by Mary Marks
“Ooh, it sounds fascinating.” Fanya twisted in her seat again to look at Hadas in the back seat. “Don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Hadas sounded distracted.
I chuckled to myself. These two were in for a big surprise. “It’s kind of a school for mediums and seers.”
“Oy va voy!” Fanya clutched the amulet around her neck. “They practice magic there?”
“Magic is forbidden in Torah!” Hadas finally spoke up.
“If that were strictly true, why are you carrying the amulet Fanya made for you?”
“I never thought of it that way.”
Fanya asked, “You said it’s a school? What do they teach, exactly?”
“They have classes in various mystical arts. I took a class in tarot a little while ago. God hasn’t struck me with lightning yet. I’m still walking around.”
I didn’t tell them Mystical Feather had a public image to rehabilitate. Not long ago, we’d discovered more than one dead body and exposed a serial killer. It was all over the news. I also didn’t tell them about my almost being murdered at Mystical Feather. What would be the point? The killer was in jail.
Hadas sighed. “Frankly, I don’t know what to think anymore. I just want my life to get back to where it was before Ze’ev ruined everything.”
“What about Ze’ev?” I asked.
“My brother was sweet, but irresponsible. He only showed up to work occasionally. Keeping the business going fell pretty much on my shoulders.”
“What?” Fanya sounded confused. “I thought you loved being in charge of the business, Hadas. Isn’t that what you told me on the plane?”
“I did. But I’m talking now about Ze’ev’s personal life. He liked to sleep around and, over the years, he managed to attract a string of girlfriends. Most of those relationships ran their course. But there was one crazy woman who wouldn’t go away. Gita was her name. Gita showed up in front of the business shouting curses and threats. She even went around to his house several times and bothered poor Ettie. Fortunately, she disappeared from our lives when Ze’ev was killed.”
My antennae quivered. “Getting back to this Gita person. How, exactly, did she threaten your brother?”
Hadas yawned loudly. “You know, the usual stuff. ‘You’ll be sorry you ever met me. I’ll kill you for leaving. I’ll curse your family.’ ”
“Did you know an eyewitness told the cops your brother was deliberately run over?”
“Yeah. We found out later.”
“When the police told you your brother was deliberately run over, did you tell them about her?”
“Gita? Of course. But by the time they got around to questioning her, she’d left for Israel. Still hasn’t come back, as far as I know. Besides, she never owned a car and didn’t have a driver’s license. I mean, who would give such a crazy person a license to operate a three-thousand-pound vehicle?”
You mean only licensed drivers are known to have run over people? “You said Ze’ev ruined everything for you. How do you mean?”
“Like I told Fanya, running the business without his help I could handle. I even managed to calm Ettie each time she endured a horrible confrontation with Gita. But when Ze’ev died, there was nobody to stand between me and Alexander. That last layer of family protection disappeared, and Alexander could smell vulnerability like a shark smells blood. He started coming after me the day we buried Ze’ev and sat shiva. Fanya was there. The rest you know.”
My two passengers sat quietly for a while, listening to soft rock music on the radio.
When we reached the city of Camarillo, I asked if they wanted to stop for food. “I know a place with a long salad bar and excellent pizzas. It’s probably safe to stop for a half hour or so.”
Hadas spoke from the back seat. “Absolutely. I’m starved. Why didn’t we think to take some of the room service with us?”
I took the Lewis Road off-ramp and headed north on Arneill. “We didn’t have the luxury of time, remember? Nor did we have space to smuggle it out.”
We parked at the end of a long row of cars and fast-walked through the chill night air toward the entrance of Toppers Pizza. Fanya stretched her long legs and arrived at the door before we did and held it open so we could scurry inside the warm and crowded restaurant. We ordered a cheese pizza loaded with almost every kind of veggie. I vetoed broccoli, kale, and zucchini. No sense in ruining a good meal.
