by Dawn Eastman
I shook my head. “No one says that.”
She huffed. “So your plan is to just go in there and ask him if he knows anything and shake his hand when he says he has nothing to offer?”
“What would you like to do?” I turned and looked her in the eye. Sometimes it’s easier to go along for the ride than to fight it out with Vi.
“I say we tell him there’s a suspect in custody—that will relax him if he’s hiding anything. Then we get him to describe everything he saw that night.” She nodded to herself.
“Okay.”
She swiveled her head in my direction. “Really?”
“Yup, we’ll do it your way. But I don’t think either one of us needs to be the bad guy.”
“Okay, but if it seems like things are getting out of hand, don’t be surprised if I start pushing him pretty hard.”
“Got it.”
I parked the Jeep and exited with some trepidation about Vi. At least she didn’t carry a weapon or handcuffs. The urgent care center was in a new building set back from the road. Everything about it was shiny. Inside, the waiting room chairs gleamed in bright colors, TVs flickered from the ceiling in two corners of the waiting room, and a young boy played with a bead-and-wire game that fascinated anyone who came within a few feet. He coughed, making a deep wet sound. Vi grabbed my elbow to pull me as far as we could get from the boy.
“Stay away from the little ones. They have the strongest germs,” she said.
We approached the front desk and a pretty young woman smiled at us over her computer monitor.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Daron Pagan,” I said. “Is he available?”
She nodded. “He told me to expect you. Let me call back there and see if he’s free.”
She mumbled into the phone and smiled brightly as she hung up. “He’ll be right out.” The monitor stole her attention and Vi and I took seats near the door to the exam rooms.
A few moments later, Daron poked his head through the door and scanned the room. He spotted us and waved.
“Ms. Fortune?” He put his hand out to shake.
I nodded and introduced Vi.
“Sorry, I know we met the other night, but it’s all become something of a blur.” He showed us through the door.
Daron was young. I hadn’t realized that in the darkness of the woods. He must have recently graduated from nursing school. No wonder the failed CPR had hit him so hard. His blond hair was cut short and his warm brown eyes were filled with concern. He gestured toward some plastic molded chairs in the small staff break room. We took a seat at a round table with sticky spots.
“Diana said you wanted to ask about Rafe Godwin?” he began, robbing Vi of the chance to accuse him of anything.
I sat back in my chair to avoid touching the table. “You may have heard the rumors that it wasn’t an accident. Diana and Rafe were close family friends, and she wants to find out whatever she can about his death.”
“She probably saw everything I did.” He spread his hands out in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know what I can do to help. I already told the police everything I know.”
Vi sighed loudly, and jabbed me in the ribs. I shot a glance in her direction.
“Did you see anyone near the food, or talking to Rafe?” I asked. “Was there anything about the allergic reaction that seemed strange to you?”
He lifted a shoulder and reminded me of Seth. “I already mentioned this to the police, but I did think it was strange that there was no click when Diana administered the EpiPen. Those things are spring-loaded to give the dose into the muscle. I saw her pull out the pen and swing it toward his leg, but there was no click.”
“Do you think there was something wrong with it?” I asked.
Vi had found a wet wipe and scrubbed at the table.
“I don’t know.” He watched Vi, and pointed to a trash can when she finished her cleaning. “It’s something I only thought about after the fact. At the time I was more concerned about why the epinephrine didn’t seem to be working and running the resuscitation procedure through my mind. I had never performed CPR out in the field like that. In fact, I had never done a code all on my own before.” He stared into space for a moment and then met my gaze. “I feel terrible about what happened. I wish I had been able to do more.”
“I didn’t hear a click, either,” Vi said. She rested her elbows on the now spotless table. “I knew something was wrong.”
“You weren’t anywhere near Rafe. How would you have heard a click?” I turned to her, realizing I was now interrogating my own partner.
“He said there should have been a click.” She waved her hand toward Daron. “It sounds like it should have been pretty loud. Spring-loading makes a loud click. I didn’t hear a click.” She crossed her arms and nodded at Daron.
He smiled at her but it disappeared when he looked back at me. “I think the paramedics took the EpiPen with them when they left. Maybe they kept it with his things when they brought him to the hospital.”
I nodded, thinking that Mac and Charla had probably already covered that base. Plus, I had no authority to inspect the EpiPen. I’d be lucky if Mac never heard of my interview with Daron.
“Anything else strike you about that night?”
Vi coughed.
He shook his head. “No, it was a pretty classic allergic reaction. It was a really rapid response but it’s not unheard of. It’s why they often tell you to bring two EpiPens just in case one malfunctions.”
Vi shuffled her feet.
I turned to her. “Do you have something you’d like to ask?”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “Do you have any pets?”
Daron’s eyes grew wide and he glanced at me.
“No, ma’am. No pets.”
“You don’t like animals?”
Daron shifted in his seat. “I like animals. I had a dog growing up. I live in an apartment now, so it’s not allowed.”
The pretty receptionist poked her head in the door. “Daron, they need you in exam room three.”
