Three O'Clock Séance: An Inspector Rebecca Mayfield Mystery (The Rebecca Mayfield Mysteries Book 3) (8 page)

The ensuing silence was unnerving and Rebecca was beginning to feel she was wasting her time. She had an idea of getting up and walking out. Then Sandy let out a hushed whisper. “I feel a presence,” he said.

Marta’s hand tightened on Rebecca’s fingers. Nervous energy filled the room.

“Are you someone that we know?” Sandy asked.

Everyone waited in silence.

“The spirit is very faint,” Sandy murmured. “Almost too … wait. I can feel it. It’s trying to reach out to us. Ah! Donald. It’s a woman. She’s saying ‘Donald.’”

Donald opened his eyes and became absolutely still.

“It’s your wife,” Sandy said.

“Myra,” Donald asked, “is it really you?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course it’s me,” Sandy said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I’m watching you, you old fool. I see you flirting.”

“Me?” Donald squeaked, sounding so shocked even Sandy couldn’t repress a smile.

No one needed the spirit world, Rebecca thought, for that insight about Donald Luff. She was beginning to squirm with annoyance at this time-waster. She wondered if she could announce a sudden headache and leave.

“Yes, you,” Sandy continued in his high voice. “You can flirt now, but I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Waiting? You mean”—Donald swallowed hard—“soon?”

“No, you old coot. You’ll have many years of fun.”

“Myra, I don’t mean—”

“Donald,” Sandy said in his own voice. “She’s gone now.”

With that, Donald took a deep breath.

What a sham, Rebecca thought, disgusted by how gullible these people were. At $500 per session, no less.

“We have a wonderful group here—very open,” Sandy said. You’re making my job a complete pleasure. Tell me, are you up for trying to reach someone else?”

Rebecca watched the others give a hearty, “Yes,” clearly excited about what had just transpired. Despite the dim candlelight, Rebecca saw Sandy’s pale gaze turn to her. With an inward sigh, she nodded.

“Okay, then. Deep breaths, everyone,” Sandy said, as he again talked them into relaxing.

He then began to call for a spirit to join them. He called again and again, until … “I see a form coming closer.”

Everyone again went on high alert.

“I can see … it’s a man. And … I can feel … he’s touching his head … or is it his heart?”

Cute, Rebecca thought. Now Sandy and the spirit are playing charades.

“He’s trying hard to speak.”

She hoped he didn’t mumble like the spirits the other night.

“There’s someone here he wants to talk to. That he desperately wants to talk to, but I’m not sure what he’s saying. I think it’s a ‘ja’ sound.”

Sandy either needs a clearer connection, or he’s simply using the same old material over and over.

“He’s an older man, but strong. Yes, very strong. And tall. He works with his hands,” Sandy continued. “Perhaps with the land. A farm—that’s it. He’s a farmer.”

A farmer?

That caught Rebecca’s full attention.

“He’s rubbing his chest as if, perhaps, it hurts or once hurt him.”

His heart?
Her stomach began to tighten.

“His name—the ‘ja’ sound was part of
his
name!” Sandy cried.

Benjamin?

“Oh, my God!” a woman’s voice cried.

What the hell?
Rebecca glared at the woman holding Sandy’s left hand, a newcomer named Ellen Fiddler. She wanted nothing so much as to tell the woman to shut up and butt out.

“It’s my husband, George,” Ellen whispered. She was mousy-looking behind white-framed glasses, with short, curly gray hair. “He died of a heart attack eight months ago.”

Sandy looked startled. “Your husband was a farmer?”

“A gentleman farmer, he liked to say. He owned the land, and paid others to do the work.”

“Hello, Ellen.” The voice came out of Sandy’s mouth, but it was deeper than usual, and slightly slurred. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Ellen stared at him in shock. “That doesn’t sound like George.”

“Hush!” Marta said. “It’s his spirit, not his body that’s here. Do you want to talk to him or not?”

Ellen’s eyes widened. She gulped, then nodded.