Fanya and Hadas headed for the salad bar while I selected a comfortable booth for the three of us. Having a conversation would be difficult in the din. TV sets were mounted high on the walls around the dining area. One screen blasted a basketball game, another showed a surfer riding inside the curl of a huge wave, and yet another ran a commercial for Audi SUVs. Across the room, an entire Little League baseball team laughed loudly and dove across the table for slices of pizza.
A busy server dressed in a black T-shirt delivered our food. As we ate, I kept rotating my head to check out the windows in back and in front of the restaurant. I tensed at one point when I caught a man dressed in a black hoodie looking our way. My first instinct was to warn the others to run back to the car. But then I remembered my little white Civic was parked at the end of a long row, on the other side of the vast parking lot. We’d never be able to outrun him.
Fanya bit into her pizza and scraped the paper napkin across her mouth. “What’s the matter, Martha?”
I put my hand over my mouth in case the guy in the hoodie could read lips. “Don’t turn around. I think we’re being watched. Black hoodie. I’m going to get the car and drive to the door. When you hear me honk twice, rush outside and jump in the car.”
“If we’re being watched, it might be too dangerous to go outside by yourself. I’ve got a different idea.” Fanya pushed the sleeves of her shirt up her forearms. “You forget I’m trained in the martial arts. If anyone dares to attack us, I’ll make them wish they hadn’t!”
Hadas stopped eating. “What if he’s carrying a gun, Fanya?”
I began to slide out of my seat and stopped. “Wait a minute. Why do you think Alexander would be armed? I thought he wanted to possess you, not kill you.”
“Well,” Hadas bit her lip. “I’ve heard he can be violent when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
“Violent? Who told you? Has he ever hurt anyone you know of?”
Hadas waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t remember where I heard it. But why take chances?”
Something about her voice sounded a tad insincere, like she was making up the story as she went along. Still, her fear and panic in the hotel seemed genuine. There must have been something more she wasn’t telling us. “Why are two men after you? Why does Alexander need an accomplice?”
Hadas shivered. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. Maybe he wants to make sure he can overpower me without a fight. Maybe he hired a private detective to follow me. Maybe he intends to kill me because he figures if he can’t have me, nobody can.”
Fanya motioned for me to sit back again. “Don’t worry. If he does have a gun, I know how to disarm someone. You’ve got to trust me on this. Let’s finish our dinner. Pretend we haven’t noticed him. Meanwhile, we’ll see if anyone joins him. If it’s the same guy Yossi chased from the house Monday morning, he won’t be alone.”
As Fanya spoke, I noticed how much she was like her brother. Calm, confident, and ready for combat. She might hang wallpaper for a living, but her demeanor reminded me of every federal agent I’d ever known. Could it be she was also an agent disguised as a wall-covering installer? Fanya caught me looking at her and must’ve read my mind because she winked. Oh my God. Could it be?
I sent a text to my friend in Ojai to let him know I was on my way with a friend who needed a place to hide.
He responded almost immediately with a text of his own. Glad to help.
We finished our meal and stopped at the restroom before leaving the restaurant. When we emerged, black hoodie was gone.
“Do you think h
e’s outside waiting for us?” Hadas hugged herself and shivered again. “What’ll we do?”
I tried to soothe her worries, although I was thinking the same thing. “Maybe he’s some random guy who ordered takeout and left.”
Fanya peered over our heads into the parking lot, her gaze sweeping 180 degrees. “On second thought, Martha, I think your idea was the best. Do you still have the steak knife I gave you at the hotel?”
I reached in my purse and showed it to her.
“Good. Carry it in your hand, just in case. Go get the car and I’ll stay here with Hadas. She’s the one they want, not you.”
Once again, I noticed how practiced and professional Fanya’s response seemed. Who could she be working for? FBI? Mossad? Or was she merely what she claimed to be: a wallpaper hanger who knew Krav Maga.