He nodded to her and stood. “I hope that helps. I can’t think of anything else right now.” He stole a quizzical glance at Vi and skirted around her to the door. “Tell Diana I’ll come by and see her soon.”
We watched him leave and then I turned to my germophobe aunt.
Before I could speak, she said, “That went great! We make a good team. We should do more of this. We could go into business.” She started ticking things off on her fingers. “We could help find things, locate lost animals, or solve burglaries. I’ve been studying up on how to tail someone without getting caught.”
Hoping to distract her from this conversational direction, I said, “Why did you ask about pets?”
“I thought I could get corroboration from a dog or a cat. But we’ll just have to take his word for it that he tried his best to help Rafe.”
16
Violet was quiet on the ride home. It worried me. She was only quiet if she was sick or plotting something.
“You should go see Neila right now.” She turned in her seat to give me the benefit of her full stare.
“Now? I’m right in the middle of trying to help Dylan and Diana. I don’t have time to wander memory lane with one of grandma’s old friends.”
“I’m getting a feeling you don’t have time not to. Drop me at home, and I’ll cover for you. You know how to get to her house?”
I nodded. I hadn’t agreed to her plan, but she plowed on ahead as if I had.
“I’ll tell them you had to run an errand for Diana.”
“Vi, I do have to run some errands for Diana. I don’t have time for Neila.” I also didn’t want to go to her spooky house all by myself. I thought if I had to go I would drag Alex or Seth with me.
Vi shook her head. “You ha
ve to go alone. She won’t talk to you if you bring anyone else.” It never ceased to annoy me when Vi seemed to read my mind. She always knew when I was planning to ignore her instructions. I suspected she was picking up on some sort of cues I was sending out but I’d never identified exactly what it was that tipped her off. Of course, she would claim it was all part of her talent.
I breathed out slowly. Maybe it would be easier to make a quick trip up there, say hello, and be done with it than to continue to dodge Vi and her “feelings.”
“Okay, I’ll drop you off.”
A few minutes later, Violet stood on the gravel driveway outside my Jeep. “If I don’t hear from you in two hours, I’m coming up there searching for you.”
I started to laugh but stopped when I saw the serious look in her eyes. I nodded instead and put the Jeep in gear.
Neila lived on the outskirts of town at the top of a hill. Her house sat alone on this particular rise and the road dead-ended at her driveway. I remembered from my teen years that the driveway rose steeply after the road and then flattened out about one hundred yards into a dense, treed lot. My Jeep bounced over the bumpy dirt driveway and then lurched around the last corner. This time of year the house was visible through the trees. Their naked branches stretched like bony fingers over the roof and the absence of leaves on most of the trees allowed a weak filtered light into the yard. The house itself was small, and completely covered in vines and other vegetation that I didn’t have the knowledge to identify. The few areas of visible wall showed that the house had once been yellow. The back of my neck prickled and I realized this was the house I had seen in the bonfire on Halloween.
It had a couple of evergreen sentinels on both sides and the oaks and maples also had vines wrapping up their trunks. Her yard consisted of more vines and ground-cover plants; no real grass would grow in what was essentially a forest. I parked and got out of the Jeep, letting the door close quietly. My approach must have alerted all the birds and squirrels because it was silent in the small yard. The house had a missing shutter on one window and a second shutter was hanging by one nail, lending a haphazard look to the front. I stepped onto the porch and felt a chill as I moved out of the last shaft of weak sunlight.
The silence and air of neglect had me wondering yet again at the wisdom of showing up here unannounced. I had only my aunt’s assurance that the old lady was even still alive.
I raised my hand to knock when a voice said, “Come on in, it’s open.” I jumped and nearly fell backward off the porch. I looked around for the source of the voice but couldn’t see where it had come from.
The knob turned easily, and I pushed the door inward on creaky hinges. The front hall was dark, and I squinted into the gloom.
“Ms. Whittle?” My own voice bounced back to me. I caught a glimpse of something white to my left and spun to meet it. It was just the sheer curtain lazily shifting in the breeze from the door.
“Clytemnestra?” The voice came from behind me and was so like my grandmother’s that tears stung my eyes before I’d turned to see who had spoken.
For a moment I thought Aunt Vi had set up an elaborate prank. A clump of fabric stood in front of me. It was draped in all shades of gray and brown shawls where its shoulders should be, a gray rough fabric as a skirt, and a dingy apron that had once been white. At five foot seven, I was used to being taller than many women, especially in my family. But I was a giant compared to this creature. She barely came up to my chest, and I thought Vi had hired a third grader to trick me into bolting out the door and down the hill like so many kids had done over the years. Then it moved and I saw the hunched little woman smile. Expecting the smile of a jack-o’-lantern, I was surprised to see a full complement of teeth, and when she stepped into the light, her cool gray eyes glimmered.
“Ms. Whittle, we haven’t met. I’m—”
“I know who you are, Clytemnestra Fortune. I’m surprised you don’t remember me. You used to play in the yard when you were no higher than my hip. You loved my sugar cookies.” She came a bit closer, tilting her head to look into my eyes. “Blue and brown. I told your grandmother you would be a great seer with eyes like that. You should have come sooner.”
