“It’s okay,” A.J. said. “I know you didn’t like her. The feeling was mutual.”
He was silent.
“How’s…” She struggled with herself briefly. “Nick?”
Andy brightened. “Good. Out of town as usual.”
Was he excusing Nick’s absence? Did he honestly think she’d have wanted Nick there today? She asked automatically, “Does he travel a lot?”
“Yeah. It’s…I’m getting used to it, I guess. In fact, he was up this way just a couple of weeks ago.”
Andy didn’t like living alone; he wouldn’t be happy with Nick being gone a lot, she recognized with a little flare of satisfaction—and was immediately disgusted with herself.
“How’s business?”
The business they had formerly shared. They had split their clients along with their CDs, books, and artwork. That had been A.J.’s decision. Andy couldn’t understand why they shouldn’t continue as business partners.
“Good.” He hesitated. “A.J., you have to come home pretty soon. Your clients are calling me. They don’t understand what’s going on. Neither do I, to tell you the truth.”
There was a worried frown between his wide blue eyes.
“Well, that makes it unanimous,” A.J. said wearily. She pointed at the curve in the road ahead. “Turn left up here.”
When they reached the house the catering van was already out front. A.J.’d had neither the energy nor inclination to prepare food for the crowd that was liable to show up at Deer Hollow following the funeral. She had hired a local company to provide food. It had been a wise move, as several cars were already parked in the front yard and people she did not know were walking toward her front porch carrying potted plants.
“It’s going to be a long day,” Andy remarked, turning off the engine. He glanced at her. “What do you need me to do?”
She was suddenly and unexpectedly grateful for his presence. “Watch my back,” she said, and he grinned at what had once been a familiar joke between them.
A few minutes later she watched Andy slipping automatically into the role of host: offering people food and drink and being generally charming, which was something he was very good at. The only person who did not seem impressed by Andy was Monster, who took one look at him and growled, actually showing his teeth.
“Monster!” exclaimed A.J., startled.
Monster gave her a guilty look and nervously wagged his tail, then turned a disapproving eye back on Andy.
“Di must have told him about me,” Andy tried to joke. Having been badly bitten as a child, he was fearful of dogs, especially large dogs.
A.J. had no choice; she dragged Monster—who sat determinedly on his haunches—into the bedroom and shut the door on him.
The next hours passed in a blur of people stopping by with flowers or food or off-beat gifts and offering their condolences on her aunt’s passing. It seemed as if everyone in the county had shown up. It was possible, though hard to believe, that one of these people had killed Diantha.
A.J. snagged a crab puff off a passing tray. She was starting to feel light-headed. She hadn’t slept the night before and had been unable to eat anything that morning. From a low-blood-sugary distance she watched Elysia deftly handling the caterers and the reporter and photographer from the local paper.
She wondered if Lily would stop by. She was prepared to be cordial if Lily made the effort.
“That him?” Stella Borin asked, appearing—gnome-like—out of nowhere.
“That who?” A.J. asked uncertainly.
Stella’s expression was surprisingly intense. She held the long trail of her white bedspread—er, dress—in a way that reminded A.J. of how people wearing giant animal costumes hitched their tails out of the way. She nodded toward Andy. “Is that the ex?”
“Yes.”
Stella nodded grimly.
“What’s the story between you and my mother?” A.J. asked suddenly.
To her surprise Stella giggled hoarsely. “I’ll leave that to Elysia to explain.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Noo. She’s the one with the problem, though.”
Stella moved off and A.J. listened to person after person sharing some little recollection of Diantha: some made her laugh and some brought tears to her eyes, but it was good to hear these things. At some point Andy pressed a gin and tonic into her hand, so she was slightly…fortified…by the time Jake Oberlin showed up.
She noticed him the moment he appeared in the crowded room—which was irritating. More irritating was the fact that he immediately caught her staring at him. He edged his way through the press of people, and A.J. tossed off the last of her gin and tonic.
She straightened, spine erect, shoulders back, as he reached her.
“I just wanted to pay my respects,” Jake said, as if there could be any doubt as to why he stopped by.
