Checked Out for Murder, page 4
“Thanks so much, Carrie. This means a lot to me. Say!” She sent me a questioning look. “Would you by any chance be free for dinner tonight—or one night this week? I’d love to grab a bite and talk.”
I paused to think about her offer. I’d never gotten friendly with a presenter before, but I liked Daphne and her upbeat personality. “Sure. As it turns out, tonight would be fine, though I was planning to go to the gym when I leave here at five.”
“I don’t mind eating later. I could meet you near your gym to save time.”
“Parson’s Gym is close to my cottage. It’s in a strip mall on the road to Merrivale. I think it’s the best gym around.”
“Maybe I’ll check it out and ask if they have short-term memberships.”
“Why don’t I call you when I’m about done? There are two restaurants—sushi and Italian—in the strip mall. Take your pick.”
She grinned. “I can never say no to pizza.”
“Then Italian it is. See you later.”
* * *
The gym was more crowded than usual, and I had to wait to use many of the machines. It was after seven when I finally met Daphne in the Italian restaurant at the other end of the mall.
“Sorry. I hope you’re not starving.”
“I’m fine,” she assured me. “In fact, I stopped by the gym and decided to take advantage of their three-month offer.”
“You’ll love it! If you can afford it, take a few sessions with Robby Dowd. He’s their best personal trainer.” I laughed. “And cute, too.”
Daphne’s expression was unreadable. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The hostess led us to a booth and left us to read the huge menu.
I was hungry after working out and decided to have a small salad and lasagna. Daphne stuck with her original plan and ordered a small pizza topped with chicken as well as a salad. We each ordered a glass of Cabernet. Our wine arrived in record time.
“Cheers,” I said.
We clinked glasses, and I sipped. “Ah!” I reached for the piping-hot garlic knots the waitress placed before us. “This is heaven.”
Daphne smiled at me. She seemed completely relaxed. “I’m so glad you were free to have dinner with me tonight. This is quite a treat for me.”
“Have you met many people since you moved here?”
“Not really. I exchange greetings with some people in my apartment complex, but they all seem so involved in their own lives. I’m working part-time in a gift shop in Merrivale.” Daphne gave a sad little laugh. “But the woman who owns the shop isn’t very friendly. Maybe that’s why business isn’t very good. I have a feeling I won’t be working there much longer.”
“What about giving private readings?”
Daphne sighed. “It takes time to develop a clientele. Libraries are the best source for that, but some of the other libraries in the area that I approached weren’t very receptive to having me speak. One librarian said there might be an opening for me to speak in June, but she had to run it by her director.” She shook her head. “So far I haven’t heard back.”
Our salads arrived, and for the next few minutes, we were too busy eating to converse.
“I’m curious,” I said, as the waitress removed our salad plates and served my lasagna and Daphne’s pizza. “How did you acquire your psychic abilities? Unless it’s something you’d rather not talk about.”
Daphne stopped cutting her pie into wedges and looked at me. “I don’t mind telling you. Do you remember I said it was because of a near-death experience?”
“Uh-huh.”
“My husband pushed me down a flight of stairs. I hit my head and blacked out.”
My mouth fell open. “How awful!”
Daphne pursed her lips. “Our marriage was awful. I should have left Bert the first time he hit me. When I ended up having to stay in the hospital, I got up the courage to press charges. He tried to wriggle out of it as usual, but somehow I gathered up the strength to insist that he be arrested. The judge was sympathetic and ordered a speedy trial. As soon as it was over, I filed for divorce, changed my name back to Marriott, and moved out of state.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through so much pain,” I said.
Daphne smiled. “Thank you, Carrie. I’ve learned to trust my newfound abilities. They’ve brought me to this part of Connecticut.”
Really? You didn’t happen to grow up here?
Interestingly, Daphne didn’t pick up on my thoughts. Well, as she’d told me the first time we met, psychic ability was hit-and-miss.
She reached across the table to pat my hand. “I feel I was destined to meet you. You’re so full of compassion, though I sense that your own life has been tumultuous until recently.”
I wasn’t in the habit of discussing my parents with strangers, but I found myself opening up. “My father was a thief. He did time in prison. Even when he was out, he never spent much time with us. I was ashamed of him and loved him at the same time. Recently he’s turned his life around. We’ve reconnected and speak often.”
“That must have been very difficult,” Daphne said, “but I’m glad you’ve let him back into your life.”
I sighed. “My mother is another story. She raised my brother and me pretty much on her own. We don’t mesh very well. She divorced my father years ago and is now married to a much younger man. In fact, they’re in town because Tom is in the movie they’re filming in Clover Ridge.”
Daphne shuddered. Her eyes widened with fear.
“What is it?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Please tell me.”
“Divination is not one of my abilities, but I sense something very bad will interfere with the making of this movie.”
Neither of us ate very much after that. We asked to have our food wrapped, remaining silent as we waited for the check.
“I’m sorry, Carrie,” Daphne said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Maybe I’m wrong. At least, I hope it has nothing to do with your mother’s husband.”
“Me too.”
