by Dawn Eastman
“I want to make a confession,” she said.
“What?” I turned to look at her and held my hand up to stop Mac from coming in the room.
It didn’t work. He shut the door behind him and sat down across from Diana. His glance slid away from me as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a digital recorder.
“I’ll need to record you.” He placed it on the table between us.
“No. No, Mac, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.” I stood up and tried to pull Diana up with me. “She’s been under a lot of stress with Dylan and the festival and Rafe’s death.”
She took my hand and pulled me back down into my seat. “This is the right thing to do, Clyde.” She gripped my hand even tighter and turned to Mac. She nodded.
Mac reached out and pressed a button on the device, a green light blinked on.
“Please state your full name and address,” he said.
I felt dizzy and nauseated as Diana identified herself and rattled off her address.
“You’re here of your own volition to make a statement?” Mac asked.
“Yes.” Diana nodded. I took deep breaths and tried to figure out how to get us both out of this room.
“Okay, what information do you want to provide?”
“I killed Rafe Godwin. I put peanut oil in the bread I made, knowing he was allergic. I broke the EpiPen so it wouldn’t work. I just pretended to give him the injection so no one would know.” Diana hung her head. “I did it all by myself. My brother, Dylan, is innocent.”
I thought I was going to be sick. The room spun and it was only when Diana turned to me with tears spilling down her cheeks that I was able to pull myself together. Mac had already turned off the recorder and was out of his seat, calling for Tom. Diana scrubbed at her cheeks and dried her eyes on her sleeve. She sat quietly while Mac read her her rights, and Charla came to lead her down the hall to be fingerprinted again.
My hands were shaking and I was still sitting in the interview room when Mac returned. I was running the last half hour through my head. I knew Diana was innocent, but couldn’t figure out what she thought she would accomplish by this stunt.
“Are you okay?” he said.
I shook my head.
“I’m going to postpone Dylan’s hearing until we get this sorted out,” he said. “I’m really sorry, Clyde.” He came around behind my chair, put his hands on my shoulders, and leaned forward to kiss the top of my head. And then he was gone.
* * *
After Diana was taken away for booking, I stumbled out of the police station and stood catching my breath in the frosty air.
The shock passed and was quickly replaced by anger. I was furious with Diana for what I was sure was a stunt or a misplaced sense of duty. I didn’t believe for a moment that she had killed Rafe. Mac should know better. How could he arrest her when it was obvious she was lying? I didn’t know what to do next, so I went to find Alex.
If I had been thinking clearly, I would have realized that Alex would need his own support when he heard the news.
I found him in the kitchen of Everyday Grill getting ready for the dinnertime rush. He glanced up as I walked in. One look and he rushed forward and helped me to a chair.
“Clyde, what happened?”
I put my head in my hands, took a deep breath, and then felt myself coming back together. I couldn’t help Diana if I fell apart. I looked up to see Alex’s staff hovering nearby.
“Let’s go to your office.”
Alex nodded and led the way. I fell gratefully into his visitor chair.
“It’s Diana,” I said after he shut the door.
“Is she hurt? Where is she?” He grabbed the doorknob, ready to go.
“She confessed. She’s at the police station.”
“Confessed to what? She hasn’t done anything.” He crossed his arms and glowered as if I had arrested her.
I explained the visit from Charla and Diana’s request to talk to Mac.
“I thought she just wanted to try to get some information from him about Dylan and what kind of a case they had against him,” I said. I rubbed my arms to ward off the chill that was creeping up my body. “I had no idea she was going to confess and get herself arrested.”
Alex nodded. “She didn’t do it.”
“I know that.”
“Mac must know it as well. Why would he arrest her?”
I shook my head. “He must be following some sort of protocol. You know how he is about following the rules. I don’t remember what the procedure would be for something like this. It never came up when I worked there.” I had worked in the Crystal Haven department for a short time before going to Ann Arbor after police academy but no one had confessed to murder while I was there.
“Okay, we have to figure out how to get her out of jail.” Alex sat in his chair and pulled his desk phone closer.
“I don’t think he’ll be able to keep her long without evidence, but a confession does warrant investigation.”
“How bad does it look for Dylan?” His hand paused over the phone. I had no idea who he thought he was going to call.
“I don’t know. We never got that far. She just said she wanted to talk to Mac and then confessed. She must think she can protect him somehow.”
“Can you get anything out of Mac?”
I shook my head. “He’s likely going to tell me to get her a lawyer and keep out of it.”
“Maybe Tom?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
We made a plan to call Rupert and assign him the task of getting Diana out of jail, and to meet at my house that evening after the dinner crowd.
I walked to my Jeep feeling shaky and unfocused. Knowing I’d have to tell my family the news in person, I drove to my house to pick up Seth and the dogs. I just hoped to get to my family before the gossip chain reached them.
23
There was no way to prepare for my family. Even after years of perfecting my technique, they always surprised me.
My announcement was met with a stunned silence, which was astounding in itself. Then, everyone started talking at once.
“I did not see this coming,” Vi said.
