The Power of Faith: Science Fiction Faith Ferguson Series Book 3

by Andrea M. White

  “The last person I visited couldn’t.”

  “Oh, a rookie,” Sam said with a warm smile. “And, what a pretty witch, you are. What brings you here?”

  “I was curious about how many of us there were in the area, and I found three. So how come you can see me?”

  “I’m a seer, too. We can always see each other. And you can always be seen by any witch you want. Like your other powers, you just have to will it.”

  That made sense to Faith since when she wanted Ed to see her, he had been able to.

  “What can seers do?” She asked.

  “Hear anyone we want and go anyplace we want with our minds or spirits,” Sam said.

  She knew that he wasn’t Fáidh, as she was the only one, and she also knew that it was bad form to ask him about his power.

  “He could, however, sense her question and said, “I’m a seer and clairvoyant.”

  Faith was relieved that being a seer was evidently not only the purview of a Fáidh and that she hadn’t inadvertently outed herself, but she was also worried. If he could read her, he’d know that she was Fáidh.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t intrude. I just sensed your curiosity and now your concern. I would never read anyone without their permission. You’re safe. I promise.”

  “I did some research over the summer, but I didn’t see anything about this.”

  “We’re rare as hell. What clan are you from?”

  “Ferguson.”

  “Padraig’s line?” Sam asked.

  Faith nodded.

  “Just met him a couple of times, but, man, he’s too cool.”

  Faith smiled and said, “Well, I guess I should be leaving. Sorry about the intrusion.”

  “Hang on,” Sam said. “Have you been sensing something off?”

  “That’s what actually brought me here.”

  “You sensed it here?” Sam said sounding, for the first time, genuinely alarmed.

  “No, no. I just went searching and found three places.”

  “I know them all. I always do a search before I settle anywhere. There’s me. Some woman named Olivia in Boston. She’s, I would say, not the best of us, but I don’t know for sure. Just sensed duplicity. Then there’s one other. A family on Cape Cod. Seemed nice.”

  “Did you find me?”

  “No. How long have you lived here?”

  “Since college.”

  “That explains it. I haven’t bothered searching since I moved here to Swampscott, twenty years ago … So,” he said sitting down at his kitchen table, “You have any idea what’s up?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Well, if you need my help, just think of me, and we’ll be able to talk.”

  “I will, thanks,” Faith said.

  Then, Faith thought of being back in her body, and she was. She was about to pick up her phone to call Beth when she decided to visit her, and there she was.

  Beth was a familiar but, like Ed and Duncan, had many other powers, as well, and Faith wondered if she’d be able to sense her.

  She saw a perplexed look come over her friend’s face.

  “Can you hear me?” Faith asked.

  Beth could not.

  Faith made herself visible, and then spoke, “How about now?”

  “Holy moly! So, this is that mind travel thing.”

  “I’m a seer.”

  “Well, it’s cool as hell, I’ll say that. Can you, I don’t know, sit?”

  Faith sort of sat on the couch and said, “This is weird, but I just met somebody else who could do it. He said that he was a seer, and a clairvoyant, but I didn’t mention what I was.”

  “Good for you. That could be really dangerous.”

  “He could have read me, but he didn’t. I wonder what I can do about that?”

  “You can be cloaked.”

  “I know, but that lessens our power. I’ll have to figure it out. Well, enough of this seer travel. I’m going home and reconnect with my body. That’s not too weird, is it?”

  “Not for us,” Beth said laughing.

  ******

  That evening Bella Moore was the last one out of the Theatre. She was usually cautious about her personal safety, and, as she finished a text to her mother, Bella had one eye on her phone but the other, so to speak, was on the lookout for Ethan Blackett. He had a bad reputation for lurking around young women. In addition to that fact, he and Bella had a history of a sort, and when she saw him coming in her direction, she said, “Stay away from me.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “You’re a murderer, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You killed Nancy Creighton, and I bet that you killed Claire, too.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think, because there’s no proof.”

  “Well, maybe there’s no proof about Claire, but Nancy …”

  Ethan glared at her, and then said, “Maybe you killed Creighton. You were there that night, and you probably have the murder weapon. Maybe I should tell the police.”

  Until recently, Ethan had actually thought that Bella did have possession of the murder weapon, and she’d done nothing to disabuse him of this notion, hoping that it would keep her safe from him. Now, however, he knew exactly who had it, but he’d keep that fact to himself for now.

  “I assure you the police won’t find any weapon,” Bella said to imply that she had it well hidden. “And, I had no reason to kill Nancy, I barely knew her.”

  “Well, if there’s even a question that you might have done it, do you think you’ll ever get a nursing job. Forget that, they’d probably kick you out of the nursing program altogether.”

  Bella turned ashen and ran out of the building. As she stood crying in the rain, Bella had a flashback to the night she’d been raped in high school. That night, Bella had felt exactly the same as she had in that moment, terrified, humiliated, and worthless.

