by C S McDonald
“Garrett is your husband, I take it?” Astrid dug deep into the pocket of her caftan to pull out a cell phone with a payment device attached to the top. Her hands were shaking a bit as she swiped the card through the slot on the gadget. Furrowing her brows, she stared at the screen of the phone.
“Yes, we’ve been married for thirty-five years. Well, it’ll be thirty-six next week. If…” her voice fell away.
Astrid pursed her lips.
She beat the heel of her shoe on the floor.
She swiped the card again, only to continue staring at the contraption in frustration.
“Is there a problem?” Nancy inquired.
Astrid cleared her throat. “Um…I’ve never used one of these pay things before, it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Do you have the Wi-Fi connected? Charlie does have Wi-Fi here, doesn’t he?”
Punching at the buttons on her phone, Astrid said, “Yes. Oh, there we go, I was not connected. Okay, let’s try again.” She swiped Nancy’s card through again, and again she waited. Her cheeks flushed with a red hue.
“I think you have the card upside-down. Here, let me try,” Nancy suggested. She took the phone from Astrid’s hand to swipe her card through the slot. The phone felt greasy and slipped from her hands to the floor.
Astrid swept the phone up and gave it back to Nancy, only to have it bounce out of her hands again. “Slick as a whistle, isn’t it?” Astrid said, wiping the phone off on her caftan, then handing it back to Nancy, who managed to use her finger to scribble her signature on the screen.
“There…finally, the charge has gone through. I think we’re ready to proceed,” Nancy said, slipping her card into the side pocket of her purse. She gave the phone back to Astrid, who seemed baffled by the transaction.
“I’ll have to have you show me how you did that.” Astrid stuffed the phone into her pocket. “Follow me into the studio, and we’ll see how I can help you today.” She drew back the beaded and belled curtain for Nancy to pass through. “I must say, I’m getting a sensation of great despair from you.”
The fortune-telling studio looked much the same as the waiting area. Astrid had used the same style of portable black wall screens, except she’d draped long lengths of fabric over the screens in this room, dark purple dotted with gold stars. The area rug in this room was a zebra print. Nancy wasn’t quite sure what tigers or zebras had to do with telling fortunes or reading tarot cards, maybe there had been a sale on animal print area rugs. Whatever.
A round, claw-foot table, which had the same fabric with the gold stars flung across it, stood in the middle of the room. In the center of the tabletop, on an ornately decorated base sat a crystal ball. Four wrought iron candelabras stood about the room, one in each corner. Each candelabra held as many as four pillar candles. The candles were the only illumination, even though a vintage brass chandelier hovered over the table. Another green wingback chair, like those in the waiting area, was positioned on one side of the table. Nancy figured Astrid must’ve bought a set at an auction. An ornately carved wooden chair that possibly had once belonged to a formal dining set was situated on the other side of the table. A dryer was running somewhere beyond the walls, the clothes being tossed inside the drum plunked loudly.
“Please, have a seat, Nancy.” Sweeping her cape to one side, Astrid sat in the green chair, placing her elbows on the table, braiding her fingers together. Once again, her voice fell several octaves into a deep throaty tone. “I’d like to introduce you to my crystal ball, Clementine. As you can see by the nicks and scratches, she has told the fortunes and fates of many. She dates back to the 1800s. So, we are in the presence of a very aged and knowledgeable orb. Now, I want you to relax, Nancy. Close your eyes, breathe deeply.” Taking her own instruction, Astrid closed her eyes and breathed in deep.
Letting out the air she’d been holding, Nancy closed her eyes. Just then, a loud snap and gentle thud made her flinch. Her eyes popped open, then another loud snap. Drawing her lips into a tight thin line, Astrid peeked out from under her eyelids.
“Do…do you have a mouse infestation?” Nancy inquired.
“It is a basement,” Astrid replied.
Snap! Thud.
“Um…We do have some mice.”
Snap! Thud.
“But I’m trying to remedy the situation.”
Snap!
Nothing.
Nancy and Astrid’s eyes met.
When was it going to…?
Kerplunk.
