The Clairvoyant's Glasses Volume 2, page 1
The Clairvoyant’s Glasses
Volume 2
By Helen Goltz
The Clairvoyant’s Glasses Volume 2
PUBLISHED BY: Atlas Productions
First published 2022.
Copyright © Helen Goltz
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the written permission from the author or the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations for review purposes. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales is entirely coincidental, and frankly, pretty amazing should that happen!
Proofread by Penny Clarkson
Beta-reader: Mary Fuxa
Cover by Karri Klawiter – Art by Karri.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
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For Mary Fuxa
You fought the good fight and won, bravo!
Time has a shadow
Chapter 1
Sophie Carell looked down at the dress she was wearing; she had selected it for an audition, which she now would not make. It was too cheery for a crime scene. Beside her, Detective Murdoch Ashcroft lightly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. She stole a glance at him as he stopped tapping, pushed his hand through his dark hair, and returned it to the steering wheel. She knew he was a man who didn’t like to be read, but his anxiety came off him in waves as they drove to the crime scene.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked.
‘Sure. Thanks for this,’ he said. ‘I know you really wanted to audition for that part, sorry about the timing.’
Sophie gave a small shrug. ‘Parts come and go, missing kids, not so. The parents must be terrified.’
He nodded.
‘Although, I reckon I was a shoo-in for the role.’ She smiled and brushed a strand of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear.
‘Goes without saying,’ he grinned. ‘So, it’s been a month now. You were going to decide whether to stick with the fortune-telling or throw it in. Come to any conclusions?’ He put the car’s indicator on to pull off the freeway and, taking the turn, headed to the home of the parents of the missing five-year-old girl, the Kingsleys.
‘To stay or not to stay,’ Sophie said melodramatically, bringing her stage skills to the fore. ‘Fortune-telling, huh?’
‘Okay, it’s a little more than that,’ he conceded.
‘Are you missing Aunt Daphne? Do you want me to continue or return to acting?’ She teased.
‘I do miss the old girl,’ Murdoch admitted. ‘But even I can’t bring her back from the dead. There’s room in my heart for both of you.’ He gave her a wink.
Sophie laughed. ‘Good of you.’ She didn’t answer his question and Murdoch gave her no encouragement to choose either career. The gift of special glasses bequeathed to her by her eccentric great aunt, Daphne Shelby, had changed her life. They had given her clairvoyance skills, and all the baggage that came with it. It had made for a daunting month, especially when she had been convinced her future was acting on the stage, not reading futures.
‘Are you enjoying it?’ he asked, prompting Sophie again.
‘Surprisingly, yes. When Aunt Daphne told me I was going to follow in her footsteps as a clairvoyant, I have to tell you, it cheesed me off. But what I’ve achieved with the gift in the past month has given me more satisfaction than I’ve felt for a long time,’ she said in a quiet voice.
‘It’s been good for me too, thanks,’ he said, remembering the recent case she helped him solve. ‘My partner’s not as keen on using outside resources,’ he said diplomatically, ‘but Gerard never was a fan of Daphne’s either, so it’s not personal.’
She grimaced. ‘I can’t say I care too much about what Detective Gerard Oakley thinks. I’ve seen his future.’
‘Yeah?’ Murdoch’s interest was piqued. ‘What’s going to happen to the old bastard?’ he asked with a chuckle.
‘Nothing terrible. But he won’t be around for much longer… his retirement is pending and after a handshake and send off, he’s going to go caravanning with his wife.’
‘He’ll like that, that’s good.’ Murdoch sobered.
‘Where is he, by the way?’ Sophie asked.
‘Interviewing people at the shopping centre where the girl went missing. We’re almost there.’
‘What more can you tell me about the little girl?’ Sophie asked.
‘Not a great deal. I only just got called to the job. But when it comes to abductions, history tells us that the first few hours are crucial.’
‘I understand, so where is the family now?’
‘Her parents and another two older siblings were initially taken to the police station, but they’ve been taken home in case there is a call. A ransom… they’re not short of a dollar. I just need you to subtly look at the faces of the people around and see if you get anything… please,’ he added.
‘Sure. I might have had more luck in the shopping centre.’
Murdoch glanced her way. ‘I’m happy to take you there after if you have the time.’
She nodded and studied the neighbourhood as Murdoch pulled into a quiet street and parked at the end of the driveway of a large home. There was a high fence around the yard, a swing visible through the fence bars, and numerous cars around the road. No media vans yet.
‘Hope they are all just friends and family,’ he muttered on seeing the people lingering at the other end of the driveway, closer to the front door of the residence. ‘I’ll introduce you as a consultant if that’s okay?’ He cut the engine.
