Knot of This World

by Mary Marks

  She was silent for a moment. “About ten years. From ninety-five to two thousand four. I joined right after I finished law school and passed the bar.”

  “During that time did you know of anyone who mysteriously disappeared?”

  Jill gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God. About five years ago, I tried to contact my friend who still lived there. Royal said she ‘just up and left without explanation.’ ” Her eyes grew misty. “I never believed him. Nina and I were very close. She wouldn’t just disappear without contacting me. Do they have any idea who was buried there? Do you think it could be Nina?”

  “According to Detective Washington, they’re probably still digging up the remains. She told me the sheriff will reveal the details in a press conference.” I shifted in my chair. “If I may ask, why did you leave the mountain?”

  “He didn’t want to be a father.”

  “Let me guess. Royal?”

  She nodded. “He could force me to leave the mountain, but he couldn’t force me to have an abortion or leave Ojai. My friend Al Peabody gave me a job and helped me negotiate a settlement. Royal agreed to pay me child support in return for two things. One, I would do all Mystical Feather’s legal matters for free, and two, I would never tell our child who his father was. Our son Stormy was born in February two thousand five. Royal’s been sending me child support every month since then.”

  “How awkward was it to maintain a connection to the man who banished you from Mystical Feather?”

  “Actually, it wasn’t that bad. Royal was never really nasty or abusive. He was just self-centered. I knew what I was getting myself into, right from the beginning of our affair. He never hid the fact he didn’t want complications, like children, in his life. So, as long as he kept sending money for Stormy, I was okay with our arrangement.”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but what do you tell Stormy about his father?”

  “You know sulky teenagers. He’s angry because he thinks his father abandoned him. However, now that Royal’s dead, I have no reason not to let him know who his father was. I just need to pick the right time.”

  “Do you know of any other children he fathered?”

  Jill shrugged. “I knew there were more before me and after me, but I didn’t want to get involved. For Stormy’s sake.”

  I conjured a picture in my mind of the spreadsheet Little Fawn showed me. Of course! A piece of the puzzle finally became clear. Andre was tracking bogus payments; like the monthly checks going to Carstairs Consulting. Royal wouldn’t have been able to legally use trust money to pay child support. To get around that, he created phony accounts. I wondered how many of those “vendors” were actually former lovers and their children.

  What if Royal had stopped making payments? What if one of his former girlfriends got pissed off enough to kill him? What if Jill killed him? Her son was one of his heirs and would have a legitimate claim to his estate. As a lawyer, she’d make sure of that. And what about Stormy? Did he somehow discover who his father was? Just how angry was he? Could he have killed his own father?

  I said, “The person who’s the prime suspect for Royal’s murder needs an attorney. Can you represent him?”

  “I don’t do criminal law. Why is your friend a suspect?”

  “Eugenie St. Germain didn’t die on that mountain, Jill.” I told her how Eugenie fled for her life, changed her name, and had three children. “All three of those siblings had a strong motive for killing their uncle. But I don’t believe they did it.”

  Jill put away the vaping pen and pursed her lips. “I’m tempted to help Andre with his legal problem. He’s Stormy’s cousin, after all. But that would pose a severe conflict of interest. However, there’s someone here in Ojai who’s really good.” She wrote a name and number on a piece of paper. “I’ll contact him and tell him to expect your call.”

  I took the paper and recognized the name as one I’d seen on my internet search. “Thanks again for your time.”

  “Not at all.”

  We rose and shook hands.

  I retraced my steps to the tea shoppe and bought two chocolate éclairs to go.

  Before I started the car for the long drive back to the Valley, I called Paulina.

  “Were you able to find that lawyer in Ojai?” she asked.

  “I did better than that. I just walked out of her office. Her name is Jill Carstairs. Because Mystical Feather is her client, she can’t help Andre. But she gave me the name of someone up here who can.” I read the information to her. “How is Andre?”

  “He’s meditating right now. Trying to get his center back.”

  “Does he plan to return to the mountain?”