“Thank you.”
He hesitated. “You did a nice job of reading that poem.”
“It was one of Aunt Di’s favorites.”
She met his gaze and he asked brusquely, “How are you?”
She opened her mouth to shoot back an equally curt “Fine. And you?” That would be the beginning of the end of this conversation. But it occurred to her that she did not really want the conversation to end. “Tired,” she admitted. “Sad.”
Something changed in his face. He opened his mouth, then glanced at Andy, who stood a few feet away making a pair of Sacred Balance yummy mummies giggle.
As though feeling their regard, Andy looked up. This should be interesting, A.J. thought, as he met her eyes. He detached himself from the disappointed women and made his way over to A.J.’s side.
A.J. introduced the two men. Andy offered his most engaging grin and shook hands with Jake.
Maybe she’d have to revisit the notion of Jake’s sexuality—either that or Andy was not his type. Jake was at his most crisp, his handshake perfunctory.
Turning back to A.J., he said, “Anyway…I’ll be in touch.”
“I never doubted it,” replied the gin and tonic.
He gave her an odd look, nodded even more briefly to Andy, and withdrew.
“Do you think he got the wrong idea?” Andy said doubtfully as they watched the wide pair of shoulders moving through the crush of people in Diantha’s parlor.
“About what?” A.J. asked.
But Elysia swept up and drew Andy away before he could answer.
After a time, the crowd thinned until at last it was down to a handful of people sitting around reminiscing about Diantha.
“Did Lily ever show up?” A.J. asked.
The others looked uncomfortable. Suze MacDougal, who rose to take the tray of sandwiches Elysia carried, said, “She said she didn’t feel welcome.”
“She’s certainly welcome to pay her respects. I’m not the one who—” A.J. stopped herself from finishing.
“Who’s Lily?” Andy asked.
“A thorn by any other name,” said Stella Borin, who had also been on the receiving end of Andy’s gin and tonics.
This reminded A.J. of things she would sooner forget. She shot her mother a narrow look, but Elysia was sipping tea and looking unreasonably sangfroid. “Something amiss, pumpkin?” she inquired.
A.J. tried to fill Andy in on who and what Lily was, trying to be objective and neutral—aware of Suze and Simon Crider’s lingering presence. Unfortunately Elysia and Stella kept interrupting with their own unflattering views of Lily and her recent behavior.
Before her explanation went very far, Simon rose abruptly and said his good-byes. He told A.J. he would be at the Sacred Balance staff meeting the next day.
With the exception of Lily, all the Sacred Balance employees had put in an appearance at Deer Hollow. Of course that was out of respect for Diantha, not any show of loyalty to A.J. She understood that and resolved, as she walked Simon to the door, to be on her best behavior the following day.
When she returned to the parlor she heard Stella
saying, “I think Slapsy would be more cooperative in familiar surroundings.”
“Wouldn’t that be a wooden box six feet under?” suggested Elysia, and Stella glared at her. Mr. Meagher, reaching for a turkey croissant, made tut-tutting noises.
“Did I miss something?” A.J. asked. Andy wore a very peculiar expression. He seemed at a loss for words, which was not like him. “Who’s Slapsy?”
“Slapsy Malone,” Suze told her. “Mrs. Borin’s spirit guide. Mrs. Borin suggested we hold a séance. She said that maybe Diantha could tell us who…who her killer was.” A.J. understood what people meant when they said someone’s eyes looked like saucers; Suze’s blue eyes were enormous.
“Uh…” A.J. said.
“My thought exactly,” Andy murmured.
Stella’s eyes gleamed with eagerness—or maybe it was plain old fanaticism. “I know what you’re thinking—”
Elysia cut in, “I doubt it, old thing. You wouldn’t still be sitting here.”
Stella ignored her. “I’ve been witness to some amazing events. And Di was most receptive to all things pertaining to the spirit. She always kept an open mind and an open heart. I feel certain she’ll try and contact us if we open the door.”
“Oh wow,” breathed Suze.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” muttered Mr. Meagher.
