Sixth and Sensibility: One Dead Devil: A Gracie and Gideon Mystery, page 15
“My heart has been giving me trouble lately. I can’t say I’m happy about this, Gracie. It’s so ... pedestrian. No, I am not happy at all.”
He was fading very fast now before my eyes. It was like watching snow disappear in time-lapse photography. Damian Blackstone’s spirit was being taken to another room in the mansion of the afterlife whether he liked it or not.
“I’m sorry Damian, but you are one dead devil.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
GIDEON DIDN’T LOOK as pleased as I thought he would be. I had just performed a stunning feat of communicating with a dead person that cracked the case and got us one step closer to putting a killer behind bars. Single-handedly clearing Arcania Press authors and basically saving our asses—and he looked like I’d said the moon was made of cheese.
“What is it?” I demanded. “Why are you frowning? Why do you always frown when I tell you something that came from the spirit world?”
His brows shot up. “Seriously? Maybe you can’t hear how that sounds to ordinary people—”
“Civilians—I call you civilians and yes, I hear how it sounds. I’ve been hearing it for twenty years. I know it is hard to accept.”
“I am not trying to accept it because that would mean accepting chaos. What I will do is bring this information to Spencer. If he thinks it’s worth pursuing, he will.”
“Oh, he’ll think it’s worth it. He’s not the skeptic that you are, questioning every little thing.”
“Every little thing—? Gracie, you said a dead man talked to you and an armchair cushion is a witness. I don’t even know where to begin to unpack what’s going on in your brain.”
If my years of experience with men like Gideon Tate had taught me anything, it was to meet him at his level of understanding or we’d never get it together.
“I’m not having a psychotic break. I am mentally stable in spite of having visions. Can you agree to that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, let’s pretend I heard a bit of gossip and I’m passing that gossip on to you. It might be important, it might not. When the police are looking for leads in a case, they don’t ask the public to make that distinction. They want us to tell them everything. Well, we heard some gossip that Seymour Fletcher used the damask pillow to kill Damian and it brought on a heart attack. Can we go to Spencer with that?”
“We don’t know why he did it. We don’t know how to prove that he did it. I’m worried it’ll come back to us and he’ll know we’re a threat.”
I had to smile. “You’re worried it’ll come back to me. I’m the only one who could know about the cushion. You’re worried he’s going to learn I’m a threat. You’re worried about me.”
His expression was unreadable. “No, I’m not. With your sixth sense—us civilians only have five—I’m sure you’ll see him coming and take steps to protect yourself.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Actually, it could if I had something belonging to Seymour. Then it would be possible to see him coming.” I snorted. “It’s not like I just pull this stuff out of thin air.”
“Then I owe you an apology, Gracie, because that’s exactly what I thought it was like. With all due respect, it’s going to take more than one of his belongings to stop that guy. And it’s going to take more than gossip to convince the sheriff to bring him in for questioning. We have no credibility with Spence at the moment.”
✽✽✽
WE HAD TO get help. There was no way to approach Seymour on our own. He knew about us. He knew enough to follow us to the darkroom to steal the glass vials. If he was watching us he was on his guard. Which meant he knew we went to Spencer. He knew we had visited Ashley and the others. The only thing he didn’t know about was Damian and that was our leverage.
“We have to let the authors in on this,” I said. “They have a right to know they could be in danger. More than that, we’re not going to be able to stop him without their help.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Call them to a meeting at Arcania Press where it won’t raise suspicion. We’ll tell them we have an announcement to make and then we’ll lay it all out. What we’ve been doing and what Seymour is up to. We need their help to catch him and get the formula back. It belongs to Arcania, not to Seymour.”
Gideon looked at his watch. “It’s almost five. We can talk about it over dinner. I need to think and I can’t think on an empty stomach. You’re coming with me. You’ll be safer at the fire hall.”
I was riding a high that I hadn’t felt for months. Not only had I communed with a spirit, but the encounter had been pure and robust. I had never felt so open and sure of my abilities, not even when I was just starting out.
I had to credit Mirror Falls for the resurgence in my powers and I had to wonder if the effect would last. Would I land at LAX and be cut off again?
The day was waning in the loveliest possible way, with soft white clouds scudding on the horizon and the sun glittering through the trees as it sank.
“It is always this beautiful?” I sighed.
“Always,” Gideon replied, his eyes on the road. “You should see it in the winter. Six foot drifts of clean snow, icicles hanging from the eavestroughs, wood fires and everyone bundled up in snowsuits to the point you can’t tell one person from the next.”
“Are you trying to discourage me from staying here?”
His eyes met mine in surprise. “I thought I was selling it. I love winter. It’s my favorite time of year. Are you thinking of staying?”
“I’m still on the fence.” I sighed. “It’s been so wonderful getting back to my old self. Mirror Falls has been good for me. In fact, I’m a little afraid to go back to L.A. What if my sixth sense only works here?”
