Synopsis: At a potluck to welcome a psychic, Detective Nora Blake must solve the murder of the guest of honor.
They say that when someone gets a random shiver down their spine, someone is walking over your grave. I wonder if that is true, Nora thought, a shiver went down her spine. She pulled the opening of her cardigan closer. The blue steps gave a gentle moan as her heavy steps climbed the stairs leading to the Willow Creek Convention Center. If anyone could predict their own death, it would be a psychic…right? Nora asked herself, a smirk played on her lips, she pulled her dark blond hair tighter in the back of her head, so tight it altered her eyes, like a constant glare of suspicion.
The tiny town of Willow Creek didn’t welcome strangers, but the famous, or rather, infamous Madame Celestine’s arrival created a buzz of excitement. Anticipation raised the fever of the town. She came with baggage of rumors and arrogance. She came with a cost.
Nora stopped mid-step, a single raven hopped on the roof’s ledge. It locked its piercing gaze on her. She finished the climb taking the stairs by twos. Its caw resonated through the air, thrusting itself off the ledge, and flying past the line of Italian cypress, slicing through the swirling finger-like mist. The void swallowed it whole. It became part of the gnarly yew tree. Stillness. A silhouette lingered within the shifting gray fog.
To Nora Madame Celestine was a charlatan. She rolled her eyes as she entered. A garish sign stood in the entryway. In sparkly large cut out letters it welcomed Madame Celestine. After entering the double doors, Nora and Mary cut through the excited chatter of guests and the circling thick scent of sage permeating the large room. Nora coughed. The walls felt closer than they should.
Mary pointed toward the food line and pulled Nora behind her. They moved through the line quickly, bright lights sparkled overhead. The room, filled with round tables, balloons, and faux flowers, had a cringy elegance. Nora felt unimpressed by its fakeness, just like Madame Celestine. Nora knew all about Madame Celestine and her record. Madame Celestine meant promises made, but they never came true which ended in disappointment.
When they discussed the party earlier that week, Mary had to cajole Nora into going to the potluck. She worried about Nora. Mary wanted her to get out in the normal world. Nora’s mouth curled up in a smirk while she took off her holster.
As they searched for a seat at a table, through a haze of suppressed anger, Nora watched Madame Celestine breeze by, her short dark curled hair tied up, the piercing blue eyes, her black beaded cloak brushing the floor. The oversized beaded necklaces sparkled under the lights. Grandiose Madame Celestine. She looked like a walking cliche’. But why?
“It came to me in a dream,” Mayor Ted Harms told Nora as he sipped coffee from a paper cup at the downtown coffeehouse. “I know she has baggage, but she’ll be quite a draw to our community, don’t you think?”
Nora could only nod. “It definitely will do that,” good or bad.
“Before I took office, I had a vision for this community,” he continued. “When I met with her, she predicted good things,” his eyes grew wide, he wiped his mouth with a crumpled napkin. “With her fame or even infamy, with her shop here in our downtown it will boost revenue. I know some true believers who are going to help.”
“And who’s that?” Nora asked him, watching him pick through his pastry.
“Daisy for one. And her grandmother,” he replied. “She is going to open her shop next to Daisy’s bakery. As soon as I asked them, I knew I picked the right people. All they had was praise for her. Their excitement was intoxicating.”
“What did they say about her? I am curious.”
“Daisy told me about Celestine’s magical abilities,” he finished his coffee and got up for a refill. “Her grandmother said their family was blessed by Celestine years ago.”
“Is that right?” Nora tried to recall her criminal record. Mostly dropped charges. She got out of most of the accusations of fraud and deceiving people. Madame Celestine took advantage of people and their pain.
People settled into their conversations, laughing and exchanging stories about Madame Celestine who had been working the room. It met with smiles, laughs, and the occasional frown. In about thirty minutes, Mayor Ted would be officially welcoming her to the community. Nora looked across the room and noticed Frank Wyatt leaning against the back wall, arms crossed tightly across, busy shooting imaginary daggers at the mystic. Someone who couldn’t hide his disgust.