CHAPTER 19
I made it to my Civic without interference and drove to the entrance of Toppers. Fanya and Hadas hurried to the car. Once they were inside, we locked the doors. I drove in the direction of the 101 Freeway, taking a circuitous route through residential streets to see if we were being followed. Satisfied we were alone, I entered the stream of cars driving north. Traffic had thinned long ago, and we made good time through the county roads. We transitioned to the 150 north toward the town of Ojai.
The two-lane highway snaked through the dark mountains past ranches, campgrounds, and Thomas Aquinas College. Finally, we turned left on Sulphur Mountain Road.
Hadas asked, “Exactly what do they do in this place, anyway?”
“It’s called the Mystical Feather Society. It was started decades ago by a famous medium and healer, Madam Natasha St. Germain. Her grandson, Andre Polinskaya, runs the place now. He’s agreed to let you hide here as long as you need.” They didn’t need to know I’d saved Andre’s life and that he’d do anything for me.
We climbed the mountain until we came to a driveway on our left with a sign illuminated by our headlights.
WELCOME TO THE MYSTICAL FEATHER SOCIETY
We turned and slowly ascended the driveway, tires crunching on the gravel. With the help of the headlights, we could barely make out a sign on a small building:
MYSTICAL FEATHER SOCIETY
BOOKSTORE AND TEAHOUSE
PUBLIC WELCOME
Farther up the driveway we approached a metal gate. A motion-sensor light switched on and illuminated another sign.
MYSTICAL FEATHER SOCIETY
PRIVATE RETREAT
CLOTHING OPTIONAL
INFORMATION IN THE BOOKSTORE
Fanya gasped. “Clothing optional? As in you don’t have to wear anything if you don’t want to?”
I chuckled. “Yup. But don’t worry, it’s chilly tonight. We’re not likely to see any nudity. At least not outdoors.”
“Oy va voy!” She spat three times behind her hand. “Pu, pu, pu! What’re you going to do, Hadas?”
“Do? Nothing. I couldn’t care less.” Hadas seemed to be miles away.
The gate stood open, allowing us to continue our ascent, which ended in a parking area surrounded by trees—skeletal branches reaching in the darkness. Another motion-sensor light came to life as we parked next to a white passenger van. Fanya retrieved Hadas’s suitcase from the trunk while a dark figure carrying a flashlight came down the hill to greet us.
“Martha, I see you made it okay.” As he drew into the light, Andre Polinskaya’s black hair and high cheekbones appeared, and I relaxed for the first time that night.
I gave him a brief hug. “Thanks for helping us out.” I introduced Fanya as Crusher’s sister. When I introduced Hadas as Crusher’s wife, Andre gave me a questioning look. “It’s a long story. I’ll leave the telling to Hadas. I’d like to get started back home as soon as possible. I’ve been running on adrenaline for hours, and I’m exhausted.”
“Understood.” His voice was surprisingly deep for a man of average height. “Listen, I knew you were coming even before you called. Grandmother Natasha came to me in a dream last night and told me to help you.”
Who was I to argue? I didn’t believe in that stuff, but he was sincere enough. I kept my opinions to myself.
Fanya’s voice came softly. “I also have such dreams.”
Andre snapped to attention. “Really? Are you clairvoyant?”
“I’m not sure.” Fanya shrugged. “Mostly it’s my bubbie. She’s disappointed I’m not married already. And sometimes she warns me when a job isn’t safe to take.”
Even in the semidarkness, the light in Andre’s dark eyes seemed to dance. “What kind of work do you do?”
“Wall coverings. I work by myself, so I have to choose my clients carefully. One time I ignored Bubbie’s warning and took on a job for a man with a bad reputation in our neighborhood. Sure enough, as I rolled glue onto a length of ugly green-and-orange–striped paper, he snuck up behind me and groped my chest.”
“What did you do?”
Fanya grinned. “I swung around fast, punched his clock and karate-kicked him across the room. Then I took the bucket of glue and poured it over his head and left. From then on, I listened to all of my bubbie’s warnings.”
Andre barked a laugh and then turned a more sober face to me. “I consulted the tarot before you came, Martha. You need to be very careful. There are forces at work you know nothing about. As for your friend, don’t worry. She’ll be quite safe here.”
