A Medium Education (A Lost Souls Lane Mystery Book 6) Page 12

  It’s Charlotte.

  She’s mostly weirded out by my strange outburst, but there is an underlying guilt pecking at her subconscious.

  “What did you do?” I ask her.

  Charlotte pulls a face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sounds genuinely confused.

  So I ask again. “Did you do something to Connie Batch?”

  Charlotte stiffens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  That’s a lie.

  Charlotte is Charleyhorse99! It’s an old email account that she’s had since high school and rarely uses. Yesterday afternoon, she went to Connie’s home to speak to Russell about the unpaid balance. When she got there, she saw him with a tall and slender woman. He walked her to her car, and the two seemed friendly and flirty and way too comfortable. Charlotte felt it her duty, woman-to-woman, to tell Connie what a snake her husband really was. Arturo told her to stay out of it, but she couldn’t. She found Connie’s work email on her website, used the old Charleyhorse99 account, and hoped Connie would confront Russell about his extra-marital affairs.

  I wonder if the tall woman is Tiff.

  “I can explain,” Charlotte says.

  “No need. I got all the information I need.” I grab my mom by the hand. “You have to go.”

  “Excuse me,” Mom says in her polite voice to Arturo and Charlotte. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “So … uh … do you watch the Forty-Niners?” Mike says to Arturo and Charlotte as I drag my mom to the front of the house.

  She yanks her arm free when we reach her van. “Zoe Matilda Lane, that was incredibly rude. And why did you tell Arturo that we were going to repaint the house in the first place? That is not your call to make.”

  “You’re in trouble,” I say.

  “No, I’m not. The house has been on the market for a while, but that is typical at this price point. Why? What did you hear? Are they getting a new realtor? Are they taking the house off the market? Maybe I should spruce up the front.”

  “It has nothing to do with the house, Mom! Listen to me. I’m tired of pretending to be something that I am not when I’m around you. I am a medium. I see and speak to the dead. I can read thoughts, and Mike can see the future. You’re in trouble. You have to go home right now.”

  I’m expecting her to be confused or upset or shocked or tell me that I’m being silly or reprimand me for being rude in front of Arturo and Charlotte.

  What I don’t expect is for her to hug me.

  I’m caught off guard, and my arms are frozen at my sides as if my brain has forgotten how to control my appendages.

  Mom squeezes me tighter. Suddenly it’s the middle of the night, I’m nine years old, and cocooned in my mother’s arms while she lovingly reassures me there are no monsters under my bed.

  No matter how much my mother infuriates me, when I’m wrapped in her arms, all I feel is warmth, security, and unconditional love.

  I dig my face into her shoulder and inhale her familiar scent of Aqua Net and sweet perfume.

  I can hear footsteps approach and the rattle of Mike clearing his throat.

  Right. Murder to solve. Mom to save. Spirit to find.

  Reluctantly, I step out from my mother’s embrace and take her hands in mine. “Please trust me on this. Go home and stay there,” I say. “It’s for your own protection.”

  “Oh goodness, Zoe.” Mom pulls her hands free and fidgets with the golden buttons on her florescent jumpsuit. “Nothing is going to happen to me. There’s no need to worry.”

  “Mom, you have to listen to me.”

  “Zoe, you’re being silly and very rude. I can’t believe you snapped at Arturo’s wife. She is a well-known interior designer here in Trucker.”

  Didn’t know that.

  “Painting by Arturo is a reputable company, and even if I don’t believe this house needs updating,” Mom continues, “I want to hear their professional opinions. Do I need to remind you that we work in a referral-based business?”

  This is the reaction I was expecting.

  “You have to leave this house immediately.” I feel like a broken record. “Please listen to me. Mike can see the future, and in his vision you are seriously hurt if not close to death. Think of the baby. Think of yourself. Think of Dad and me. Get out of here.”

  “I’ll go home when I’m ready to go home,” Mom says defiantly.

