The Power of Faith: Science Fiction Faith Ferguson Series Book 3

by Andrea M. White

  “Maggie, I didn’t kill Ian, but I am glad that he won’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Why are you here?” Maggie asked.

  “You’ve been up to something.”

  “See you are a witch. Why don’t you just compel me to tell you what you want to know.”

  “I’m a doctor, Maggie. I want to see you get well.”

  “I saw what you did to Laura and me.”

  “You did.”

  Maggie was stunned at the validation. The reason Faith gave it was that she genuinely wanted Maggie to get well and felt that her consistent denial would make that impossible. She would not, however, add any fuel to the fire.

  “Finally.”

  “But that’s it, Maggie. That is the last that I will ever speak with you about that night, or that subject, again. Now try to heal. Tell your doctors about the abuse, the delusions. You didn’t kill those men, did you?”

  “No.”

  “And dancing around with your patients playing witch didn’t make any of you any better, did it?”

  Maggie shook her head.

  “Get better and build a new life. I will add both my professional and personal weight to seeing that you stay in the hospital. It’d give me no pleasure to see you in jail. But Maggie, whatever else you’re up to has to stop. It won’t change my mind. I know that you’re very ill, but it might change a judge’s.”

  “Do you have to go?”

  “I do. I am not the best doctor for you.”

  “You are.”

  “No, for whatever reason, I bring out the worst in you. There are fine doctors here. They can help you. Now let them.” Then Faith bent down and whispered, “And one more thing, if you do come at me again, it’ll be the last thing you do in this life.”

  This overt threat shocked Maggie, and she looked Faith directly in the eye. In the end, Maggie had witnessed, first hand, Faith’s power as she extricated Ed and herself from Maggie’s custody, and she did not want to be on the receiving end of Faith’s wrath ever again. But she was, as Faith had said, very ill and right now the peace she’d received from being validated, was being beaten back by her delusional mind.

  ******

  Home from her field trip, Faith asked her houseguest, who had his face buried in his laptop, what he was reading.

  “Reviews of course,” Finn said.

  “And?”

  Finn looked up with a serious face.

  “What was not to like?” Faith said, appalled and confused by the idea of a poor review.

  “Nothing. They were dazzled. Olivia Abernethy gave me an exceptional write-up.”

  “So, what’s wrong?”

  “I think you were right, there’s something out there, and I think Olivia might be involved.

  “Really,” Faith said, “I didn’t get that.”

  “No, she’s not a bad person, but she was at Finley’s yesterday, and there was something.”

  “You want me to look into it?” Faith asked.

  “Not yet. I like her. There’s no reason to jump the gun. We’ve got Duncan and Padraig here. We should be able to deal with any threat, major or minor, that presents itself. I’m heading off to my place. Probably won’t see you till tomorrow. Unless you’re coming over?”

  “Might be. I’ll text you.”

  “Text?” Finn said with a grin.

  “Text,” Faith said. “Might as well be as normal as we can.”

  Right,” Finn said, giving her a bear hug. “I love staying with you.”

  “Love having you here, Faith said he released her from his embrace, and she waved him out the door.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After revealing his true nature to his partner, the previous afternoon, Ed was feeling more than a modicum of uncertainty as he walked into District Four.

  He tried, however, to exude a casual air, and as Ed handed Paul the coffee he’d picked up for him, said, “You know, we never talked to that British couple. I wonder if they’re in town?”

  “What could they know?” Paul asked. “They weren’t even in the country when Claire was killed, and we’ve got Devin’s murder wrapped up.”

  “True but I hate loose ends,” Ed said.

  Paul opened his case folder and found their contact number. After a brief conversation, Paul said, “They’re still here, and they’ll meet us at their hotel.”

  The Robbins were staying at a small bed and breakfast run by friends of theirs from London, and in less than twenty minutes the detectives were on the front steps of an elegant brownstone in Boston’s South End.

