Cotton Candy and Corpses

by Allyssa Mirry

  “You’re too modest. You’ve helped me so much. I wish I was able to tell you how much it all means to me.” The woman laughed. “But, of course, you would know. You know everything!”

  “Well, I’ve been blessed with a gift that lets me know more than most people,” Madame Waverly said graciously.

  The woman looked at Lydia. “Are you new here? You’re about to have the best reading of your life.”

  “I do have some questions that I hope I’ll get answers to,” Lydia said honestly.

  “Nellie is too kind to me,” Madame Waverly said. “But she has been a very loyal customer through the years.”

  “Because she’s the best,” Nellie said. She showed a bandage on her arm. “Madame Waverly told me that I would injure myself gardening and I did. It happened just like she said.”

  “I merely said to be careful outdoors,” the psychic said.

  “And I didn’t listen to her, and I cut myself,” Nellie said. “You should always listen to her. She gives great advice because she really can see the future. Well, I should get going. Enjoy your reading. And, Madame Waverly, I’ll see you soon. But, of course, you already knew that.”

  The woman left the shop, and Madame Waverly ushered Lydia behind the curtain. The room was filled with mystical items to set the mood.

  “I’m so glad that you took me up on my invitation to visit me here,” the psychic said. “It was kind of you to follow through so quickly. Tell me, child. What is it you would like today? Would you like your palm read? Or would you like to know about the future through the cards? Whether you will have any children? Or perhaps you’d like to know more about your taffy shop’s future? Though based on your cotton candy taffy, I’m not sure you need a crystal ball to predict that it could do well.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said. “But I’m actually here for a more specific reason.”

  “Oh?” Madame Waverly asked as she took a seat at her round table. She began shuffling her cards as Lydia joined her.

  “Did you hear what happened to Miss Cassandra?”

  “A ghastly tragedy,” Madame Waverly said solemnly. “Though I might not have been a fan of the woman, I shudder at the thought that someone sought to end her life.”

  “I have a few questions about her.”

  “Dear child,” Madame Waverly said soothingly. “I know moments like these always make us question the afterlife and dread our own mortality. I’m afraid I cannot commune with the spirits. I deal more with the future than the past. I couldn’t contact her if that’s what you wanted.”

  “Miss Cassandra claimed that she really could talk to the dead,” said Lydia. “Do you think that was true?”

  “Who can say?” Madame Waverly said, clearly not wanting to give a straight answer. “The gifts bestowed on people like us – well, they can work strangely. I have never known someone to have so thorough a conversation with the departed as Miss Cassandra claimed to. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t possible.”

  “So, you don’t think she was faking?”

  “It’s an awful thing to accuse someone in my line of work of being a fraud,” Madame Waverly said. “Often it makes everyone look at all potential psychics negatively. You’d only want to say something like that about someone if you were positive of what they were doing and that you knew it was hurting people.”

  “What she said did hurt people I care about,” said Lydia. “She pretended to be my best friend’s dead coworker to freak her out, and she made up lies about what my uncle said to unnerve my brother.”

  “Well, at least, she can’t hurt anyone else now. Though I do wish that this hadn’t been the reason why.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have done this to Miss Cassandra?”

  Lydia watched Madame Waverly to see if her reaction would betray a guilty conscience. However, Madame Waverly chose that moment to remove her glasses and clean them on her shawl.

  “I know people wish that fortune telling was absolute. That I could give you the exact answer you’re looking for. But I rarely ever see the full picture. I can’t look into my crystal ball and see the face of the killer.”

  “Well, have you ever encountered a customer who became violent after a reading?” asked Lydia.

  “No. Though usually, the fortunes I see are positive. And I just try to throw a little motherly wisdom into what I see.”

  Lydia tried to phrase her next question delicately. “With Miss Cassandra gone that means that your business won’t have any competition this summer. Is that true?”

  Madame Waverly put her glasses back on and glared at her. “It sounds like you’re implying something nasty there. Surely you don’t think that I could have killed the woman?”

  “I just want to know what happened,” Lydia answered. “I want to know what Miss Cassandra was up to, and I want to find out who had a reason to kill her.”

  “I’ve never been so insulted in my life,” Madame Waverly said. “I never harmed anyone and how dare you suggest otherwise. I think you should leave.”

  Lydia figured that she wouldn’t get any more information from the woman at this time. She started to leave. Just before she reached the outer door to go, Madame Waverly stuck her head out from the curtains.

  “I shouldn’t tell you this after what you said, but I can’t quell this vision I received,” Madame Waverly said dramatically. “I see you in great danger, my child. I see you fighting for your life.”

  “Is that a threat?” Lydia asked coolly.

  “No,” said Madame Waverly. “It’s the future.”