  Bella turned around and decided to fight. Going back inside, she found Blackett still alone on the stage and appearing to be in no particular distress.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said with defiance, “and if you try to have me expelled, I will round up every girl you’ve harassed. So, if my career is derailed, I won’t be alone.”

  She turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

  She had just taken back her power and Ethan knew it. He, however, was a serial abuser of young girls and was not about to be bested by one of them.

  He did want that gun, though. It was the primary evidence connecting him to Nancy Creighton’s murder, and as long as it was out there, he was vulnerable. As soon as he had it in hand, he would tie up all the loose ends, and he looked forward to finally eliminating the loose end named Isabella Moore.

  Chapter Seven

  Warrant in hand, Ed and Paul sat in Attorney Martin Khole’s waiting room.

  “Morning detectives,” Martin said as he opened his office door. “Come on in.”

  Ed handed him the warrant, and Martin took a look at it and said, “Okay, now we can talk.”

  “Attorneys aren’t usually so enthusiastic,” Ed said with a slight smile.

  “My client’s dead, and while I don’t know for certain that she was doing anything illegal, it wasn’t exactly pretty, either. She was trying to get power of attorney over her aunt’s estate, and a substantial estate it is.

  “What’s wrong with her aunt?” Ed asked.

  “Mentally ill.”

  “Is that so bad?” Paul asked. “Someone has to handle things.”

  “The aunt may be nuts, but she was savvy enough to be fighting this tooth and nail. And while I can’t prove it, and I strongly advised her against it, I suspected that my client was robbing her blind.”

  “What made you think that?” Ed asked.

  “She suddenly had a very jazzy address in Brookline. And, as time went on, I noticed that she was wearing some very expensive looking jewelry, and she was driving a Jaguar. Al
l this as a struggling actress. Although to be fair, I didn’t know anything about her finances or family in London. I just kept telling her not to touch any of her aunt’s accounts or property until the case was settled, or she could end up without a cent, and in jail. She agreed, but I never trusted her. On top of which, she was such a cold fish. She kept on top of me to push the case along and never even went to see her aunt that I know of. I was this close,” Martin said, with a small pinching hand gesture, “to dumping her as a client.”

  “Who’s the aunt’s lawyer?” Ed asked.

  “I’ve copied the whole file for you. Figured you’d be back. All the information is in there.”

  “Are her parent’s still coming on Friday?”

  Martin nodded.

  “What time are you seeing them?” Ed asked.

  “At ten.”

  “Can we drop by?” Ed asked.

  “I’m not their lawyer. If it’s all right with them, it’s all right with me.”

  The detectives left with the fairly substantial folder, and as they were driving back to the station, Paul said, “We’ll need to talk to the aunt and her lawyer.”

  “Right, I’d say lawyer, first.”

  “Well, before that, we should get Tiffany settled. Barring anything unforeseen that will, at least, take the Nance murder off our board,” Paul said.

  ******

  Tiffany was brought to interrogation, and as soon as Muriel Berenson was with her, the detectives joined them.

  “Were you having an affair with Devin Nance?” Ed asked.

  “None of your damn business,” Tiffany answered.

  Ed showed her pictures of what they believed were his bags and clothing in her apartment.

  Tiffany was patently terrified. She knew they’d likely found her gun and that forensics would prove that those were Devin’s belongings.

  “We weren’t having an affair. He was just bunking with me.

  “You’ve only got a one bedroom.”

  “I’ve also got a pullout couch.”

  “Right, but how did he feel about your clients?” Ed asked.

  “I don’t have any clients. Not anymore. As you may have heard, I’m about to start my television series.”

  “We met one of your clients,” Ed said.

  “David Ferris is a dear friend, and he will always be my friend whether you or anybody else likes it or not.”

  “But you had dates who paid,” Ed said.

  “It’s a gray area.”

  “Is this going anywhere vaguely near Mr. Nance’s death,” Muriel asked.

  “Well,” Ed said, “Here’s the thing. We found a gun in your client’s apartment”.

  “Planted,” was Tiffany’s one-word response.

  “We also have your blood-soaked rug.”

  “I didn’t have a rug,” Tiffany said.

  “I believe that forensics will tell us a different story.”

  Tiffany had not confided in Muriel, who was now very concerned and said, “This interview is over.”

  “Fine,” Paul said, “but your client is going to jail for life without parole. Maybe if she helped us, the charge could be lowered to murder two, and she’d be out someday.”

  “Well, before my client starts admitting to a murder that she didn’t commit, let’s see what the forensics tell you. And, if by any stretch of the imagination it is necessary, I’ll negotiate any reduction in charge with the DA. Then, and only then, will Ms. Palmero have anything to say.”

  “Fine,” Paul said as he opened a folder on the table and revealed Tiffany’s address book. We’ll just go through this person by person and see if we can find out who helped you move the body.”

  Muriel didn’t blink, but when they left, she asked Tiffany, “What was that?”

  “My client book.”

  “The book Devin had?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Is there contact information in there.”

  “Yes, I wasn’t kidding. They are my friends.”

  “And will the forensics be incriminating?”

  Tiffany nodded.

