THE WITCH AND THE TEA PARTY (A Rachael Penzra Mystery) (18 page)

“A spirit?” My voice rose. “Do you think it took over Moondance?”

“It sounds like it,” he shook his head, worriedly. “But it only happened when she touched the crystal ball. Remember how you reacted to it? You responded the same way Moondance apparently did.”

“Great,” I grumbled. “Now
you’re saying I have the same brain waves she has.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “It’s not that bad. I didn’t say you have the same level of intelligence.”

“Humph. Sounds pretty much the same to me.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. It’s kind of like an idiot savant. The brain works differently than the average…”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? Now I’m an idiot savant?”

“Rachael, stop it! It’s really interesting. We learned a lot about this sort of thing at the institute. There are so many levels to the brain. Only a few of us
can connect with other brains, dead or alive. Like you, I honestly believe that at one time everybody could read minds. Then we became too ‘civilized’ and started developing feelings of greed and envy. So we had to hide parts of our thoughts. Eventually most of the mental communication ability was lost. We’ve become creatures who can’t afford to have anybody know exactly how we feel.”

“That’s kind of a horrible thought,” I said, shuddering mainly because it made so much sense. “
Mostly because it sounds so true. It would answer a lot of things about people who are psychic, why we have this… I don’t know what you’d call it… this
passageway
to other minds sometimes.”

“And it explains why it’s so unreliable,” he added. “There are a lot of barriers in the way. Somehow some people’s brains can get through the blockage here and there. Someday I imagine someone will figure out how to clear the paths.
It’s kind of like the wormhole theory. To tell you the truth, I think getting through will cause absolute mayhem. And I sure don’t want it to be confined to government control, not
any
government.”

This time my shudder was complete. Talk about horrible thoughts.

“Anyway,” I changed the subject back. “The crystal ball spirit seems to have reached out and touched Moondance, and when she was removed, it found it could reach me. David, I have no intention of letting a spirit enter me.”

“We won’t let it,” he assured me. “Right off the bat, we won’t let you get near it.
I moved it to the back right away, where your aunt couldn’t find it, hopefully. And to be doubly sure it’s deactivated, I intend to remove the ball from the stand and keep them separate. I don’t think either one can function without contact with the other.”

“What about you?” I fretted. “Are you sure you won’t be caught up in it?”

“Yes,” he sounded grim. “But I intend to be careful. I don’t intend to physically touch them when they’re together. I used rubber pads when I moved them.”

“
Will that be enough when you separate them?”

“Crazy as it sounds, I intend to set up a soft landing area and then knock the ball off by throwing a pillow at it.”

I thought that over. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Why not?” he asked.

I couldn’t think of any reason why not, except that it seemed too simple a solution. So other than warn him to be extra careful, I detached myself from the situation. It seemed wisest for me to be nowhere near when the two pieces parted ways. I did get him to promise to talk to Elena first. Elena was the distant relative who had found him after he was released from the institution. To say she has hidden talents of her own is like saying an ocean has tiny fluctuations twice daily. She would know what to do, and more importantly, what
not
to do.

Having a basically cowardly nature, I put the thought of the crystal ball out of my mind as much as possible. Aunt Myrtle was still over at Dora’s and intended to stay there until after my session with
whoever Nicholas had coerced into talking to me first. Patsy had a night course and had stayed at the college to study until her class. She, too, would wait until my call.

The one I had trouble with was David. He refused to leave the house. That problem came up after
he’d helped me wire myself for taping—and that only after he’d taken full advantage of contact with body parts, the naughty boy. It was still a secret delight to me to be able to giggle during romantic teasing. I’d never understood that such behavior could be not only fun, but natural. Bit by bit I’m learning how to play. I pretend to be more ticklish than I actually am. That always leads to interesting results.

Probably fortunately, the phone interrupted our fun and games. For once I didn’t start to answer it beforehand. Didn’t even notice the ring in my head. It was the widower, calling to tell me that Karen Powell would be showing up at my house at seven. That left me half an hour to set the scene with fresh coffee perking, sweets on a dish on the table, and David hiding on the staircase.
The dogs were banned to the fenced in yard. He moved his truck across the street and down a few houses. “I’m waiting on the staircase,” he insisted. “I want to be where I can reach you quickly.”

I didn’t argue. I wanted him handy, too. We’d decided not to bring the suspects upstairs into the main living area. The kitchen was the favorite gathering place, the room where guests tended to congregate. We’re very particular about who we allow upstairs, since it includes our bedrooms as well as a large living area at the top of the steps. It gave us a feeling of privacy, although the bathroom could be reached from the
bedrooms, via the hallway that was closed off from the shared area.

Fifteen minutes early, Karen arrived at the back door.

“I know I’m early,” she explained, in her anxious way. “I’m not sure why you want to talk to me, but Nicholas says it’s important, that you’ll help clear up any mistaken ideas about poor Frances’ death.”

I settled her at the table. She accepted coffee, but after an offended glance at the sweets offering, didn’t look that way again. I guessed that her skinny body didn’t often indulge in such luxuries.
I’d have to put out a fruit and veggie tray next time. Her blonde hair, not her natural color if her dark eyebrows were anything to go by, was in a complicated French braid, showing off her sharp cheekbones to perfection. I held my hand down, not letting it explore my face in search of anything as exotic as cheekbones. I have my pride.

“What Mr. Brown-Hendricks is worried about,” I told her. “Is that if the murderer isn’t found, the stigma of her unsolved death will cling to him. The spouse is the first choice of both law and public. He naturally wants his name cleared.”