  8

  Unboxing Ideas

  Lydia was digging through boxes at her house. She had begun packing soon after Aunt Edie started on her world travels. She and Leo were supposed to sell the large family house and find a smaller yet cozy home for Aunt Edie when she returned. She needed a place where she could create new memories.

  Lydia would also need to find a new place to live and hoped that she might be able to get even closer to her taffy shop. She thought beginning to pack before they had a buyer for the large beach house was a good idea, so the move wouldn’t seem rushed. Of course, now that she was looking for something and couldn’t find it, she regretted the decision.

  She couldn’t deny that she had been rattled by Madame Waverly telling her that she would be in great danger. However, she didn’t know which interpretation was worse – that she was being threatened by the person who bludgeoned Miss Cassandra and now knew that Lydia suspected her or that the psychic had really received a vision of doom befalling her.

  She hadn’t felt like she had made any real progress in discovering what Miss Cassandra had been up to and wasn’t sure exactly what her next move should be. However, she felt like she couldn’t stay still. She needed to do something to cheer Leo up, and she thought that if she found Uncle Edgar’s scrapbooks, it might do the trick. The only trouble was that she couldn’t find them!

  Sunny waddled into the room and let out a little bark. A moment after this, Lydia heard the doorbell ring. Sunny wagged her tiny tail, proud that she had made the announcement about an arrival before the bell did.

  “Be right there!” Lydia called.

  However, as she tried to leave the room, she realized just how much space her unpacking had taken up. She had inadvertently trapped herself inside piles of boxes and mementos. Lydia tried to carefully climb over a smaller pile but ended up tripping. She fell to the floor with a loud crash as Sunny fled faster than she had ever seen the pup move.

  Lydia groaned. She was more embarrassed than hurt and knew that this spill would make repacking more difficult.

  She was getting to her feet and trying not to crush her family’s items when someone rushed to her side. Trina knelt down next to her.

  “Are you okay? I used my spare key when I heard the crash. I was afraid a crazed killer was after you.”

  “Nope. Just crazed cardboard and my two left feet.”

  Sunny moved from the safety of the doorway to
be closer to Lydia. She licked Lydia’s hand, and then Lydia stroked her ears. Trina helped push some of the photographs and houseware to the side so they could both stand.

  “Are you doing some more packing? Do you need help?” asked Trina.

  “I’m searching for Uncle Edgar’s scrapbooks because I thought it would help show Leo that our uncle was very proud of him. I guess I could use an extra hand.”

  “I’ll help as long as you promise to tell me what you’ve learned so far about Miss Cassandra’s death.”

  “Deal.”

  Lydia had called her best friend earlier and told her about finding the dead body and the crystal ball. However, she had promised to fill her in on all the details when she saw her in person. They continued searching through the boxes as Lydia updated Trina on Detective Grey’s request and visiting Madame Waverly.

  “I can’t believe Madame Waverly said that to you. She always seemed like such a nice old fortune teller,” said Trina. “Her predictions were usually so happy. Do you think she was really threatening you? Do you think she could be the killer?”

  “I think it’s possible. She’s someone who benefits from the death. And she certainly didn’t like talking about the murder.”

  “She might have really been offended that you suggested she was involved or she might have been upset that you were getting close to the truth.”

  Lydia finished looking through a container that only ended up containing quilts. However, the one that she had allowed to land on the floor had been claimed by Sunny. The dog was curled up in a contented ball, snoozing near her favorite people.

  “Of course, it could have been someone else who killed Miss Cassandra,” said Lydia. “Her discussions with the deceased didn’t seem to make people happy.”

  “I had nightmares that night,” Trina admitted.

  “I wonder if she was doing this because it would attract repeat customers as they needed to deal with unfinished business with the dead.”

  “That sounds like the way it was with Leo, but it didn’t work with me. It made me never want to go see her again,” said Trina.

  “I feel like she might have had another scheme,” said Lydia. “I’m just not sure what it was.”

  “Unless she really could speak to the dead,” Trina suggested. “When she channeled Rhonda, she knew about the murder weapon that was used to kill her.”

  “That was a big news story, and the police released details after the killer was arrested.”

  “And she knew things about the salon where we worked.”

  “I’m not sure exactly how I feel about ghosts and psychics,” said Lydia. “But I know that Uncle Edgar would never tell Leo that he was disappointed in him, so she certainly didn’t talk to my uncle’s ghost.”

  Trina thought about it. “Maybe a customer reacted in the heat of the moment to what Miss Cassandra said while she was impersonating a spirit and attacked her.”

  “It’s possible. It definitely could have been a customer who killed her. When I went to her place, the lights were on, and the door was unlocked. It must have been left that way from the night before.”

  “Maybe her assistant could provide us with some more information about how Miss Cassandra worked.”

