Murder at the Fortune Teller's Table Read online

  He came twirling next to me and grabbed my hand, and the next thing I knew, we were a line of two. I tapped and moved along with him. A slim woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail took my other hand. She didn’t miss a beat. By the time the song ended, there were six of us, laughing and out of breath.

  “Who would like to learn a simple Greek line dance?” Phil asked.

  Hands shot in the air, including the Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast group. For the next half hour, Phil walked people through the steps and then danced with them. I helped him, demonstrating for people and partnering with them when we began dancing. Several of the other people who had joined at the beginning did the same.

  At the end of the half hour, six good-sized lines of people were weaving their way around the grassy area. The joy on everyone’s faces proclaimed the dancing lesson a success.

  “Did everyone have a good time?” Phil asked the group.

  Enthusiastic cheers and clapping gave him his answer.

  “Good. I am glad I had a chance to share with you something of my country.” He bowed in several directions. “Now, I must return to work.”

  Moans, followed by shouts of “Again next year” and “Please do it again” accompanied him back to his table.

  He began pouring and talking wine.

  I joined the others from the inn. “I’m going to walk around a bit and enjoy this lovely event.”

  Daniel nodded. “It’s fun, and you should introduce yourself. It’s a chance to meet a lot of the locals.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  “I’ll start back to the car,” Helen said. “That’ll put me back at the bed-and-breakfast in time to get the appetizers ready.”

  “I’m going to do the same,” Daniel said.

  “Mom, can I have some more snacks on our way out?” Tommy asked.

  “Three more bites, so choose carefully,” she replied.

  Allie tugged on Tommy’s sleeve. “I remember the chocolate gelato I had last year. The best ever. Save one of your choices for that.”

  The foursome wandered off, Tommy and Allie with their heads together. Well, as much as that was possible what with Allie being so much taller. They were probably discussing what they were going to eat.

  I sampled my way through various offerings, introducing myself each time. People clasped my hand, smiled, and welcomed me. Many invited me to come by and visit their place. A nicer, more pleasant group of people would be hard to find.

  Some of the warmth I was feeling dissipated when I rounded a corner and saw Edie painting with a small group of people and an instructor. I almost bumped into her.

  She looked up. “Kelly, I found out something you might like to know.”

  The instructor glanced at us.

  “This will be over in about fifteen minutes,” Edie whispered. “Can you meet me in the Vista Room?”

  Not my favorite place, but if she had another puzzle piece, I was game.

  “Sure.”

  I walked leisurely toward the meeting place, enjoying all the variety at the Wine and Flowers affair. I reached for a cup of Thai shrimp chowder. My purse slipped off my shoulder, jarring my arm. I put the long strap over my head to use as a cross-body strap and pushed the purse around to my side.

  The Vista Room was still there. The wooden building hadn’t slipped down the cliff yet. A stand describing its history was off to the side of the structure. I went over and read that it had been there for twenty years, so I was probably safe.

  I finished the soup, enjoying the combination of lemon grass, coconut milk, and herbs as well as its pungent scent. A sweet, hot flavor lingered on my taste buds. I tossed the paper cup into a recycling bin and took in a deep breath of Redwood Cove perfume—a unique blend of salty ocean air and fragrant flowers.

  I entered the Vista Room and went to the wide window. The waves of the blue Pacific Ocean crashed below. I walked around and read the information displayed on the walls, then I checked the time. It’d been about thirty minutes since I’d seen Edie. Where was she? On the bluff off to my right, a slim, blond woman with an easel over her shoulder walked away. Edie. Why wasn’t she headed in this direction?

  The door closed behind me.

  I turned and saw John.

  He tugged at the door, and the latch clicked into place.

  Chapter 28

  My throat constricted at the sound of the click. John was on the list of murder suspects.

  I forced myself to sound nonchalant as I said, “Edie said she had something to tell me, but I see her walking away.”

  “She told me what it was. I said I’d meet with you so she could continue with her painting since it’s such a lovely day.”

  He hadn’t moved away from the door.

  “What . . . what . . . was it she wanted me to know?”

  “It had to do with hemlock. She found some formulas in the fortune teller’s book where Auntie had been using it. Rumor has it you and the group we met with believe the two women were murdered.”

  How had he known that’s what we were thinking? I’d been careful to put away the charts. I began to breathe faster.

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “You all think you’re so clever, that no one would know what you were up to. The Silver Sentinels have been in the paper, and people know what they do. When they asked neighbors questions about seeing anyone around Auntie’s house or what they knew about her right after she died, it was obvious they didn’t think it was an accident.”

  The Sentinels successes had worked against them.

  “A number of people from this area work for our dealerships. A few knew Edie wanted to go into business with the fortune teller. My wife was worried you might feel she was involved with their deaths and felt proof Auntie had been using hemlock would indicate accidental poisoning was likely.”

  It seemed like a good idea to act surprised and grateful at what he thought was new information.

  “Thanks. That’s good to know. I’ll pass it on to the Sentinels. Maybe it was an accident.” I swallowed hard a couple of times.