  “Now, do not lie to me, or you’re going to be on your own. Did you have anything to do with Claire Spencer’s murder?”

  “No. Absolutely nothing.”

  “And this one?”

  “It wasn’t murder.”

  “Okay, not a word out of you to anyone about anything.”

  ******

  Muriel Berenson was a tall, elegant African American woman with long dreadlocks which she usually pulled up into a bun atop her head. An imposing figure even if she wasn’t arguably the best defense attorney in the City. She was also, of course, well known to Kate Campbell, the City’s district attorney, and on this morning, she walked with purpose past all of Kate’s assistants and support staff directly into her office.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Kate asked.

  “I’ve got a client who – might – be in some trouble.”

  Muriel gave Kate her client’s name and what evidence the police might have.

  “My client maintains her complete innocence, but ….”

  “Should there be some evidence?” Kat interrupted.

  “Yes, she might have something to deal.”

  “She’d have to plead,” Kate said.

  “We’ll see. Call me when you know something.”

  ******

  A phone call from Kate Campbell to Captain Carlos Arandia brought Ed and Paul into his office.

  “You got the forensics yet on the Nance murder yet?” Carlos asked.

  “We do, Palermo’s prints are on the murder weapon. It’s a match, and the blood on her rug belongs to Nance. Oh, and I found this picture that shows the rug in her apartment on her Instagram page,” Paul said.

  “All right then, I’ll let the DA know. You need anything from Palermo?”

  “She had to have had an accomplice, and we want to know who that was. She might have also killed Claire Spencer, but we don’t have anything to link her to that,” Ed said.

  “Right, well, good work on Nance. For now, go back to work on Spencer. Palermo isn’t talking about anything until her lawyer can strike some sort of a deal with the DA.”

  “What kind of a deal, it’s murder one, plain and simple,” Ed said.

  “Maybe there were extenuating circumstances.”

  “He wanted a job on her TV show. She wouldn’t get it for him, so he threatened to out her as a hooker. He had her client list. So, she shot him,” Ed said.

  “Well, that seems pretty straight forward. I’ll pass it along to Kate.”

  As they walked back to their desks, Ed said, “I really want to talk to Tiffany about Claire.”

  “Well, remember, we’ve got Khole’s file to go through, and her parents will be here tomorrow, so that’s something.”

  “True, let’s go dig in and see what we can find,” Ed said.

  ******

  An hour later, Ed’s phone rang, and it was Ron Gould. He wanted to know when Tiffany would be released.

  “She won’t be released; she’s being charged. Are you still going ahead with the play?”

  “Not if that’s the case,” Ron said and hung up abruptly.

  Ed just looked at his phone.

  “What?’

  “Ron Gould just hung up on me when I told him that Tiffany was being charged.”

  “Well, two murders and an arrest, you can’t blame him for being frazzled. I assume the play’s off.”

  “You are correct,” Ed said.

  Ed dove back into Martin Khole’s file on Claire’s legal case, and a few moments later he looked up in shock, and said, “You’re not going to believe this?”

  “What?”

  “Her aunt is Maggie Dunham?”

  “No, Paul said as he got up to look at the paperwork on Ed’s desk. Looking it over, Paul said, “Well she’s just the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t she?”

  “I think Claire Spencer crossed the wrong crazy woman,” E
d said.

  “But what could she do? She can’t get out, and who would do that for her, the coven?”

  “They did it the last time.”

  ******

  Muriel had come to an agreement, of sorts, with Kate Campbell. The agreement was that her client would make a statement about the shooting and her accomplice but nothing else.

  “So,” Ed said as he turned on the tape, “I assume that you know we found your prints on the murder weapon, and his blood on your carpet. Oh, and I have a picture of that carpet in your …” Ed was about to say living room floor when Tiffany waved him off. “All right, then. Why did you murder him?”

  “He was staying with me. It was just because he hated his motel. He got this fixation about getting a job on my show. I kept telling him no.”

  “You never told him that you’d get him a job?” Ed asked.

  “No.”

  “Never? Not even pillow talk?”

  “We weren’t lovers.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Forensics are checking your sheets. Although only God knows what they’ll find. Will they find his DNA?”

  “Maybe,” Tiffany said. “I don’t know what he was up to when I wasn’t around.”

  “We’re out of here if you’re not going to level with us,” Ed said.

  “Fine. We slept together a couple of times.”

  “And you told him that you’d get him a job,” Ed said.

  “Why does that matter?” Tiffany asked.

  “And you told him that you’d get him a job,” he repeated.

  “Yes. He was cute, and I kind of liked him at first.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?” Ed asked.

  “I did ask, and they said no. It was that simple. Also, he was kind of a jackass, and I really didn’t want him around. So, I told him to find another place to crash and that he wasn’t getting a job. He must have stayed at his hotel for a few nights, although he still had his stuff at my place. Anyway, he came over to get it, and we got into a fight. Like the tape said, he threated to expose my past. I told him that, if he did that, he’d be ruined too. He got really angry and pushed me on the bed. We were fighting.”

  “I don’t see any injuries.”