Murder at the Fortune Teller's Table Read online

  Adrasteia put the cap on her bottle. “Some people expect to hear what they want because they’re paying to have their fortune told. We see the truth. We tell the truth.”

  Mary nodded. “Auntie never held back what she saw.”

  “Despina had recently seen the path of deception one woman was on, and the woman had threatened her.” Adrasteia moved toward the hallway. “She said to us someone asks me to see their future, and I tell them. They are upset that I have seen what they are doing, that I know their secret.”

  Mary turned to me. “Sounds like the woman I was telling you about.”

  I looked at the books Mary held. “Will you be able to figure out who she is with the information you have in those notebooks?”

  “Yes. The initials can be matched with names, contact information, and the appointment times.”

  “Let’s get back,” I suggested, “so you can find her name and give the information to the police.”

  “Good idea.”

  “We will lock the house,” Adrasteia said. “We want to finish sprinkling the holy water, say a prayer at Despina’s shrine in the hallway, and water her plants.”

  We thanked the sisters and left, me with images in my head of flowing black robes, scarves of black, figures bending low and reaching high as they scattered drops of water, and striking blue shutters against a white wall. A slice of authentic Greece.

  Mary stopped on the way out and replaced the key. We got in my Jeep, and I dropped Mary off, then headed back to the inn. Daniel’s bus was parked in the lot, and he emerged from one of the new units. He waved, and I waited for him next to my Jeep.

  “Hey, Kelly, how’s it going?”

  “Not so great. Did you hear about Auntie and Summer?”

  Daniel frowned. “I did. Terrible news. Auntie was a medicine woman, a healer. I know many people who benefited from her homeopathic treatments. There’s a reason the remedies have been around for hundreds of years.”

  “I met her sisters today. It sounds like they want to continue her work.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Daniel opened the side door of his vehicle and put the tools he’d been carrying on the floor. “I put the finishing touches on the rooms, and they’re ready to go.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  I heard a crunching noise, glanced down the gravel driveway, and saw Tommy pedaling hard. He skidded to a stop in the parking lot, jumped off, and put his bike next to the garage.

  “Hi,” he said, not slowing for a minute as he raced to the back door.

  I suspected there was a canine dancing for joy on the other side of it.

  “We’re paired at the information table for the event on Sunday,” I said to Daniel. “It sounds like fun and a chance to learn about community events.”

  Daniel closed the Volkswagen’s door. His black hair glinted in the sun. “In addition, you’ll be able to sample food from many of the local restaurants and meet some of the chefs.”

  “There are certainly some advantages to living in a town that creates happenings to entice tourists.”

  He laughed. “There’s one event at least every month, usually more.” He opened the driver’s-side door. “I’m off to pick up Allie.”

  I entered the workroom and almost stumbled over the pile of dog and boy rolling on the floor.

  Helen shook her head and smiled at me. Turning to her son, she said, “Tommy, you and Fred need to move into the sitting area.”

  Tommy bounded up. “Race you, Fred.”

  The two sprinted for the area and were down on the rug in a heartbeat.

  “In a couple of minutes I want you to start your homework. I’ll make you a snack,” Helen said.

  Tommy hugged the chunky basset hound. “Okay, Mom.”

  Helen poured a glass of milk and put some chocolate-chip cookies on a plate. “Would you like some, Kelly?” She held up the container, and the rich scent of the cookies tempted me.

  “I’ll pass this time, but I know how great they are.” They had been a wonderful introduction to my first day at the inn.

  “Phil called. He’ll arrive tomorrow afternoon and asked me to tell you to get your dancing shoes out.”

  “I wonder what he’s got up his sleeve.”

  “He’s pouring wine at the festival, and the organizers asked him to lead some line dances as part of the entertainment. Someone’s going to take over his serving duties for a while so he can do that.”

  Philopoimen “Phil” Xanthis, a wine sommelier, supplied the wine for Redwood Cove B & B. He knew how much I enjoyed Greek line dancing, and he was an expert at it.