  She paused. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Well, tell him to be careful. Royal’s killer may still be around. What about you and Michael? Going to the jailhouse to fetch your brother must’ve been a yucky experience.”

  “I’m fine. Mikey’s taking his third shower. Listen, Martha, thanks for the help.”

  “You’re welcome. Ask Andre to call me when he finds his center.” I ended the call.

  I kept thinking about those chocolate éclairs all the way back to Encino. At six thirty I finally pulled into my driveway, exhausted and in need of a quick sugar fix. I lifted an éclair out of the bag and took a bite before I ever reached the kitchen. I ate the other one while watching Jeopardy!

  I never did hear from Andre.

  CHAPTER 27

  Tuesday morning I woke up feeling almost pain free. I quickly dressed in jeans and straightened up the house for the Tuesday morning quilters. I brewed a fresh pot of Italian roast five minutes before everyone arrived.

  Lucy showed up with Birdie, a plateful of oatmeal cookies, and the pregnant young Ivy. The girl could’ve been mistaken for Lucy’s granddaughter—they both had flaming red hair, only Lucy’s looked more orange and came from a bottle. Birdie had also added new color to her white hair since I last saw her, streaks of purple in addition to the turquoise.

  Giselle walked in and stopped short when she saw Birdie. “My God. You look just like My Little Pony. How long do you have to go around like that before the color washes out?”

  Ivy stifled a giggle.

  Jazz was the last to arrive, carrying Zsa Zsa in a blue denim tote with little mesh windows for the dog to look out of. “Good morning, everyone.” He took Zsa Zsa out of the carrier. She ran straight to my cat Bumper’s bowl on the kitchen floor and loudly lapped up water.

  “I’m off sugar,” Jazz announced. “I brought a healthy alternative for a change.” He opened a grocery sack and removed a round plastic tray from the supermarket with cut veggies arranged in little communities of color. He placed the tray on the glass coffee table, along with a half-pint container of baba ganouj and one of hummus. “Just a reminder, no double dipping allowed. It’s unsanitary.”

  “I’m surprised you care,” Giselle waved her hand, “since you let your dog drink out of the same bowl as Martha’s cat.”

  He lowered his eyelids halfway. “I do worry my baby might catch something awful from the cat. No offense, Martha.”

  When everyone was settled and sewing, Birdie said, “Lucy told me how you found a body on the mountain. And to think Denny and I were ready to join that group....”

  Tears slid down Ivy’s cheeks. “I’m having a killer’s baby.”

  “I’m surprised to see you again,” Giselle addressed Ivy. “I thought your aunt was going to send you a plane ticket back to Ohio. Or was it Idaho?”

  Ivy’s hand flew to her belly in a protective gesture. “Indiana. My aunt lives in Indiana. When I told her I was pregnant, she changed her mind about me coming home. She said she put in the effort to raise me even though I wasn’t her child. And now she expects me to do the same for my baby.”

  Birdie reached over and patted her arm. “Don’t worry, dear. You can stay with Denny and me as long as you need to.”

  Lucy and I glanced at each other. That’s our Birdie
, her expression said.

  I told them about my visit to Jill Carstairs, the lawyer in Ojai, and how the disbursements to “Carstairs Consulting” were really child support payments in disguise. “I wouldn’t be surprised if those other inflated vendor accounts in the Mystical Feather Foundation were the same.” I turned to Ivy. “Did Royal ever mention helping you and the baby financially once you left the mountain?”

  She slowly wagged her head and avoided my eyes. “He just told me since I insisted on keeping the baby, I had to leave.”

  Didn’t Jill Carstairs tell me Royal made it clear from the beginning he didn’t want children? “I’m curious, Ivy. Did the two of you ever discuss what would happen if you got pregnant?”

  “He said he didn’t want children. But I thought he was just afraid. I thought he’d change his mind once he saw our baby, you know? But when I found him with the new girl,” her timid voice became hard around the edges, “I knew we would never be a family.”

