Wilda, turning to face her, donned an inscrutable expression. “I can’t give you a clear reading in this place—too many negative vibrations. You’ll have to visit me at home.”
Marla nodded. “Where do you live?” When the psychic told her, Marla winced at the notion of an hour’s drive to South Miami. “That’s a long commute for you to make each day,” she commented.
Wilda smiled, exposing a row of crooked teeth that would benefit from braces. “Oh, I don’t intend to keep on here. It’s not my calling. I’ll hire someone else to take charge now that you’ve given me an idea of what to look for in a manager. Maybe you’d like a job as my agent.”
“No thanks.”
Her refusal didn’t faze the woman. “Shall I expect you this evening at seven o’clock? She said it’s urgent that I give you the message.”
“She?”
“Carolyn. The dear woman needs your help to put her soul to rest.”
Marla found the psychic’s address without any problems. She’d been to the Kendall area enough times to recognize the landmarks. The small Spanish-style house was set in a community behind Kings Creek apartments, near Dadeland Mall. Marla wished she had time to run into the Container Store, but she didn’t know how late it stayed open. Anyway, she reminded herself, she had a clearly stated purpose in coming here, and it didn’t include shopping.
“This promises to be as much fun as getting a tooth pulled,” she murmured, turning into Wilda’s driveway. Drawing information from the woman might not be so easy. The lady seemed willing to talk, but how much of her material would be useful? Although Marla didn’t believe in the paranormal senses, she told herself to keep an open mind. Forces might exist beyond her understanding. Yeah, right. Like Carolyn really wants me here.
Emerging from her air-conditioned car, Marla breathed in air thick with moisture. Not a single cloud blocked the brilliant sky, meaning rain wouldn’t be cooling the evening hours. At seven o’clock the sun had begun its welcome descent, but heat still radiated from the street and sidewalks.
Wilda’s lawn brought shady respite. Purple crape myrtle shrubs shared a front corner with white pinwheel jasmine, while a butterfly garden displayed scarlet milkweed, golden dewdrops, red pentas, firebush, and lantana. Marla noticed pots of parsley, mint, and dill placed among planted vegetables: lettuce, tomato vines, and eggplants. The scent of sun-warmed tomatoes mingled with fresh herbs, making her glad she’d grabbed a bite to eat before hitting the highway.
Tugging her tangerine shorts set into place, she rang the front doorbell. Her eyebrows shot up when Wilda answered wearing a pair of jeans and a blousy top, sans jewelry, her hair fastened back with a large clip.
“Hi,” Marla said, swallowing her startled reaction.
Wilda smiled, standing aside to let her pass. “Surprised I’m not wearing a robe and turban? I dress like that for show, because people expect it. I don’t have to put on airs for you.”
Marla wasn’t sure how to take that, but her attention was drawn elsewhere by the clutter that met her eyes. I’m entering the Twilight Zone, she thought, her gaze alighting on the stones and statues covering every surface. She’d never seen so many tchotchkes in one place. Crystals vied for space with candles, replicas of Buddha, pipe pyramids, and books.
“Interesting stuff,” she murmured.
“Come, we’ll sit on the patio. There’s a decent breeze, and I don’t have much free space in here, anyway. I’m in the process of rearranging my books. Can I get you a drink?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” Maybe her first impression had been based on preconceived notions. She’d reserve judgment till their upcoming interview. “So how long had you known Carolyn?” she asked once they were seated on a couple of lounge chairs.
The screened patio faced a backyard shaded by black olive and mahogany trees. No citrus trees were present, or perhaps they’d been cut down under the citrus-canker eradication program. Marla had learned more than she’d wanted to know about that political hot potato when investigating her neighbor Goat’s disappearance.
“Carolyn started coming to me about five years ago, after the man she loved was killed in an accident,” Wilda related, folding her hands in her lap. “She was referred to me because I feel the presence of spirits. It’s a gift mentioned in the Bible, you know. When I started in spiritualism, I questioned myself after I gave people information and it came true. That blew my mind. Through the years my gift has strengthened.”