A shudder slid up Nancy’s spine. How was she supposed to summon up one moment of relaxation with mice dying all around her?
Astrid hummed, “We’re breathing, Nancy. We’re relaxing…we’re focusing on the orb…meditating…waiting for her to respond to our humble presence.” She swept her fingers ever so tenderly over the surface of the ball while taking in deep breaths through her nostrils. “Awaken, Clementine, and show me how to help Nancy’s life return to its once happy circumstance. What is it that troubles her so? Who is at the root of her unhappiness?”
Nancy made every attempt to loosen up, but she simply could not close her eyes, not all the way. She peeked through tiny slits, waiting, anticipating the moment a mouse would scurry across the table.
An easy breeze fluttered through the room, blowing out the candles on two of the candelabras. Astrid’s spine stiffened in her chair. “Um…Clementine…” Clementine’s base tipped causing the crystal to shift and roll off toward the right side of the table. Astrid jerked from her seat trying to catch the ball, but the orb shifted again, to the left. Nancy lunged in an attempt to grab the delinquent sphere only to have it dodge her grasp. Astrid stretched over the table in an effort to wrap both arms around Clementine, but the errant orb bounced like a basketball to the opposite side of the table. “Clementine!” Astrid cried.
Finally, Astrid managed to throw her upper body on top of the globe. She’d caught Clementine! Whew!
Letting out a haggard sigh, Nancy plopped back against her chair.
Keeping Clementine in a stronghold, Astrid sagged into her chair. SNAP! The fortune-teller sprang to her feet with a shriek!
“What? What is it, Astrid? Are you okay?” Nancy asked frantically.
Still holding on for dear life to her prized possession, Clementine, Astrid danced in a circle. “Pull it off! Pull it off!”
“What?” Nancy squealed. “Pull what off?”
Astrid spun around. “M-m-mousetrap! There’s a mousetrap on my behind!”
“Good Lord in the morning! There is! There’s a trap on your…never mind!” Nancy dashed around the table to grab the trap, yank it from Astrid’s rump, and toss it across the room. “Why on earth would you put a mousetrap on a chair?”
“I didn’t!” Astrid shouted, then as gently as her panic and her shaking hands would allow, she returned Clementine to her base. Barely able to catch her breath, she leaned against the table. “All I can say is there is an evil following you.”
Nancy snatched her purse and darted through the beaded belled curtain. Terrified to step on a dead mouse lodged in a trap, she kept her eyes trained to the floor only to see five sprung mousetraps scattered about, they were empty. Not a single dead mouse lay in any of the traps. “I’d love to stay and chat, about my evil stalker, Astrid, but I think I’ve had enough for one day!”
“Nancy! I don’t know what to say!” Astrid exclaimed as Nancy stepped out of the basement into the night air. Glancing up at her daughter’s house, her former home, the front porch light flicked on. Letting out a fraught sigh, Nancy muttered, “Well played, Mom. Well played.”
Fiona was quite pleased with the Chinese restaurant Nathan had found on the internet. Szechuan Garden was located in a place called, Calcutta, Ohio. The restaurant was a little out of the way, but not terribly, just across the Ohio River from the Mountaineer Racetrack. Nathan’s GPS indicated there was a small toll bridge not too far away that crossed over the Ohio River directly onto route two and straight into
the small town of Newell. Over steaming plates of Bourbon Chicken and Shrimp with Chinese Vegetables, Fiona told Nathan all about how her mother believed her father was having an affair with a woman named, Claire Boyer. In turn, Nathan brought Fiona up to speed on the murdered horse trainer, Derrek Sperling.
“Wow,” Fiona began. “Gwena must’ve really hated her ex. I mean, she saw him slumped over in the car and didn’t even go to see if she could help him while she was on the phone with 9-1-1. That’s harsh.”
Nathan lifted a shoulder. “That’s divorce, I suppose…anyway, Gwena told me Mr. Sperling and this Eric West didn’t get along. I guess their dislike for each other got physical one day. I want to talk with Mr. West to see what their argument was about and if that was the end of their trouble, or if they still had issues. One jockey, who used to ride for Mr. Sperling, told me he’d be at the track tonight, so I want to be sure to bump into him.”
