“But do you know what it was? The thing they said he took. What was it?”
“A ring. A stupid . . . a pink cameo ring. What the hell would Brant want with something like that? It’s ridiculous.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
When Arie got back to Grumpa’s, she was surprised to see a car in the driveway. She peeked in as she passed by. A suit jacket had been slung over the passenger seat in a way that was sure to cause wrinkles. A stack of folder files and paperwork was piled on the seat.
Grumpa and Detective O’Shea sat at the kitchen table, each with a mug of steaming coffee. O’Shea’s notebook lurked like a snake next to his elbow. Arie also spied a familiar carton on top of the recycling bin. They’d used up her hazelnut creamer, the bastards. They both smiled pleasantly at her, and O’Shea gestured to the empty chair next to him.
“I’m fine.” Arie leaned against the counter instead. She needed the support; her legs were buckling at the thought of what information O’Shea might have gotten out of Grumpa.
“They’ve arrested Brant.” She tried to warn him. “They think he killed a girl.”
“So Detective O’Shea was telling me,” Grumpa said. “And some other guy got killed, too, I understand. The detective here seems to think you might know something about that.”
Grumpa tried to tsk-tsk-tsk, but his dentures mutinied on the second tsk and almost slid out of his face.
“I never said that, Mr. Wilston,” O’Shea said. “I’m just following up on Ms. Stiles’s assertion that she came right home after she left the restaurant.”
“Well, you implied it,” Grumpa countered. “I guess you were trying to scare an elderly man with the thought of tossing his dear little granddaughter in the clink. Who would take care of me then, huh? I’d be left all alone to fend for myself. Al-l-l-l alone. I can hardly imagine such a thing. Can you, Arie?”
He smiled at her.
Arie inhaled sharply. Who was he kidding? He’d never wanted her to live with him in the first place. Was he really threatening her? Why, you nasty old— She took another deep breath and forced her glare into a sweet smile. “Now, don’t you fret, Grumpa. No matter what happens to me, you can be sure Mother will take care of you. In fact, if I’m not available, I’m certain she and Dad will move you right in with them. That way, Mother could take care of you twenty-four seven. She’d probably put you in the guest room right next to theirs. That way you’d never be too far away. You know how attentive she can be. You’d never have to worry about being alone again.”
Grumpa huffed and worked his dentures back and forth. “Well . . . I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have to put her to all that trouble, isn’t it?” He turned to O’Shea. “Because I was here when Arie came in last night. She woke me up. Does it all the time. She’s very inconsiderate.”
O’Shea sighed but didn’t reach for his notebook. “I see. And what time was that?”
Before answering, Grumpa took a long swallow of coffee, then started coughing. Arie rushed to his side and patted him on the back. O’Shea looked on, singularly unimpressed.
That is, until Grumpa’s teeth shot out, skittered across the table, and landed in O’Shea’s lap.
As the detective yelped and lurched out of his chair, Arie leaned down to Grumpa’s ear. “Eleven,” she whispered. She was afraid he was hacking too loudly to hear, but his coughing fit had subsided as suddenly as it had started, and she couldn’t risk another try.
O’Shea glared at the two of them. Without taking his eyes from the pair, he stooped and—not without revulsion—picked up the dentures and slapped them on the table in front of the old man.
“Oh, thank you,” Grumpa said, fully recovered now. He dunked them in his coffee and popped them back in his mouth. “Now, then. What was the question?”
O’Shea’s scowl made him look like a dark angel. He washed his hands at the sink but didn’t bother resuming his seat. Didn’t repeat the question, either.
Instead, he pointed at Arie. “You. Walk me to my car.” Still glowering, he turned to Grumpa. “Thank you for your time, sir.”
At least, that’s what Arie thought he said. The gritted teeth seemed to make enunciating difficult.
Grumpa smiled sweetly and waved bye-bye.