Daphne tried to laugh. “Well, maybe the bad thing connected to the movie will simply be a sudden thunderstorm that ruins one of their shoots.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said.
Chapter Five
The rest of the week flew by. I was grateful that my job and other activities kept me busy so I didn’t miss Dylan too much, though I wasn’t happy to learn that he wouldn’t be coming home for the weekend as I’d hoped and would be flying to Paris instead.
“I recovered one of the paintings and I’ve got a lead on a crooked setup there between a few art galleries and an auction house,” he told me Thursday night when I got back from dinner at my aunt and uncle’s house. “Sorry, babe. I hope to tie everything up and be home in ten days’ time.”
“I hope so,” I said.
I’d met my mother for lunch on Wednesday and then again on Saturday. Both times, she seemed subdued. Of course, I never told her about Daphne’s premonition that something bad was going to happen during the filming of the movie. For one thing, she’d scoff at it; for another, I didn’t want to worry her. When I asked how Tom was, she always said he was busy studying his lines. How long does it take for an actor to learn his lines? I wondered, but didn’t ask. Nor did I ask how they were getting along.
The only person—I use the term loosely—with whom I discussed Daphne’s prediction regarding the movie was Evelyn. She had plenty to say on the subject.
“Carrie, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Psychics get flashes of insight or intuition. For all we know, she was picking up on your anxiety. After all, weren’t you worried about Tom having to act opposite his old flame, who, according to her quote on Wikipedia, would always love him?”
“I suppose.”
“And Daphne said she usually can’t see the future, right?”
“Right.”
Evelyn grinned. “See? No need to worry. Besides, I remember Daphne Harper as a flighty sort of girl. I bet she’s still flighty. A tumble down the stairs or not. People don’t change that much.”
I stared at Evelyn. “You called her Daphne Harper.”
“That’s right. Harper is her family name.”
“So you said, the day she first came into the library. I must have forgotten, because I thought nothing of it when she told me that after divorcing her husband she’d changed her name back to her maiden name—Marriott.”
Evelyn looked at me with pity. “Come on, Carrie. Did you stop to think for one minute that the name of a famous hotel chain might not be Daphne’s real last name?”
I shook my head. “I never considered it. I assumed she was telling me the truth. I mean, why would she make up a fake name?”
“Tsk-tsk,” Evelyn said. “And to think you’ve managed to outsmart murderers.”
“That’s different! Daphne isn’t a murderer. I had no reason to assume she wouldn’t tell me the truth.” I thought for a moment. “Though she never mentioned that she’d grown up in Clover Ridge. Or that her father had been murdered.”
“Perhaps she’s hiding something,” Evelyn said. “Or doesn’t want her ex-husband to find her.”
I nodded. “That’s probably it. If that’s the case, she’s entitled to her secret identity.”
“Carrie, we all have secrets. Even you.” And with that cryptic remark, Evelyn faded away.
* * *
Tuesday evening, I went downstairs to the large meeting room several minutes before Daphne’s program was set to begin. Sally had offered to take care of attendance, so I was free to spend time with Daphne. She appeared to be both nervous and joyous.
“I’m looking forward to this evening,” she said. “I feel good vibrations coming from those attending. I think I’ll have many successful minute readings.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “Patrons have told me they’re looking forward to hearing what you have to tell them.”
Everyone, including Angela and Sally, was seated by seven thirty, eager for the program to begin. I introduced Daphne, who proved to be an articulate, animated speaker. She began by saying she’d never been a great believer in psychics or fortune-tellers until she had a near-death accident and found herself receiving strong intuitive impressions and bits of information about people she encountered.
“I decided to read up on psychic ability and was surprised to learn there are a variety of phenomena, from telepathy or mind reading to astral projections, which are out-of-body experiences.”
Daphne gave a start when she glanced my way, and I couldn’t blame her. Evelyn had suddenly manifested and was crouching in front of my seat.
“Go away! You’re spooking her,” I said, as softly as I could.
“All right. I’ll stand at the back of the room,” Evelyn said, sounding injured.
Interesting. Even a ghost was curious about psychic phenomena.
After discussing at least twelve different psychic abilities and giving examples of each, Daphne offered to answer questions. I was surprised that, while some in the audience were eager to ask a question, most of those who raised their hands wanted to share a psychic occurrence they had experienced or heard about.
About fifteen minutes before the program was to end, Daphne announced that she would go around the room and give what she called minute readings. “Please understand that this is not something I can control in any way, so please don’t be angry if I’m unable to sense something as I walk past you. It may only mean that your life is moving tranquilly along—for the moment.”
The audience laughed, and I knew for sure that I would ask her to come back to do another program. I was surprised that no one, aside from Evelyn, had recognized Daphne as someone who had once lived in Clover Ridge. Of course, people changed over twenty years. It was even possible that no one present had known her as a teenager.
I decided to stop daydreaming and listen instead to what Daphne was telling patrons as she stopped at their seats.
“I get the sense that you’ll have visitors staying with you very soon,” she told one elderly woman.
“Yes! My son and his family are coming to visit this weekend!”
When she got to Angela, she said, “You’re about to have a joyous celebration with friends and family.”