The waitress arrived with two Styrofoam boxes, the check, and two fortune cookies. “Would you like boxes for the leftovers?”
“Yes, please,” Fiona replied. The waitress sat the boxes on the table and proceeded on to another group of diners. Fiona picked up the fortune cookie closest to her plate and began to unwrap it.
Nathan was already munching on his cookie while staring at his fortune with a rather perplexed expression. “Hm. I think my fortune cookie is threatening me.”
“How’s that?”
He held the sliver of paper up for Fiona to see. “It says, run.”
Fiona took the note from his hand to examine it more closely. “Oh…most of the fortune has been cut off. See…the bottom of the entire fortune is partially visible above, but I can’t make out what the letters should be.”
Nathan shoveled the leftovers into the boxes. “Well, only the word run can be seen. Therefore, I’m considering that my fortune. Now, all I have to figure out is if the little cookie is trying to tell me to run from you or something else.”
Unfolding her fortune, Fiona tossed him a smirk. “Very funny, Detective Landry. My fortune is very mysterious. Happy landings. It’s probably alluding to an exotic vacation this summer. If I can talk you into that Caribbean cruise.”
Pushing up from his seat, Nathan collected the take-out boxes. “I dunno, Fiona. What if I get seasick?”
“You won’t. C’mon, Nathan. Julia Bell and her husband are going. It’ll be so much fun.”
“Isn’t Julia Bell the school librarian? That woman’s got too many rules: no eating chocolate, no talking above a whisper, no—”
“That’s only in the library. I know Julia can be a little…stiff, but I bet she’ll loosen up once she gets on the boat and starts having a good time.”
“If I go, I’m taking my Snickers bars with me.”
“I’ll buy you an extra big bag. Two, if necessary.”
Nathan shook his head. “I’m still thinkin’ about it.”
SIX
With his cell phone to his ear, Nathan held the door open for Fiona to enter the clubhouse at Mountaineer Racetrack. Her phone whistled from inside the small purse draped over her shoulder. She dug through her bag as they made their way through a short lobby.
They rounded a corner. To their left was a bar area and then a rather large empty space. Fiona held up her cell phone. “Ah, finally, a text from my dear little brother.”
Letting out a disgruntled breath, Nathan shoved his phone into his pocket. “You’re having better luck than me. I’ve left several messages for Rick Fontaine, the guy who bought that horse, Charlatan, I was telling you about over dinner. He hasn’t returned any of my calls. You still haven’t heard from your dad, have you?”
She pressed the phone to her chest. “No. I have no idea what that’s about. Where could he be, and what is he doing? Or hiding. God, I hope that’s not it. Surely, that’s not the case. You don’t think he’s hiding from me, do you? I mean, he and Mom have been married almost thirty-six years. This can’t be happening. You don’t think he’s actually having an affair, do you?”
“I think you’re chasing shadows. Maybe he’s got a perfectly good reason for his silence.”
“Mm…it has crossed my mind that perhaps they’re playing a game of, who’s gonna blink first. Frankly, neither of my parents are above it. Mom just happens to be better at the game than Dad. Maybe he’s gotten better since they’ve retired.” Lifting the phone up, she read her brother’s message aloud. “Interesting, Chad says…How’s things going with Mom? Asking for a friend.”
Chuckling, Nathan palmed Fiona’s elbow to urge her down a carpeted walkway flanked by a half-wall on either side. “Sooo, looks like someone may blink very soon. What’re you gonna tell him, the friend, I mean?”
“Nothing at all.” Her thumbs raced over the buttons on her phone. “This is all he’s getting…You can find out for said friend by coming to dinner tomorrow—5.” With that, she pressed the send button, then dropped the phone into her purse.
“Looks like all the Quinn’s are good at the don’t blink game,” Nathan mumbled wryly. Beyond the half-wall to their right were a number of tables and flat screen close-circuit TVs positioned on the walls. Only a few tables were occupied. Some of the TVs were replaying the last race, while other monitors showed the horses in the paddock area. “Looks like all the action is up ahead.” They continued to walk through the rather minute crowd. A line of betting windows stood to their right, only a few were open. No one was in line at the last window, so Nathan stopped to inquire, “Do you know where I can find Eric West?”