  “Sounds like fun.” I headed toward my rooms. “I’m going to work for a while. I’ll handle any phone calls.”

  Helen nodded and put Tommy’s food on the counter.

  I entered my quarters, tossed my purse on the couch, and got some cold sparkling water. Turning on the computer, I responded to a few e-mails and reached for some folders as the phone rang.

  “Good afternoon. Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast.”

  “Hello, Kelly. It’s Scott.”

  He didn’t have to identify himself. I recognized Scott’s voice.

  My surge of happiness at the sound of it hit a rock wall of caution. I still wasn’t over the emotional pain caused by the clichéd best-friend-steals-husband scenario I’d been through.

  “Hi. Are you in town?” I asked.

  “I’m at Corrigan’s place getting settled in. Packing was a whole new thought process for me since I’m staying here for at least two months, and there’s no big city nearby. My suits stayed home, and there are some new jeans to break in.”

  I knew he enjoyed the entertainment and lifestyle of large metropolitan areas. “Are you having second thoughts about your decision?”

  “No. I’m looking forward to experiencing the village life you’ve told me about.”

  A while back he’d asked what people did for fun in a small town. We’d been at an event where there were many handmade items for sale. I responded they take up a hobby, and just for the fun of it, I suggested he might build birdhouses.

  He’d thrown me for a loop when he said he’d do pot holders instead, since they were a better match with his interest in gourmet cooking. Scott as a chef hadn’t entered my mind.

  “So does that mean you’ll take up a craft like the ones we saw at the Whale Frolic festival?” I asked, remembering the lighthearted exchange we’d had.

  He laughed. “Maybe I’ll make a pot holder or two to use while cooking. One thing I’m looking forward to, since I’ll be here so long, is trying more new recipes and experimenting with some ideas I’ve had.”

  I imagined him in the kitchen wearing a white apron and stirring various pots. I liked the image.

  “On Saturday, I’m going to the site of the Wine and Flowers festival to check out the setup. I’m going to have a table with information about what Corrigan’s planning and ask for ideas from the community. Then I’ll be back here in the afternoon. I’d love to have you come by and see the place.”

  “That’s perfect. I’m going to the botanical gardens as well to see it beforehand, then I’ll be free in the afternoon.”

  “I’d like to schedule the conference room at your inn for Sunday at five-thirty. I’m not set up here to handle meetings yet.”

  I checked the calendar. “It’s open. I’ll put you in.”

  “Thanks. It’ll be nice to spend time together without having a murder on our minds, like the last time.”

  “I agree.”

  At least I hoped that was the case . . . that we wouldn’t be dealing with a murder. Though it seemed like that was the direction we were heading.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, I went to the Maritime Suite to check the new units one last time. Since there was a communal area, I’d decided the theme would be an elegant steamship of the 1800s, where groups gathered throughout the vessel. Black-and-white photos of steamers I’d found at an antiques store a
dorned one wall, and glasses with names and pictures of ships rested on a tray on the counter. I smiled, a warm feeling washing through me as I anticipated the fun I’d be having adding final touches to the decorating.

  As I walked back to the inn, a silver Cadillac sedan with blindingly bright oversized chrome wheels pulled into a parking space in the lot. The driver shoved himself out, the slicked-back sides of his hair longer than what was on top of his head. He leaned forward, revealing a balding crown that peeked through a few meager stands of hair. The buttons on the bottom of his white shirt strained to keep his ample belly from sight. The gold chain around his neck glinted in the sunlight.

  The passenger side opened, and a woman struggled her way out of the large vehicle’s soft seat, her short legs stretching to reach the ground. Her blond hair was piled up on her head in a conical shape. It looked like the beehive my mom wore in her high school cheerleader picture. Her chunky jewelry swayed with her efforts to exit the auto.

  A younger woman with the same light-colored hair joined her from the backseat. She wore a flowing print dress and blue leather sandals with a matching sweater.