Rebecca’s cheeks burned with self-deprecation. Just like that, she nearly fell for this scam, too. She shuddered as she realized just how close she had come to speaking, to jumping in and joining needy desperados. But that was it: this whole ideology played on a very basic human need. A “ja” sound and a bad heart? We
want
to believe, she thought.

But, if all that were true, how the hell had Sandy come so close to guessing her father’s name? To knowing the way he had died?

Sandy was busy asking Ellen questions that led to her revealing that George was still being bothered by his mother-in-law in the afterlife. Ellen softly admitted her mother never cared much for George in this life either.

Then, after more talk and many tears shed by Ellen, Sandy sat back and let go of her hand. Everyone else let go of each other as well. He then put his hand on the woman’s arm. “It’ll be all right, Ellen.”

She sniffed and nodded her head, at the same time tried to wipe tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry I hogged your séance. I suppose other people wanted a chance to talk, too.”

“It’s not my séance, my dear, but yours,” Sandy said. “All I can say is, I felt such overwhelming love and joy coming from that spirit, I can’t even begin to tell you. I’m sure it was George, and he wanted you to know he’s all right, he’s even happy where he is, and he looks forward to the day when you’re together again.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “But I remarried two months ago. I know it was soon, but I thought it would be wrong to chance losing him. His name’s Tom. He’s also a good man.”

“Remarried?” Sandy mugged a stricken look for the others at the table. “It sounds as if she’s going to have a very busy afterlife.”

Everyone laughed at that, and the tension in the room vanished. Lucian used it as his cue to turn on the lights.

“That was wonderful!” Sandy said to everyone. “What a fabulous group! This was a marvelous experience for me as well. And Ellen”—he stood, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her cheek—“it was an absolute joy to bring you a message from the beyond.”

Lucian then wheeled in a cart filled with expensive chocolates and small desserts along with wine, tea, and coffee. Everyone was invited to stay, eat, and share with Sandy and each other what they saw and felt during the séance.

Rebecca listened as the married Sandoristas, Marta and Henry, talked to Ellen about her feelings after experiencing her first encounter with the other side. Ellen said she was now quite “flummoxed” about Tom and the fact that she remarried so quickly. Was it a mistake? No one could get a word in as she debated, mostly with herself, about her marriages.

Rebecca shook her head and walked away. What a soap opera.

She saw that everyone was interested in talking about what they had experienced. She had no idea that she was supposed to have been doing her own bit of channeling, but she wasn’t surprised to see several of them try to top each other as to how much of a “presence” they felt. Even those who initially said they’d felt nothing, were soon nodding and—
oh my God, what a surprise!—
realized that they, too, had witnessed the spirit’s arrival.

Donald Luff walked up to her with a glass of white wine. “For you,” he said, handing it to her.

She guessed he had forgotten her hand squeeze or, God forbid, thought she was trying to show she liked him. “Thank you.”

“What did you think of the evening?” he asked. “Did you find it wonderful?”

“It was interesting,” she admitted. “But many of these people spent a lot of money and had no contact with the other side. I wonder how they feel.”

“That’s no problem at all.” He beamed. “I often make no contact, but I’m always honored to be able to contribute my abilities to help someone else realize what a wonderful world not only this one is, but that there’s another even greater and more magnificent waiting for all of us. It fills me with joy. And I’ll do all I can to help you feel it, too.”

“How lovely,” she said, her sarcasm going unnoticed.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to find Sandy behind her. “I would love to know what you thought of all this,” he said softly. “Cocktails?”

“Sure.”

She noticed Donald frown at the two of them, and then march away to talk to Ellen Fiddler.

Sandy leaned close to Rebecca. “Ignore him. He’s the Lothario of the séance circuit.”

“There’s a circuit?”

“Most definitely. Give me a minute, then we can get out of here.”

Sandy announced to the group that they could stay and talk as long as they wished, and that Lucian would lock up. He said he was exhausted from the ordeal of conjuring up two spirits, but if any of them would like to return next Thursday night, to let him know right now, along with a deposit for half the fee, because the session would fill up as soon as it was announced.

Six of the other séance participants descended on him with checks and credit cards. Rebecca looked around for the one other participant besides herself who wasn’t signing up. “Where’s Candace?” she asked Marta. “Did she leave?”