“Nobody would believe for a minute that he’d do something like that,” she sputtered. I mentally welcomed her back from Lalaland. “Nobody who knows him would think such a thing, would they?”

“Yes,” I decided to cut a few corners. Since it was becoming obvious from her tone that her feelings for Mr. B-H weren’t strictly chaste, I thought that the idea he was in danger might get her to say more than she normally would. Even if she was the killer, she definitely wouldn’t want him carrying the blame. “People aren’t that nice. And he doesn’t know everybody. He’ll be meeting new people all the time, too. How are they going to feel about
him?”

“That’s ridiculous!” she huffed, but I could tell she was beginning to face reality. “Anyway, what can
you
do?”

If I’d thought more highly of her opinion, her tone would have crushed me. “I’d like you to describe the evening as best you can recall it. Anything, no matter how small or s
eemingly unrelated that happened, even looks or body language.”

“Well, it started out okay. The table wasn’t even, though, and I was stuck between Helen
Mandrell and Stella Lang. Boring, of course, but that’s how Frances set up the seating. If I wanted to talk to, or listen to anybody other than those two, I had to lean way forward.

“Helen just wanted to talk about how important Brandon is in
Nicholas’ company.”

I quickly noted that she thought of the company as being the husband’s, when from all I could gather, it was his wife’s and he merely played a role
by being on the board. With the death, that had changed, but it was too soon for people to mentally make that switch.

“Stella
kept complaining about how much trouble family could be. I’m sure she was talking about her sister. They do seem to fight a lot, but you never see one without the other one. I know they’re second or third cousins or something. Nicholas never actually says anything, but I’m sure that’s the only reason he puts up with them hanging around all the time. Everybody tries to leech off him. I’d soon put a stop to that… if I were him.”

“
Mrs Brown-Hendricks must have enjoyed having family close by,” I threw a little oil onto the flames.

“I don’t think she could stand them. I saw her look at them sometimes when they weren’t watching. I suppose she was just stuck with them. Some people have ridiculous ideas about family ties. I say it’s just a chance of fate who
m you’re related to.”

“I understand you’re the business accountant
for the ad department,” I changed the subject slightly. Follow the money trail, I reminded myself. “That must be a major job with such a big company.”

“It isn’t as though I’m just one of the regular accountants,” she said, importantly. “They have three full-time people to handle that
, and Brandon takes over after the day-to-day stuff is figured. I take care of the personal accounts in the ads department, keeping track of tax-deductions and making sure the checkbooks balance. Although with credit cards, it’s more complicated than it used to be. Mostly I do regular ad work. I’m quite creative that way. That’s really what I’m there for. The rest is just a favor I do.”

“A lot to keep track of,” I agreed. I meant it, too, having become something of an expert in the field myself since I started running a business. “So most of the guests at the party were either business acquaintances or family? I heard that Rita Jasper is another cousin of sorts.”

“Oh her,” she waved her hand to dismiss the woman, but I noticed that her eyes had narrowed when I mentioned the name. “She’s such a fake. She’s some kind of relative, I don’t know if it’s through marriage or blood. She positively tries to cling to Nicholas, I mean
literally
. It’s embarrassing for him, poor man.”

Yeah, right. No man likes a woman hanging on his every word.
She didn’t wait for my indignation to match hers.

“She hears voices, you know. She’s really crazy. She’d love to grab up
Nicholas now that Frances is dead. She’s in for a surprise.” She nodded to herself and tightened her lips.

I tried anyway. “Why? What’s going to happen?”

She really tried to keep quiet, but she couldn’t stand it. “I think she might find that he has something, someone, else in mind.”

“You?” I blurted.
Too blunt.

“I’m not saying that,” she quickly backed off. “We’re simply friends. The poor man needs someone who understands him.”

I’m proud to say that I didn’t gag. I nodded solemnly, showing her I understood. Sure I did. The widower was as apt to woo me as her, and he had no interest in me at all except as a convenient pawn. What he didn’t know is that I realized that and was perfectly happy with the setup. I was using him, too. “Is there someone who was there that night who had something against the victim? They seem like a strange combination to have for dinner.” I didn’t tell her that I knew the reason, that Frances was trying to find out which of them not only wanted her dead, but was working toward that end.

“I sent out the invitations,” she told me. “I thought the same thing at the time. I know I was probably there because
Nicholas asked her to invite me. Sort of like having a friend in court, as they say. Captain Hastings is an old friend of his, only I think Nicholas has outgrown his old buddy. He’s not the kind of man to turn away an old friend, though.”

“Is Ms Jasper a special friend of his, or were they just paired off at the party?”

“I think Nicholas would love to see the two of them get together. It would get her off his case without his having to be unkind to the poor, pathetic thing. I don’t know if the two of them get together at other times, but they are often placed together at company functions.”

“You’re probably right about trying to pair them off,” I said. I didn’t have a clue about the truth of the matter, but I knew it would please her to hear it. I was feeling a little smug. If they all were as talkative as my first suspect, I should be able to figure who the murderer was. Or maybe I’d just get more confused with too much information. That was the most likely outcome, but I would have a lot of brains working along with me. One of us should be able to isolate a real fact amidst the gossip.

“My brother, Quentin, of course, was there because of me. He’s such good company and everybody likes having him as the invaluable single man. He does a lot of odd jobs for both Nicholas and Frances. There are always those little errands that need doing, things you can’t trust to your secretary or employee. In fact, he’s the one who first brought the fortune telling booth to Frances’ attention. I’d told him about her interest in the occult.”