  Gah! She is exasperating. I feel like shaking her by the shoulders. But I don’t. Instead I turn to Mike. “We good?”

  He looks off into the distance and squints his eyes, as if straining to read something printed in five-point font. “Yes,” he finally says with a confident nod of his head. “The vision is not there anymore.”

  “What’s not?” Mom asks. “I don’t understand.”

  Oh, for heaven sakes! “I told you, Mom. Mike can see the future. He had a vision that we would find you unconscious and hurt here at Willie’s house tonight.”

  “Goodness. You two are being so silly.” Mom plays it cool, but her cheeks are flushed.

  “Now all I see in the future is …” Mike scrunches his nose. “I see the house with the boat. All that is the same. In a separate vision…I see…purple. I see a lot of purple.”

  “Purple?” I shift my gaze to my mother.

  “Would you look at the time?” Mom checks her wrist, even though she’s not wearing a watch. “I have an appointment! I’ll see you kids later.” She’s in the van and backing out of the driveway before I even blink.

  If tap dancing around the issue were an Olympic sport, Mom would bring home the gold.

  “Do you think your mom believed you?” Mike asks.

  “Who knows?” I throw my hands in the air. What an emotional roller coaster this day has been, and it’s not over yet. We still need to find Connie, confront Russell, and solve a murder. “At least no one else is dying today.”

  The words have no sooner left my mouth than I see Russell and the woman from Charlotte’s mind storming up the driveway.

  “You there.” Russell points a finger at me. “Do you have my phone?”

  Oh. That.

  Sixteen

  Russell treks up the driveway in what feels like slow motion. His hands clenched, his jaw clenched, his face clenched—pretty much his entire being is clenched, and his cheeks are red, and his forehead is shiny.

  The woman, a tall blonde with extra high heels and a pencil skirt, is struggling to keep up with him. She hands Russell a mini iPad, and he taps the screen. “It says here that my phone is at this residence. I left it charging on my nightstand this morning. I know that I did. How did you get my phone?”

  His phone? Really? After everything that has happened today, all the man cares about is his stupid phone?

  “Russell?” Arturo comes from around the house with Charlotte. “What are you doing here?”

  “Arturo, I should have known.” Russell lifts the iPad in the air as if he’s just discovered a precious relic. “You stole my phone!” He narrows his eyes on Arturo and flings the iPad into a bush like it’s a Frisbee. “I told you that I’m not paying a cent more than your original quote.”

  “And I told you that there was no way we could have known there was termite damage to the underside of the fascia before we started!”

  “And I told you that you should have inspected it better before you started the project!”

  “And I told you that I can’t take apart the house while I’m inspecting it!”

  “And I told you to just paint over it!”

  “And I told you that I can’t paint over it!” Arturo rolls up his sleeves. “I don’t appreciate being accused of stealing.”

  Before I can stop him, Russell has Arturo by the collar of his shirt. “Then explain why my phone is here!”

  “Get your hands off of me!” Arturo’s fist crashes against Russell’s jaw.

  There’s a stunned silence, until Charlotte screams.

  Russell takes a second to regain hi
s balance, then charges Arturo and knocks him to the ground.

  I can’t believe this blow up is over termites. Wait until Russell finds out about Charlotte’s email.

  Mike tries to break up the fight. He’s unsuccessful. Somehow, he gets tangled in the mess, and now they’re all rolling on the hot cement.

  Charlotte continues to scream, and the blonde woman is fanning her face. If Goalmouth Mike can’t physically separate the two, I have serious doubt that gave-up-after-one-lap Zoe will be able to break up this fight.

  I grab the hose curled up on the side of the house and drag it over to the middle of the driveway. I twist the nozzle to high-pressure and squeeze the lever. The blast of cold water takes the trio by surprise. There are gasps and coughs and several curse words, but the fight is over.

  For now.

  There is still the issue of the email, the sneaking around behind Connie’s back, and the murder.

  Mike is standing between the two hotheads with his arm out, like a drenched crossing guard halting traffic.

