Knot of This World

by Mary Marks

  He stopped walking long enough to say, “I’m on my way to the yurt to do just that. Can you go and round everybody up? It’s important.”

  “Sure!” the woman said.

  The group of five stood and followed us out of the dining hall. Once outside, they split up in search of the others.

  The circle of four people inside the yurt turned to look at us as we entered. I instantly recognized two women: June Tolliver and a woman wearing a blue-and-white fabric headpiece pleated in back to resemble a peacock spreading its tail. Nkwa.

  June smiled brightly. “Are you joining our class on reading auras? You’re a bit late, but you’re always welcome.”

  Andre pressed his palms together. “I’m very sorry, June, but I have an important announcement that every member of Mystical Feather needs to hear, and I don’t think it will wait.”

  June nodded and looked back at her three students. “I apologize, but we’re operating under extraordinary circumstances at Mystical Feather. You may have to wait a bit while we handle some necessary business. Oh! I know what you can do....” She reached into a black fabric tote bag and pulled out three boxes of crayons and some white paper. “While we have our meeting, you can practice drawing pictures of peoples’ auras and color them in.”

  Everyone looked from June to Andre and back again, but none of her students made a move to leave.

  I stepped closer to Nkwa and bent down to whisper. “I didn’t know you’d signed up for more classes. How’s this one?”

  Nkwa rose off the floor in one fluid motion, especially nimble for someone dressed in a long wraparound skirt. She stood next to me and spoke in a low voice. “I have to say I prefer Freddy as a teacher. All June has managed to do is tell stories about how she and Madam Natasha were such good friends and confidants. She’s given us very little instruction regarding auras. By the way, what are you doing here?”

  “Long story,” I sighed.

  “Is it true Freddy discovered a grave on Sunday?”

  Nkwa was a nice enough woman, but I didn’t want to give the outsider any more details. “Yes, but I don’t know anything else.”

  Through the glass walls of the yurt, I saw people heading toward us from all directions. Claytie Tolliver was one of the last to show up. Little Fawn had described him as tired and worried, but I thought his distress went deeper. His eyes seemed to have sunk inside dark circles of skin and darted unceasingly from person to person. The fingers of his left hand tapped against his left thigh, as if broadcasting a secret code through his body. He reminded me of a feral cat trapped in a cage.

  June left her circle of students and joined Claytie nearby, standing on his left side. She grabbed his peripatetic hand. “Steady, Papa. Remember your blood pressure.”

  Claytie’s hand stopped tapping. “Did Freddy mention what he wanted to tell everyone?”

  “Whatever he wants to share with us, it can’t be bad, Claytie.” She smiled at him and stroked his arm. “If it’s that important, my dear Natasha would’ve told me.”

  After a quarter of an hour, the remaining members of the commune, including Little Fawn and White Raven, gathered around Andre in the yurt—twenty people, including the nonmembers from June’s class and me.

  Andre asked Claytie, “Is this everyone, then?”

  Claytie nodded. “All that’s left.”

  Andre cleared his throat. “I have a confession to make. I joined Mystical Feather under false pretenses.”

  A sea of confusion washed over the faces of the crowd.

  “You’ve all heard rumors Royal’s sister, Eugenie, disappeared soon after Madam Natasha St. Germain’s death. Some of you have even come to wonder if the body we found on Sunday was hers. But I’m here to tell you Eugenie isn’t dead.”

  The listeners gasped, murmured comments, and became silent when Andre continued speaking.

  “After Madam Natasha died, Eugenie ran away to the East Coast and changed her name to Jean Saint. She married a professor, Andre Polinskaya, and had three children.”

  June gasped. “Are you sure? Natasha’s spirit never breathed a word about that.”

  “My name isn’t Freddy Pea. It’s Andre Polinskaya. Junior. I am the son of Eugenie St. Germain and the grandson of Natasha St. Germain.”

  Claytie’s face turned a whiter shade of gray. Everyone spoke at once.