  “Welcome,” I said.

  Before I could say more, the man interrupted me.

  “Morning, little lady. I’m Ken Nelsen, your trusted source for your new car needs.”

  Little lady? Did he say little lady? I began to silently burn inside. I walked up to him and held out my hand. “Kelly Jackson, manager of Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast, a member of the Resorts International chain.” I squeezed his hand a little firmer than necessary.

  A flicker of surprise showed in his eyes. After we let go of our mutual clasp, he flexed his fingers tentatively and said, “Uh . . . we’re here to check in.”

  “Right this way.” I pointed to the path next to the inn that lead to the front door. I followed, giving myself some time to cool down.

  We passed the flowering vines and walked up the front steps and into the parlor. I went to the oak stand where we kept the thick registration book. I flinched as the band of Ken’s heavy gold watch smashed onto the top of the wooden counter. While we had the information on the computer, Resorts International liked to keep the experience of the bed-and-breakfast of old as much as possible, and we entered information by hand.

  “So, what do you need from me since this is all paid for?”

  “Your room and tickets for the event are covered. I need a credit card for anything else.”

  If he thought he was going to run up a tab for someone else to pay, he had another think coming.

  He dug his wallet out and tossed a credit card next to the registration book. “This here is Sue Ellen, my wife.” He flicked his hand in the direction of the older woman, then nodded at the younger woman lingering behind them, “and my daughter Edie. Daisy, my youngest, is in the car.”

  Sue Ellen picked up a brochure. “I’ve heard the new spa, Blue Water Escape, is fabulous. I’m going make an appointment.” She looked at Edie. “Do you want me to make one for you?”

  “No thanks, Mom. I want to do some painting and read some more before my herb class at the botanical gardens tomorrow.”

  Sue Ellen’s liberally applied perfume merged with Ken’s cologne, and the cloying sweetness obliterated the fresh air in the room, making it difficult to breathe.

  Ken filled in the lines on the form I’d given him. “My son-in-law, John, will join us later. Didn’t want to lose too much work time.” He turned to his daughter. “Fine man, Edie. Works hard. You should be proud of him.”

  “I am, Dad.”

  “He feels like my own flesh and blood, a real chip off of the old block.” He frowned. “My son, Anthony, will wander in at some point.”

  “Everything’s ready. You’ll find a complimentary basket of fruit in your rooms. Wine and cheese will be served in the parlor at four-thirty.”

  He gestured at the pamphlets. “Do you have any discount coupons for the place my wife’s interested in or for any of those restaurants?”

  I handed him a local tourist guide. “There are some in here as well as additional information about many local sites.”

  “Where is this one o’clock meeting I’m supposed to go to taking place?”

  “It’s in our conference room in this building.” I pulled out a map and showed him how to get to it.

  “Do you want the whole family there?”

  “No, just you and your wife.” I’d thought about this earlier and decided she needed to be part of the meeting since it had the potential for involving her children if Ken and Diane couldn’t or wouldn’t help Mark.

  “I’m sure the kids will be glad to hear that. I hope it won’t take long.”

  Three nights lodging and tickets to an expensive event, and he wanted it done and over with. He exhibited no interest in his benefactor.

  He grabbed the keys on the counter, and the women followed him out.

  I walked back to the work area and could see them from the backdoor window. Ken opened the trunk and took out two enormous matching suitcases, followed by a smaller version. A medium-size roll aboard and a pink flowered case followed. The young woman in the backseat of the car got out and grabbed the handle of the latter and walked toward the rooms. Her super high heels and the gravel driveway were a dangerous combination, but she successfully wobbled her way across to the rooms. Edie took the handle of the medium-size roll aboard.

  While I wanted nothing to do with the man, I felt compelled to help them. I went out the back and down to the car.

  “I can help you with that,” I said and grabbed the hand truck kept at the back of the deck.

  “Thanks, little lady. Appreciate it,” Ken said.

