by Leena Clover
“You are the one keeping us here, right?”
“Madam, a crime has taken place here. A man has lost his life. I need to carry on my investigation.”
“Then do it already!” Madam Isadora ordered.
She swept in and pulled out a chair. Her ample form was soon settled into it oblivious to Stan’s protests.
“We are following a process here, Madam. You can’t just butt in.”
“You were planning to talk to me?” she asked imperiously, barely waiting for Stan to nod. “Then do it now.”
“We were just going to break for lunch,” I told her.
“Lunch isn’t ready yet,” she smirked. “What do you think I bin waiting for all this time? It’s past 1 PM.”
Stan sighed and pulled out a fresh piece of paper.
“Is there any information you want to volunteer?” he asked sullenly. “Or am I allowed to ask my own questions?”
“Ask me anything you want,” Madam Isadora offered.
She had pulled out a pack of cards from the folds of that hideous purple outfit. On closer look, I realized it wasn’t your ordinary deck. She began shuffling the cards as she waited for Stan to speak. The cards didn’t fly out of her hands this time.
“The cards are behaving themselves today,” she observed, picking up on my thoughts. “I knew!”
“What did you know, Madam?” Stan stirred.
“There’s danger here, of course. Knew it as soon as I laid eyes on this one.”
She pointed at me and I shrunk back.
“Had a black cloud hanging over her head, she did. Never to be overlooked, a black aura. Evil was lurking right there.”
“Meera’s alright,” Stan commented lightly.
I didn’t know what he meant by that.
“Did you notice any peculiar auras around anyone else?”
“Red,” she hissed. “His aura was red. I shoulda known. I thought it was the flame of love but it was a warning, of course.”
“I presume you are talking about the victim?” Stan sighed.
“Of course I am. He should have been blue, considering he was living a happy life with his family. But he was purple when I first got here and he slowly turned red.”
“How many colors are there in an aura?” I quizzed.
“Several,” Madam Isadora said eagerly.
“Is there only one color at a time, or are there many shades fused together, like in a rainbow?”
“Rainbow auras are sacred,” Madam Isadora said, sucking in a breath. “Only the most accomplished healers exhibit that kind of energy.”
I had been shooting in the dark. I didn’t know what to say to that.
“What is your profession, Madam?” Stan interrupted. “I need to write it down for the record.”
“I’m a psychic healer,” she said flatly, holding her hand out toward me.
I stared back at her blankly.
“Cut,” she ordered, tipping her head at the deck of cards.
I mutely picked up a few cards and put them on the table.
“What is it you do exactly?” Stan continued, looking bewildered.
“I connect people with their loved ones, tell fortunes…it’s hard to list everything I do.”
“What were you doing here?” he asked.
“I was hired by Mr. Frank.”
“To do what, Madam? Tell fortunes?”
“I was the entertainment for the evening,” Madam Isadora waved her hands in the air. “Most people are ignorant about the spirit world. They ask us to exercise our powers and then make fun of them.”
“Why did you agree to come if you think that?”
“This is my livelihood,” Madam Isadora said, summoning a sad expression. “I hate to be the object of ridicule but I need to pay my bills like everyone else.”
“What were you supposed to do exactly?”
Madam Isadora looked uncomfortable for the first time.
“I have fixed packages. I read a couple of auras, tell some fortunes and do some tarot readings. It depends on what the client wants.”
“What did Mr. Frank go for?”
“He doubled my fees for two days and offered to pay for my travel. Plus he set me up in this mansion and allowed me to be just like any other guest.”
“In exchange for what?”
“I was prepared to do any number of readings. There were no limits.”
“How did he find you?”
“I have several wealthy clients,” Madam Isadora smirked. “Someone must have recommended me.”
“Do the people who hire you believe in all this stuff?” I burst out. “I heard old Mr. Frank wasn’t into astrology.”
“Most of them do, I guess,” Madam Isadora shrugged.
“But you’re not very particular about it?” I pressed.
She looked away, refusing to answer.
“Did you talk to Mr. Frank yesterday?” Stan asked.
We knew she had met him in his study. We would learn how honest she was soon enough.
“We had a brief meeting,” she nodded. “That was before I dressed for dinner.”
“So it was around six, maybe?” Stan asked.
“Before that,” Madam Isadora corrected. “The clock chimed six when I was going up to my room.”
“What did you talk about?”
Madam Isadora turned grim.
“That is confidential.”
“The man we are talking about is dead,” Stan reminded her. “There is nothing confidential in a police investigation.”
“We discussed what I was going to do that evening.”
“You talked about your act, you mean?” I prompted.
“If that is what you want to call it…yes.”
“Did you talk about anything else?” Stan probed.
Madam Isadora shook her head, shuffling her deck of cards again.
“How about a reading?” she asked Stan. “I sense loss. Let’s see what the future holds for you.”
“Let us focus on the questions, please.”