“Then I would say it wasn’t a true gift. Hazel and Heloise said you were a big name in Los Angeles. You’ve been on talk shows because of what you do. If one man turning you down can cause that ability to vanish then it wasn’t there in the first place.”
“I didn’t lose my gift. I lost confidence in my gift. I did a big thing today and I’m getting a little sick and tired of your holier-than-thou attitude. You and I are not so different. You have your own belief system that you cling to that is just as delusional to me as mine is to yours.”
“Oh really? Such as what? My business sense? Looking at the facts, collecting data, projecting potential outcomes based on evidence and not a tingle I feel in my gut? Or in your case—a voice I hear from the couch cushions.”
Heat flamed my face. “That’s a rotten thing to say. It’s one thing to doubt—it’s another to disparage. It is a pity you don’t know the difference. You rely on data, do you? Mr. Facts and nothing but the facts—is that right? Well, how about the fact that your girlfriend is not going to marry you. How about the fact that you proposed two years ago and she still hasn’t set a date! And then there’s the hard data on the number of days you’ve actually spent together, that you don’t have a single photo of her or you as a couple in your place. That there is no sign she has ever visited or that she ever will visit. She doesn’t want to live in Mirror Falls, Gideon. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure that out. You haven’t even told me her name.”
Somehow he managed to keep driving through my tirade. He pulled into the parking space in front of the fire hall and turned off the ignition.
“Her name is Amelia Scott. She is thirty-nine years old. She works in mergers and acquisitions for a multinational corporation with an office in Detroit. Before that, she worked in the bank across the street from Arcania Press. I kept coming in, pretending I needed advice on my loan payments. It took me years to find the courage to ask her out. We fell in love on the first date. But I wanted to make a name for myself before I asked her to marry me. Then she got the job offer in Detroit and I couldn’t ask her to give it up for my sake. We agreed to figure out how to make it work. Two years ago, I turned thirty-nine and realized I’d been an idiot to wait. I asked her to marry me and she said yes. Now it’s her turn. I have to wait for her to make her name. She’s moving up in the company and can’t risk taking her foot off the pedal to arrange a wedding. Then there’s the question of where we’re going to live that has to be settled.”
“You don’t want to leave Mirror Falls.”
“I don’t want to be a cog in the wheel at a Big Five publishing house without a fraction of the autonomy I have here. I can make something out of Arcania Press and Amelia agrees with me. She supported my vision. It’s only reasonable and fair that I support hers now. We’re going to make it work because we know what we want, we have realistic expectations, and we don’t let emotion guide our decisions.”
“You’d have to have emotions to let them guide you.” I was too angry to pull my punches. I went for his jugular and he went for mine.
“Which of us is unemployed, unengaged and had her reputation dragged through the mud? You let your emotions decide if you and Willoughby were ready to get married. You had nine years with the guy and not once did you pick up on the fact that he was never going to marry you! If you had not been such a holier-than-thou queen of all she surveyed, you would have examined the data in front of you and realized he was never going to be part of your dream. Fact—you had photos of the two of you all over your apartment and he didn’t have any in his. A photographer who has no photos of his girlfriend! Fact—you planned all the vacations, birthday celebrations, holidays and dates because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t. Fact—you—”
“That’s enough!” I shouted. “It’s bad enough I have to put up with this from my mother, I don’t have to take it from total strangers. Alright, you win. I surrender, Gideon. I ignored every single sign that Willoughby was just not that into me because I couldn’t get back those nine years!”
I opened the door, my foot caught and I fell out of the truck. I scraped my elbow on the pavement.
“I can’t even get out of a vehicle properly.”
He got out of the truck and came around to where I sat cross-legged on the driveway, picking grit out of my wound. I thought he was going to help me up. Instead, he sat down beside me and leaned against the truck. His long legs stretched out in front of him.
“Your mother is giving you grief—you should meet my father. He’s a widower. My mother died a few months after I met Amelia. Mom was terminal when I introduced her; she was thrilled she wouldn’t be leaving her boys alone. Amelia would take care of us.”
Gideon gave a throaty laugh. “No one ever explained the emancipated woman to my mother. My father was more sensible but a year after Mom died, he started asking me when we were getting married. Why was I dragging my feet? What we’re doing now, he doesn’t understand at all. We’re engaged but he hasn’t received a wedding invitation and she never comes to see him when I do. I told him she’s busy and it doesn’t make him angry. He just gets this look on his face of—”
“Disappointment. I know the look. Deep, deep disappointment. My mother throws a little bit of sadness in there to really twist the knife. Where does your father live?”
“He’s still out in Seattle.”
“Maybe I should introduce my mom to your dad and they can get off our backs.” I rolled my head back against the truck tire. “I’m sorry I said all of that about Amelia and your engagement. It’s none of my business. I was angry and hurt and I hated hearing the truth about Willoughby. Even after all this time, I’m afraid to give up on us. We were together for so long.”
“It’s the sunk cost fallacy. It keeps you investing in a dead end because stopping means losing everything you’ve invested so far. It’s cheaper to cut bait and run.”