I skipped over the fascination with my oddly colored eyes, and the creepy pronouncements, and focused on the part where I had been here before.
“I’ve . . . been here?”
“Well, you came with the rest of the teenagers when you were about fourteen, but didn’t linger. None of them do. But yes, you used to come here with Agnes. She was my friend. I still miss her every day.” A gust of wind blew the door all the way open and it slammed into the wall. I jumped, but Neila just went to the door and clicked it shut.
She tilted her head toward the back of the house and walked down the hallway. She didn’t look back. I caught myself wishing I had Baxter with me. Armed robbers I could handle, but creepy old ladies and their haunted houses were not my thing. She’s just a little old lady, I chided myself. What I need is a grip, not a dog.
Her kitchen looked like a cross between a mad scientist’s laboratory and a historic village kitchen circa 1820. I had never seen a fireplace so big outside of a field trip to Greenfield Village in Detroit. She’d hung cast-iron pots and pans from hooks in the ceiling. In the middle of the fireplace sat a metal frame and hanging from it was a large cauldron. There was a low fire burning beneath and steam rose out of the large round pot. I braced for the stench that I was sure would emanate, but then smelled—beef stew. Neila gathered her fabric around herself to lean over the cauldron and the aroma almost made my knees buckle. I realized I hadn’t eaten since a banana at breakfast.
She turned and pointed to a chair. “Hungry?”
I nodded.
“I made a big batch. It seems I have more visitors than one might expect for a haunted house.” Her mouth moved into a grin and she was suddenly more like my grandmother and less like a witch.
“Is your house haunted?” I glanced around the kitchen to avoid looking in her eyes.
“No, I don’t think so, but every town needs a legend.” She moved about the fireplace, grabbing bowls from a low table, and began spooning up the savory mixture. She crossed the room, and as I followed her movements, I saw the modern stove and oven tucked into a corner near the refrigerator. She bent and pulled fresh rolls from its depths. I felt my whole body relax.
She sat across from me with her own bowl and the room was quiet except for spoons scraping on crockery.
Disregarding all of my mother’s training in manners, I mopped up the last of the stew with the bread. Neila chuckled.
“Want some more?”
I felt like Oliver Twist, but nodded.
Finally, I was so full I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk out the door.
“Thank you, Ms. Whittle. That’s the best stew I’ve had since . . .”
“Your grandmother passed?” She smiled kindly. “It’s her recipe. I always make it this time of year. It’s one of my favorite things about heading into winter—knowing I can have your grandmother’s stew.”
“Why don’t I remember you?” I said.
“Well, you were very little and an awful lot has happened between now and then.”
“Still, I’ve tried to remember everything about my grandmother.”
Neila nodded. “She was a great woman. Should we get started?”
I was startled by her question and must have looked it. She smiled and patted my hand.
“My aunt Vi told me to come and talk to you. Honestly, I don’t even know why.”
“Violet loves her mysteries, doesn’t she?”
I thought about that and realized she was right.
“I suppose, but I don’t know what her intentions were in regard to visiting you. Have you heard about what happened out in Greer’s Woods a few nights ago?”
Neila’s eyes glistened, and
I thought she was about to cry. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I heard about Rafe Godwin. But I don’t know anything about that.”
I tried to think of the least offensive way to ask my next question. Psychics don’t like to have their talents challenged.
“Ms. Whittle, did you ever talk to my grandmother about my . . . visions?”
“Oh yes.” She nodded. “She was very impressed with your talent. She said you had a true gift, and I wasn’t surprised. She was worried about you, though. That’s why I thought you would come. She told me to help you with the visions but to wait until you came on your own.”
This was classic Greer/Fortune family behavior. I tamped down the anger that rose in my chest at my grandmother’s methods. I should have expected it since they were the same as my mother’s methods. My dismay must have been clear because Neila stood and started clearing the dishes in a businesslike manner.
“Don’t be mad at your grandmother. These things take time, and a person can’t be helped until they’re ready.”
“If you can help me to stop having the visions, then I was ready about fifteen years ago.”
Neila hesitated. “I can’t stop the visions. I can only teach you how to interpret them and how to use them.”
Now I understood. Vi didn’t tell me why I needed to see Neila Whittle. This was just one more attempt on the part of my family to get me to pursue the psychic way of life.
I stood quickly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Whittle. I don’t need that kind of help. Thanks for the stew and the conversation.”
I hated to offend this poor little old lady, but I had to get out of there. As I walked down the hallway, a deep sense of grief passed through me. It didn’t feel like my own, it felt primal and vast. I had to concentrate to breathe, and I grabbed the wall to steady myself. I didn’t hear her come up behind me, but when she placed her hand on my back the relief was astonishing.
“You’re fine now. Go.” She pushed me gently toward the front door. “But think about what I said. You won’t be able to stop the dreams, the feelings, the visions, but you can learn to use them. You can learn to control them, so they don’t control you.”