“Don’t be shy. Let’s do a Celtic Cross spread. Or a quick Three Card.”
I don’t know about auras, but Stan Miller’s face was certainly beginning to turn red.
“Please don’t make me ask this again. Did you talk about anything else?”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Was anyone present there at the time?”
“No, unless you count the cat.”
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” I asked her.
Madam Isadora launched into a story about her own feline friends.
“Did you notice anything strange since you got here?”
“Everything here is strange to me, Officer,” Madam Isadora said in a high handed tone. “I have never visited the state of Oklahoma before.”
“I mean, did you notice anyone behaving in a peculiar manner. Did something strike you as extraordinary?”
“I didn’t expect to see a stripper at a Christmas party,” she snorted. “I mean, sure, we are not that archaic down in N’orleans. But I didn’t expect they would be giving out lap dances at a mansion like this.”
Stan turned a deeper shade of red.
“Was something like that going on here?”
“Like what?”
“You just suggested that the young girl called Crystal was offering certain services to the guests.”
“When did I say that?” Madam Isadora cried out. “Don’t put words in my mouth, you weasel.”
Stan had pushed himself into a corner. He spent some time pacifying the queen of tarot. She relented after he groveled for a while.
“Did you see or hear any arguments between Mr. Frank and anyone else?”
Madam Isadora bobbed her head.
“They were fighting like cat and mouse. Him and that wife of his.”
“Where?” Stan asked in alarm.
“Right here,” Madam Isadora pointed to Stan. “He was sitting in that chair. She was pacing the room.”
&nb
sp; “What time was this?”
“It was before I went to my room to get dressed. Around 6 PM.”
“But didn’t you say you met the old man in his study and there was no one else there? When did he come and sit here?”
Madam Isadora frowned.
“I don’t know. I came out of the study, see? I passed through this hall to get to the stairs. He was sitting in that chair. He was working from home, I think.”
“Who was sitting in that chair, Madam?” I asked.
“Mr. Frank, of course.”
“I think she means Ted Junior,” I explained. “You didn’t see the old man in this room, did you?”
Madam Isadora looked at us as if we had lost our minds.
“How is that possible? I met old Mr. Frank in his study. Then I saw young Mr. Frank sitting in that chair. This is the younger one’s office, isn’t it?”
Stan was beginning to look harassed. I was feeling the pangs of hunger myself. We really needed a break.
“Is there anything else you want to bring to our attention?” Stan asked brusquely.
“I have appointments lined up back home in New Orleans. I really need to get going.”
“Have you looked outside?” Stan burst out. “The roads are not accessible. There is nothing I can do about it. I still advise you to stick around for a couple of days. You don’t want to go back home and come back just to answer some questions, do you?”
Madam Isadora had picked up Stan’s pencil. She plunged it inside her turban and began scratching her scalp. The turban tilted a bit to one side. A meow sounded outside the door.
“That must be Chorizo,” I smiled. “She misses us.”
Madam Isadora flung back her chair as she stood up.
“We are done here,” she declared.
She swept out as soon as I opened the door, brushing past Chorizo. Chamberlain stood outside. He must have been waiting for us.
“Lunch is served,” he said with a bow.
I hurried down the hall toward the dining room, Stan a step behind me. I would function much better on a full stomach.
Chapter 15
I entered the dining room to find everyone assembled around the big table. I squeezed into a seat between Motee Ba and Tony.
“Found anything yet?” Motee Ba whispered.
I shook my head.
“There’s a lot of information. But I haven’t really made much sense out of it yet.”
“Do you suspect anyone in particular?” Tony whispered.
I shook my head, choosing to keep my silence. Maybe lunch would be more enlightening. I realized the killer was probably sitting there at that table. I decided to observe them one by one.
Amanda gave some sort of nod and Chamberlain pulled the covers off a couple of platters.
“We don’t have any maids or serving staff today,” Amanda told us. “We will have to serve ourselves.”
Everyone started passing the food around. The cook had put up a decent meal and all that could be heard for a while was the clink of silverware against the plates.
“Any luck with the investigation?” Ted Junior asked Stan.
Was he concerned about getting justice for his father? Or finding out if it was time to run?
“We are still conducting our first round of interviews,” Stan told him.
“We are getting more snow today,” Pappa spoke up. “I saw the weather forecast.”
Amanda looked worried. She must be getting tired of playing hostess.
The seat at the head of the table was empty, Theodore Frank being conspicuously absent. Sophia Frank sat at the other end of the table looking morose. She seemed to have lost her bluster. She was just a poor old woman, trying to cope with an unexpected loss.
The group seemed to have retained their appetite. We ate through pretty much everything on the table. Noah was sitting next to Amanda, talking to her under his breath. How could Ted Junior not find something suspicious in their behavior?
Naps and games were discussed after we adjourned to the living room. Julie was trying to talk Madam Isadora into doing a tarot reading. Henry Robinson and her sister sat in a corner, talking to each other. The massive room felt over heated.