“I sure am!” Angela said.
Daphne was approaching the back row when she suddenly froze as if she’d been wounded. “You!” she exclaimed. “Why are you here?”
A man who had been leaning against the back wall dashed out of the room. I followed him into the hall, but he was racing up the steps and fast approaching the main level. Daphne came to stand beside me. She was close to tears.
“Daphne, what is it? Who did you see?”
“My ex-husband. How did he find me?” She looked at me. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I didn’t mean to ruin the program.”
“Do you feel up to returning to your audience?”
She tried to smile. “Yes, I want to. I need to move on with my present life.”
I put my arm around her and led her back to the room.
The room was abuzz with chatter. I walked up to the front and said, “I’m sorry about that. Daphne thought she’d seen—”
“A ghost!” someone called out.
“Something like that,” I said. “But there are a few minutes left, so if Daphne feels she’d like to continue …” I glanced at her.
“Yes, I would,” she said staunchly.
The audience quieted down and the program resumed. I allowed it to run a few minutes over.
As the room emptied out, Daphne apologized again for the interruption. “I’ve no idea how Bert knew I’d be here tonight.” Her fear had turned to anger. “Too bad he ran off. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”
“Not to worry,” I assured her. “I’m sorry he managed to get in. He certainly wasn’t on my list of patrons scheduled to attend.”
As Daphne gathered up her notes and her pocketbook, I sensed that something beyond her ex’s unexpected appearance was causing her distress. I wished she trusted me enough to tell me the real reason she’d returned to Clover Ridge.
Did her move back have anything to do with her father’s murder? I wondered, then immediately told myself to stop thinking about murders. One would think I had an obsession with murders, both solved and unsolved.
* * *
The third Saturday in April turned out to be sunny and warm, with not a cloud in the sky—the perfect day for the Welcome to Clover Ridge luncheon and ensuing meet-and-greet party for the movie people. The luncheon, to which I’d been invited, was being held at the Inn on the Green, one of the largest and oldest buildings on the side of the Green around the corner from the library. Lunch was scheduled from noon till two to give forty or so town bigwigs like the mayor, Uncle Bosco, and members of the Chamber of Commerce the opportunity to chat with the movie cast and crew.
At two o’clock the group would move to the Green itself, where townsfolk could mingle and talk to the celebrities for the next two hours. The town center was bound to be as jam-packed with people and cars as Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Though I wasn’t scheduled to work that day, I pulled into the library parking lot before eleven o’clock to be assured of having a place to park. As it was, I managed to snag the last available spot. I spent the next forty-five minutes doing paperwork in my office, then walked on over to the luncheon.
“Straight back through the hall, the room on the left,” the hostess informed me. Most of the round tables were filled up when I arrived, I noticed with dismay. I should have gotten there earlier. I waved to Uncle Bosco, who was sitting with Aunt Harriet, Mayor Al Tripp and his wife Dolores, John and Sylvia Mathers, and a woman I didn’t know. Relieved to see an empty chair, I was heading to their table when my mother called out to me.
“Carrie, over here!”
Uncle Bosco and I exchanged glances. My great-uncle wasn’t fond of my mother, hadn’t been since she’d married my father, his nephew. Still, his advice to me when I’d gone to dinner at his and Aunt Harriet’s two nights before was to “suck it up.” Not quite the expression you’d expect from someone approaching eighty, but apt nevertheless. “She’ll be leaving Clover Ridge just as soon as this movie business is finished.” Unlike most of Clover Ridge’s residents, Uncle Bosco considered the moviemaking event an invasion of our village.
My heart beat faster as I walked toward my mother and the table full of movie people. They’re just people. So what if they’re in movies? Telling myself this did nothing to calm my nerves.
My mother stood and kissed my cheek. “You’re here at last!” she declared, making me even more uncomfortable. After all, the luncheon was to celebrate the movie people, not someone like me. “Everyone, this is my daughter, Carrie Singleton. She lives here in Clover Ridge, where she oversees the adult activities of the public library.”
That’s one way of describing my job.
I smiled. The people at the table smiled back at me. All except Tom and the beautiful blonde at his side, who had never stopped their private conversation. Until my mother reached over and poked him in the ribs.
“Carrie dear, I want you to meet the important members of the cast and crew of I Love You, I Do.” She gestured to the heavyset middle-aged woman with long black hair sitting across the table. “This is Hattie Fein, a wizard at makeup and hair.” My mother smiled graciously at the striking brunette in her midfifties. “Serena Harris, our leading lady. Next to Serena is Ronnie Rodriguez, chief cameraman par excellence; Dirk Franklin, film director; and TV and film actor Charlie Stanton.”
My mother glared at the beautiful blonde, who sat studying her very long, very bright fuchsia nails. “Ilana Reingold. And of course you know Tom.”
“Welcome to Clover Ridge. I’m so happy to meet you all,” I said.
Everyone but Ilana murmured words of greeting. Since all eight seats were taken, I said, “And now I’d better dash off and find a place to sit, since they’re about to start serving lunch. I’ve never eaten here, but I’m told the food is excellent.”