O’Shea didn’t speak until they reached the car. Instead of getting in, he leaned against it and crossed his arms. His eyes bored into hers. Although the striking blue reminded Arie of the vivid colors she’d seen on the Other Side, they didn’t offer a speck of the peace or tranquility she’d found there.
“I should arrest both of you and throw your asses in jail for that stunt.”
Definitely no peace or tranquility.
“Look, you have to believe me. Brant wouldn’t kill anybody. And neither would I.”
“I hate to state the obvious, but I’m a homicide detective,” O’Shea said. “I can’t trust what people tell me, even if I wanted to. And after that little performance in there, I’m sure you can understand why. Besides, I believe what the evidence tells me to believe.”
“Okay, fine,” Arie said. “But sometimes, the evidence lies. Brant’s lawyer told us you found one of Melissa’s rings at his place. A pink cameo, right? Somebody planted it.”
O’Shea shook his head. “Look, Arie. Sometimes even the people we love do things that we could just never imagine them doing. No matter how close you are to someone, you never really know.”
“I know you won’t believe this, but I’m not blinded by sibling bonds. I remember seeing that ring in Marissa’s apartment when we were cleaning it. If you guys found it at Brant’s, somebody else put it there. After she was killed.”
A shadow flickered in O’Shea’s eyes, but then it was gone.
“First of all, I’ve got two separate witnesses. Riann states Marissa wore the ring the afternoon before she was murdered, and Kelli confirmed it was missing from Marissa’s jewelry box. That’s two witnesses who, unlike yourself, I have no reason to distrust.
“Secondly, you can’t expect me to derail the entire investigation on the word of our primary suspect’s sister who just happened to be literally cleaning up the crime scene after him and coincidentally dated another murder victim the night before he was killed.” He leaned in until their noses almost touched. “Lady, you are in this up to your”—for the briefest moment, his eyes dropped to her chest—“eyeballs.”
They pulled back and eyed each other warily.
Arie almost couldn’t believe what he’d told her. Riann and Kelli? What a couple of liars.
“Kelli was messing with Marissa’s jewelry when she and June came over the second day we were cleaning. June saw her, too. You can ask her. She may not have seen Kelli with that particular ring, but the little brat couldn’t wait to play dress-up in her big sister’s jewelry box. And Riann had a huge argument with Marissa the afternoon she was murdered. June heard that, too.”
“If you’re talking about the wedding planner, we already have her statement. She didn’t say anything about either subject.”
“She was afraid to. She didn’t want to risk losing the contract for Riann’s wedding.”
O’Shea groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands.
“If you’ll just ask June—”
“I’ll look into it. But in the meantime . . .” O’Shea pointed at Arie. “You stay out of this. I mean it. If I catch you near any part of this, I’ll toss your cute little ass in a jail cell and leave you there to rot.”
Cute little ass?
He got in the car and slammed the door. The tires chirped against the cement driveway as he reversed out to the street. Rubber burned as he sped off.
Of course, Arie was going to stay out of it. She had no intention of doing anything else. But first, she decided, she’d have a little chat with Riann about falsifying evidence and setting her brother up. And she knew exactly how to do it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“I feel so bad.” Then Arie said the words into the phone that she k
new would guarantee Riann’s full attention. “I feel like I’ve cheated you.”
“Cheated me? How?” Riann’s voice had a sharp edge.
“Part of what you’ve been paying me for is your readings, but it occurred to me that they’ve been mostly about Marissa. I mean, that’s understandable. She’s what brought me to you, but it’s possible that the force of her character has been slanting the readings a bit. I wouldn’t want you to—”
“No, you’re right,” Riann said. “You’re absolutely right. I never thought of it, but . . . you know, it’s just like Marissa to do that, too. She always hogged the limelight.”
“Uh huh. Anyway, I thought maybe we should—”
“This afternoon?” Riann broke in. “I’ve got a workout with Evan at six, but we should have plenty of time before then.”