  As they entered the foyer, Ed said, “This is nice.”

  “Thank you,” a decidedly tall, distinguished looking man said, “Are you the detectives?”

  Paul went to display his badge, and the man shook his head and said, “No need for that, Brett and Mary are in the dining room.”

  The detectives looked at the couple. They had rosy complexions, silver hair. Mr. Robbins was in traditional British tweed, and his wife was wearing a pale floral blouse with a small strand of pearls peeking out from the under the collar. It was hard for the detectives to focus on the subjects of their interview, however, and not the sumptuous array of food on the buffet. They gave a furtive glance toward the food and then each other. Neither’d had breakfast and were wishing that they could. That wish was to be fulfilled when the owner said, “Now, you two have good breakfast while you talk. No one will disturb you. Brett and Mary are the only guests here until tomorrow.”

  The detectives and the Robbins introduced themselves, and the proprietor said, “Mary, make sure they eat something.”

  “Of course, I will,” she said to her friend. Then to the detectives, Mary said, “There won’t be a word out of us until I see you with full plates.”

  They needed very little encouragement as the buffet was temptation enough.

  As they sat down with their meals, Mary pointed toward the coffee pot, they nodded, and she poured.

  “There now, what would you like to know?”

  “When exactly did you arrive,” Paul asked.

  “Just a week ago,” Mary said.

  “I guess it was a wasted trip for you,” Paul said.

  “Not really. We’ve been at this for forty years,” Brett said, and, we only had a few lines, anyway. We just took this job for a trip to Boston. We’re looking forward to doing some sightseeing. We hear the foliage is beautiful this time of year.”

  Paul was about to forget the interview and morph into a travel guide, when Brett added, “But I’m actually glad they closed it. I’m not glad for the second murder, of course, but even before that we were thinking of leaving.”

  “And we’ve never done that,” Mary said. “We’ve never quit a production.”

  “No, never,” Brett said, “not in forty years.”

  “What happened?” Paul asked.

  “Well, hearing about the first murder was disconcerting enough, and then the night Devin was killed, when I guess no one thought we were in the theatre, we heard a fierce row between one of the young actresses and a man.”

  “Who was it?” Paul asked.

  “The actress was Isabella,” Brett said

  “Bella,” Mary corrected. “They call her Bella.”

  “And the man?”

  “I don’t know,” Brett said.

  “We’d just arrived that afternoon and had only met Bella and Tiffany. And he was out of our line of sight,” Brett said.

  “What did you hear?” Paul asked.

  “Bella called him a murderer,” Brett said.

  “He said he’d tell the police that she was the murderer. I could tell that she was afraid of him. Her voice was quivering, and I heard her run off the stage,” Mary said.

  “We were just about to phone the police when she left. I could still hear the man slamming around on stage, so I figured that she was all right. Thought that I’d talk to her about it the next time I saw her, but then Devin was killed that night, and that was that. I
called Bella on Saturday because I couldn’t get her out of my mind. She said that she was fine. I wasn’t convinced, but what could I do, I barely know her.”

  “We’ll go see her,” Paul said.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful. I’m glad you came to see us.”

  “Me too,” Paul said taking another hearty bite of his breakfast.

  “One thing, though, Bella was leaving town for a family wedding in the western part of the state. She said the wedding was this morning and she’d be back tonight.”

  “A wedding on a Monday?” Ed asked.

  “The groom’s evidently in the army, and he’s been called to duty,” Brett said.

  “So, you plan to stay for a while,” Paul said.

  “Oh, yes. We’re semi-retired. We’re planning to stay until November.”

  “Unless we get a job,” Brett said.

  “Yes, we love to work, but only if we both have a part, right dear?”

  “Absolutely. We’re established, and everyone in the British theatre knows, you don’t get one Robbins without the other.”

  The detectives finished their bountiful breakfast thanked the Robbins, as well as the owner of the B&B, and went on their way.”

