Crime Seen (22 page)

‘‘Good for her. Want to meet me for a drink after you’re done?’’

‘‘Sorry, I got plans with the little Dutch boy,’’ I said. ‘‘Methinks he’s needing some attention from his girlfriend.’’

‘‘Okay then. I’ll call you tomorrow,’’ Candice said and she headed out while I went in.

I had the place ready by five, and Bree arrived right on time. I placed her in one of the leather chairs and pulled the phone close—we would use the speaker function for the session. I also had the tape recorder ready to go so that I could record the details. At ten past five, the agreed-upon time, Theresa called in. I made the introductions and we started the session, with Theresa taking the lead.

‘‘I’m getting an older male figure here,’’ Theresa said. ‘‘He’s showing me the initial R, like Rob or Robert.’’

Bree squirmed excitedly. ‘‘That’s my grandfather! His name was Robert.’’

‘‘Terrific. He’s showing me a flag. Was he in the military?’’

‘‘Yes, he was. He was a lieutenant in the navy.’’

‘‘He’s also saying that he’s got a female with him who has a name that begins with a G, like Gene or Gina.’’

‘‘I think that’s my grandmother,’’ said Bree. ‘‘Her name was Virginia, but everyone called her Ginny.’’

‘‘Perfect,’’ said Theresa.

Just then I had several flashes in my head and I said, ‘‘Whose dog has spots all over him?’’

Bree looked at me and laughed. ‘‘Our dog is named Spot!’’

‘‘You’re kidding.’’ I laughed. ‘‘You actually named your dog Spot?’’

Bree nodded. ‘‘My four-year-old son wanted to name him, and that’s what he chose.’’

‘‘Now I’m getting another female . . .’’ Theresa said through the speaker, but then her voice trailed off. I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated, working to build up the psychic energy and amplify it as much as I could. ‘‘Something awful happened to this woman,’’ Theresa continued. ‘‘She says she died violently.’’

Bree didn’t seem to respond, so I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was sitting back in her chair, no longer excited but completely overcome with emotion as tears coursed down her cheeks. ‘‘What else are you getting, Theresa?’’ I asked gently.

‘‘She is also pointing to a flag, but it’s not the military. She says she was connected to the government in some way.’’

Bree nodded, and her mouth opened, but only a small sob came out. ‘‘That fits, Theresa,’’ I said into the speakerphone.

‘‘I think her name begins with an S or a C....’’ There was a pause while Theresa worked at it. ‘‘Something like Cindy, or maybe Sandy.’’

‘‘Cynthia,’’ said Bree, her voice choked with emotion. ‘‘Her name was Cynthia.’’

Theresa went on. ‘‘She’s very motherly to you,’’ she said. ‘‘Is this your mother?’’

Bree nodded and stared mutely at the speakerphone. I said, ‘‘Yes,’’ so that Theresa could continue.

‘‘She says she is very proud of you and she watches over someone with a T like Thomas or Timothy. He feels little—like your son.’’

‘‘That’s my son,’’ said Bree. ‘‘His name is Tom.’’

I braced myself for the risk that I was about to take, but my reason for bringing this little meeting together was not just to help Bree get some closure. It was also to solve a murder. ‘‘Theresa,’’ I said carefully, ‘‘is Cynthia willing to tell us any more about the night she died?’’

Bree gave me a sharp look, but I ignored her and focused on amping up the wattage on my radar. Immediately the world around me disappeared and I was looking at a brightly lit kitchen with sunflower wallpaper and oak cabinets. At the table sat a man who was tall and extremely handsome, with jet-black hair and piercing hazel eyes. He was unshaven but wearing a suit and a tie pulled loose at the neck. I watched as he slammed his fist on the table, creating a sound so real I felt myself jump.

Across the table sat Cynthia. She appeared calm, but there was an icy coldness to her and a manila folder in front of her. As if her voice was coming from a tunnel, I heard her say, ‘‘Keep it down, Ray. My daughter’s asleep.’’

‘‘You think you’re so clever,’’ Ray said. ‘‘You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?’’ he said as he stood up, his eyes narrowing with rage. I turned my attention back to Cynthia. Her face instantly changed from confident to wary, and then, so quickly that it was startling, the man grabbed Cynthia by the shoulder and whipped her out of the chair. She had no time to react and I saw real fear in her eyes. In a move that stunned me with its precision and efficiency, he grabbed her by the chin and in one awful yank pulled up and back. There was a snapping noise and Cynthia slumped to the floor.

