Dizzy Spells

by Morgana Best

“No, I didn’t, but this means that Madam Dianne was right,” I said.

  Camino raised an eyebrow. “Who is Madam Dianne?”

  “Oh, she’s the woman that opened the psychic store in town. She told me that she saw something terrible ahead of me. This must be what she meant.”

  Camino sighed and shook her head. “That woman is probably selling a load of nonsense and nothing more. I wouldn’t lend any credence to her words.”

  I bit my lip. “Maybe, since she did get everything else wrong, but it’s still a strange coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “Aren’t all coincidences strange?” Camino replied.

  “I guess so, but it’s still a bit spooky.”

  Camino shrugged. “At any rate, the house didn’t do this,” she said. “Call the police now.”

  I pulled my cell phone from my jeans pocket and made the call. After several rings, a voice greeted me on the other end. “Bayberry Creek police. How may I help you?”

  “I just came home to find a dead body on my front porch!” I said.

  Chapter 3

  I looked up at Camino and frowned. “The police will be here soon. What about the house? If we go inside, will it attack them or something if it feels like I’m being threatened?” I asked, with rising panic.

  Camino shook her head. “Not a chance. That just isn’t how it works, Amelia. Relax, and everything will work out fine.”

  “But we know the house doesn’t like certain people.”

  Camino interrupted me. “Trust me. Nothing will happen. The house is not going to harm the police, and it sure didn’t have anything to do with the man on your porch.”

  I looked at her and sighed. “I know you’re right, but I’m just so worried. Why did was that man at my door?”

  Before Camino could answer, two police cars pulled over in front of the house, and officers hurried over to us.

  “We received an emergency call from this address,” an officer in a sergeant’s uniform said. “We have a report of a deceased person on your property, is that correct? And may I ask which of you is the homeowner?” He pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket.

  “I am,” I replied. “This is my next door neighbor, Camino.”

  The sergeant nodded. “Do you know the name of the deceased party?”

  Camino and I exchanged glances. “I’ve never seen him before in my life,” I said.

  The cop scratched his chin. “Hmm,” he murmured. “I’ll ask both of you to stay here while we do a preliminary examination of the body, and then we’ll need to speak with both of you. We’ll need to search your house, if you have no objection.”

  “Sure.” I handed him my keys, and hoped that they wouldn’t do anything to offend the house.

  The sergeant joined the others on the porch while Camino and I remained on the grass. “You don’t think they suspect me, do you?” I whispered.

  Camino shook her head. “Of course not. They’re just doing their jobs. If you don’t calm down a little, they might think otherwise, though. Just let things happen as they are meant to.”

  The same police officer soon walked back over. “Was your door locked when you first discovered the body, or did you go inside before calling us?” the sergeant asked.

  “No, it was already locked from earlier. I made sure the door was secure when I left this morning,” I replied. “I haven’t been inside since I found him.”

  “You are certain you haven’t seen this man before?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I’ve never seen him before.”

  The sergeant scribbled in his notepad. “The man’s identification shows that he’s from out of town.”

  “That just makes it even stranger,” I said.

  The sergeant frowned. “Can you explain what you mean?”

  “I mean, why would some random man travel a few towns over or whatever, just to show up on the doorstep of someone he had never met?” I asked.

  “That’s exactly what we have to find out,” he replied. “The forensic people are on their way. When they remove the body from the scene, you’ll be able to go back to your routine.”

  “Thanks, but what about until then? Can I go inside my house?”

  The cop looked over at the porch for several seconds and then turned back to me. “Hold on just one second. I’ll have a word to Constable Walker.”

  I strained my ears to overhear what the police were saying, but the only words I could make out were, “There’s nothing inside as far as evidence goes.”

  The sergeant’s next words were louder. “Constable Walker, you’re going to be in charge of questioning the older woman. I’ll speak to the homeowner. Tell the others to make sure that nobody steps an inch near that body until forensics arrives.”

  The sergeant walked back to us and nodded to the front door. “We can head inside now.”

  When I passed the body, I did my best to avert my eyes.

  Constable Walker took Camino into another room, and the sergeant scribbled on his pad. “Where were you earlier today? You mentioned that you locked up before leaving. Where did you go?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, caught off guard by the question.

  “We don’t yet have a precise time of death, but the lack of rigor mortis points to a short timeline. The victim was probably dead for a couple hours at most before you reported it, so we need to know your whereabouts during that time.”

  I froze, my mind going blank. I couldn’t help but feel that the sergeant suspected me. My heart beat faster and faster as my anxiety increased. “I was with my friend, Thyme. We went shopping and then had lunch. Why did he die? Was it a heart attack?”

  The sergeant tilted his head and squinted. “Would you say that for the last three to four hours, you were with your friend rather than here?”

  I note that he hadn’t answered my question. “Yes,” I said. “You can check with her.”

  “I will. And you say that you’ve never seen him before? So you would have no reason or motive for killing him?”

  My jaw fell. “Of course not!” I said, a little too loudly.

  “These questions are just routine, miss. That will be all for now.”