‘Fine. I’ll just slip into a corner and see what I can detect. Nice area, a bit of money around here,’ Sophie said. They alighted from the car and began the long walk up the driveway. Murdoch adjusted his tie and Sophie did her best to match his step and keep up.
‘I believe the family made their money in herbal products – shampoos, soaps, good smelling stuff,’ Murdoch said quietly. ‘They’ve recently moved into eco-clothing or some bloody thing.’
Sophie tried not to laugh at Murdoch’s summary, given the solemness of the situation.
Murdoch continued: ‘They might have made an enemy or two among competitors; I’m yet to explore that. But I know they’ve been splashing a lot of money on advertising where they are promoted as the hottest and healthiest pair around wearing their eco-gear, looking sparkling and healthy.’
‘Ah envy and greed, two good motives no doubt?’ Sophie asked and Murdoch grunted his agreement. She stopped while she took her glasses – the pair that made her what she was – from her handbag.
‘Sorry,’ she apologised for making Murdoch wait. ‘There are so many people hanging around, I should start reading earlier than later.’
He accepted her need to wear the glasses – Daphne, her great aunt whom he worked with and solved many cases with over the years, was the same.
‘I need the glasses to see people’s features in order to read them,’ she mumbled by way of explanation. She offered the excuse every time she put them on. It would be easier if she wore glasses all the time, and then it wouldn’t seem so odd.
They continued their walk up the driveway. An older couple was coming towards them. They greeted Murdoch and Sophie. The older man was supporting the woman, while she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
‘Are you related to the family?’ Murdoch asked after greeting them.
‘Grandparents, paternal side,’ the elderly gentleman said. ‘It’s too distressing for my wife’s health to remain.’
‘Of course,’ Murdoch said and glanced at Sophie.
She shook her head. They were not involved, as they both expected. Murdoch allowed them to continue walking past. Two junior constables approached.
‘I don’t want people coming and going,’ Murdoch told them. ‘No one else in or out for now.’
‘Yes sir,’ one of the uniformed men said. ‘We’ll position ourselves at the entrance gates.’
Sophie watched them head to the gates. She saw one officer was going to leave the force with an injury. She didn’t have time to read the other.
Murdoc
‘We’re asking people not to leave, sorry guys,’ Murdoch stopped the two young men. They were in their late teens, dressed in jeans, with black T-shirts and caps.
‘We’ve got to get to work,’ one of them said.
‘Are you related to the Kingsley family?’ Murdoch asked.
‘I’m a nephew, this is my best friend. We came to see if we could do anything.’
‘How did you hear about it?’ Sophie asked, surprising Murdoch. She needed specific questions to be asked to see the big picture, to receive the images from the glasses, and to generate the visions they needed to solve this case. Different images of the two young men appeared around her and changed as they responded to her question.
‘We ran into my aunt up the road at the shopping centre. It had just happened, she was freaking out,’ he said.
‘And you saw nothing?’ Murdoch asked.
Both men shook their heads.
‘Alright then,’ Murdoch said and relented, moving them on with a wave of his hand. The two men hurried off.
Sophie grabbed his arm and he looked toward her. She was staring at the nephew, her look intent.
‘He has the little girl. She’s in the boot of his car. Ransom… he’s going to ask for a ransom.’
‘What?’ Murdoch asked, shocked, and turned towards them.
‘The little girl was holding their hands, smiling, and they’ve got her now, here. She’s alive.’
‘Hey, wait up!’ he called, running after them. Murdoch yelled to his two constables to stop the men. The nephew turned at the sound of the yelling and saw Murdoch in pursuit.
‘Run!’ he yelled at his mate and they broke into a sprint.
Sophie watched it all unfold like a movie, some of which she’d seen with her glasses.
‘Stop them,’ Murdoch yelled, closing the distance between himself and the young men.
The constables closed the gates as the nephew and his friend ran at them.
‘Get out of the way!’ the nephew yelled.
His friend threw himself up onto the top of the fence and a constable grabbed him around the ankles, pulling him down. A large man ran towards them and Murdoch braced, expecting to be hit, but he helped the detective instead.
‘Friend of the family,’ he explained, as he helped the constable restrain the nephew’s mate.
Murdoch slammed the nephew against the fence, while the second constable cuffed him.
‘Where are your keys?’ he demanded.
The nephew spat at him, and Murdoch rolled his eyes and wiped the spit with his shirt sleeve. The constable patted the nephew’s pockets and retrieved them.
‘Here you are, Sir.’
Murdoch nodded his thanks and glanced around to find Sophie was now nearby.
‘It’s the blue car that I saw,’ she said and pointed to a sports car with thick wheels. ‘That’s it, I think.’