“Be right there.”
Riann was in a fabulous mood when Arie arrived. Her effervescence dimmed slightly when Arie pulled out a needle and told her they were going to prick her finger.
“What are you talking about? Where’s your little crystal ball? Why can’t we use that?”
“Because I’m afraid Marissa will keep blocking the, um, channel. I mean, she’s used to coming through to us that way, so we have to try something different.”
“You need my blood?”
“We have to try something totally different. And blood is, um, the drop of life. I’ll need a bowl of water. ”
“Right.”
She was back in moments.
It took a little longer to get the drop of blood because Riann kept squealing and pulling her thumb out of reach at the last moment. Arie eventually jabbed out wildly, stabbing Riann’s middle finger on the hand that rested on the table.
A single droplet of blood stained the white tissue.
But it was enough.
Arie felt the pull almost immediately. This time, though, there was no fog, red or otherwise, no chanting or voice from beyond. Arie wasn’t seeing through Riann’s eyes; her body wasn’t feeling what Riann felt, or thinking her thoughts. In fact, Arie felt completely disconnected from all five of her senses. The normal ones, anyway.
It felt . . . blank. An entirely new and scary place. In much the same way that Arie hadn’t been able to find words vibrant enough to describe the Other Side, now she couldn’t seem to find words disturbing enough to describe the place Riann’s drop of blood had taken her to. A murky, dark place. It felt like being locked in a closet and hearing the scratch of rats in the walls behind her back. Arie sensed things skittering around in the dark recesses of Riann’s soul.
Secrets.
And then Arie was filled with a surge of raw emotions. She knew they were Riann’s, but she didn’t know how she knew, and they weren’t what she might have expected.
Fear was the overriding one, and not the chronic anxiety felt by most discontented, insecure people. This fear was spiky with panic, the same primitive shriek of nerves that Arie had felt months ago when her brain had belatedly registered the sound of her rushing attacker on the night she’d been killed. Waves of terror caused her heart to accelerate. The tinny residue of adrenaline coated her mouth.
But something lurked under the fear. Arie could sense it. She tried to push past the terror, but that only caused panic to well up inside her own body. She tried to relax the way Chandra had taught her.
It helped a little. Instead of fighting Riann’s fear, Arie pictured herself moving into it. Through it. She worked at staying calm.
Sadness and guilt lay beyond the fear.
Riann’s sorrow felt heavy. A leaden thickness settled in Arie’s chest. Tears welled, and her nose started to run. Like fear, the sadness triggered Arie’s memories of times in the past when she’d suffered a great loss. The depression she’d fought when her soul had been forcibly stuffed back into her inert body flooded her heart again. No, not the depression she’d fought—the despair she’d endured because sometimes the only way to get past depression was to outlast the bastard.
Arie took a deep breath. She wasn’t done yet. She couldn’t risk letting herself drown in sadness. She had to move on and find out what that guilt was all about.
“What’s going on? Do you see anything?” Riann’s voice cracked through Arie’s concentration like a fist through glass.
Arie gasped. “What?”
“I asked, what’s going on? You’ve been sitting there for like twenty minutes. Usually, you say something.”
Arie checked her watch. It had only been six minutes. Her insides felt as scraped and hollowed out as a Halloween pumpkin. She needed a few minutes.
“Can I have a glass of water?”
Sighing as though she’d been asked to be the surrogate mother for Arie’s baby, Riann stomped into the kitchen. Arie heard water running. Apparently, she no longer qualified for the fancy gyno-water. Over the the sound of the tap, she heard Dick saying something to Riann. Unfortunately, she was too far away to hear what either of them said.
Arie gave herself a mental shake. Riann would return at any moment.
Arie hadn’t expected to be able to psychically connect with Riann, not while she was alive. Maybe, Arie wondered, she could read Riann’s blood because she was guilty. Maybe Marissa was still directing—
Riann appeared in the doorway. She crossed the room and held the glass of water out to Arie. No “is the glass half-full or half-empty?” dilemma here. She’d only sloshed about a quarter of a cup of water into it. Arie took a sip. It was warm.