  Chapter 4

  I was sweeping the floor when the bell above the door chimed, and a customer walked in. It was toward the end of the day. Business had been steady, but was now dying down. I craned my neck, and saw Madam Dianne, the fortuneteller. The woman came in quickly, a flurry of scarves and the sleeves of her flowing dress billowing out behind her. She certainly dressed like a fortuneteller; I had to give her that.

  Thyme was in the back, cleaning the kitchen, so I leaned the broom and dustpan against the wall and hurried around behind the counter.

  “Hey, Madam Dianne,” I said with a smile. “What can I get you?”

  Dianne smiled back, but it was a slight and forced smile, her lips barely turning upward at the corners. “I need cake, or cupcakes. Or both,” she said, her voice wavering.

  I looked her over. The woman was obviously distraught, but we barely knew one another. I didn’t think it would be proper for me to ask if she was all right, so I nodded and reached for a box. “Well, we have plenty of both,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.

  “What’s this one?” Dianne asked, pressing the end of her index finger against the glass front of the case.

  I bent and opened a sliding door at my side, so I could peer into the case and see which one she was pointing at. It was a cake, small and round, sitting on the bottom shelf. “Oh, that’s our triple chocolate cake.”

  “Triple chocolate?” Dianne asked.

  “Yes. Chocolate cake with a fudge core, and chocolate icing.”

  “I need chocolate,” Dianne said, nodding softly. “I’m having dizzy spells.” She suddenly pressed a hand to her nose, as if she were stopping a sneeze, although I figured Dianne was actually trying to keep her tears at bay.

  For the most part she succeeded, but one fat drop of salty water leaked from the corner of her right eye an
d ran down her cheek, leaving a wet line down her face.

  I didn’t know whether or not to offer consolation, but I was still unsure how she would react if I did. “Did you want a slice, or the whole cake?”

  “The whole thing,” Dianne said. “And I’ll have two of whatever those cupcakes are there, the ones with the purple frosting.”

  I nodded and boxed up the cake, and then got a smaller box for the cupcakes. I boxed them up as well and placed both boxes on the top of the counter. “Is there anything else?” I asked.

  Dianne took one look at the boxes and then the tears came. Her sobbing was as loud as her tears were seemingly unending.

  I stood rooted to the floor, unsure what I should do, and then went out behind the counter and patted Dianne on the shoulder. It had no effect whatsoever.

  The swinging door that led to the back room burst open, and Thyme barreled into the storefront. “Good gravy, what’s going on?” she asked before she got a good look at anything.

  “Dianne’s here. She’s upset,” I said, stating the obvious as the woman’s wails had risen to high volume.

  “What’s wrong?” Thyme asked, hurrying over to Dianne.

  “It’s horrible!” Dianne wailed, speaking when she could between sobs.

  Thyme took Dianne by the arm. “Let’s get you some tea.”

  While Thyme took Dianne out the back, I hurried to the front of the store and locked the door, and then swung the orange and black open sign around to read ‘Closed’.

  When I made it to the back room, I found Thyme at the stove, heating water in a kettle on a burner. Dianne was sitting on a small folding chair next to the table. She was still crying, although it seemed as though she was getting herself together.

  “So what’s wrong?” Thyme asked her.

  “The police came to my store today,” Dianne said. “Thomas Hale was killed.”

  “Did you know him?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Dianne said. “We both lived in Newcastle before moving here.”

  Thyme and I exchanged glances. “You moved here together?” I asked her. Newcastle was a major city, and no one would know everyone in their own suburb, let alone in the entire city.

  “What? No, nothing like that,” Dianne said, shaking her head. Her black curls swirled so violently that I thought they would fly off.

  Thyme set her tea in front of her and then sat in the chair across from Dianne.

  “You both happened to move here and knew each other?”

  “I didn’t know him—I just knew of him. I heard he was moving here, and I knew he was a realtor, so I asked him to help me find a place, because I had decided to move here as well. He actually sold my house back home, too. My old home, I should say.”

  I blinked. That was quite a coincidence. “So why did the police speak to you? Why were you so upset?”

  “They came to my store, and then they took me to the police station. They said Thomas was murdered! They weren’t just asking questions!” Dianne insisted, and then, after she sucked in another breath, she wailed, “I’m a suspect!” She took a sip from the mug of tea, and that seemed to calm her. I figured it was chamomile tea, with perhaps some valerian.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re a suspect,” Thyme said in a placating tone.

  “Oh, yes it does,” Dianne said. “I knew him. I came to Bayberry Creek. I asked him to go to the house he was killed at.”

  “What?” I screeched.

  “I saw the house on one of my trips here, when I was deciding whether or not to move here. I drove through some years ago and fell in love with the place. I knew this town was perfect for my shop. I can sense things, you know. The years went by, and I never forgot it. When you have my gift, it just comes out. I know that the man you’ll marry already has his eye on you,” Dianne said, nodding at me.

  I frowned.

  “And you, Thyme,” she continued, “I know that you look up to your boss here, and you desperately hope that one day you will be as good a baker as she is. I know you will be! I can see it.”