I’d hardly call Hadas my friend.
He took the suitcase from Fanya and shone the light on the path to the retreat. “If you follow me, Hadas, I’ll show you to your cottage. We have a vacancy at the moment. This is perfect timing.”
As she walked back up the hill with Andre, I heard her say, “I still have a business to run in New York. Do you have Wi-Fi here? I’ll also need a printer.”
My jaw dropped. “Is she for real, Fanya? She didn’t even utter one word of thanks. Thanks for your help, thanks for your understanding, thanks for the brilliant escape? What the heck?”
* * *
Friday morning I woke at eight, stiff and already tired—even though the clock said I’d slept for nine hours straight. My body was paying me back for the extra stress and long day yesterday. Once again, I was walking proof that fibromyalgia was unforgiving.
I showered and dressed in my jeans and T-shirt and limped into the kitchen, where Fanya, also wearing jeans, sat reading the paper and drinking coffee.
She looked at me and smiled. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“How long have you been awake?”
She glanced at the clock. “Two hours. I got up as Yossi was leaving. He asked me to tell you he might be home late tonight.”
“Darn. Must be important. He never misses Friday nights if he can help it. We almost always have a full house with my daughter, Quincy, and her little family, my sister, Giselle, and her fiancé Harold, and my uncle Isaac and his helper Hilda.” I remembered with a sinking feeling in my gut how, during my visit yesterday, I suspected Hilda was developing an inappropriate relationship with my elderly uncle. I dreaded the moment when I would have to confront her. Would I ever find another caregiver as good as her?
“How nice. I miss having a regular family connection. To tell you the truth, I was looking forward to celebrating Shabbat with my brother for the first time in years.”
“He might still show.”
Fanya sighed. “Halevai. It should only happen. Nu? How can I help you prepare for tonight?”
I was grateful for the extra set of hands. The house got clean in half the time, and we finished our food preparations by three.
Fanya dried her hands on a paper towel and looked at the clock. “If there’s nothing more to do, I’m going to go in the bedroom and meditate. About an hour.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks again for your help.” I cracked open a can of Coke Zero and moved to the living room sofa with my cell phone.
I was relieved to find a text from Crusher. Home on time tonight. Luv U
Next, I called
my “friend” John Smith of the FBI, who answered after three rings. “Ah, Mrs. Rose. What bon mot do you have for me now?”
“She’s alive.”
“Hadas Levy?”
“She staged her own abduction.”
“You know this, how?”
“She called Yossi’s sister, Fanya, and begged for help. Last night we smuggled her out of the Hotel Delaware in downtown LA, where she was hiding from a man named Alexander.”
“Where is she now?”
“In a safe place.”
“Martha . . .” His voice carried a warning.
“Look. Didn’t you tell me the best way to prove Yossi’s and my innocence was for you to find Mrs. Levy? Well, we found her on our own. So, you can cross us off the suspect list for her kidnapping, a crime that was never actually committed.”
“Where is—?”
I cut him off before he could chastise me again. “We stashed her in a place nobody would know to look. Do you remember the last homicide case we worked on?”
“If the phrase we worked on is a figure of speech for you getting in too deep, then yes, I remember.”
“Well, she’s there. And before you ask, we made sure nobody was following us.”
“Who else knows her location?”
“Just Yossi. I told him last night when we finally arrived back home. And Andre Polinskaya, of course. I sense this Alexander guy is the missing link between Ze’ev Uhrman’s death and Hadas’s present predicament, but I still don’t know how.”
“What did Mrs. Levy tell you about the man who’s after her?”
“He’s been hitting on her since the day of her brother Ze’ev’s funeral. He’s determined to be her lover and won’t take no for an answer. When his attentions became too creepy, she escaped to LA with Fanya. She hoped to persuade Yossi to go back to New York with her and scare off this guy for good. I’m pretty sure Alexander was behind the second break-in at my house.”