  Andre once again held up his hand for silence and got it. He spoke about how his mother was supposed to inherit the Mystical Feather Society and Trust but was cheated out of it by her brother. “I’m here to restore Mystical Feather into my mother’s hands, where it should have been all along.”

  I scanned the room as Andre spoke. The faces registered both shock and relief.

  A woman with thick eyeglasses said, “Oh yes, I can see a family resemblance now.”

  A young man pulled his long hair to the back of his neck and secured it with some kind of stretchy thing. “Oh man. Did Royal know who you were?” When Andre shook his head no, the man asked, “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “I needed to gather evidence on how he’d mismanaged the Mystical Feather Trust. Turns out, he was committing financial crimes.”

  “Oh my gosh. Did you kill your uncle?” I couldn’t tell who had asked the question.

  “No,” Andre said. “But the person who did may very well be in this room.”

  Another wave of shock rolled through the voices. “No.”

  “Impossible.”

  June muttered sadly, “I think you’re wrong, Andre. Nobody in this room could’ve killed that man. We all loved Royal.”

  Andre frowned at her. “He used people and committed fraud. He was a liar. I uncovered evidence to prove it. Only my laptop, along with my research, have gone missing.” He glanced at me. “We think the person who killed him also stole that evidence.”

  I could no longer keep silent. “Among other despicable traits, Royal was a serial killer. The bodies on this mountain will prove it. I believe it’s only a matter of time before they find more graves of people who suddenly disappeared over the years.”

  White Raven’s voice was thin and wispy. “Maybe they’ll find my friend Max....”

  “Maybe we already did,” Andre said gently.

  I felt slightly queasy. Something about this discussion sent alarms ringing in my head. What was it?

  CHAPTER 30

  Little Fawn raised her hand as if she were still in school. “Will we be able to stay here on the mountain?”

  Several voices murmured, “Yeah. What’ll happen to us?”

  Andre said, “You’re okay until my mother decides what she wants to do with Mystical Feather. I suspect she’ll decide to keep everything going if there’s enough money left in the trust. Anyway, I wanted to give everyone a heads-up on what’s likely to happen.”

  “Are you in charge now, Andre?” The question came from White Raven.

  “Yes.” His gaze swept across the group. “I’ll be staying in our family’s home. The white house where Royal lived for the last few decades was built by my grandmother, Natasha.”

  Something odd flitted across the expression on Claytie’s face. What was it? Surprise? Anger?

  June squeezed her husband’s hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “Well, this does change everything, doesn’t it, Papa?” Then she turned to Andre with the same smile. “I apologize, but Claytie and I have been staying in the big house. We didn’t expect anyone from the family to show up.” She chuckled. “We didn’t know our beloved Royal had any family left. How could we? We’ll just go back there with you and remove our things.”

  The group began to break up and drift out of the yurt. Claytie and June left with Andre and me and walked the short distance to the white house with the lemon tree in front.

  “Do you have a key?” Andre asked.

  Claytie turned the knob on the door. “If there is one, we’ve never found it. Royal maintained an open-door policy. The only thing he allowed to be locked was the bookstore and the gate
across the driveway.”

  What had Andre said? Royal had a bad habit of going through people’s things. No wonder he didn’t allow locks. He could hardly snoop if everyone had a bolt on their door.

  The inside of the house was cooler than the outside, thanks to thick adobe walls, high ceilings, and tile floors. I stood next to Andre, just inside the door, and tried to absorb the peculiar ambiance of the living room. The walls and ceiling were painted lavender and the windows were dressed with purple velvet drapes. A dozen large floor cushions in jewel colors formed a ring around a predominantly red Asian carpet. In the middle of the carpet stood a tall brass hookah with a hose long enough to reach the cushions. Expensive TV and audio equipment sat pushed against the longest wall.

  “It looks like a Moroccan whore house,” I whispered to Andre.

  He laughed softly. “And just how do you know what that looks like?”

  June headed for the stairs. “I’ll just go and grab our things from the bedroom. We probably brought more than we needed, but we didn’t know how long we’d be staying here.”