“So Carolyn wanted you to communicate with her dead boyfriend?” Marla withheld the skepticism from her voice, careful to keep her expression neutral.
“That’s right, but we don’t acquire messages upon request. Spirits communicate with us telepathically. I receive images that are more symbols than words.”
“So were you able to help Carolyn?”
“It was more a matter of her helping Julius. He died in a car crash. People who depart life suddenly remain unfulfilled. These unfortunates refuse to understand they have transitioned, and they may wander for months. We can steer them toward the light and their true path. Religious rituals aid in this regard.”
“In the Jewish religion, we have a mourner’s prayer called the kaddish, but it doesn’t mention death. It praises God. Are you saying that our prayers encourage departed souls to move on?”
Wilda nodded. “Organized religion serves its purpose, but the power of the light is ultimately more important.”
“So you don’t follow any particular faith?”
“I believe in Spirit. Life is continuous; death is merely the door into the next dimension. You have to be careful because the door to this unseen fourth dimension remains open.”
Marla struggled to understand. “You call yourself a psychic. How do you distinguish what you do from other practitioners?”
“Psychics may be sensitives, intuitives, prophetics, psychometrists, or healers. I feel the presence of spirits, but I also do healing, and sometimes I can tell what’s going to happen. So my powers are mixed.”
Wilda picked up a smooth hematitic stone and stroked its shiny surface. “Let me tell you a story,” she said, glancing at Marla through half-lowered lids. “I was in New York for a gift show in the early days when I had a store. We stayed at one of those high-rise hotels near Times Square. One night we got all dressed up for a party. My roommate and I were barely on time, and we caught the elevator on its way down. Although it was packed, we could’ve squeezed in. But when I looked inside at the people dressed in their fancy evening wear, I saw no auras. I got a terrible feeling, and I held my roommate back. We signaled they should go down without us. The door closed, and we heard a strange sound. Moments later the elevator crashed, killing everyone aboard.”
I’ve heard that one before, pal. “Amazing,” Marla murmured, pretending to be impressed.
“Listen to this. One day, I was sitting at home, and a stranger pulls up to my front door. He says he’s from out of town and he’s here on a business trip. But that’s not the real reason for the visit. He’s come to exchange energy. Now, understand, I have a connection on the astral level where there’s no time or space. My body emits magnetic energy without my being aware of it. The stranger locked arms with me, and my marrow started boiling. My body ignited as though I were on fire. This man had been suffering from too much energy, and he’d been drawn to me for his salvation. After the transference, he felt much better. That’s how I heal; through bioenergy. Some healings take a lot of work; others are spontaneous like that one.”
Marla’s throat felt parched, as though Wilda were sucking away her energy on the astral level. “I see.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Wilda’s gaze speared hers. “I can see people’s auras. You know what an aura is?”
“My friend Tally takes a class on it. Supposedly, it’s an energy field that surrounds us.”
“That’s partly correct.” Pursing her lips, Wilda gazed into the distance. “Energy permeates everything aroun
d you, even inanimate objects. The human aura is a luminous body that surrounds your physical body. It has several layers composed of vibrations. The higher the layer, the more I must expand my consciousness to perceive it. As you progress through life, you can utilize these expanded realities if you’re open to them.”
“Huh?”
“The more energy you let through, the healthier you’ll be. Illness is caused by an imbalance of energy, or when the flow is blocked. You need to keep your channels open. Let me tell you about the time a woman brought her daughter to me. The girl had a terrible case of shingles and was in a lot of pain. I neutralized the shingles by putting my energy on her. While she was sitting there, I noticed the mother’s aura was diminished. She said she’d been plagued by arthritis and nothing helped. My healing energy shattered her calcifications.”
“Are you saying you can cure anything?” Marla scoffed.
“Not at all. I’ll recommend that people consult medical professionals and stay away from home remedies. My type of healing complements traditional methods of treatment. Sometimes my healing works where they fail because they’re not addressing the true cause of the problem. The more I heal, the better I feel.”