  After they left, Paul said, “I love old married couples. There’s such an ebb and flow to their conversations.”

  “You should like them, you’re half of one.”

  Paul just gave him a look, but then said, “I never thought we’d get anything from them, though.”

  “I know,” Ed said. “I’m concerned about Bella.”

  Looking at his notes, Ed called the number he had for her, but she didn’t pick up. He left a message for her to call him as soon as possible.

  “We need to go see Maggie Dunham’s attorney,” Paul said.

  “And then we need to see Dr. Dunham, herself.”

  They looked up the address and found that her lawyer’s office was in the western suburb of Wellesley.

  It was a perfect fall day, and they would typically have been enjoying the drive, engrossed in conversation about their case. Instead, there was an awkward silence until Paul, finally showing some irritation said, “Is this how it’s going to be? Cause this isn’t much better than you making secret phone calls and having friends from Scotland doing surveillance.”

  “No. I was just trying to give you some space. I figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it, and, besides, there’s not that much to talk about. Well, not that I want to talk about. It’s been a shock for me, too.”

  “I almost told Karen. It’s hard for me to keep anything from her, but I figured she’d just think I was exaggerating.”

  “It’s better done with visual aids,” Ed said quite seriously.

  “That was useful,” Paul said suddenly laughing.

  Ed started to laugh as well. It was a good sign.

  “So, is magic how Aaron Sinclair kept escaping?”

  “Yes, he can manipulate physical matter. We call it power over the elements.”

  “So, he’ll just escape again.”

  “Not this time. If a person goes bad, we can bind their powers. Faith and Duncan did that to Aaron while you and I were in East Boston.”

  “Oh, good. How do you do that?”

  “Some spell or another, but, truthfully, I don’t know. I’m a rookie at all this.”

  They pulled up in front of the address they’d been given for Maggie’s attorney.

  “We don’t have a warrant for this guy’s notes?” Ed said.

  “Right now, I just want to meet and greet.”

  Knowing of Maggie’s extreme wealth, they were not surprised to walk into a decidedly formal office suite. Upon requesting, by way of their badges, an audience with Attorney Mark O’Brien, after a few moments, they were shown into his office.

  This was the stuff of old money, oriental carpets, heavy wooden furniture, sparkling chandeliers. The décor was a bit outdated, but it effectively gave the message that this was an established firm which represented only those who could afford them.

  Mark was, somewhat surprisingly, decidedly unpretentious. “So,” he said, chuckling, as he shook Ed’s hand, “I recognize your name. You’re the one she was going to castrate.” Attorney O’Brien was a little overweight which added to the motion of his body as he laughed. “Ahh, sorry,” he said. “It’s just that we’ve never met, but I couldn’t believe it when I read your report.” He started to laugh a bit more and actually had to wipe a tear off his cheek. “Sorry again, but as you can imagine, representing Dr. Dunham is a challenge. What can I do for you?”

  “We’re here about her niece, Claire,” Paul said.

  “That family. There isn’t much that I can tell you. She was going after everything Maggie has, and I was trying to stop her.”

  “Well, she’s not doing it anymore,” Paul said.

  “No, but Maggie’s in the nut house, locked up good and tight. Doubtful she could have stopped her. And, I just heard from Claire’s family. They are picking up the gauntlet.”

  “They’re going after Maggie’s stuff?” Ed asked.

  Mark nodded, and while he didn’t show it to him, he held up a legal document.

  “That from Khole?” Ed asked.

  “Oh, no, he called me. He told them to take a walk, which they did, to this guy.”

  “I mean I know Maggie’s going away for a long time, maybe forever, but these people are vultures.”

  “Are you her criminal lawyer?” Ed asked.

  “No. My partner does criminal. He’s the one who showed me your statement. I do civil. Do want to talk to him?”

  “No need,” Paul said, “we just swung by to touch base on this. We’ll get a warrant if we need your files.”

  Tom nodded and said, “Sorry about my laughing fit,” to Ed.