From a table near an exit, Nora ate and watched Madame Celestine. The air felt suppressed and angry. The mystic carried a plate of food and an ornate chalice filled with wine to her place of honor in the front. As Madame Celestine took a long sip, her nose wrinkled, lips smacked, and a shudder went down her spine. She placed it down, flung her gaudy shoulder bag beneath the table. It didn’t go unnoticed. Someone yelled that Madame Celestine had channeled a spirit as her body stiffened, a sudden look of distress spread over Madame Celestine’s face. She clawed her chest first, then her throat, and her breath came in erratic bursts. She fell to the floor with a thud, overtaken with spasmodic twitches. The atmosphere switched. Gasps spread through the room. All the candles flickered at once and Nora felt a stiff breeze brush past her. She thought someone must have gone out a side door to escape, but no door had opened. Some stood still, their mouths wide open, unsure of what to do. Others held onto the person next to them. Nora dropped her fork, pushed her chair backwards, and ran through the crowd toward her.
Detective Nora Blake appeared in an instant. The famous mystic died within seconds. When Nora threw herself down next to her, the eyes were vacant, pupils wide, her body contorted in agony on the ground, her face beet red and frozen in disbelief. Foam filled her mouth, dripping down the side of her face. It wasn’t just the smell of sour grapes that hit Nora’s nose, but also bitter almonds – cyanide. Once obnoxious and filled with life, now an empty shell.
“Everyone stay where they are,” Nora yelled over the chaos. She took out her phone and called 911, explaining to the dispatcher who she was and what happened. She had to work fast while she waited for backup. They knew they had to get there fast. She put on some spare gloves she had in her bag before grabbing a tablecloth and placing it over the body.
“Do you need some help?” Mary asked.
“Just keep people back,” she replied. Mary did as she was told.
As the sudden shock wore off, a murmur grew louder, speculation began to circulate. Nora grabbed Madame Celestine’s bag that was still beneath the table and rummaged through it. On the bottom she found some financial records, along with a partially written blackmail note.
Madame Celeste was a blackmailer. That wasn’t in her file.
Nora unzipped a side pocket. Inside there was a small piece of paper, torn from a larger sheet. Unfolding it, she recognized the distinctive shaky words smudged and torn. “I know what you did in Denver…”
And she was being blackmailed. Nora carefully laid each piece of evidence on the table next to her.
Sound of sirens outside subdued the conversations. A small group of officers entered as a whirlwind. Nora waited next to the body. The officers gathered the small crowd into smaller groups and they led them to side rooms, maintaining order.
“Thanks Mike for getting everyone here quick,” she told the first detective to arrive. “I know everyone here, but we need to go by the book. We need statements from everyone.”
An excited hum floated above the crowd. The Mayor stood closeby, wringing his hands.
“Who brought the wine?” Nora asked him.
Before he could answer, Frank Wyatt’s voice came from behind the food tables. “It was me.” He came from the darkness, along the fringes of the walls and headed in Nora’s direction. He remained behind, watching from the shadows. She met him halfway, away from the main crime scene.
“So, Frank, who asked you to bring the wine?” Nora asked, inviting him to sit and she sat across from him, opening her purple spiral notebook to a fresh sheet and her pen anxiously waiting for information to write down. Camera flashes came from around the body of Madame Celestine. People in white suits moved around her, taking pictures and cataloging evidence.
“Marjorie asked me to bring it.” Frank barked at her. Nora tapped her pen to the notebook. With his hunched shoulders and the deep pale appearance of his skin, he was a man worn out from existing.
Nora frowned and Frank sat with his arms fixed firmly across his chest. “I saw the way you looked at her early. What did you have against her?”