“She said she suddenly wasn’t feeling well.” Gloria, a newcomer, jumped in with the answer. “I think she went to the ladies.”

“Did I hear Candace isn’t feeling well?” Sandy asked. “Could someone check on her to make sure she’s all right?”

“I’ll go!” Gloria looked ecstatic to do anything for Sandy.

He went back to taking credit cards when a muffled scream was heard. It no sooner registered than Gloria pulled open the door to the conference room. “She’s dead!”

o0o

Richie had heard that Rebecca was in court most of the day on a murder case she’d been involved in last year. He knew better than to phone to talk about ghosts and spirits. Or about Sandy Geller and why she seemed to be spending so much time with him.

In any case, he much preferred to see her, face-to-face, after court let out. But that evening, again, she wasn’t answering her phone.

He drove out to her apartment to see if she was home, but her SUV wasn’t on the street.

He wondered why.

He tried calling several more times that evening—at ten o’clock, eleven, midnight. After the club closed at two a.m., on the way home he swung by Mulford Alley. Rebecca’s SUV still wasn’t there.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rebecca had never realized, when on the “other” side of a homicide investigation, just how slowly everything moved.

The moment Gloria cried out that Candace was dead, everyone seemed to freeze until Sandy stood. “What do you mean, dead?”

“I’ll take a look,” Rebecca told him. “It’s your job to make sure everyone stays put.”

Sandy’s mouth dropped open, but then he nodded. “Will do.”

“Stays put?” Donald asked, moving towards Rebecca. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer, but went into the bathroom. There were three stalls. Candace was on the floor, the door to her stall still fastened shut.

Rebecca used her small lock set to open it. The woman looked like she had suffered convulsions and vomiting, but there were no signs of a physical attack.

Rebecca called Homicide and the Crime Scene Unit. As she returned to the main room, she showed her badge as she explained what was happening.

Before long, her phone buzzed. Homicide Inspector Paavo Smith and his partner, Toshiro “Yosh” Yoshiwara, were on call that night. “Rebecca,” Paavo said. “Dispatch told me you’re at the crime scene. What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. It could be natural causes—a violent heart attack, perhaps, but I just don’t know.”

“We’ve got an active murder scene going,” he said. “It’ll be an hour before we can get away. Are you in a position to handle the case?”

“’Fraid not. It’s a ... a get-together, and I was invited here. So, I could be considered as much of a suspect as anyone else in the room.”

“Got it. A couple uniforms are on their way to secure the crime scene. Any danger in waiting for us to get there?”

She looked over the mostly geriatric group. “I don’t think so.”

Just then, Lucian led the uniformed police into the room and Rebecca ended the call to talk to them.

She began writing down everyone’s name, address, and phone number, as well as checking their I.D.s. Even though she was theoretically a suspect, she knew it had to be done, and she was saving time taking care of it herself.

Evelyn Ramirez, the medical examiner, had been at the murder scene with Paavo and Yosh, so she didn’t arrive at Sandy’s offices until shortly before the homicide inspectors did. All were already pretty worn out from working the earlier crime scene. They gave no details, but it sounded ugly and bloody.

Paavo and Yosh talked to Sandy and others in the meeting room while Ramirez checked over the body. When the two inspectors and Rebecca went to see how Ramirez was doing, she wearily rose to her feet.

“Everything is consistent with a heart attack,” the M.E. said as she peeled off her latex gloves. “I’ll look her over again back at the morgue, but short of doing a full autopsy, I’d say that’s what we’ve got. Given her age, and all, unless your investigations point to something more, I think ‘natural causes’ is a very safe conclusion.”

Paavo faced Rebecca, waiting for her reaction. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Paavo was, she readily admitted, her favorite fellow inspector. Smart, tough, and very good-looking, he was a cop’s cop. Plus, when she was new in homicide, he showed her how to be good at her job in the real world—something much more valuable than months of classroom or theoretical training could ever be. That she, romantically speaking, never had a chance with him from the time he first met Richie Amalfi’s cousin, Angie, was one of the bane’s of Rebecca’s love life.