“He’s got one in the next race. He’s probably in the paddock.” The clerk looked up at one of the flat screens stationed on a nearby wall displaying the action taking place in the paddock. “Yeah, there he is. Eric’s the guy in the red jacket with the number four horse.”
Fiona and Nathan turned to look at the screen to make note of the man wearing the red jacket, then he turned back toward the woman behind the counter. “I’m not able to talk with him in the paddock, am I?”
“No. Only licensed personnel are permitted in the paddock. He’ll come upstairs when the horses go to the post. You can catch him at the top of the stairs just through those glass doors.”
“Thanks.”
Fiona’s phone whistled again. She fished the phone from her purse to look at her messages. “Chad says, he’ll be at dinner tomorrow.” She turned to Nathan with an expectant look. “Coming?”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Pot roast.”
“Let’s be clear. Your pot roast rubbed in Montreal seasoning and slow cooked until the meat falls apart? The beef broth transformed into a thick river of yummy goodness melting over your intricately beaten creamy mashed red potatoes? Is that the pot roast we’re talkin’ about here?”
“Yes, Nathan, that is the exact pot roast I will be serving.”
“I’m in.”
A moment later, the bugle call sounded announcing the post parade. Racing patrons made their way toward the windows to place their bets. The glass doors that led into the indoor paddock area opened, and more patrons poured into the clubhouse toward the betting windows. Men and women toting lead ropes and halters flung over their shoulders pushed through the doors behind the din. Some went to the windows, while others made their way toward the glass doors that led outside to the racetrack.
Hitching his chin toward a tall older man sporting a red jacket, Nathan said, “There’s Mr. West.” Fiona saw that look in his eyes, Nathan had flipped his internal switch to detective mode. Keeping his eyes trained on the man, he dug into his pocket to pull out a bite-size Snickers, unwrapped it, then tossed it into his mouth. “Let’s go.” With Fiona close behind, he approached the well-built man with a spatter of gray through his dark hair. Fiona had him figured for about fifty-eight years of age. “Mr. West?”
“Yes, that’s me,” he said.
The detective flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Nathan Landry from Pittsburgh Homicide, and this is Fiona Quinn.”
>
“Careful, Eric, he’s one of them big-city detective types. He’s slick. Why, he’ll try to lull you into a false sense of security with a Snickers bar,” Vic Deveaux’s sarcasm boomed over the detective’s shoulder.
After tossing Vic a brusque look, Eric West examined the badge, then Detective Landry, then Fiona, and back to the detective. “How can I help you, Detective Landry?” He pulled up a chair to a small table near one of the monitors perched on a pillar displaying the horses trotting toward a starting gate. A young blonde woman, who appeared to be in her late twenties, and a dark-haired man, who looked to be mid-thirties, studied the detective and his lovely companion with questioning eyes as they sat at the table. Eric said, “This is my daughter, Kate. She’s a vet assistant to the state vet, Dr. Ben Spears. And my son, Mike, he’s a trainer, like his old man. We’ve got a horse in this race. You’re a bit out of your jurisdiction, Detective. Are you working closely with Sheriff Paxton?”
“The murder of Derrek Sperling actually took place in my neck of the woods, Allegheny County, but yes, I’m working with the sheriff.”
Rolling her eyes, Kate leaned farther back in her seat, then muttered. “I’ll bet Tom loves that.”
“You know the sheriff?” Detective Landry asked Kate.
“Oh, yeah. I know him,” she replied succinctly.
Vic plopped against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest and his face twisted into a tight grimace.
Detective Landry pulled a chair out for Fiona, then one for himself and they sat with the Wests. Fiona noticed her detective furtively glance at a redhead nearby. The young woman was lingering near one of the many support pillars in the large space. She was keeping a close eye, and possibly a close ear, on their table.
“Anyway, what can I do for you, Detective?” Eric asked.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions about, Derrek Sperling.”
Glancing up at the monitor every few seconds, Eric shrugged. “What about him?’