I turned my head to look at him. “He called me. He wants to try again. At least, I think that’s what he wants. He says he misses me.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I don’t know. I’m waiting to find out. Do you miss Amelia?”
He leaned his head against the side of the truck. “I try not to.”
“Can you do that?”
“Mind over matter, Gracie Dare. I can’t be ruled by emotion.”
“Sometimes I wish I was like that.”
“Sometimes I wish I was more like you. My dad would be happier if I was.”
I stared at him for a long moment and he stared at me.
“This was a good talk,” he said quietly. “Good thing we got it out of our system.”
“Better than bottling it up.”
“So are you going to go back to L.A. and Willoughby?”
“Not yet. I’m not ready yet. Is it alright with you if I stay here for a few more days?”
He nodded. “Sure. It’s all right with me.”
“Can I ask you one more question? How come you don’t have photos of Amelia in your home? Willoughby didn’t have pictures of me in his apartment. You were right about that. But you’ve done the same thing.”
Gideon looked at his hands. “I used to have them all over the place. In my office ... everywhere. I put them all away after Ted died. I couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. They made me feel lonely and old. Not a great reason. Purely an emotional one.”
“Those are the best kind. In my case, they’re the only kind.”
I was spent. Every drop of embarrassment, frustration and anger had been drained out of me. All I felt was peace.
And hunger. I was starving.
Tate got to his feet and reached down to pull me up. “Whatever I might believe about your sixth sense, Gracie ... I like you. If you want to sell, I’ll give you a fair price. But if you decide you want to keep Arcania and become the new Ted, I’ll stay on until you know what you’re doing and then I’ll move on.”
“Why would you move on?”
He held my hand for a fraction longer than was necessary. “I think you know why, but maybe you don’t. Maybe it’s just me.”
I stared at our hands. Any message I might have got from him was swamped by the threat of never seeing him again. It made me lose my appetite.
“Gideon, I don’t want to be a publisher and you do. You built Arcania Press with Theodore. It’s yours if you want it. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers and we’ll announce it to the authors. Once Seymour is arrested, I’ll go back to Los Angeles. Or maybe I’ll go to Seattle and stay with my mother for a few weeks.”
“You want a fresh start.”
He held my gaze for a very long time. I could almost taste the words he wanted to say on his lips but never would.
I had learned my lesson. Unless Gideon Tate said those words out loud, my mind was made up. There was so much potential for me in Mirror Falls, but it was like holding a winning lottery ticket that you could never cash. He belonged to Amelia and I belonged elsewhere.
This was not our time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE AUTHORS RESPONDED to our messages to join us in the conference room at Arcania Press first thing in the morning. Gideon suggested ten a.m. for Rockman’s sake because he had the greatest distance to travel. We stopped at the bakery in the village and picked up a box of pastries and doughnuts to sweeten the proposal we had for them. I made a fresh pot of coffee and set everything out on antique bone china in the middle of the table.
The conference room was small by modern standards but the windows were large and though this particular day was not as sunny as it had been, the overhead lights cut cheerfully through the gloom.
The clouds that had been banking on the horizon all night were now fully formed into gray storm clouds.
The first arrival, Percival Somerset, sat down and opened his notebook. After saying good morning, he sat quietly waiting for the meeting to begin. Fortunately, the others arrived soon after and we were all seated together when the rain began to patter against the window in a soft melody. I poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the head of the table as Gideon suggested I do.
We had to present a united front. It was important to secure their assistance with our plan.
“Good morning,” I said. “Thank you for coming. As you know, we’ve been talking to Sheriff Spencer regarding Damian Blackstone’s death. You will be pleased to know that he has passed over and is beyond our reach. The name of his killer was revealed to him and he was able to fill in some very important blanks about the day he died.”
Percival began with a look at Gideon. “Are you on board with all of this?”
“That’s a complicated question with a complicated answer. We don’t have time to get into it today.” Gideon looked at me. “Ms Dare has kept me informed of what transpired during her trances. There’s a lot I question but since we have nothing else to go on, I’m willing to accept what I’ve heard.”
“Right,” I said. “We’re all on the same team in this. We wanted to learn who killed Damian and now that we have the answer, we are obligated to tell all of you, because it affects you too. The fact of the matter is you could be in danger.”
“Wait just a minute, young lady.” Monsieur Beedle rose tremulously to his feet. “There is no evidence that Damian was murdered. A heart attack took him out. What has changed?”
“The answer to that requires a leap of faith. A few things have changed, the first being that Zelda was killed. The second being that the formula samples we had stored in the darkroom for safekeeping have disappeared. And the third, and hardest, reason to accept is that Damian himself said that he was murdered.”
Petal jumped up. “They know about the séance, Monsieur Beedle. They know about Nathaniel. I couldn’t keep it from them.”
“You swore! We all took an oath! Now they’re going to come for me.”
“No one is coming for you. It explained to me why your hair turned snow white,” Gideon said. “That’s all it did.”
“What séance? Why wasn’t I invited?” Percy sat up.