Murdoch hit the unlock button on the set of keys, and the car beeped. With Sophie, they raced to the vehicle, opened the boot and there she lay, the little girl, frightened, wide-eyed, looking up at them.
‘You’re okay, darling, we’re the police,’ Murdoch said, and a constable arrived at his side in uniform. She raised her arms and allowed Murdoch to lift her out of the car, and Sophie watched as he walked up the path, holding her close. He looked rather gorgeous, Sophie conceded, manly and strong, as he carried the little child as if she were his daughter. The cries of relief and jubilation at the sight of the lost child brought her parents running from the house. They gratefully took her from Murdoch’s arms; the family crying and hugging each other.
Sophia glanced at her watch. If she called a taxi, she might just make that audition after all.
Chapter 2
In winter, the afternoon was the best time of the day to visit the Optical Illusion store – the sunlight hit the little shop at approximately one-thirty p.m., making it gleam like a crystal wonderland with its leadlight windows, rich mahogany timber-framed entrance, and diamond-shaped glass panel. Assuming, of course, you could find the tiny store wedged between The Perfect Slice cake store and Just the Thing gift emporium.
This afternoon, Mr Alfred Lens was polishing the crystal figurines – one of the store’s best-selling items. His father apprenticed Alfred into the business as a young man. Now Alfred was the proud owner. Nearing seventy, he still lived upstairs, in the residence he grew up in with his parents and siblings above the store. Retirement was joked about but never seriously discussed. After all, Alfred, his grandson, Lukas Lens, and niece, Orli, all had their speciality areas and complemented each other perfectly in the business.
Working, sitting on a chair at the opposite bench was handsome, tall and mysterious, Lukas Lens, 25, a master clocksmith. He brushed back the light brown hair that had fallen across his eyes as he worked on an antique clock and lifted his pale blue eyes to his grandfather.
‘You’re reading me,’ he said, touching his temple lightly where he felt the buzz of his grandfather’s intrusion in his mind.
‘Am I?’ his grandfather asked, surprised, as he looked up from his work. ‘It was not intentional. I was, however, thinking about you.’
‘I’m hesitant to ask, but what were you thinking?’ Lukas said with a smile to his grandfather, who chuckled.
‘I’ll think it again, and you try to read me,’ Alfred suggested.
‘It’s your gift, not mine. I don’t think it will be one I will master,’ Lukas said, a hint of frustration in his voice. He desperately wanted that gift, but instead, the bloodline had given him other bounties. ‘It would be really helpful if I could read Sophie, given I am her protector.’
Alfred nodded. ‘It was immensely helpful to me when I was required to protect Daphne, God rest her soul. You have been improving, keep it up,’ he encouraged his grandson. ‘I am thinking about it now, try.’
Lukas nodded. He kept working as he tried to hear his grandfather’s thoughts, but could not get a word.
Alfred knew Lukas wasn’t succeeding; he couldn’t feel Lukas’s intrusion in his mind. He changed his thought to something light and simple. Soon, he felt the familiar buzz of intrusion.
Lukas stopped working, closed his eyes, and concentrated harder. Then he burst out laughing.
‘If you like,’ he said, and his grandfather grinned.
‘Well done, my boy. And I really do want my ashes put in a crystal urn and placed on the highest ledge. I can keep an eye on you then.’
Lukas shook his head. ‘You’ll still be reading me.’ He sobered. ‘But you haven’t fooled me, Grandpa… you weren’t thinking that or you wouldn’t have been in my head.’
‘That’s true,’ Alfred conceded. ‘The Raven is near Sophie and you are worried.’
‘Yes.’
‘He likes her, this might be different…’
‘It never has been since the history of time,’ Lukas said.
‘No,’ Alfred conceded. They thought about that for some time in silence. Then Alfred looked to the door: ‘Oh, here is Lucy,’ he said, with a smile, shelving the discussion as Lukas’s girlfriend of a few months appeared outside.
The quaint silver bell which sat above the door tinkled as Lucy entered. Both men greeted her with delight, but Alfred excused himself to check some stock out the back, leaving the young pair alone.
Alfred knew something wasn’t right between the couple, but couldn’t decipher it yet. He wasn’t sure Lukas could either, from what he read on his grandson’s mind this afternoon, but there was something brewing. He thought about Miss Sharpe whom he had always held a deep affection for, loved if he was to be open and honest. She had said Sophie would be the most powerful clairvoyant of her time, of the cursed line. He had his suspicions why, and while there was nothing he could do about it, he wanted to be sure his grandson was safe. He had raised the boy since he was a teenager. Alfred needed to speak with Orli, his niece, to see if she knew what was brewing. This was a matter for her more spiritually connected mind.