Elysia drawled, “Don’t get your hopes up, ducks. We’ll be lucky to find my sister at home.”
“What do you say, A.J.?” Stella asked. “It’s up to you.”
“Why is it up to me?” protested A.J.
“Possibly something to do with your share of stocks,” Elysia said vaguely. “Look, pumpkin, if you want to try and ring your aunt on the celestial plane, the rest of us will be happy to tag along. Say the word.”
“We should at least try,” Suze said enthusiastically.
Why? wondered A.J. She stared at the ring of watching faces. Frankly, she wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. If her husband was gay, why couldn’t her dead aunt speak to her from beyond the grave? If nothing else, it might be interesting to watch the people closest to Diantha interacting together. It was a pity she couldn’t think of a way to get Lily to pop in.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s have a séance.”
Eighteen
A.J. had not especially noticed Chloe Williams at the house, but when they all arrived at Stella’s farm a few minutes after eight, the girl was there, looking like a teenaged ghost in knock-off designer jeans and an oversized yellow sweater that emphasized the sallow pallor of her skin.
“Is anyone looking after that child?” Elysia murmured disapprovingly, watching Chloe shyly tuck herself in the corner of the giant plaid couch.
A.J. shrugged. Her own attention was captured by the extraordinary hodgepodge of Stella’s home. She had never seen so many different patterns or colors in one room: black and yellow checks, blue and pink stripes, green and red flowered chintzes. The only theme seemed to be cats—live ones and pretend ones. Cat-shaped throw pillows littered the sofas and chairs, and there were framed cross-stitches of cats hanging on the walls along with decorative cat motif plates. Cat-shaped candles sat on the fireplace mantle beside cat-shaped vases and cat statues, and there were at least five full-sized and very much alive cats taking up most of the available seating.
Stella quickly ushered them into her dining room, where they all found seats around the dark oval table. A.J. positioned herself between Elysia and Andy. She didn’t want those two sitting together, knowing from past experience how they egged each other on. This way she could always kick the ankle of whichever one showed signs of getting out of line.
Mr. Meagher and Chloe sat across from them. Suze took the empty seat at one end of the table. Then Stella turned the lights down low and took her seat at the other end. She had changed out of her bedraggled bedspread dress into something black and shiny and equally shapeless. Obviously the spirits were not into handing out fashion advice, A.J. thought.
“Before we start,” Stella said in that toneless, sexless voice of hers, “I want to explain something. You’ve probably all seen séances in movies or TV shows. You’re probably picturing floating musical instruments and jumping tables and green fuzzy holographs.” Her eyes rested on Chloe’s white, strained face. “Or maybe you’re expecting something frightening and horrible to happen. I’ve sat in on or directed séances for over twenty years, and nothing like that has ever happened. The séances I’ve been part of have been uplifting and healing experiences. All that I’m asking tonight is that each of you keep an open mind.” She stared directly at Elysia when she made that request.
Elysia yawned elaborately, and A.J. gave her a warning look. Elysia’s answering smile did not reassure her.
“Now it’s very important that we approach our séance with a unity of purpose. Are we agreed that we wish to contact Diantha to ask her if she can identify her killer?”
No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. No one seemed to even blink.
Stella seemed to read agreement in this absolute stillness.
“Good. We must all focus on this. If everyone would place their hands on the table…”
They obeyed. A.J. found herself staring, fascinated, at Andy’s left hand. He was wearing what appeared to be a wedding band. A new wedding band.
That was her last conscious thought for some minutes. The next thing she realized was that everyone was singing “Danny Boy.” Mr. Meagher was particularly enthusiastic on the high notes. It sounded like last call at an Irish pub, she thought. She could have used a Guinness about then.
The song ended. Stella said, “Now close your eyes.”
A.J. closed her eyes. She heard Elysia heave a long-suffering sigh.
Silence.
The table seemed to shake. Or did it? It was so slight, A.J. couldn’t be positive.
Stella said gruffly, in what sounded like a bad imitation of James Cagney, “Okay, youse guys. What’s up?”