  I was tempted to run the cart over his foot. I swung the cases onto it, their weight not a problem after a lifetime of swinging saddles onto horses. Gold letters announced their last name on the three containers. This was for three days. What did they pack for a longer trip? I hoped to never find out.

  I wheeled them over to the bottom of the staircase to the steam liner rooms and pulled them off the hand truck. Sue Ellen took the small one and headed upstairs. Ken took a step after her, then looked around. I looked at the two big cases and then at Ken. My eyes locked with his. Did he expect me to carry both of them up to their rooms?

  He hesitated a moment, then picked one up. “Never know what you might need. Weather here varies so much.”

  I picked up the remaining suitcase and went up the steps, thankful for my ranch muscles. I left them to settle in and checked the time. The Sentinels would be here in half an hour. I went into the inn’s kitchen area and fixed a quick sandwich.

  Helen came in from the parlor. “I saw on the board that you have a meeting at twelve-thirty with the Silver Sentinels and another at one. I’ve put water, coffee, and tea in the conference room, and I’ll be here to check people into their rooms.”

  “Great. Three people will be joining us at one.”

  “Okay.”

  After lunch, I looked at e-mail, then went to the conference room at a little before twelve-thirty. Voices drifted in from the hallway. The Silver Sentinels had arrived. Mary entered, dog purse over her right arm and a container in her left hand. Martha was behind her. Sergeant peered out from the screened front of his container. The other Sentinels followed her in.

  After everyone had settled, the Professor said, “Let’s go over what we plan to say, then see if anyone has new information for the meeting.”

  We did that and found nothing to add.

  “I don’t have anything more for this meeting, but I have information regarding Mark. I talked with him this morning. Can you all stay after this meeting?” Mary asked

  Everyone said they could. The clock on the wall showed a few minutes before one. Summer’s wish to bring Mark’s parents together was about to happen. As if on cue, a tall, striking woman with short salt-and-pepper hair appeared in the entrance to the room. “I’m Diane Purcelli,” she stated.

  “I’m glad
you could make it. Thank you for coming,” I said. “Please have a seat. I’m Kelly Jackson, manager of this inn.”

  Diane took off her black leather gloves, removed her belted coat, and carefully arranged it on the back of a chair. Her tailored gray wool pants suit accented her slender figure.

  Loud voices preceded Ken and his wife. They entered the room, Sue Ellen’s arm wrapped around Ken’s. He disentangled himself, grabbed the nearest chair, and sat down. Sue Ellen pulled out the one next to him and seated herself.

  Ken glanced at Diane, a speculative look on his face, then filled a glass of water and looked at us. “Who are all of you?” he asked. “Which one is the woman who wants to thank me for the kind thing I did for her?”

  I began my explanation of the meeting. “These people are the Silver Sentinels, a group that Amy Winter, your host for the weekend, turned to for help in finding you. She sent you and Ms. Purcelli registered letters. She received confirmation they had been signed for but didn’t hear from you.”

  Ken snorted. “I didn’t receive any letter.”

  “My housekeeper in San Francisco told me about it,” Diane said. “She forwarded it, but I haven’t received the letter yet.”

  “She sent copies of some documents and promised not to reveal their contents to anyone if you contacted her. When that didn’t happen, she turned to us for help in bringing you here,” I said.

  “Well, where is she? She asks us to meet with her, and she doesn’t show?” Ken demanded.

  I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to contain my contempt. I steeled myself and said, “Amy has passed away.”

  Ken started to rise. “Good thing I checked with you that we’d still be covered. I guess we can go then.”

  I dug my nails into my palms. “We are carrying out her wishes. To get your weekend, you need to remain to hear what we have to say.”

  Ken sat down with a grunt.

  Mary’s soft voice began. “On October third, nineteen sixty-seven, you two, Diane Purcelli, then Diane Morgan, and Ken Nelsen, had a wedding ceremony. That night a baby boy was born.” She looked at each in turn. “Diane was the mother, and you, Ken, the father.”