“Let’s go take a walk,” I said to Tony, springing up from the couch.
Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Stan Miller was sprawled on a chair, his head listing to one side. He seemed to have dozed off. I didn’t need his permission to go out.
We bundled up, Motee Ba calling out to make sure I covered my head or neck or some such thing. She had pressed a thick woolen scarf on me. Santa’s elves had cleared some paths around the house. I wondered how many people actually worked on the Frank estate. It looked like someone had been shoveling snow off the internal roads. Could any of these unseen workers have entered the old man’s study the previous night?
I forced myself to think of something other than the crime. It wasn’t too hard with Tony for company.
He placed an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” he asked.
“Do you think their flight will be delayed?” I asked.
Tony caught on right away.
“When are we picking them up from the airport?” he asked.
“Tomorrow night.”
I was talking about the rest of my family, my brother Jeet, Sally and her daughter.
“Are you sure it’s tomorrow night? I thought there were two days in between.”
“Two days in between yesterday,” I told him. “Today’s the 21st, right? They come here on the 22nd. We have one day in between for last minute shopping and then it is Christmas Eve.”
“You think we can get away from here by tomorrow?” Tony frowned.
“Not likely. Certainly not if it snows again today like Pappa said.”
“I’m getting tired of hanging around here. There’s only so much pool you can play.”
“I haven’t called Becky at all,” I gasped. “She must be worried. You think folks in town know about what happened last night?”
Our town may be small but we have a fully functional grapevine. It hardly takes a few minutes for any news to spread through town. I wondered if the snow had brought down the communication lines.
I asked Tony for his cell phone and dialed my best friend Becky.
“Where have you been, Meera?” she screamed in my ear. “I have left five messages since this morning. Sylvie’s worried too.”
“Is the diner open today?” I asked.
“Of course it is,” she said. “It was hard getting here this morning but we managed. Folks are walking in. Some people came in on skis. Can you imagine? In Swan Creek?”
I looked up at Tony and shook my head. Becky didn’t look like she was up to speed.
I asked her to stop and gave her the short version. There was a stunned silence.
“How do you do it?” she asked. “I bet your Dad isn’t pleased you are involved in yet another murder investigation.”
“He can’t do much,” I said. “We can’t leave until someone clears the roads out here.”
Tony was beginning to look bored. I hung up and took his arm. We picked a path and started walking away from the house. There was a building a quarter of a mile away.
“We haven’t gone on our annual shopping trip,” Tony whined.
Every year around Christmas, Tony and I hit the malls in Oklahoma City. We shop for the family and then we split up and shop for each other. We have lunch in the food court and try something from all the food joints. It’s a fun day, a tradition we look forward to all year.
“We’ve got time,” I soothed.
“You’ll be busy once your Mom gets here.”
“I don’t have anything planned with her,” I told him.
I had finally accepted that Sally was going to be a part of our lives. She had a big mansion in Beverly Hills but she had chosen to make her home with us. I was becoming used to having her
around. This would be our first Christmas together as a family. Her daughter Cristina was an unexpected bonus as Dad said. Unexpected headache was more like it, I thought sourly.
“You always wanted a baby sister,” Tony reminded me.
He is good at reading my mind.
“Not this way,” I muttered.
“Do you know how lucky you are to have siblings?” he asked.
Tony is an only child.
“Count your blessings, Meera,” he said seriously. “Your prayers have been answered. Not everyone is so fortunate.”
“I’m grateful, Tony,” I said earnestly. “You know I am. It’s just…”
Sometimes I can’t explain my behavior to myself.
“You are afraid…you think it will all go away. So you are acting out, trying to tell yourself it doesn’t matter to you.”
Tony is quite perceptive that way.
“Let’s talk about something else. What about new year resolutions?”
Christmas is also the time we talk about the future. We generally make lofty plans for what we are going to do in the coming year.
“I’m going to lose ten pounds by Spring Break,” I declared.
I almost always resolve to do that. My resolutions fly out the door with one look at Sylvie’s pecan pie.
“I’m going back to school,” Tony said seriously.
I stopped mid stride and stared at him.
“That’s sudden.”
“It’s high time I did something with my life, Meera.”
“Are you going to be a hotshot city lawyer then?”
Tony had been in law school when he suffered a setback. He had come back home, devastated. He had been moping around, running a gas station.
“You showed me it can be done, Meera.”
I had been working on my own unfinished thesis.
“Will you go back to Texas?” I asked dryly.
I suddenly felt empty. I had become used to having Tony around.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to spend some time there I guess. But I won’t move there this time.”
“Do your parents know?” I asked him.
“I’m still thinking about it. This is the first time I have said it out loud.”
“You should do it,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. “We are with you.”
We had reached the barn. I pulled at the door, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. Tony and I looked around in awe. It was a garage of sorts.