“What did you mean when you said I should be worried about someone?”
Wilda glided to her feet and began pacing. “We’ll get to that in a minute. It’s part of Carolyn’s message to you. You have psychic ability, too, you know.”
Marla wished she would get to the point. “I don’t sense anything.” If I did, I’d know you were taking me for a ride.
“In your instance, I get a reading of turmoil. You’re losing your humanity by focusing on work too much. You may be a lucid, no-nonsense type, but what you need is more diversity. You have to relax, to go with the flow.”
“Don’t we all?”
“You’re too uptight. You should take time to smell the roses. Otherwise, you’ll obstruct your channels. People who are psychic and block it get different maladies.”
“You mean if people get stressed, they’re more susceptible to illness. That’s common sense.”
“You’re not hearing me.” The older woman wagged her finger. “You’re setting yourself up for problems.”
Did I come here to get analyzed? “You’re right. I get so caught up in my job that I don’t have time for anything else.” Especially when you add in murder investigations.
“You also have to learn to protect yourself against negative energy. Quartz crystals guard you with their reflective nature.” Wilda pointed to her pendant. “You can wear them as jewelry, put the stones around your house, or go to the beach. Wade through the shallow water, and let your bare feet sift the wet sand through your toes.”
A walk on the beach would dispel anyone’s anxieties; this was nothing new. How could she return the topic of conversation to Carolyn?
“Do you have plants in your house?” Wilda said before Marla could marshal her thoughts.
“No, I kill plants.”
“Ah.” The psychic gave her a look connoting superior wisdom. “You may have too much electricity. Try running the faucet at home and putting your hand on the metal spigot. It will ground you. You should keep citrus and mint around, too. Mint opens the channels; citrus harmonizes them. It’s been proven that mint provokes business. You know about aromatherapy? If you dispense mint fragrance in your shop, people spend more.”
Again, that made sense. Marla always noticed when she walked into a store and it smelled pleasant. This was a given sales principle. Tell me something I don’t know.
Wilda closed her eyes. “I’m seeing chairs, heavy wooden chairs. You’re picking up negative energy from them. You’ve heard of wood nymphs? These are unseen things from the other dimension that live in wood. It could be coming from them, or maybe not.”
Marla gave the medium a startled glance. “My boyfriend’s late wife filled their house with antique furniture.”
“You don’t care for that style, do you?”
“The stuffy pieces remind me of a mausoleum. I’m trying to encourage Dalton to clean out his place, but he won’t get rid of anything belonging to his dearly departed wife.”
Wilda’s lids snapped open. “You’re absorbing the negative vibrations. You must protect yourself. Put out a bowl of water in the room. Water attracts negative energy. Dump it outside and replace it each day. Antiques can be dangerous; you don’t know who owned them before you bought them. Let me tell you about this woman who came to me once. She’d bought a settee. Every time she sat on it, she got irritated. Well, after I visited her, I could tell why. The couch came with two ghosts.”
Marla smirked, shifting in her seat. “Maybe that’s why I’m uncomfortable when I stay at his house. Pam’s ghost still haunts the place.”
“Don’t make jokes about it. Keys, rings, furniture, clothing, everything carries a story. You have to avoid bad vibrations. That’s why I don’t shake hands with people. I don’t want to pick up their negative energy. It’s all around us, and we must guard against it.”
Who did Carolyn have to guard against? Marla stood and stretched, inpatient to move on. “Linda Hall mentioned a collection that Carolyn had left to her. Something valuable, but the sister didn’t know what it was. Do you?”
“I wouldn’t trust what that woman says. She felt a lot of resentment toward Carolyn. She even went to a root lady once to put an evil spell on her sister. I was able to block the influence, but it wasn’t easy.”
Root lady? Somehow Marla didn’t think that referred to hair roots. Her mind conjured an image of an old hag brewing herbs over a steaming cauldron. Wait until Vail heard these stories. She could imagine his incredulous expression.
“Linda told me that Carolyn was jealous of her,” she said.