  She looked up and something about the glint in her eyes made me wonder. Could this young woman have killed St. Germain, the father her baby would never know? Was Birdie unwittingly giving shelter to a killer?

  We sewed in silence for a few minutes.

  Even Ivy was stitching. Since our last visit, Birdie had tutored her in the fine art of appliqué. This morning the young newbie sat patiently laying invisible stitches around the outside of a pink heart shape on a cream-colored background. “I’m glad Birdie’s teaching me how to appliqué. I think this is going to be the most beautiful quilt in the whole world. I’ll keep my baby wrapped in it all the time.”

  Birdie’s smile lit up her face. If she wondered about the girl’s innocence, she didn’t show it. Had Ivy touched a spot in the childless Birdie’s heart much like a daughter or granddaughter would have done? I hoped for my friend’s sake I was wrong to suspect Ivy killed St. Germain.

  Suddenly Ivy winced. “Ow! I stuck my finger with the needle. And... oh no! I got some blood on the fabric.”

  “Don’t worry about a little bit of blood,” said Lucy. “You’re not the first person who’s bled on their quilt. There’s an easy quilter’s remedy for that. Just spit on the blood and watch it dissolve.”

  Ivy wrinkled her face. “Huh?”

  “Just do it,” Lucy pointed to the fabric in Ivy’s hands. “A person’s saliva is the perfect solvent for their own blood.”

  Ivy spit delicately on the fabric. “Wow! It really works.”

  As I reached for an oatmeal cookie, Jazz picked up a celery stick and loaded it with baba ganouj, a puree of roasted eggplant. He thrust it toward me. “You should try this instead, Martha. It’s much healthier. From the way you were huffing and puffing up that mountain on Sunday, don’t you think a little self-discipline in the food department would be helpful?”

  Even though he criticized my wardrobe every chance he got, Jazz had never made a crack about my weight. He must’ve seen my surprise because he hastily added, “You know I love you like a sister, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I had a dream last night that you were the one lying in that grave. When I woke up, the message was clear: Tell Martha to stay away from sugar.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the warning, Bro.” I bit into the cookie.

  Later that afternoon, when I was alone again, Andre finally called. “I wanted to thank you for finding that lawyer. He said he’d take my case.” His deep voice was strong and betrayed little concern. “I’m feeling much more confident now.”

  “That’s a relief. Listen, Andre, I saw your spreadsheet in the computer at the bookstore.”

  “How... ?”

  “Little Fawn. She’s smarter than she looks. Anyway, I think I discovered what those inflated vendor accounts were all about.” I told him about Jill Carstairs and her son, Stormy. “So actually, you have at least two cousins we know of: Stormy Carstairs and Ivy’s baby. There are probably more of them floating around. I have to warn you they may come forward to claim Royal’s estate.”

  “I don’t care about his personal things. Let them have it. But control of the Mystical Feather Trust and the society belongs to my mother.”

  “What will you do if they challenge your claim?”

  “Fight for what’s right. I read my tarot this morning. The Six of Cups came up reversed. So did the Tower. But the High Priestess was upright.”

  “Sorry, Andre. I tried to be a good student, but the significance escapes me now. What does it mean?”

  “Big changes coming. Upheaval. Crisis. Uncovering secrets. Letting go of the past. I was really encouraged by the cards. Our success rests on our willingness to move forward, and I’m ready. Even my brush with the sheriff fits into the picture the cards drew for me. It forced me to finally reveal my true self.”

  “As Eugenie’s son? As Natasha’s grandson?”

  “Of course. I tried to tell them it was Natasha’s spirit who directed me to explore the mountainside for graves. Of course, they didn’t believe me.”

  “Has Natasha spoken to you recently?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you. She came to me in my meditation yesterday and told me what to do. I’m going back to the mountain tomorrow to find a killer. And you’re coming with me.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Wednesday morning I rolled out of bed after a restless night alone. As I waited for the coffee to brew, I turned on news radio and learned that two federal agents were injured in a sting operation the night before in San Pedro. The agents had seized a large cache of assault weapons destined for Mexico. If guns were involved, so was the ATF.