“It wasn’t on the scanner,” Dad said.
“The cards haven’t shown anything like this.”
Only Seth was silent. He sat with Tuffy and Baxter on the floor, all three with long faces and sad eyes.
“What should we do?” Mom asked.
“I want to go back out to the woods where Rafe died. Maybe I’ll remember something if I’m there,” I said.
Seth stood. “We’ll come with you.” He gestured to the dogs, who looked like they sensed a walk was on offer. Baxter knew a lot of words and “woods” was one of his favorites.
I glanced out the window at the rapidly setting sun. “It’s too late now. It’ll be dark soon. We’ll go in the morning.”
Mom insisted we stay for dinner. The dogs seemed to follow the conversation, sensing that they would be getting my mom’s cooking rather than dog food for dinner.
After agreeing to stay, we trailed into the dining room. Mom managed to produce a couple of roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots, and green beans. I’d have to increase the exercise or decrease the visits to my mom’s this winter. She believed in a hearty meal once the temperature dipped below 50 degrees. I wondered what she did with all the food on the nights I didn’t show up with a famished teen.
We settled in to the feast with a loud clatter of scraping chairs and clanking cutlery. Dad sat next to me and seemed glum in comparison to Aunt Vi’s high color. I wondered if they’d had another disagreement over the relative usefulness of their respective careers.
Vi maintained that dentists were no longer needed in today’s society. She’d read somewhere that the dentists had “made up” the need for
six month checkups and were all in cahoots to stir up fear of periodontal disease. Her profession, on the other hand, had always been and always would be necessary as long as people and animals coexisted. Ever since she had first broached this topic, it didn’t take more than a few words before my dad was taking deep breaths and looking longingly at the liquor cabinet.
My hopes that it was just another family squabble were dashed when Dad leaned toward me and whispered, “Red alert, 10-55.”
This was our own 10-code that meant the ladies were in full-on psychic mode and had plans to drag me into it. We’d established this protocol at the end of the summer when I realized that Dad was aware of much more than he ever let on and that he could be a useful informant in my struggle with Mom and Vi.
The plate of chicken and vegetables looked much less appetizing now. I focused on the food and tried to push my worries aside. How bad could it be? I’d gotten used to the addition of the pendulum to many family gatherings and Mom’s tarot cards could be entertaining if looked at in just the right light. . . .
Seth, as usual, had checked out completely once the food was served and I expected he would be no help to me until he’d made it through his second serving. I watched the ladies carefully, trying to sense what they were up to. I hoped it wasn’t another séance. The last time we’d done that, over the summer, Vi had either faked a manifestation, or had truly received a message from beyond. Either choice made my skin prickle.
We were just finishing the last round of potatoes when Vi took a deep breath and I braced myself. The doorbell rang. The cacophony of barking broke the mood and I leaped up yelling, “I’ll get it!” over the noise. I was so happy to postpone Vi’s announcement that I thought I might hug whoever was at the door.
It was Alex—lucky for me, less so for him. I grabbed his hand and dragged him into the dining room.
“Look who’s here,” I said.
“I drove by your house and it was dark so I thought I’d try here,” Alex said.
I apologized for forgetting to let him know where we were.
“No prob. You aren’t that hard to find,” he said.
“Do you want something to eat, dear?” Mom gestured at the platters of food. “We have plenty.”
“No thanks, Mrs. Fortune. I ate at work.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Alex,” Vi said, and gestured at an empty chair across from me. “Rose and I have an idea to help Diana.” Her brilliant smile should have signaled Alex to run, but he didn’t.
Alex pulled out the chair and sat. “Great! We have to get her out of there.”
Vi nodded. “We need to see how this is all going to play out.”
Alex hesitated. “You mean, like, ask the pendulum?” He glanced at me, looking for backup.
“No, we’ve tried the pendulum.” Vi crossed her arms and shook her head. “It can only answer yes or no questions and at this point we don’t know what to ask. We know Diana and Dylan didn’t do it but we don’t have any more suspects.”
Alex nodded warily. Seth leaned forward. Dad poured himself a whiskey that he produced from under the table. I hadn’t even seen him get up to nab it.
“It’s finally getting dark enough, Vi,” Mom said. “Should I go get it?”
Vi nodded and patted her hand. She turned to the rest of us.
My stomach felt like a hard ball of ice. I knew what they were up to and why Dad had called it a red alert. They were going to use the crystal ball.
“What?” Seth asked and bounced in his seat. “What are they going to do?” He could tell by my reaction that I wasn’t thrilled, which seemed to excite him even more.
“She’s going to get Grandma Agnes’s crystal ball,” I said to the table. I didn’t want to look at either one of them. Sort of like not meeting a teacher’s eyes when she’s looking for volunteers in class. I decided to go ostrich on them and hope they picked on someone else.
“Oh,” Alex said. He became focused on the pattern in the tablecloth as well.
“Well, we’re desperate, aren’t we?” Vi said, her hands out, palms up. “We really don’t know what else to do.”