  Andre inclined his head toward the stairs and gave me a look that said, Better go with her.

  I knew what he meant. No telling if June might decide to remove something valuable from the house. “I’ll help you.” I followed her upstairs.

  The lavender master bedroom was large enough for a purple sofa, purple drapes, another large wall-mounted TV, and a small refrigerator. One door led to a spacious bathroom with a heart-shaped jacuzzi. Another led to a walk-in closet. The unmade bed was king-sized and mounted on the ceiling above it was a giant mirror. I spotted a tiny red electronic light that indicated a camera might be hidden somewhere up there.

  Did Royal film all his trysts? What did he do with the videos, and where were they? Did he watch them for pleasure or something more sinister, like blackmail?

  June began emptying drawers and piling clothes in a couple of expensive-looking brown leather suitcases. “We don’t own much,” she sighed. “This won’t take long.”

  I helped fold a couple of long robes. When I placed them in the suitcase, I noticed the gold initials RSG engraved on a metal plate under the handle. “Um, June, doesn’t this luggage belong to Royal? It has his initials right here. See?”

  “Well,” she huffed, “I didn’t see any harm in taking it. Goodness knows he doesn’t need it anymore.”

  “Until the estate is settled, I’m afraid you can’t take anything that belonged to him. It’ll be up to his heirs to decide how to dispose of his possessions.” I ignored her frown. “Let’s find something else to pack your stuff in. What did you use to bring all your items over here?”

  June’s mouth turned down in a pout and she pointed to two empty cardboard boxes and a half-dozen grocery bags in the corner of the room.

  “Let’s use those.” I began removing her things from the suitcase.

  Without speaking or acknowledging me, she retrieved the boxes and bags and began jamming clothes in them with furious thrusts. When she finished with the clothes, she went into the large en suite bathroom and collected various toiletries and placed them in the plastic grocery sacks. “I don’t know why you got involved in all this.” She swept her arm in a wide arc meant to convey all of Sulphur Mountain. “Do you have something going with Andre?” She gave me a quick once-over. “I hardly think he’d be seriously interested in someone as old as you.”

  Whoa. Where was that smiling, helpful woman of an hour ago? The person who now stood before me was the steely June I’d met in Birdie’s kitchen. Then I remembered what had been bothering me since our conversation in the yurt today. In Birdie’s kitchen, June said Royal deserved what he got. Yet today she claimed everyone loved him. So, what was the truth?

  “You’re only half right about Andre. I hardly think he’d be serious about any woman, young or old.” I closed the empty suitcases. “Where did you find these? I’ll just put them back.”

  “Closet.” She spat out the word.

  Claytie walked into the bedroom. “I just came upstairs to find out what was taking you so long.”

  June looked at her husband and pressed her lips together in a hard line. She shook her head once as if to say, Don’t ask.

  I picked up one empty suitcase and opened the door to the roomy closet. Through the darkness, I could just make out a row of shoes on the floor underneath a rack of shirts on hangers. I reached along the wall for a switch. Before I could flip the light on, something hit my head from behind and the darkness suddenly got darker. And silent.

  CHAPTER 31

  The first thing I noticed was the pounding headache. I felt like a tiny construction worker inside my skull was trying to escape by hammering open my cranium. The second thing I noticed was the hard floor beneath me. Every bone, muscle, and nerve in my body throbbed with fire and pain.

  Where am I? What happened?

  I tried to lick my lips, but something sticky sealed my mouth shut. Duct tape? I opened my eyes slowly and carefully to the near darkness of a small room. Only a sliver of light showed between the bottom of the door and the floor. My shoulders ached, and my left arm and hand were numb from lying on that side for... how long have I been here? Only when I tried to move my arms did I realize my wrists were bound together behind my back by duct tape.

  Oh my God.

  I tried moving my legs and discovered my feet were also bound together at the ankles. The strong smell of copper pennies nauseated me. Something sour rose from my stomach to my throat. My heart rate doubled.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  “Mmmf!” I tried to scream as I inched my way to sitting. I fought against the panic rising in my chest. My head continued to pound and the skin on the back of my scalp stung.