  “It’s all right. It was bizarre.”

  Back in the car, Paul asked, “So why can’t you use your powers?”

  “It’s tempting as hell but it wouldn’t be fair, and if you take unfair advantage of people, there is a council who will bind your powers.”

  “A council, huh?” Paul said.

  “You’re giving me a headache.”

  “It’s like Harry Potter, isn’t it?” Paul said quite seriously.

  “No – Maybe. I like it, though, mostly.”

  “I wish I had powers.”

  “No, you don’t. Like I said, it’s a lot.”

  “You want to head up to see Maggie?” Paul asked.

  “No, I want to go talk to Ethan Blackett. He has to be the guy who threatened Bella. Who else would be on the stage?”

  “Stagehand.”

  “Doubtful, and we know it couldn’t have been Ron. He was busy committing a felony.”

  “That’s true.”

  Ed called Ethan but got no response. And when he called Ethan’s home number, his wife said that her husband wasn’t home and that she had no idea where they could find him.

  “Let’s go back to the office, we got some loose ends to tie up,” Ed said.

  “Like what?”

  “I think that Tiffany was the guy we chased out of Claire’s. She’s the right height, and the guy looked kind of slim. We know it was Devin’s car, and that it wasn’t him.’

  “And?” Paul asked.

  “If she was there, she had to have a reason. Maybe a reason to kill her, too.”

  “So, not Maggie, then?” Paul asked.

  “Who knows, I just want to tie it all up.”

  “Right.”

  Back at the station they called Muriel Berenson and told her that they had a few questions for her client about Claire’s murder. Working with Muriel’s schedule, they arranged to have Tiffany back at District Four at two p.m.

  ******

  Turning the tape on, Ed and Paul sat across from Tiffany and Muriel.

  “Tiffany,” Ed said, “the question we didn’t get to the other day was were you the person I chased out of Claire’s apartment?”

  “Don’t an
swer that,” Muriel said.

  “I didn’t kill Claire,” Tiffany said. “I only killed Devin in self-defense.”

  “You killed Devin because he was going to expose you as a hooker and ruin your career,” Ed said.

  “I killed Devin because he physically attacked me.”

  “And she had bruises on her neck and arm to prove it. And I have pictures of those bruises to show in court if need be,” Muriel said, “I don’t know why she’s even being charged.”

  “Make sure you show the picture of the rug they carried him out in and the picture of his body in the alley,” Ed said.

  “You mean that Ron, allegedly carried him out in and where Ron allegedly disposed of the body.”

  “Oh, Ron?” Did he shoot him, too?” Ed asked.

  Muriel shrugged.

  “She just admitted it,” Ed said in disbelief.

  “Could be protecting someone. Someone who came and broke up the fight.”

  “Holy son of a gun, I’ve got hand it to you,” Ed said. “You are brazen but not without skill. But back to my question, Tiffany did you come to Claire’s condo nor not?”

  “Why would I have killed her?”

  “Because she had threated to out you, too,” Paul said. Handing her a copy of some texts they’d pulled off of Claire’s phone.

  Muriel took them from Tiffany and said, “This isn’t her phone. I’ve read all of her texts.”

  “This is from a phone that we found in Devin’s car,” Ed said. “Our techs got into it and traced these texts to Miss Palmero.”

  “It’s not too surprising that a girl in your profession would have two phones. Along with these texts from Claire, we found a bunch of texts from your clients. And, your fingerprints are on the phone.”

  Tiffany looked at Muriel and said, “I didn’t kill her.”

  “Not another word,” Muriel said.

  “It’s just so unfair. He attacked me, and I didn’t kill her,” Tiffany said, for the first time bursting into tears.

  Muriel called an end to the interview and the detective’s left.

  “So, here’s where your …” Paul was saying before Ed stopped him.

  “You know I thought telling you could be a problem. You’d think I was crazy, or too weird but I never thought you’d be a groupie.”