“I love crystal balls!” Seth said. “Diana has a bunch in her store. How do you use it? I’ve never seen anyone use one.”
Vi cast a severe glance in his direction. “You have to be very careful. Some people see all sorts of future events in a crystal ball, some see only possibilities. Others get so lost in the future that they forget about the present.”
Alex and I glanced at each other. We’d heard the same speech when we were about Seth’s age. Mom had caught Alex, Diana, and me consulting it about a crush Diana had and whether he would ask her to the dance. The event stuck in all our minds because it was the only time my mom had been mad that I was trying to use my talents. I sensed that she was afraid of the seemingly innocent orb. She’d taken it away and I still didn’t know where she kept it. She left the room to go to her secret hiding place.
Alex sighed heavily. “I’d rather do the pendulum.”
* * *
Vi mobilized the rest of us into clearing the table. Mom breezed back into the dining room, out of breath and dusty. She carried a battered wooden box about half the size of a shoe box. I wondered again where she was hiding the thing.
She set the box in the middle of the table with the reverence normally reserved for religious ceremonies. Dad slid his chair back.
“Don’t go wandering off, Frank,” Mom said without looking at him. “We need all the energy we can get.”
Dad’s shoulders slumped.
Seth wore the gleeful expression of a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Alex regarded the box as if it might contain poisonous snakes. I gripped the table and waited for Mom to open it.
She flipped open the lid to reveal a clear crystal sphere nestled in black velvet. Lifting it out, she also pulled away a square of velvet to polish the surface. After she was done, she set a round metal stand on the table, draped that with the velvet, and set the ball in the stand, all without touching the surface of the crystal. Mom and Vi were very particular about fingerprints. I was reminded of crime scene techs handling evidence.
Vi had been rifling through the cabinet that sat in the corner of the dining room and now returned to the table with several candles and a lighter. After the tapers were lit, Mom turned off the overhead light and plunged us all into the warm glow of candlelight. I didn’t feel cozy.
Seth’s eyes gleamed in the flickering lights and he resembled one of his manga comic book characters, all big eyes and angles. Alex had instinctively pulled back from the crystal and he regarded me warily from across the table. Mom and Vi looked at me expectantly.
I closed my eyes. I was already getting a headache right in the middle of my forehead.
“I hate scrying,” I said. Scrying uses fire, smoke, or reflective surfaces to help see visions of the future.
“You were fine when it was a bonfire in the middle of the woods,” Vi said.
“That didn’t give me a headache the way this does.”
“Just give it a try,” Mom said. “You haven’t looked at it in years. Maybe it will be better this time.”
“I’ll do it.” Seth’s hand shot into the air. “Tell me what to do.”
For a kid who was all worked up about his ability to talk to animals, Seth was certainly enthusiastic about every other method of seeing the future or communicating with other realms. I would think talking to Tuffy would seem tame compared to a séance or viewing the future. But I’ve never gotten a message from an animal.
“Let Seth try,” I said, rubbing the spot between my eyes.
Vi tsked. “He doesn’t have any abilities.”
Seth and I exchanged a panicked look. Had they figured out Seth’s Dolittle tendencies?
“I thought anyone could at least try,” Dad said.
Vi
glowered at him and then shrugged. “Fine, give it a try, Seth.” She carefully slid the ball toward Seth.
“Seth, you have to look deep into the crystal and be patient,” Mom said. “Sometimes the surface will get cloudy or misty and you have to move beyond that to see what lies inside. It doesn’t work every time, but give it a try.”
The sphere seemed to glow from within in the dancing candlelight. Next to me, Seth leaned forward and stared at the ball. The black fabric absorbed extraneous light and minimized distractions. The candles provided just enough light to see the future in the crystal. I glanced across at Alex, who appeared a bit ill.
Seth’s eyes started to bulge. I leaned over and told him he was allowed to blink. I stole a glance at the ball and it already looked foggy to me. I rubbed my forehead again and blinked. The light fog had become a swirling mist and I watched in fascination as the tendrils parted. A figure stood in the distance and I leaned forward to get a better look. It was a man, backlit, so I couldn’t see his face. He was big, with broad shoulders, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. I was about to pull away when his face swam into view. Lucan. The room felt like it was spinning and my stomach flipped over. My head exploded in pain and I leaned back in my chair, almost forcing it to tip over.
“Clyde, are you okay?” Alex knelt next to my chair. Dad stood behind with a hand on my shoulder.
I shook my head and the pain cleared. Vi was across the table, grinning. Mom had her hands clasped under her chin; her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“I knew you could do it,” Mom whispered.
“What did you see?” Vi asked. “We know you saw something. You spaced out for ten minutes.”
Seth was holding the ball with the velvet wrapped around his hand. He held it close to the candle flame and looked through it. “I still don’t see anything,” he said.
Vi rapped her knuckles on the table and glowered at us all.
“Give her a minute, Vi,” Dad said. “She doesn’t look so good.”
Alex slipped a glass of whiskey into my hand. I set it on the table, sure my stomach would rebel if I tried to drink it.