  He still blocked the entrance to the room.

  His cold, almost black eyes bored into me. “Did you follow me to the post office Friday? Did you know something then?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I edged away from the window and scanned the room for another way out, but saw nothing.

  “The money order. You saw it.”

  “The one for your cousin? All I saw was that it was a money order with a name on it I didn’t recognize.”

  “There is no cousin. I only needed a few more weeks, then it was all going to come together. The investment was due to pay off.” He flexed his fingers. “It just took longer than planned, and I had to take out loans on the businesses. The dealerships were doing well, and no one questioned me.”

  It began to dawn on me. The money order was for him.

  “My lunch expeditions patched everything together for a while.”

  “Lunch expeditions?” My dry throat made it difficult to get the words out.

  “You know about me—the Lunch Thief. The Professor snooped around some of the places I robbed. I know because the owners were friends of mine, and they told me about his visits. Stealing from them was easy because I knew their homes. In and out and money in my pocket.”

  Another desperate search of the room showed no way out but the door.

  “The creditors began to call. But I was keeping them at bay . . . until everything froze because of the ridiculous marriage mess. I signed for the letter. As soon as I saw what was in it, I knew there would be problems.”

  Now I knew who’d received the information, but it wasn’t going to help me if I couldn’t get out of here. My heart pounded.

  “But what threat was there,” I asked, “other than there being an additional heir unless you knew there hadn’t been a divorce?”

  “Ah . . . but I did know that. Ken bragged to me once about his hippie days and dat
ing some rich girl. He said she’d almost tricked him into marrying him, but he said he’d destroyed the marriage certificate and gotten out of that one. What I saw in the envelope said something different.”

  I remembered the firewood and the fireplace equipment across the room, and I inched in that direction.

  “It was easy taking care of the fortune teller and her assistant. I’d been there with Edie, and she’d shown me around.” His upper lip curled. “I would have gotten the third one—at least I thought that’s who I attacked—if it hadn’t been for the stupid dog and your group showing up. Even with the third witness alive, it could’ve worked, except you persisted with the meeting about the marriage. That’s when it all came out.”

  I felt rooted to the floor. Paralyzed. Like a rabbit being motionless, hoping to escape detection by the hunting predator. But my potential killer knew exactly where I was.

  “Ken the Car King, as he so proudly calls himself. I don’t want any part of that. I hate the business. I wanted to be in real estate. A respected job, not a position where people expect you to try to cheat them at every turn.”

  Respected? He’d killed two women.

  As if reading my mind, he said, “They went quietly, slowly, peacefully. Dozing off and never waking.” He turned away from me and pushed the button on the lock and flipped the dead bolt in place.

  When he turned around, his face was that of a different man. It had morphed into a mask of rage—lips tight, face red, and hate pouring from his eyes. His fists balled, and he took a step toward me.

  I took a step back.

  “You, on the other hand, I’m going to enjoy strangling with my bare hands. Hear you gasp your last breath. You ruined everything.”

  My peripheral vision showed an iron poker.

  “If only you had let it die with those women. Just let it go. But no, you kept digging and digging and digging. You and the others.”

  He’d started advancing toward me. I went back a step with each one of his in my direction. He lunged, his arms outstretched, hands spread wide. I twirled, grabbed the iron rod, and continued my turn in the same direction, gaining momentum. I swung at his arms. I was never good with a baseball bat, but I was adrenaline-fueled and struck with all my strength. I felt the contact. It went to the bone.

  He screamed and jerked his arm away. This gave me a chance to get close enough to have a shot at his head. I stepped forward and swung again. But he was tall, and he saw it coming. John moved back and stumbled into one of the benches. He bent down and pushed it at me, hitting me in the knees.

  Pain shot through my legs. I staggered but remained upright. He rammed the bench again, but I had room to sidestep it. He straightened up and started to come at me again.

  I grabbed the end of the bench with my left hand and swung it in front of him. He tripped on the foot of the wooden seat. He didn’t fall, but he was momentarily off balance. I knew from my training in stick fighting in tae kwon do that the trick was to channel all of your energy through the weapon and to think of going through the object. In this case, the object was John’s head. I focused, visualized, and slammed the poker onto the top his head. He fell hard and didn’t move. Blood poured down the side of his face.

  I didn’t wait to see any more. I ran.

  I hit the lever of the dead bolt to the side, grabbed the handle on the door, and wrenched it open. As I did so, John moaned, and I glanced over my shoulder. He moved and struggled to one knee.

  I still had my purse, thanks to the cross-body strap. I jerked at the zipper as I ran, hoping to get to my phone. No luck. It kept sticking, and I couldn’t stop to take time to yank it out.

  Sprinting down the trail, I knew the road forked ahead. One route lead to thick crowds of people and safety in numbers, but they were a ways away. The other went to the visitors’ center, which was much closer. I glanced over my shoulder. No sign of John. I headed to the main entrance.

  As my lungs began to burn and my legs became leaden, I remembered a coach from a long-ago jogging class telling us to pump our arms and forget thinking about our legs; they would follow our arm movements. I pumped.