The man named Ray then grabbed the folder on the table and turned around to face me. My breath caught as our eyes seemed to lock, and I felt my blood go cold. And then I felt a horrible shaking, and the image in front of me vanished as I saw Bree above me tugging on my shoulders and heard Theresa shout, ‘‘Abby! Abby, come forward!’’

I put my hand up to stop her shaking and took a moment to try and get rid of the weird disorientation I felt. ‘‘What happened?’’ I asked.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Bree, looking frightened. ‘‘You asked about the night my mother died and Theresa said she felt my mom go quiet. And then I looked up at you and you were just staring straight ahead, and you wouldn’t answer me when I called your name.’’

Theresa’s voice sounded from the speakerphone. ‘‘Abs? How you feeling?’’

‘‘I’m good, Theresa,’’ I said, running a shaky hand through my hair. ‘‘Just got sucked into the energy is all.’’

‘‘What’d you get?’’ Theresa asked.

I glanced at Bree, unsure how much to divulge. ‘‘Not a lot,’’ I said vaguely. ‘‘I think I saw the inside of your house or something.’

‘‘Did my mother say anything to you?’’ Bree asked. ‘‘Did she tell you anything about who might have murdered her?’’

I frowned. ‘‘No,’’ I said, which was not quite a lie. Bree’s mother hadn’t actually
told
me anything—she’d shown me, a technicality that I would work on after I gave the info to Dutch. The last thing I wanted was for the name to mean something to Bree and for her to do something stupid, like confront her mother’s killer.

‘‘Well, she’s gone,’’ said Theresa. ‘‘The minute you went into your little trance her energy closed itself off to me.’’

‘‘Can’t you get it back?’’ asked Bree. ‘‘I mean, that wasn’t enough time! I didn’t even get a chance to tell her I love her!’’

‘‘Hey there,’’ I said, reaching out to place a hand on Bree’s arm as tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘‘She’s just pulled her energy back a little. She’s not gone for good. And trust me, she can hear every single word you say. So if you want to tell her you love her, then by all means, say it out loud or in your head. She’ll hear it both ways.’’

Bree was again openly sobbing, and I felt like a real shit for taking up the last of her mother’s energy before she had to sever the connection. Theresa, ever the softy, said, ‘‘Bree, I have my appointment book right here. And I have a cancellation at the end of the month. Why don’t I slot you in, and we can try again to reach out to your mom after she’s had some rest, okay?’’

Bree nodded at the speakerphone and said, ‘‘That’d be fantastic. Thank you.’’

‘‘Good. Abby can give you my number, and you call me around this time on the thirtieth, okay?’’

‘‘Thanks, T,’’ I said, trying to make a mental note to myself to send Theresa a big fat bouquet of flowers for being such a great friend.

‘‘My pleasure. Now I’ve got to fly. Bree, you hang in there and we’ll talk again in a couple of weeks, okay?’’

After Theresa hung up, Bree collected herself with the help of several tissues and a sip of water. ‘‘I can’t believe how emotional I am,’’ she said.

‘‘Sometimes we don’t realize how much we miss someone until we’re faced with hearing from them again.’’

Bree nodded. ‘‘I gotta get going,’’ she said as she stood up and slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. ‘‘Thank you so much for doing this, Abby. You and Theresa are amazing. I can’t believe you need two jobs! If I had your talent, that’s all I’d do.’’

I smiled but didn’t comment on that one. ‘‘You drive home safe, okay?’’

‘‘I will, and if there’s anything I can ever do to repay you, you just ask.’’

‘‘I’ll keep that in mind,’’ I said slyly.

A little later that night there was a knock on my front door. ‘‘Come on in, Dutch,’’ I called from the kitchen, where Eggy and I were snacking on some chips and salsa.

‘‘Why are you eating?’’ he asked when he came in and found me happily munching away.

I slid a chip to Eggy, who crunched it loudly and wagged his tail at the same time. ‘‘I had to close on Fern Street this afternoon and I didn’t have time to grab lunch.’’

‘‘What do you mean you didn’t have time? You have the whole day at your disposal,’’ he said.

I took a long pull from the Coke I was drinking and tried to think up a quick answer to that. I decided changing the subject and putting Dutch on the defensive was the way to go. ‘‘Speaking of all day to get something done, I notice you haven’t gotten your haircut yet.’’

Dutch ran a hand subconsciously through his hair. ‘‘I had to cancel my appointment. We were in briefings all day.’’

‘‘I could cut it for you,’’ I offered.

‘‘You can cut hair?’’

‘‘Sure!’’ I said while I thought,
How hard can it be?

‘‘Okay. You want to do it now before we go to dinner?’’