  “I do want to talk to her,” said Lydia. “But I’m not sure where to find her. I really don’t know that much about her.”

  “Oh! That was something I wanted to tell you,” Trina said, excitedly. “I just got distracted by your fight with the boxes. But the ladies in my salon were talking about Mona. After they heard about Miss Cassandra’s death, they started gossiping about how her assistant seemed a little odd. And they said that she lived at Cora’s Coral Condos.”

  “Perfect,” said Lydia. “I can visit there tomorrow.”

  “We can visit there,” said Trina. “I’m not going to let you talk to this murder suspect alone.”

  “I’m always glad for the company, but I don’t know if I consider Mona a real suspect. If you saw how she reacted when she saw Miss Cassandra’s body, you’d think it was genuine surprise and horror too. But I am hoping she can shed some light on what happened.”

  After she said that, Lydia’s search was finally rewarded. She found the box of Uncle Edgar’s scrapbooks. It was a hobby that he had taken up when Aunt Edie had discovered photography. She was sure that he had created one about Leo and triumphantly raised it up after she uncovered it.

  “Is that what you were looking for?” asked Trina.

  Lydia nodded and started flipping through it. “Look at all the pages that Uncle Edgar filled with his happy memories of Leo. This should remind Leo how much he was loved.”

  Trina giggled as she looked at some of the older pictures. “I forgot how scrawny Leo used to be. And there he is as a lion for Halloween. He did that a few years in a row, right? Because of his name.”

  Lydia nodded. “And here’s a picture from the newspaper where Leo and Uncle Edgar made their photo montage of the 4th of July festivities that year, eating at the picnic. Leo loved that baseball cap.”

  Lydia trailed off as she stared at the photo. There was something familiar about this description, and then she realized what it was. Leo had said that this was a moment that Miss Cassandra had mentioned when she claimed to be channeling Uncle Edgar. It had been in the local paper!

  “I think I know part of how Miss Cassandra worked,” said Lydia. “But I want to talk to Mona more than ever now to find out the rest.”

  9

  The Assistant

  The next day, Lydia and Trina headed to Cora’s Coral Condos, which was as pink as the name would lead you to believe. Lydia carried some cotton candy taffy with her, and they soon found Mona’s apartment.

  They knocked on the door and Mona poked her head out, eyeing them. “What brings you here?”

  Lydia thought it was best not to immediately reveal their intentions and instead held out the box of taffy.

  “I know that finding Miss Cassandra like we did was quite a shock for me. I figured it must have been for you as well. Probably worse because you were close to her. I wanted to bring you something sweet from my shop to convey how sorry I am for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” Mona said. She accepted the gift and then tried a piece of taffy. It must have met her approval because then she invited them to come inside.

  Mona apologized for the lack of décor as she led them to her living room and wicker furniture. She explained that she had just moved there and had been so busy working that she hadn’t had much time to make the house a home.

  “Miss Cassandra had you working that hard?” asked Lydia.

  “What did the psychic have you do?” asked Trina.

  “She really preferred to be called a medium,” said Mona. “She talked to the dead more often than she foretold the future.”

  “Well, I’d like to be called a small,” Trina joked. “But my hips have other ideas.”

  Mona didn’t laugh, and Lydia jumped in with another question. “So, speaking to the dead was her specialty?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I never visited her for a reading,” said Lydia. “But I have heard a lot about her discussions with the dead.”

  “Were you going to have a reading that morning?” Mona asked. “Is that why you were there?”

  Lydia paused, wondering what was the best way to keep the young woman talking. Mona seemed content to chew on the cotton candy taffy, but if they insulted her boss right away, she might ask them to leave.

  “I think she did want to see what Miss Cassandra was like,” said Trina. “I went to see her and was impressed.”

  Mona nodded. “Miss Cassandra really knew how to engage people.”

  “Did everyone like her readings?” asked Lydia.

  “Most people did,” said Mona. “Of course, some people get freaked out because she was talking to the dead and was so convincing.”

  “How did she get to be so convincing?” Lydia asked.

  Mona began to loo
k uncomfortable and shrugged. “I guess because she really did talk to spirits.”

  “Mona, Miss Cassandra is dead, and it won’t hurt her to reveal her tricks now. In fact, it might help to reveal who killed her.”

  “What tricks?” asked Mona, though she didn’t seem very convincing. “She was the real deal.”

  Lydia took out the newspaper picture that had been in her uncle’s scrapbook, showing him and Leo at the 4th of July.

  “Miss Cassandra described this scene to convince my brother that she was channeling the older man in this photo who has now passed,” Lydia said, giving her a hard stare. “She didn’t attain this image psychically. She saw it in the paper. And because it’s over twenty years old, she would have had to do some digging to find this image.”