“Just the opposite, dear.” Wilda’s expression clouded. “Carolyn needs your help. She can’t rest until her murderer is exposed. She wants you to find her killer.”
“Why me? Carolyn hated me. She tried to sabotage my business when she moved back to Palm Haven.”
“That’s not what she told me. She said you forced her out of town initially, and she was only returning to her origins. But your relationship is not the issue here. You’re good at solving crimes. If anyone can help Carolyn’s spirit find its way to the light, it’s you.”
“What else did she say?” Marla asked.
“Someone close to you needs to see a doctor.”
“How could she tell you that? I thought you received messages in symbols, not words.”
“It’s nothing written out in sentences,” Wilda snapped. “I get a feeling that comes through. Someone associated with you is ill. Carolyn will reveal who it is when you find her murderer.”
“What is this, some sort of spiritual blackmail?” Marla snatched her purse, uncomfortable with the turn of dialogue.
“I am merely delivering a message from the higher spiritual plane.”
And I’m a schlemiel to have wasted my time here. “I’ll consider it. Tell me, do you have any suspicion who might have killed Carolyn?” Other than you, since you inherited a fairly lucrative business.
Wilda raised a hand to ruffle her thick red hair. “That’s for you to determine, dear.”
“What about this collection Linda said she inherited?”
“I’ve no idea. Carolyn never said a word to me about it.”
“Did Carolyn mention receiving negative vibrations from anyone?” Marla tried, speaking in Wilda’s terms.
“You mean, anyone besides you? That’s not for me to say. Our sessions were confidential.”
“Well, if you think of anything else, you’ll let me know? It will make my job easier.”
Wilda’s face creased into a grin. “I knew you would help. I could foresee it.” Her expression sobered. “I’d suggest you work fast. Your loved one’s aura isn’t strong. I sense…it ceases in the near future.”
“What does that mean?”
“Transformation occurs. To a higher plane of
existence.”
“You mean someone dies?”
“Within months, but delay may be possible with the proper treatment.” She gripped Marla by the elbow. “Heed my words. I’m not a nut case. This is the message I’m receiving.”
“It’s just your interpretation.” Perhaps Carolyn had left a ghostly residue. That might account for the fading aura Wilda visualized. But in the event her words held any truth, Marla considered what other questions to pose on her way to the exit.
“Why did Carolyn go to the meter room that day?” she asked. “Were you able to gain any information from her staff?”
“No, but that’s a good angle for you to work on.”
Marla sidestepped an obelisk on the floor. “How could Carolyn afford to move in the first place? I thought her other salon wasn’t doing too well.”
“She had her resources. Sometimes people can turn around their fortunes with the right attitude. Let me tell you a story about this man who came to see me.”
Recognizing another lengthy tale about to begin, Marla raised a hand. “I really have to go. Thanks for your hospitality.” Her temples throbbed, and she longed for the comfort of her own home. An hour’s drive wouldn’t help her mood.
“Wait, you have a headache. Let me relieve it.” Stepping forward, Wilda pressed her fingers to Marla’s brow.
“It’s getting late,” Marla protested, strangely hesitant to move. Maybe she was just hungry. She felt oddly weak. “Do you feel anything? A sensation of warmth?” Marla stared at Wilda’s age-crinkled face. “Nothing.” “You’re not receptive.” Wilda regarded her knowingly. “It’s okay. Just remember to protect yourself. Absorbing too much negative energy will bring you down.”
Chapter Six
“I can’t decide if Wilda is for real or not,” Marla said after describing the interview to Tally. Speeding down 1-595 in her Camry, she gripped the steering wheel. They were on their way to the bingo hall in Hollywood. By seven o’clock on Wednesday evening, most rush-hour congestion had cleared, although it mainly affected the opposite lanes. She couldn’t conceive of why anyone would move farther west, despite the prestige of a Weston address, when you’d commit to fighting bumper-to bumper lines crawling east every morning and the reverse every evening. Maybe she just wasn’t a commuter.
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