  I had to fight to keep from laughing. Thyme was shaking and had her hand pressed over her mouth, so I knew she was having trouble, too. Yet despite my amusement, I wanted to know about my house. “Why did you send him to the house?”

  “I wanted that house. I’ve got my shop, and there’s a tiny apartment above it that I’m staying in now, but I want to buy that home. It’s a lovely Victorian one. I asked Thomas to see if it was available, and he said he would go to the owner and ask. He was a kind man, you know. I sensed good things for him ahead. He was going to come into some money. But people can change things, and now he won’t come into money, or anything good.” She sniffled again.

  “So, you can see things, but they might not come true?” Thyme asked skeptically.

  “Yes. But if you’re worried about the baking thing, I’m telling you, some day you really will be just as talented at baking as Amelia is.”

  “Thanks. I was worried about that,” Thyme said with a barely suppressed chuckle.

  Dianne mopped her eyes. “This is horrible. I’m a suspect, but I’m not a murderer!”

  Thyme and I murmured words of sympathy, but Dianne cut us off. “You two are going to help me. I can see that in our futures.” She took another sip of tea and then set down her half empty cup.

  “That’s my house, you know,” I said.

  Dianne looked up at me, puzzled.

  “The house you wanted to buy,” I said. “The Victorian. That’s my house. I live there.”

  “Amelia is the one who found the body,” Thyme said.

  I shot Thyme a look, expecting the pronouncement to upset Dianne, but on the contrary, the woman stopped crying altogether. She fixed me with a steely gaze, her eyes glittering. “You found Thomas Hale’s body?” she asked me. “And that was your house? He died at your house?” Her faced filled with shock, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  She stood up abruptly. “Thank you for everything. We can speak tomorrow.” She rushed for the front door.

  I followed her to unlock the door, and then locked it behind her. It was now past closing time. When I turned, I saw Thyme leaning against the end of the counter.

  “She didn’t pay for those cakes, did she?”

  I shrugged. “She was upset. I couldn’t say anything.”

  Thyme laughed. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you that she saw you losing money.”

  Chapter 5

  The first thing the following morning, Thyme was showing me, for the umpteenth time, how to make cupcakes. I really don’t know why she bothered. I knew it was going to be a disaster.

  The ringing as the front door opened signaled a customer. “Saved by the bell,” I said smugly, setting down the flour. The disaster was averted, or at least delayed.

  The customer was none other than Dianne. “I feel faint,” she announced loudly, taking off her raincoat and shaking droplets of water all over my newly washed floor. “I’d like a dozen chocolate peanut butter cupcakes, please.” She jabbed her finger on the display cabinet.

  “Are you still having dizzy spells?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “It’s the police. I’m just so stressed ‘cause they obviously see me as a suspect. It’s just not fair. By the way, I Friended you on Facebook last night.”

  I smiled at her. “Yes, I accepted.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Why don’t you have any photos on Facebook? Your profile picture is of two cats.”

  “I’m camera shy.” I accepted the money from her, thankful that she had actually paid this time.

  “A pretty girl like you? If I looked like you, I’d have my photos all over my Facebook page. As it is, I don’t use Facebook much.”

  I smiled at her. I wondered if that was why her Facebook privacy settings were so high. Plus there was the fact that she didn’t have any posts at all.

  “Your grandmother was very fond of cats,” she said. “I mean your mother’s mother. Sh
e loved cats. She always had plenty of them running around the house.”

  “She was allergic to cats,” I said without thinking, and then gave myself a mental kick for being so tactless.

  Dianne shook her head. “That was when she was older. Madam Dianne sees all. She had plenty of cats when she was younger. You just didn’t know about that.”

  I shrugged. I knew for a fact that my grandmother had been diagnosed at an early age with a severe allergy to cats, and consequently had an aversion to cats all her life.

  Dianne was still speaking. “You inherited your love of cats from your grandmother. Her favorite cat was called Oktoberfest, named after her German ancestry and her love of beer.”

  “My grandmother?” I asked incredulously. My grandmother had Irish ancestry on both sides, no German ancestors whatsoever, and was a strict teetotaler Baptist.

  “Yes,” Dianne said forcefully. “Obviously there was a lack of communication between you and your grandmother.”

  I nodded and did my best not to laugh. I boxed up the cupcakes and handed them to her.

  “Madam Dianne senses that you, not Thyme, made these cupcakes,” she said. “I sense that they are even better than all your usual cupcakes.”

  “Thanks,” I said, still trying to keep a straight face.

  Before she made it to the door, two men hurried into the shop.

  I looked up, but the smile froze on my face. They were two stern-looking men, and the shorter one was holding out his badge to Dianne.

  “Ms. Dianne Longley?”

  Dianne nodded and took a step backward.

  “I’m Detective Harrison, and this is Detective Sassafras of the Homicide Squad,” the taller one said sternly, closing his big black umbrella with a snap.

  I felt guilty, and I hadn’t even committed a crime.

  “You might be able to help us with the investigation into Thomas Hale’s murder,” Harrison continued.

  “Me?” Dianne squealed. The poor woman was obviously terrified.

  “I’d like you to accompany us back to the station to help us with our inquiries,” the other detective said.