“She was evil. She was a scammer, including some of my dearest friends in fact, but in another town. I couldn’t believe it when I heard she was coming here,” he said, chest deflated, fire raged behind his eyes. “But I only supplied the wine. I didn’t do anything else to her.”
Nora took out the torn blackmail note and showed it to him. “Does this look familiar? It does to me.”
His hands shook while taking out some reading glasses, casting a dismal gaze toward Nora. “Yes.”
“I recognized the handwriting right away. I have seen your writing,” Nora said, placing it between the sheets of her notebook again. “I’d like to hear your explanation.”
Frank’s body became rigid, leaning forward in his chair, and Nora readjusted her position. “I was angry. We don’t need her scams here in Willow Creek.”
“I see. Is that all?”
“That’s all. I wanted her to leave town, not to die, but…” he stopped, clearing his throat, and leaving something unsaid.
He didn’t have to say anything, she knew what he was thinking.
Nora nodded. “ I don’t need to hear the rest. I’ll need to confirm your movements during the gathering. The officer will show you where to wait.”
He got up in a huff and ushered into a side room. The swoosh, click of the coroner’s stretcher created another wave of conversation. The body was pushed toward the entrance and disappeared outside.
“Where did the mayor go?” Nora asked the other detective.
“He is comforting a elderly lady in the corridor.”
The officer held the door open for him. Nora beckoned to him and his confident stride remained intact. His tie, now loosened, gave him a relaxed look. Nora gave him a second glance.
“Marjorie is very upset. There was an argument earlier with Madame Celestine and she feels guilty about not apologizing,” he said. “She is very sensitive.”
Nora nodded. “No doubt. It is a terrible way to end an evening. Did she say what the argument was about?”
Mayor Ted became flustered. “No, she didn’t go into any details.”
Nora stared at him and it made him squirm. He smiled sheepishly.
“Considering her record, maybe over something she had done in the past?”
“Do you kill someone over that? I think most of us know on some level it is all fake. We are hopeful and want the positive things she says to come true,” he took a deep breath and sat in defiance. He crossed his arms tight, the seams of his jacket stretched taut..
“What about you?” she asked, her voice flat.
“Okay, well I will admit it wasn’t always positive. A lot of people, including yours truly, lost some money making investments based on her predictions. Some faced financial ruin. It got ugly,” he replied. “She was a changed woman though. You know I saw potential for the town. I think people can change if they want to.”
“Do you actually believe that?”
“Yes, I do.”
Nora let it drop then pressed him about the wine and his movements. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Marjorie’s. I didn’t see so much as a shadow lingering near it, nor dare touch it.” She drummed her fingers against her notebook. Her eyes flickered, dark and sharp, frustration growing. She thanked him and he got up to leave.
“How about coffee again tomorrow?” he asked, walking backward.
“I’ll let you know in the morning,” she replied, and he smiled, turning around.
Nora called for Daisy at the officer at the door.
Daisy came in sobbing into a kleenex.
Is that guilt? Nora wondered, but she’s known Daisy ever since she was an awkward kid in braces. She cried easily.
Daisy eased onto the chair like a feather, dabbing her eyes, her sobs came in intermittent waves. Nora handed her a tissue from her bag. “I can’t believe she is gone. I admired her so much.”
“I know this is difficult, but do you know who may have wanted her dead?” Nora asked, finding her gentle voice. Daisy slipped further down, her back arching forward, her arms crossed firmly across her chest, her tissue held against her face.
“Absolutely not,” Daisy whimpered.
“Did you see anyone tampering with the wine?”
“No,” she replied. “No one got near it till…”
“Till what?”
“Till dinner was served. That’s all.” Nora dabbed her nose, looking defiant. “Is that all?”
Nora’s eyebrow raised, scribbling notes. “Did you see who poured it?”
“No, I was too busy and I wasn’t paying attention,” she shifted in her seat, her gaze flickering to the side, “ Madame Celestine wasn’t a scammer. She predicted my future perfectly – I can’t believe this happened.”