Suze breathed, “Oh, wow! She’s already in a trance. That’s the voice of Slapsy Malone, her spirit guide!”
“He must be rooming with Bugs Bunny,” Andy murmured.
A.J. raised her lashes to give him a quelling look, but Andy just laughed at her with his eyes.
“Saints preserve us,” muttered Mr. Meagher. He patted Chloe’s trembling hand. “It’s all in fun, lass.”
Chloe nodded hastily and made a ghastly attempt at a smile.
“Someone has to ask a question,” Suze hissed, as though Slapsy couldn’t hear across the length of the table. “Someone should act as the control.”
“That sounds like a job for you, pumpkin,” Elysia remarked to A.J.
“Why me?”
“You’re Di’s…heir. Heiress. Not just financially. Spiritually. No?”
A.J. absorbed this silently. Yes. It seemed that perhaps Aunt Di had something of the sort in mind when she left Sacred Balance to A.J. instead of Lily.
She stared at Stella, whose grey head now bobbed gently on her pillowy chest as though she’d nodded off.
A.J. cleared her throat. “Uh, Mr. Malone?”
Stella’s head lifted. “Slapsy’ll do, toots. Didn’t never stand on ceremony. What can I do you for?”
“We were hoping to, um, speak to my aunt.” She glared at Andy, who was obviously struggling not to burst out laughing. “My aunt Diantha.”
“Oh yeah? Newly crossed is she?”
“Uh, yeah. Yes, I mean.”
“Yeah? So what’s she look like?”
“Uh…”
“It’s difficult to say,” Elysia drawled. “Barefoot, something loose in breathable cotton, and a harp, I imagine—she was always fond of folk music.”
Andy buried his face in his folded arms. His shoulders shook. Chloe, on the other hand, looked ready to faint.
“I like a dame what can crack wise,” Slapsy via Stella remarked. “I’ll ask around. See what’s what.”
Stella’s head fell forward again. It bobbed gently on
her chest as she breathed in and out in long sonorous gusts.
“Is that it? Is the séance over then?” Mr. Meagher demanded. “Are we not going to speak to Diantha?”
“Oh, don’t you start,” Elysia protested.
Mr. Meagher blushed.
“I think he’s checking around,” Suze said. “That’s what he said. He’s probably checking in the spirit world to see if she’s nearby.”
“Oh. My. God.” Elysia shook her head. “Bradley,” she said to Mr. Meagher, “that child should be home in bed.” She nodded to Chloe.
“I’m okay,” Chloe said quickly. “I want to stay. I want to talk to Di!”
There was a funny little silence. Andy stopped laughing and sat up.
Mr. Meagher said uncomfortably, “Now, lass, it is getting late, and I did promise your ma….”
“I want to stay!”
The shrill voice seemed to disturb Stella’s trance. Her shoulders twitched, pain flickered across her blunt features. She lifted her head. Her pale eyes stared blindly around the circle.
“A.J…. danger…” Stella gasped the words out painfully. “Great…danger.”
A.J. sat frozen. No one said a word; all gazes were riveted on Stella.
“Chloe…take…care….”
“Di…?” wavered Chloe.
Elysia sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ve had quite enough for one evening,” she snapped.
Suze reached across, clutching at Elysia’s arm as she rose. “You can’t wake her out of a trance! It’s super dangerous. At least, I think it is. It always is in the movies.”
Elysia shook her hand off and went to the wall light switch. Mellow light from the copper hanging lamp flooded the table to reveal the circle of stricken faces. Stella moaned and slumped forward.
“Oh no!” Suze jumped up and ran around to Stella, but the older woman was pushing herself up, mumbling, “What happened? Were we successful?”
Chloe was sobbing. Mr. Meagher looked helplessly around, and Elysia joined him, coaxing the girl to her feet.
“Here now, pet. That’s enough of that. Let’s get you home and to bed.”
Observing her, A.J. felt something weirdly like jealousy. All that maternal concern for a girl Elysia had never even heard of before this week.
Corpse Pose Page 17