She drew in her breath. “I haven’t heard anything that would make me think there’s foul play going on,” she admitted. But even as she said it, something niggled at her.

“But?” Yosh asked. He was Japanese-American, large, burly, and as boisterous and jolly as Paavo was quiet and serious. “Come on, Rebecca. We can all tell something’s got your dander up. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Might it have to do with séances?” Yosh didn’t bother to hide his grin. “What’s going on here, Mayfield? You going to start looking into crystal balls to solve your cases?”

She grimaced. “Funny. I was invited here, that’s all.”

“Ah. I see,” Yosh said. “Actually, I don’t. What are you up to?”

“Nothing! It’s late. You guys are tired, and so am I. I think the CSI should check a couple of things, though.”

“Check for what?” Yosh asked. “Is this a crime scene or not? I say we continue to talk to the people out there, and if nothing seems off, we wrap it up. If something more is apparent, we get CSI involved. Until then, they’ve got a lot going on tonight.”

She faced Paavo.

“Yosh is right, Rebecca,” Paavo said. “We’ll cordon this off as a crime scene until we’re sure what we’ve got going. But you do look like something’s troubling you.”

“It’s a good plan,” she admitted. “I’ll leave the questioning to you guys.”

“And we’ll question you as well,” Yosh said. “I can’t wait to find out, officially, why you’re at a séance.” With that, he let out one of his big belly laughs.

Rebecca couldn’t help but cringe.

o0o

The next morning, even though it was Saturday and Rebecca was off duty, she went to Homicide.

It was about 3 a.m. before she got home last night, but even then, she couldn’t sleep.

Her mind kept going over similarities between Candace’s death and that of Neda Fourman and the women Richie told her about. And she kept remembering how pleasant and full of life Candace had been.

Of course, sudden, natural deaths happened all the time. But still…

Rebecca knew she couldn’t enjoy her weekend with this death preying on her mind. That was the reason for showing up at work that morning.

She no sooner sat down at her desk than her boss, Lt. Eastwood, arrived. He was never there on Saturdays. He stopped in front of her. “I thought you’d be here,” he said. “I came in to hear, first hand, why you were at last night’s murder scene. A séance? Really? Let’s go into my office.”

She sat across from his desk feeling like a naughty child facing the principal. She explained that she was at the séance only because a friend had asked her to attend.

“That’s a relief,” Eastwood said. “I somehow can’t see you as a séance goer. I’m not sure that would be such a good activity for a homicide inspector in any case.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She knew he’d been skeptical of her ever since her little run-in with the Russian mob. Not to mention her apparently never-ending association with Richie.

She went on to explain that by the time Paavo, Yosh, and the M.E. had finished questioning Sandy and the séance participants the night before, they had pretty much concluded that Candace Carter had died of natural causes. But Rebecca was aware of other similar deaths surrounding followers of Sandor Geller. As such, she wanted to pursue the case a bit further. She didn’t want to be thought of as stepping on anyone’s toes, however.

“How were you made aware of those other deaths?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure how to answer. “From a confidential informant, sir. That information was, in fact, the reason I was at the séance.”

He frowned at her, but didn’t demand she give up her source. “Are you sure you trust this ‘informant’ enough to get involved?”

“What if he’s right? I’ve had good tips before.”

Eastwood thought a moment, and then told her that if she truly believed something there was worth investigating, he wouldn’t forbid it. But it was off the books, on her own, and he would authorize no overtime unless some clear sign of foul play turned up. He also didn’t want Sutter to help.

She wondered if he honestly thought that last point would matter in the least. Sutter’s on-the-job retirement made him a hindrance more than anything.

Back at her desk, she called up everything she could find about both Candace and Neda, including looking into Kenneth Neary, whose “ghost” had come to Neda Fourman when she took part in Geller’s séances. From all she could learn about the man, he’d been married twice, and his last marriage was a strong one. There was no indication of him ever having anything to do with Neda.

Rebecca debated talking to his widow, but couldn’t imagine that leading anywhere useful for either of them.

She then looked into Candace Carter.

