Tempest in the Tea Leaves (27 page)

“Anytime.” He saluted, rounding the corner toward his own office.

I walked through Mitch’s door and closed it behind me. The room was nothing like his apartment. His home had class and good taste and atmosphere. This room was all business, devoid of any homey touches. No pictures, no knickknacks, no anything. Just a desk and a couple chairs. It was like he didn’t want anyone to know he was actually human, had feelings.

“You don’t knock?” he asked, not looking up. He sat at a simple desk, organizing his notes in front of him.

“Sorry.” I rolled my eyes. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“Oh, come on.”

His mouth twisted into a cockeyed half smile, and he finally looked up. “Have a seat, Tink. You get to talk to Sampson?”

I sat in a chair across from him and dropped my bag on the floor, feeling as exhausted as Bernard had looked. This case was taking its toll on me. “I caught him on his lunch hour at the mill.”

“And?”

I fiddled with the tassels on my bag. “And you were right. Maude definitely needs more help than we thought. She wandered off the evening of the murder and didn’t come back home until ten that night.” My eyes met his. “And she can’t remember where she was during that time.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s guilty, okay?”

I nodded, feeling hopeless. Things were not looking good for poor Maude. “How about you? Any luck with Pendleton?”

“Lucinda said they interrogated him, but he’s not breaking. He swears none of them killed Amanda Robbins. He admits he did go see her the night she was murdered. He tried to get her to change her vote, but she wouldn’t budge. They argued, and then he left. He met with Carolyn and Gladys right next door but says they didn’t hear anything.”

“That’s still just his word.” I brightened. “Any one of them could have killed her, or they could have planned it together, and Amanda could have had some of Maude’s medicine left over in her house. Anything is possible.”

“That’s right, but we still don’t have any solid proof. The trio had motive and possible access to digoxin, but we can’t place them at the scene of the crime for sure. Mrs. Sampson had motive and access to digoxin, but we can’t place her at the scene of the crime, either. You might not have motive, but you don’t have an alibi, either, and you were the last person to see Ms. Robbins alive. All we have for sure are your tea leaves laced with digoxin. Your father is a cardiologist, Tink.”

My eyes met his and held for a full minute. “After all we’ve been through together; you can’t seriously believe I’m capable of murder.”

He studied me for a moment. “My gut tells me you’re innocent, but I don’t trust anyone fully. Make no mistake, I
will
do my job, no matter what that entails.”

My heart squeezed tight. That stung. He cursed softly. He wasn’t as impartial as he wanted me to believe, no matter what he said.

“You want to clear your name or not?” he finally asked.

“Gee, no, I’d rather rot in a cell.”

“That can be arranged.”

I clenched my jaw. “What now, Detective? I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of you doing your job . . . whatever that entails.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page,” he said rather loudly as he stared me down, and a muscle in his jaw throbbed. He took a deep breath and continued in a calmer, quieter voice. “I think it’s time we talked to Maude herself.”

No matter how frustrated he made me or how much it hurt to think he still had doubts about my innocence, I knew he was right. We were running out of time. “Do you think questioning Maude is wise? I don’t want to upset her or make her condition worse.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, looking as though this case were taking a toll on him like the rest of us. “She still has many cognizant moments, Tink, and at this point we’re desperate. I think she’s the one who left those footsteps outside Ms. Robbins’s window the night of the murder. Maude Sampson is either our murderer or an eyewitness. Either way, if she can remember what she saw, she might be the proof we need.”

“Okay then, let’s do it.”

 

 

We covered all of our bases when it came to questioning Maude Sampson. We went to her house, a big old colonial with a country-style decor, instead of the police station to make her more comfortable. We sat in her living room and let her serve us coffee and tea. She actually looked pleased to have the company.

Her husband was present for moral support and had insisted on calling a lawyer to protect her rights. Dr. Wilcox was in the room to assess her state of mind and be there should she need any medical assistance. Hell, even my lawyer was there to protect my rights (my parents were sitting in the back of the room).

“Go ahead, Detective Stone,” Dr. Wilcox said. “Mrs. Sampson is fully aware and here of her own accord. She’s not here under duress, and she wants to cooperate.”

Mitch nodded once and then turned to Maude, who sat on the couch beside her husband. “So, how are you, Mrs. Sampson? You feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great, dear. How’s your coffee? Can I top you off?”

“I’m good. The coffee’s great, thank you.” He smiled kindly. “Do you remember Amanda Robbins?”

Maude’s face fell. “I remember Amanda well. I worked with her for years at the library. It’s such a tragedy what happened to her. After my girls moved away, Amanda was like a daughter to me. She was so good about bringing me my medicine, and I always looked out for her as well. I miss her terribly.” She wiped away a tear and sipped her tea.

“You okay?” Bernard asked, looking strained. “We can take a break if you’d like. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” She patted his hand. “I want to do this, Bernie. I won’t feel right until we know what happened to Amanda.”

He squeezed her hand briefly and then nodded for the detective to continue.

“Mrs. Sampson, do you remember why you don’t work at the library anymore?” Mitch asked.

She glanced at Bernard with a questioning look.

“It’s okay,” he said. “They know.”

She looked back at Mitch. “I left because I was fired.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Sad. I loved working at the library. Bernard and I had such plans for when we retired, but I needed to work there a bit longer for us to afford it.” She sniffed. “Poor Amanda didn’t have any choice after Carolyn turned me in. But it wasn’t Carolyn’s fault, either.” She shook her head. “I was forgetting simple things like what a stapler was used for, and I kept making mistakes in the catalog system. Everything was a mess, and none of us wanted that.”

“What did you do after you stopped working at the library?”