  A turn to the left appeared ahead, and I knew the visitors’ center would come into sight. I glanced behind me again. This time I saw John in the distance. There was no sprint left in me, but I wasn’t slowing down either. Making the turn, I spied my car in the lot ahead to the right of the building.

  People were inside, but who knew what John might do? I kept my car keys in the open side pocket of my purse. I grabbed them out as I ran, ready to hit the unlock button when I got closer. Finally, I was within range. I hit the button, saw the headlights flash, reached the car, and yanked the door open. Throwing myself in, I pulled the door behind me and hit the lock button in one fell swoop.

  My hands shook, and the zipper opened in small jerks as I went for my phone. I pulled it out of the inner side pocket and punched in 911.

  “What’s your emergency?” a voice asked.

  “Attacked.” My breathing came in ragged gasps. “Being chased.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Redwood Cove Botanical Gardens.”

  I gave John’s name and the type of vehicle he drove.

  “I’ll dispatch officers now.”

  Each breath seared my lungs.

  I looked out the window. John entered the parking lot. He started toward my car. Without a weapon, I didn’t see any way he could get to me. His head jerked up, and he stopped a few feet away. I heard the faint sounds of sirens in the distance. He shook his fist at me, then began to run to his car. He got in, and a few seconds later dust and gravel spun from his tires as he hit the gas hard.

  A police car entered the top of the U-shaped parking lot. With a crunching sound, John’s vehicle lurched backward out of its spot. He sped past me down the opposite side of the U from the squad car. The officer changed direction and cut across the lawn area at the top of the parking area, cutting John off and blocking his path. John flipped his car around.

  In a split second, I made the decision to pull out, blocking his path on my end. If he hit the car, it’d be on the passenger side. Even though he was going fast, it wasn’t like he was on a freeway. At best, I’d get a dent, and it might save someone a serious injury caused by a high-speed chase. I inserted the key, started the Jeep, and pulled out in front of him.

  He braked, throwing gravel against my window. John had nowhere to go. Parked cars filled the lane on either side of him. The police and I had barricaded him front and back.

  Deputy Sheriff Stanton emerged from his squad car, gun drawn. “Get out with your hands up!” he shouted.

  John didn’t move. Another police car arrived and came around to where I was. I pulled back into my slot and let the officer pull into where I’d been. That officer emerged, gun drawn as well. A third police car joined them.

  Still, John didn’t come out. I could see his hands on the steering wheel, as could the policemen.

  “Keep your gun on him,” Stanton said to the other officer.

  The man nodded, and Deputy Stanton opened the driver’s-side door.

  “Out. Now,” he said to John. “Hands up.”

  John appeared in a catatonic state, his movements slow, his eyes blank.

  They handcuffed him and put him in the back of the second patrol car.

  My lungs felt raw, but I was breathing normally. My trembling hands were another story.

  I was alive.

  And it was over.

  Chapter 29

  The police whisked John away. Deputy Sheriff Stanton and one other officer remained.

  I got out of my car. “Thank goodness you were able to get here so quickly.”

  “We have a lot of car break-ins on heavy tourist weekends like this one and at large festivals such as Wine and Flowers. There were more than the usual number of officers in the vicinity.”

  I told them what happened, and Stanton took notes as usual. Once again we walked down the tranquil botani
cal garden path. And once again I’d almost lost my life. Only this time it was different. Justice had been done. Despina’s spirit could leave in peace after forty days. Perhaps Summer would be with her.

  We reached the Vista Room. Even with the officers on either side of me, I hesitated. John’s twisted face, like something from a monster movie, filled my mind. Despina might be above, but John was from somewhere down below.

  Stanton paused with me. “Ms. Jackson, it’ll help if you can go over what happened in the room with us.”

  “I know.”

  I took a deep breath, and we went in.

  The poker rested on the floor, where I’d dropped it, the blood still wet and red. Its metallic odor permeated the air. A few drops on the floor marked John’s path on the way to the door. I reenacted what had happened.

  The officers examined the scene, and Stanton said a crew would be arriving to take care of the specifics of photographing and cataloging evidence.

  Stanton closed his notepad. “You’ve had quite the two days.”

  “You can say that again. Maybe I’d better bone up on my martial arts.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you stay out of the sleuthing business and leave it to the police?”

  “But that wasn’t happening in this case. The deaths were deemed accidental.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. It wouldn’t have been unearthed if you and the Silver Sentinels hadn’t persevered.” He shook his head. “I’ll promise to do less assuming and encourage others on the force to do the same, if you’ll promise to keep me informed if you and the others start another investigation of any kind on a case.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and go home?”

  Men and women with cameras and black equipment cases arrived. Stanton and the other officer began talking to them.

  Home sounded good to me. The festival was winding down. A few stragglers still wandered among the remaining displays. Some of the tables were empty. Vendors packed boxes and carts. I went by and retrieved mine from the booth. A cleanup crew was folding the tablecloth and putting the abalone shells away.