Effortlessly, Daisy jumped up after a few other questions about Madame Celestine. Nora’s attention in her notebook.
“I need to speak with marjorie now,” Nora said. The sound coming from the corridors had quieted.
Nora shivered as she waited. The air had gone cold. Marjorie came walking through the door. Her legs strangled in pantyhose, it created a swish sound as she walked, plopped in the chair with an aged humph, straightening her grey plaid skirt, the edge of her white lace slip peaked out.
“I know you’re upset and I am sorry to ask this so suddenly, but I hear that you argued with the deceased earlier,” Nora said, her voice flat. “Can you explain that?”
Marjorie looked at her with large doe eyes, pulled her purse closer, a moment of fear passed her face. “Umm…something that happened long ago, but it was no big deal. Old news.”
“Did she hurt you financially?” Nora asked, Marjorie tried to avert her gaze.
“Absolutely not. I am sorry she is dead though. I swear,” Marjorie insisted, her eyes welling up. Nora looked at her, ice ran through her veins.
The light above flickered and dimmed; in the distance just beyond the edge of tables, shadows became dark apparitions. Between them, within the darkness, a spector, its cloak as black as a crow’s feather, appeared as a flutter between light and shadow. From its torn sleeve, a long, bony finger, pointed toward Marjorie.
Nora pinched her eyes shut, rubbing them between her thumb and forefinger, shaking her head in disbelief. When she opened them, the figure had disappeared.
Nora stopped Marjorie’s retreat with a raised forefinger. She took the hints.
“One moment Marjorie, can you explain to me why you poisoned Madame Celestine?” Nora looked directly into her frightened eyes.
Marjorie stopped mid-rise in disbelief, her jaw dropped and quivered. She couldn’t meet Nora’s scrutiny. Sobs came out as if the gates of heaven were opened and the story came flooding out: the trick Madame Celestine had played on her husband, their financial ruin, and his death as a broken man. Nora listened, trying to remain neutral. This elderly, unassuming lady in front of her, prim and proper, planned and acted out a premeditated murder. She directed the officer to handcuff her but to be gentle.
“I am sorry I have to do this, Marjorie,” Nora told her.
“It’s okay. I know you have a job to do,” Marjorie pushed herself up and allowed the officer to clasp one handcuff, then the next. Apologizing for being such a bother and offering them a warm smile. Nora felt a hand on her shoulder. When she turned, there was no one.
“Can I say goodbye to my granddaughter please?” her eyes pleading.
Nora momentarily thought about it. She knew she would say yes. “Of course.”
As they entered the room again, Mayor Ted, a look of deflation on his face, had his arm over the shoulder of a sobbing Daisy.
“I am sorry, Daisy, my dear,” she said. Daisy gave her grandmother a hug, burying her face into her shoulder.
As her grandmother passed heavily through the doors with handcuffs, an officer held her by the elbow, she mouthed the words “I love you” to Daisy who waved a mournful good-bye. The lights of the patrol car waiting for Marjorie flashed blue and white, an officer stood beside the open rear door. Waiting.
“Search Marjorie’s bag. I bet there’s some interesting evidence in there,” she said at the entrance to the officer then handed the bag to him and turned to the other detective. Nora sighed deeply. “It’s a hollow victory.”
“Poor lady,” he said, shaking his head. Nora nodded, her lips formed a thin line. “I overheard what Madame Celestine did to her husband. I don’t blame her, but the law is the law. She shouldn’t have taken the law into her own hands.”
“No, she shouldn’t have. It is unfortunate that the law failed her. So, yes, in this case, poor lady,” she said and followed the procession, her feet barely touching the ground.
In the darkness, she heard the distinctive caw of the same raven. Now as she walked down the stairs, it alighted from the yew. Nora watched its flight captured by the glow of the full moon. It seemed suspended in the sky, slicing through the radiance until it was swallowed by the abyss of dark shadow of night. An omen complete.