“Oh, I kept busy around the house, and I visited the library often. After all, I still had to look out for Amanda, though I guess I didn’t do a very good job.”

“On the day of Amanda’s murder, what did you do?”

“Well, I remember having breakfast with my church group, and then I did some volunteer work down at the food pantry. I had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, and then I stopped into the library. I remember Carolyn was there, and when I asked where Amanda was, Carolyn said she couldn’t make it in because she had to go to the doctor’s. I figured I would swing by her house later to check on her. I went home and made dinner for Bernard and some chicken soup for Amanda.”

“And did you go see her?” Mitch asked.

Maude’s face puckered up and she looked off into the distance for a few minutes and then looked back at Mitch. “I’m not sure. I remember leaving the house, but I don’t remember anything after that until I got back home at ten P.M.”

“Are you sure? Think really hard.”

“I wish I could help, but I can’t. I’ll take a lie detector test if that would help.”

“You’d pass with flying colors, Mrs. Sampson. We don’t question that you’re telling the truth. It’s not much help if you can’t remember.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there was some way we could know for sure.”

“There is,” I spoke up.

Mitch looked at me in question, then his eyes narrowed as his grump-o-meter went off and Detective Grumpy Pants took over. “Oh, hell no.”

“Just because you’re a nonbeliever doesn’t mean I’m not the real deal,” I muttered.

“What is it?” Mrs. Sampson asked. “I’m open to anything. I just want to help.”

I knelt down before her and looked her in the eye as I said, “I could read your tea leaves.”

Mutters of mixed emotions broke out throughout the room, my parents being among the loudest.

“No,” Bernard said rather firmly from beside Maude. “I won’t have it.”

“Why not?” I asked curiously. “I might be able to help clear your wife’s name, Mr. Sampson. Isn’t that what we all want?”

“Help? I doubt that will happen. Look at what happened the last time you read someone’s tea leaves,” he sputtered.

My eyes shot to Mitch’s for a brief moment as I thought of the vision I’d had and the kiss that had followed. I knew Bernard was talking about the time I’d read Amanda Robbins’s tea leaves, but Mitch’s reading hadn’t helped, either. My readings always came true, but they sometimes caused more trouble than they were worth. For the first time, I considered giving up my passion. Maybe I was doing more harm than good.

“Yes, I’ll do it,” Mrs. Sampson said, surprising us all.

“But—” Mr. Sampson started to speak.

“You don’t get to decide everything, Bernard,” Maude announced with conviction. “I believe the decision is mine, right, Detective?”

The detective looked from her to me and back to her. “If you think it will help, we’ll do this thing,” he said to Mrs. Sampson and then locked eyes on me. “But I want to be there.”

“Good. We’ll meet tomorrow at noon in my sanctuary, and I’ll introduce you to my world,” I stated.

He rolled his eyes. I vowed right then and there that no matter the outcome of this case, I wouldn’t rest until I made that man a true believer.

Tomorrow was only the beginning.

I opened my front door to find Detective Stone and Maude Sampson on time at noon the next day. I made eye contact with Detective Stone and raised my brows questioningly. He glanced at Maude and then gave me the thumbs-up sign, meaning today was a “good” day for her.

“Where’s Bernard?” I asked, glancing beyond them.

“He’s at work. I told him not to take the day off because I didn’t want him with me.” Maude nodded once, sharply. “No negative juju at my reading.”

“Hear that, Detective?” I arched a brow at him. “No negative juju. Think you can handle that?”

He held up his hands. “I won’t say a word. I’m here to observe.”

“Good.” I stepped back and let them in. “Follow me.”

I led the way into my sanctuary. Everything was set. I’d already fed my fish, watered my plants, and started a fire in the corner fireplace. I sprayed lavender around the room and flicked on some new age music, then gestured for Mitch to have a seat out of the way. After he sat, I pointed to the chair across from mine at the old-fashioned tea table in the center of the room.

I dimmed the lights until the constellations on the ceiling glowed their mesmerizing hue and the blue paint on the walls turned a bit deeper, calmer. Setting the mood and getting the seeker to relax was imperative for the seer if they wanted to produce a good session.

I gathered my tea leaves and kettle from my supply shelves in the corner and carried them over to the table, setting them down in the center. Taking the seat across from Maude, I held her hands in mine gently. “Ready to begin?”

She nodded, looking more curious than afraid.

“Good. I normally get an indication from the person whose fortune I’m about to read as to what psychic tool will work best in helping me see the prediction clearly. In your case, you’re a tea leaf person just like Amanda Robbins was.”

“Why, that sounds lovely.” Maude leaned forward as if telling me a big secret. “I think tea is wonderful, you know.” Her eyes sparkled.

I smiled and leaned forward as well. “Me too.” I winked.

She giggled, and Mitch arched a brow. But staying true to his promise, he didn’t utter a word.

“Okay, the first step in the process is for you to brew the tea yourself. I’ve already boiled the water, so all you have to do is place the loose tea leaves in the cup.”

She did as I told her, with precision, I might add. “There, all done. I really do hope this works.”

“It will,” I said with conviction, and I could have sworn I heard a soft grunt from the far side of the room. I tipped my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him, but he just whistled softly and looked around the room—everywhere except at me.

Grrr.

“Now you pour the water into the cup in front of you and stir the tea leaves as it brews,” I said to Maude.

“Okay, I’m good at stirring. I love to cook.” Maude’s bright smile faded a bit. “I don’t get to cook as much these days now that the girls are gone, but Bernard still needs to eat. He doesn’t have much of an appetite lately. I worry sometimes that there’s something wrong with him, too. It’s no fun getting old.”