wanted to speak to me privately. I acknowledged her with a slight nod of my head and made my way slowly to the door in back. Once we were both inside the kitchen/office space, she closed the door and said in a low voice, “I’m not sure what this means, but I thought it might be important.”
She pointed to the screen of the laptop sitting on the desk, displaying an Excel document labeled “Bookstore and
Teahouse Accounts Payable.” Running down the rows on the left side of the page were the names of publishers and vendors, presumably providing merchandise for the bookstore and teahouse. The twelve columns across the top represented months in the previous year.
At first, the document looked ordinary. But when I looked at the totals in the thirteenth column, I realized what Little Fawn was showing me. Some of the totals boasted five or six figures, far more money than needed to stock the small Mystical Feather Bookstore and Teahouse. Where was that money really going? And how did Little Fawn manage to come across this bombshell?
“Whose computer is this?”
“Freddy uses it. He runs the bookstore.”
“Do you have regular access to this computer?”
She looked at the floor. “No, I’m just one of the helpers who works in the tea room.”
“So, what made you look? And how did you manage to find this particular file?”
“As soon as Freddy saw me this morning, he closed the laptop real fast, like I wasn’t supposed to see what he was doing. When he started the class out there, I got curious. So, I opened the laptop to see what was the big secret. The file popped up on the screen because he hadn’t had time to close it out.”
“Wasn’t the laptop password protected?”
She smiled. “Yeah. But I’d seen him start it up a bunch of times. I knew where he kept the password.” She pulled out the right-hand drawer on the desk, reached underneath, and showed me a yellow sticky note with a complicated alpha-numeric string. Then she replaced the paper and closed the drawer.
I had underestimated the girl and apparently, Freddy had as well. She might have been misguided in love, but that didn’t mean she was stupid. “Well, what do you think this is, Little Fawn?”
She raised her chin. “I think Freddy was stealing money.”
Embezzlement. Would that be a reason to kill Royal? “Have you told anyone else about this?”
She shook her head.
I closed the laptop. “Good. Let’s keep this to ourselves for now. Don’t let anyone—especially Freddy—know what you discovered. Can you do that?”