  I shivered. Crusher still hadn’t called. His undercover assignments with the ATF were the most exciting for him and the most difficult for me. I knew my fiancé well enough to be confident he could take care of himself in a violent situation. But that didn’t stop me from worrying.

  Andre Polinskaya showed up at my house at ten on the dot. He had shaved off his beard and once again looked like his New Jersey driver’s license photo. His clean-shaven face bore a strong resemblance to Paulina and Mansoor: black hair, high cheekbones, and dark, almond-shaped eyes. He gave me a hopeful smile. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded and looked around for the car he came in, but nothing was parked in my driveway or on the empty street. “How did you get here?”

  “Paulie dropped me off. She and Mikey wanted to come with us, but I told them to stay away. If something goes horribly wrong and you and I don’t make it back, there will be two people who’ll know where we went and why.”

  Somehow his explanation was less than comforting. “Aren’t you being a little over pessimistic? The killer can’t possibly think nobody would investigate if we went missing, too.”

  He shrugged. “People have died up there, Martha. We have to be very careful.”

  He had a point. We got in my Honda, backed out of the driveway, and headed for the 101 freeway going north.

  “So, why did Natasha’s spirit tell you to take me—of all people—back to the mountain? I’m not an Adept. I can’t read people’s auras, nor can I tell what someone’s thinking.”

  Andre chuckled. “You’re closer to being Adept than you think. Your intuition is sharper than most people’s and you’re really smart. You see patterns other people may overlook. You’re compelled to solve puzzles. And you have a strong sense of justice. Natasha said you’d be my perfect counterpart.”

  I took my gaze off the road long enough to scowl at him. “Are you serious? I never even heard of Madam Natasha St. Germain until a couple of weeks ago. How can Natasha know about me in such a short a time?”

  “There are no physical barriers in the spiritual world. Time and space don’t exist either. The spirits can see everything and go everywhere. You really should read Natasha’s books.”

  Like that will ever happen. “If Natasha’s spirit is really all-knowing, why didn’t you just ask her who killed Royal?”

  “She doesn’t work that way. She suggests or she points me in a c
ertain direction. I think she means for me to discover the facts on my own.”

  “There are other spirits where Natasha came from. None of them would tell you who the shooter was?”

  “Think about it. If I made claims and accused people on the basis of what I learned from the spirit world, who would believe me? No, we need to find something even the skeptics in law enforcement can understand.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. We need evidence or a confession.”

  We drove in silence for the next five minutes. I thought about all the people who held a grievance against St. Germain. The three Polinskaya siblings topped the list. They had the most to gain from his death—control over the Mystical Feather Society and the trust money. However, my gut told me to look elsewhere. Was this feeling of mine what Andre called “sharp intuition”? Or was I merely being blinded by my fondness for Paulina?

  In addition to the siblings, on the list of victims were the various women Royal had seduced and then discarded. We still had to identify who all of them were. Using the spreadsheet Andre had put together, we could track who he was paying off. Any one of them could’ve snapped. And what about Jill Carstairs’s troubled teenage son, Stormy? Was the kid angry enough to shoot the father who rejected him? Finally, there were the families of members who had disappeared. In the past, the FBI had failed to locate any bodies. Did some relative decide to carry out a little vigilante justice?

  When we passed the town of Westlake Village, the freeway narrowed, and traffic slowed a bit. Andre cleared his throat. “Uh, is your friend Jazz married?”

  “No, he lost the love of his life a couple of years ago. Why? Are you interested?”

  “Yeah. Is he involved with anyone?”

  “He used to have someone, but I think they’ve broken up. Isn’t he a little bit old for you?”

  “I prefer someone more mature.”

  Who was I to judge? There was a similar age difference between Jazz and his late partner, and their May-December relationship lasted for twenty-five years until the older man’s death.