“Come on, already.” Riann sat down on the couch next Arie. “What did you see?”
“It was a little unnerving,” Arie said truthfully.
Riann clasped her hands together with glee. “I bet it was. Did you see my future?”
“Not exactly.” Arie gathered herself then plunged in. “You’re hiding something, Riann. Something about Marissa’s murder. You’re lying about something.”
The joy drained out of Riann as quickly as if someone had hit a delete button. A street-sly wariness crept in.
“Like hell I am.”
“You are. Marissa was angry with you. You two argued. In fact, you fought with her the very afternoon of the day she died. And now, you’re muddying the waters.”
Riann looked confused as well as pissed. “Muddy waters? What are you talking about?”
“It means you’re actively interfering with the investigation. Look, Riann, I’m not trying to upset you.” So much for being truthful. Arie reached over and laid her hand on Riann’s. “I’m just telling you what I saw. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
But Riann wasn’t falling for that.
“Whoever or whatever says I’m lying is a liar herself. Marissa and I were closer than sisters. In fact, I was closer to her than her own sister. How am I supposed to be interfering with her case? That’s ridiculous.”
Arie tilted her head and stared into the middle-distance as though tuning in to something from the “other plane” as Chandra called it.
“A ring is missing.”
Riann went still.
“A pink ring.” Arie turned her gaze back to Riann. “And there’s something about Kelli. The message I’m getting tells me she’s involved, too. You’re both lying about something, and it has to do with a ring.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Riann sounded far less sure of herself. “I don’t know anything about . . . besides, I thought this reading was supposed to be about me. Why are you still going on and on about Marissa?”
“This is about you. It’s about your unresolved feelings. If you were angry at Marissa when she died, it could affect your whole”—Arie scrambled to think of something that would sound suitably esoteric—“your whole aura. It could, um, mess with your psychic energy.”
“My psychic energy?”
“And that would be bad. Very bad. It could change your whole destiny. It could, um, block you from all the fabulous opportunities that the universe has prepared for you.”
Riann’s eyes narr
owed. “Are you saying that if Marissa and I had a little argument before she died, she could stop good things from happening for me now. Is that it?”
“Exactly,” Arie said. “Of course, it would depend on what the argument was actually about. If you were arguing about something in particular, and then she died, all of that negative energy would still be unresolved.”
Riann jumped up and started pacing. “You know what? It would be so like her. She always had to have the last word.”
“What was the argument about?”
After several long moments, Riann finally turned to Arie. “You really think she can do that? Screw my life up from beyond the grave?”
“Everything here in the material world is a form of energy. Human beings are particles of energy. And energy doesn’t disappear. You can Google that if you want to. Most of the time, after we no longer need our physical shell, our energy goes on to another place. But if something happens that keeps the energy trapped in this world, it can get stuck here.”
“Like ghosts?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s memories that we can’t seem to let go of. The point is, whatever you and Marissa were arguing about that day is blocking the universe from blessing you.”
Riann bit her bottom lip so hard Arie was surprised it didn’t pop. In a low voice, she said, “She was so stupid. She acted like such hot shit because she wrote a book. Big deal. It wasn’t even her idea. We always knew what we were going to have to do to make it in this world. It’s all we ever talked about when we were growing up.”
“Finding a rich guy?”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Riann snapped. “You have no idea what it was like, growing up the way we did. What’s wrong with finding a rich man? They have a lot of good qualities. They’re smart. Ambitious. I mean, if you have a choice between some poor slob and a rich guy, why not choose the rich guy? It’s dumb to pretend like you wouldn’t. So, yeah. The only difference was me and Marissa admitted it. That makes us more honest than you.”
A Scrying Shame Page 18