‘‘Absolutely,’’ I said, feeling giddy with the combination sugar/caffeine/salt high I was currently experiencing. ‘‘You wet your head down in the sink and I’ll get the scissors.’’

I raced to the bathroom and dug around in my medicine cabinet for an old pair of haircutting scissors that I kept on hand to use whenever my extra-long locks needed a little trim and I didn’t feel like paying fifty bucks for a haircut. I also grabbed a towel and comb, then headed back to the kitchen. Dutch was seated at the kitchen table with a head full of wet hair, looking a little nervous.

I flashed him an enthusiastic smile and wrapped the towel around his neck, tucking it into his collar, then began combing his hair. I was about to open with the big news that I knew the first name and physical description of the man who killed Cynthia Frost when the phone rang. Distracted, I glanced at the caller ID. It was Theresa. ‘‘Hey, chick,’’ I said as I answered.

‘‘How you feeling?’’ she asked me.

I tucked the phone between my ear and my shoulder and continued combing Dutch’s hair. ‘‘I’m fine. Just got sucked into the ether for a minute is all.’’

‘‘I’m assuming you saw more in that ether than you let on to Bree,’’ Theresa said.

I picked up the scissors and pulled up a lock of Dutch’s hair. ‘‘I did indeed,’’ I said as I took a tentative snip. ‘‘It was pretty ugly,’’ I added, pulling up another lock.

‘‘I’ll bet,’’ Theresa said. ‘‘Listen, the other reason for my call is that Cynthia came back to me this afternoon.’’

‘‘You’re kidding,’’ I said as my scissors snipped away.

‘‘Not kidding,’’ Theresa said seriously. ‘‘I was giving this guy a reading and in she popped. She basically took center stage and wouldn’t leave until I promised her to deliver a message.’’

‘‘To Bree?’’

‘‘No,’’ Theresa said. ‘‘To you.’’

I frowned. ‘‘This doesn’t sound like I’m going to like what she had to say.’’

‘‘It’s not all bad,’’ Theresa said. ‘‘But she was insistent I get this to you. She wants you to watch over Bree, because she could be in real danger.’’

I felt goose bumps form on my arms. ‘‘That’s why I didn’t tell her what I saw in the ether,’’ I said. ‘‘I was afraid she’d do something stupid.’’

‘‘Yeah, well, you’ll need to watch out for her, Abby. Her mother seemed extremely concerned.’’ Just then my doorbell rang.

‘‘Got it, T. Thanks again. I gotta fly.’’ I hung up with Theresa and with a pat on Dutch’s head I said, ‘‘Hold tight, cowboy. Let me see who’s here.’’

I headed to the door and opened it to find Dave, covered in sawdust and looking frightful. ‘‘Wow, when you clean up you really go all out,’’ I said with a smirk.

Dave looked down at himself and began to pat his shirt, which sent clouds of sawdust up in the air. ‘‘Sorry about that. I’ve been working on a new project and it’s a little intense.’’

‘‘You here for your check?’’ I asked as I turned away from Pigpen.

‘‘Yep,’’ he said. ‘‘I just cut your jeweler friend a check and I gotta make sure I have enough in the bank to cover it.’’

I looked over my shoulder as we crossed into the kitchen. ‘‘I’m proud of you, David. You’re growing up so fast.’’

Dave rolled his eyes. ‘‘Yeah, well, at least she’s been a good wife all these years.’’

‘‘Just think how good she’ll be with a big ’ol rock on her finger,’’ I quipped. ‘‘Have a seat at the table and I’ll get your check.’’

Dave stepped carefully over the hair on the floor as he walked around the table to sit across from Dutch. ‘‘Getting a haircut, buddy?’’ he said with a pat on Dutch’s shoulder.

‘‘Abby’s idea,’’ Dutch replied without much enthusiasm.

I grabbed my purse from the counter and was about to dig around inside of it for the certified bank check I’d had drawn up for Dave when I happened to catch the look he gave Dutch as he sat down.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Dutch asked, also catching the expression on Dave’s face, which was a mixture of shock and horror.

‘‘Uh . . .’’ Dave said with wide eyes.

‘‘Oh, God,’’ said Dutch, his hand going up to his hair. ‘‘How bad is it?’’

Dave stood up abruptly. Looking nervously at me, he said, ‘‘You know what? You two are in the middle of this. Why don’t I just stop by in the morning before the bank opens and pick up my check then?’’

‘‘Abby!’’ Dutch said as he swiveled around to face me. ‘‘Bring me a mirror!’’

It was then that I noticed that he looked an awful lot like someone who’d just escaped a close call with a combine. ‘‘See ya!’’ Dave said and he bolted for the front door.