She called the mortuary and asked if anyone had inquired about Candace, and was given the name of a woman who had referred to herself as a friend. Rebecca phoned the woman, Mary Rodriguez, and said she would like to visit her shortly with a few questions about Candace.

Rebecca was just about to leave Homicide, when who should walk in but Richie.

Rebecca found she was actually glad to see him. He’d been on her mind a lot since Thursday’s strange FBI visit. Now that she’d been told something about his ‘work,’ she had questions. Lots of questions.

“How are you doing, Inspector?” he asked.

She was surprised at his formality. “Fine. I was hoping to talk to you.”

“About Sandy Geller, I guess,” he said as he sat down in the guest chair beside her desk. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, I hear.”

Her brows lifted. “Wherever did you hear that?”

“Word gets around.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ve been spending time to find out what he’s been up to.”

“Until late at night?”

What’s going on with him?
She cocked her head. “Are you having me watched?”

He raised his hands, palms up. “I’m innocent. I know nothing but what I hear.”

Tempting as it was to needle him, she said, “If you heard about last night, you’d know one of his clients died after attending a séance.”

His eyes widened at the news. “You’re shitting me. Was it an old lady?”

“She was getting up there, but seemed remarkably healthy … until she wasn’t. Her body is in the morgue in case we want an autopsy done. I just need a reason.”

“Christ! It doesn’t seem to be healthy to have anything to do with Geller. Hope you’re being careful around him.”

“Of course, but he doesn’t seem—”

“He’s an actor. He makes his living being not what he seems.”

She hated to admit it, but he had a point. “You may be right. Anyway, I’m going to visit a couple of the deceased woman’s friends. See what they can tell me about her.”

“Mind if I come along?”

“Yes, I mind. You have no business coming with me on a case.”

“Oh. So, this is a case now, is it?”

He had her there. “Maybe not yet.”

An eyebrow rose at her admission. “Look, I know more about this situation than anyone. Plus, I’ve learned some new stuff about Geller from Shay.”

“What stuff?”

He simply stared at her with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

She grimaced because she knew that unless he came along, he wouldn’t be telling her much about what he and Shay were finding out. In fact, he might decide to check out Sandy on his own, which could cause all kinds of complications. She could be doing herself, Homicide, maybe even the entire city, a favor by keeping him near her. Or so she hoped.

“Okay, Richie. You can join me as long as you promise not to say a word. You’re there to observe
only
.”

“Whatever you want, Inspector,” he said. “Your wish is my command.”

She didn’t believe that for a minute.

o0o

Mary Rodriguez lived in the flat above Candace’s. When the landlord was informed of Candace’s death, he had immediately told Mary since the two women had been close at one time. Mary had also invited their mutual friend, Jean Hu, to come to her home to be with her when the police arrived and to possibly offer insights of her own.

Rebecca introduced herself, showing her badge. She then introduced Richie as her associate and noticed that the two women didn’t bat an eye, but simply accepted his presence.

Mary invited them into the cozy living room, and they sat.

“Have you known Candace very long?” Rebecca asked.

“Oh, yes,” Mary said. Jean nodded in agreement. “For years, we weren’t only neighbors, but we went to the same Unitarian Church as Candace and her sister, Pearl.”

“I see,” Rebecca said.

“Candace stopped attending after Pearl died. We’ve seen less and less of her ever since.”

“When was that?” Rebecca asked, taking notes.

“It was a couple of years back.”

“Was Pearl’s death sudden?” Richie asked. Rebecca gave him “the look” to remind him he said he wouldn’t interfere, but he shrugged it off.

“She’d been sickly for years—overweight, diabetic, heart issues. Her death was no surprise, believe me.”

“What can you tell me about Candace’s involvement with Sandy Geller?”

Jean’s eyebrows rose as she looked at Mary. Mary drew in her breath and then spoke. “A few years back, the four of us took in one of Geller’s shows. While Pearl and the two of us found the show amusing, something about it ‘spoke’ to Candace, and she went back a couple more times. After Pearl died, all that changed.”

“How do you mean?” Rebecca asked.