  Russell rings out his shirt. “I know you stole my phone!”

  And, we’re still on that.

  “No one stole your phone,” I say. Well, except for perhaps me, but that is neither here nor there.

  All I see in Russell’s head is blinding rage, and it’s all aimed right at Arturo. If he did kill his wife, it’s not anywhere on his radar right now.

  Charlotte stops screaming and decides to join the conversation. “You have a lot of nerve accusing him of being a thief when you’re a cheater. You should be more careful about your extramarital affairs if you don’t want anyone to find out.”

  Russell could not look more confused if he tried.

  Oh, hell.

  Now I see it. Russell did not kill Connie. As far as he’s concerned, she’s alive and well and currently antique shopping.

  How in the world did he come up with that?

  I approach Russell with the hose nozzle still in my hand, ready to shoot if needed. “I’m Zoe, we spoke earlier,” I say.

  “The medium?” Russell snorts. “Can someone please tell me what is going on around here? Where is my phone? And what in the heck are you talking about extra-marital affairs?” He hooks his fingers into air quotes. “I’ve never done anything extra in my marriage!”

  Mike and I exchange a look, neither of us knowing where to start.

  “Then who is this?” Charlotte makes a sweeping gesture with her arm, as if she were a Price is Right model and the blonde woman was the next prize. “Huh?”

  “That’s Tiff!” Russell looks like his head is about to explode.

  Tiff is struggling to keep up with what is going on while simultaneously trying to figure out why I look so familiar.

  “Tiff is my mortgage broker!” Russell shakes the water from his hair. “I’m refinancing the house. That’s why I wanted to freshen up the paint, so I can get a higher appraisal.”

  Mortgage broker?

  “Then why did you want to make sure Arturo met you during a time when Connie wasn’t there?” I ask.

  “Because Connie would hand you the shirt off my back right now if you asked for it. She’s constantly giving away money, and negotiating makes her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be there.”

  “Did Connie know about the appraisal?” Mike asks.

  “You’re Mary and John’s daughter!” Tiff announces triumphantly. “That’s why you look so familiar.”

  “I’m sure I mentioned it. Connie’s eyes gloss over when I talk finances,” says Russell, ignoring Tiff. “She’s stressed out enough with Elijah’s school and sports and her practice. Why is this anyone’s business?”

  “Why do you think Connie is antique shopping?” I ask.

  Russell is so frustrated he barely knows what to do with himself. “I never said she was antique shopping.” He thinks about the note Connie left at the office. Turns out he did call the office, and he did speak with Rose. She told him about the note Connie left, saying it was a hard meeting this morning at the school and she needed to take the day off to reflect.

  This is not abnormal for Connie. When she’s overwhelmed, she needs to step away. When she steps away, she goes to an antique mall just outside of Trucker. Russell then sent a text from Mrs. Batch’s phone to Elijah saying he had to go home with James and John, but when he gets home, he’s in serious trouble.

  “Someone better tell me what is happening before I call the cops,” Russell says.

  There’s a long, weird silence. Apparently, Charlotte is not going to fess up to the email. “Someone mistakenly thought you were having an affair with Tiff,” I say.

  “An affair?” Russell laughs as if I just told the most hilarious joke he’s ever heard. “When would I ever have time to have an affair?”

  “I do not appreciate the implication,” Tiff says, red in the cheeks. “Russ and I have been friends since high school, and I am a professional. Whoever started that rumor is bored and has no life.”

  My eyes slide to Charlotte, who is hiding behind her hat. I don’t see how telling Russell about her email will do anything but cause another fight. So I move on, because there’s the still the situation with skipping the parent-teacher conference and the twenty grand he asked Mrs. Batch for.

  Not sure having Arturo and Charlotte here for that conversation will do any good.

  “Can I speak to you privately?” I ask Russell. “It’s important.”

  “Fine by me,” Tiff announces and quickly departs without another word.