  Think, Martha. What’s the last thing I remember?

  I’d been helping June pack her things and—oh, yes—I walked to Royal’s closet with his leather suitcase. Claytie and June were behind me. Had Andre also walked into the room? Who knocked me out? Were all three in it together? After all, Andre was the one who suggested I go upstairs with June.

  Is that where I am? Royal St. Germain’s closet?

  I tried once again to lick my lips and managed to push the tip of my tongue between them to the tape over my mouth. The moisture of my saliva seemed to slightly weaken the adhesive. I kept producing small amounts of spit to paint on the tape with my tongue.

  My hair was glued to my left cheek by something sticky.

  Oh my God. The copper penny smell. My head must be bleeding. Gotta get my cell phone. Where’s my purse?

  I heard voices coming into the other room. I continued to frantically wiggle my wrists out of the binding. I made fists and pushed my wrists away from each other to stretch and weaken the tape.

  “It’s finally dark enough to move her body. We have to do it tonight because the police will be back in the morning.”

  She’s talking about me!

  Claytie’s voice sounded worried. “That Nigerian woman came looking for Martha a couple of hours ago.”

  “I know, Claytie. You’ve already told me ten times.”

  “I can’t help it, Junie. Did I do right? I said Martha had decided to take a nap in the guest room and I didn’t want to disturb her. The woman said she’d come back later. We can’t keep getting rid of people this way.”

  “Keep getting rid of people?” Did June and Claytie help Royal put those bodies on the mountain?

  “Don’t lose your nerve now, Claytie. We’ve come this far. If we keep our heads down, we’ll come through this, just like all the others before. Here, take Martha’s purse. Keys and cell phone are inside.”

  Oh no. Not the phone.

  “This is what we do. You’ll dump her car in the Vons parking lot downtown. Leave the keys in the ignition and the purse on the front seat. I’ll be right behind you in one of the vans. I’ll bring you back. If anyone asks, we’ll say they left Mystical Feather. And when they find the car with her purse, keys, and phone
, they’ll think the two of them disappeared from the parking lot, not from here.”

  If I do manage to get free, please, God, how will I phone for help?

  The couple’s voices faded as they walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

  “Don’t forget to wear gloves, Claytie. The first thing the police will do is look for fingerprints.”

  “You’re so smart, Junie. Like always.”

  Like always? How many times have they done this before? June said “they” left Mystical Feather, and “the two of them.” I think they mean to kill Andre, too. How long before they come back?

  After another few minutes of struggle, my right hand broke free. I brought my arms to the front and removed the tape from the other hand, rubbing my wrists. I slowly peeled the tape from my mouth. One end stuck to the hair on the left side of my face. Instead of wasting time trying to untangle it, I let the tape hang.

  I needed light to see my ankles. I half scooted on my butt, half dragged myself to the door, pulled the lever handle downward, and swung it open a crack. By the light from a lamp in Royal’s purple bedroom, I could see well enough to unwind the tape on my ankles.

  Free!

  I got on my hands and knees, turned my toes forward, and, with one huge and painful effort from my thighs, I hoisted my butt into the downward-facing dog yoga position. Then I slowly inched my upper body upward until I was vertical. My head spun and I slouched against the closet doorframe until the lightheadedness passed. Slowly creaking the open door wider, I made sure the coast was clear.

  I looked around for my shoes, but they were gone. I was sure the Tollivers were going to use them, along with the other items, to stage an abduction scene from the Vons parking lot. Royal’s closet held several pairs of shoes. I selected a pair of brown leather cowboy boots several sizes too large. Even though I swam in them, they’d be good protection if I had to duck into the wilderness and hide.

  I headed into the bathroom and gasped at my reflection. I was right about the dried blood sticking to my cheek. I leaned down, splashed water on my face to clean off the worst of it, and removed the end of the duct tape. Then I scooped my hand into a cup and drank water straight from the tap.