  “No one is going anywhere until I know who stole my phone,” Russell says.

  “I’ve got it.” Mike holds a cell up.

  Russell wrinkles his brow. “That’s Connie’s phone.”

  Oh, hell. He’s right.

  Mike gapes at the phone in his hand, realizing the mistake he just made.

  “Why do you have Connie’s phone?” Russell asks.

  “Mike and I are mediums,” I say. “I understand that you don’t believe in paranormal gifts, but please hear me out—”

  “Why do you have Connie’s phone?” Russell asks again.

  “This morning you missed the parent-teacher conference because you told Connie you had a headache,” I say. “If that were the case then why did you have the energy to go ask your grandmother for twenty thousand dollars?”

  “First off, this is none of your business. But I did have a headache. I took some medication, slept it off, and drove to Fernn Valley because my grandfather asked me to. He asked me to look over their finances and find ways to save and invest. I told them to put the bulk of their savings into a high-yield account. My grandma does all the finances because my grandpa is terrible with money, so I met with her today to go over what she should do. I told her to give me the twenty thousand to put in a high-yield account. I didn’t ask her for money for myself. Why would I do that?”

  It’s amazing how seeing all sides of a situation can completely flip the narrative around. Knowing Russell was not involved in Connie’s death in any way has me feeling relieved, alarmed, and anxious.

  I’m relieved for Connie and Elijah. They both would have been devastated if Russell were involved in any way with Connie’s murder.

  I’m alarmed because Mr. Batch is apparently terrible with finances, and he’s the mayor of Fernn Valley.

  I’m anxious because now I have no idea who killed Connie.

  “I’m only going to ask this one more time. Why do you have my wife’s phone?” Russell asks.

  “We found it behind the dumpsters outside her office building,” says Mike. “She’s in trouble, and we’ve been trying to find out what happened to her.”

  Russell is realizing now that the last time he actually spoke to Connie was this morning. He’s wondering what is happening. He’s scared, and he’s worried, and he’s running.

  “Where are you going?” I call after him, but he’s already halfway down the street.

  “I’m seriously freaked out right now,” says Cha
rlotte.

  Arturo rubs his jaw. “You should have just stayed out of it.”

  “Woman-to-woman, I had to tell her what was going on.”

  “Except nothing was going on,” I snap, even though I have no reason to judge. Up until fifteen minutes ago, I had pegged Russell a cheater who had his wife killed.

  “Dang, that dude is fast.” Mike uses his hand as a visor to block the rays of the setting sun. Russell is nearly to the end of the street. “We should probably go after him.”

  “Probably.” I hold out my hand, and Mike drops the keys into my palm.

  Seventeen

  By the time we catch up with Russell, he’s already in his car and down the street. He drives a white sedan, which makes it difficult to follow him since everyone in Trucker seems to drive a white sedan.

  At first we’re convinced he’s on his way to the medical center. Then he takes a right turn into a shopping center, and we realize that we aren’t following Russell at all. We're following a man taking his dog to the groomers.

  Gah!

  Back into the car we go.

  I drive past the medical center that is now buzzing with police activity. No way Russell was able to park anywhere near here. It’s a zoo.

  “According to the Trucker PD app, the police are responding to multiple gunshots and they are on a manhunt,” Mike reads from his phone. “There is nothing about a homicide.”

  “You don’t suppose that manhunt is for us, do you?”

  “Dude, of course it is. I’m a Handhoff. They know I’m a Handhoff. They’re totally looking for me.”

  “And Don,” I add. “I hope Rose told them he was the one with the weapon.”

  “Rose was the one with the gun. How can they give someone with terrible aim a license to conceal carry?”

  “What a mess. And I don’t see Russell anywhere. Why do I keep losing people today? First Jabba, then Connie, and now Russell.”

  “Connie is for sure with Elijah.”

  “I hope so …” I’m struck with a new idea. “I bet that’s where Russell is, too! Check where Elijah is, using the Find My Phone app.”