Murder Can Mess Up Your Masterpiece Page 16

  CHAPTER 21

  Travel trailer tip 21: Make sure to secure everything inside the trailer in case you need to make a quick getaway.

  The next morning, I received a call from Sammie.

  “I need you to meet me out by the street,” Sammie said when I answered.

  “What’s going on, Sammie?” I asked. “Where are you?”

  “I’m waiting out here by the entrance to the fairgrounds. I want you to go somewhere with me.”

  “Why don’t you drive up here?” I asked.

  “No way do I want to encounter that man again,” she said.

  I totally understood why she wouldn’t want to see Max. “Okay, but where are we going?” I asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” she said.

  Sammie knew I didn’t like surprises. Nevertheless, she knew I’d do it. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

  I picked up Van and headed out of the trailer. While I walked toward the street, I kept my eye out for Max. I didn’t want another confrontation with him. Also, I didn’t want to see Carly or Shar snooping around. All of them creeped me out. Not to mention every time I stepped out of my trailer, Ruth seemed to be watching me. Soon, I reached the street and spotted Sammie’s truck. I climbed in with Van.

  Sammie looked around. “Where is Elizabeth?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t always pop up.” I buckled my seat belt.

  “Did you ask her to come?”

  “Well, no. You didn’t tell me to,” I said. “You’re acting strange. What’s going on with you?”

  She cranked the truck and pulled away from the curb. “I hoped she would come with us.”

  I never tired of seeing the lush, green, tree-covered, cloud-topped mountains as the backdrop of my life. We drove down the main drag in town, but the peaks and the forest painted scenery beyond all the shops and entertainment.

  “Again, where are we going?” I asked.

  “Okay, just hear me out. I thought we could see a psychic medium.” Sammie waved at a car as she drove by. “That was Morgan Whiteman. Remember, I used to work with her at Rite Aid?”

  I knew Sammie’s tactic. She’d try to make this less of a big deal but adding casual talk after saying something outrageous.

  “Why would I see a psychic? And yes, I remember her. She ate the cheese sandwich you left in the break room.”

  “I think the psychic could tell us about Elizabeth.” Sammie stopped at a red light.

  The Gatlinburg Space Needle was on the right, an observation tower that overlooked downtown and the Smoky Mountains. Glass elevators carried people all the way to the top.

  “We can just ask Elizabeth what we want to know.” I tapped my fingers against the leather seat.

  Van barked, as if agreeing with me.

  “We could ask her why we’re seeing Elizabeth.” Sammie pressed the gas when the light turned green.

  We cruised by the Ripley’s Believe it or Not! Museum. The large, red-brick building appeared as if it might be falling apart, but it was designed that way on purpose. My brothers had taken me there years ago. They’d wanted to see the shrunken heads and cannibal skulls.

  “Do you think she can tell us why?” I asked.

  “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?” Sammie asked.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

  “Good. I think this will be enlightening.”

  “I’ve never been to a psychic before,” I said.

  “Me neither.” Sammie made a left turn.

  A short distance later, we pulled up in front of a white cottage. A large sign in the front yard announced the name Madame Gerard next to a caricature of a woman holding a crystal ball.

  “Well, this should be interesting,” I said.

  Sammie pulled in and shut off the truck. The neon-red “Open” sign glowed from the front window. We got out of the truck and walked up to the front door. A sign above the doorbell instructed us to ring for service. I was a bit anxious because I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “The things you get me in to,” I whispered.

  “Me? You’re the one who brought a ghost to my truck.”

  “Touché,” I said.

  The door rattled, as if someone was unlocking it. The action was taking quite a bit of time.

  “She must have a lot of locks,” I whispered.

  “Why does she need so many?”

  The door opened to reveal a woman who had long blond hair and wore a long, red-and-black dress.

  “May I help you?” She eyed us up and down.

  “Yes, we’re here to see Madame Gerard.” Sammie’s voice wavered, as if she wasn’t all that confident about this trip after all.

  “Are you here for a reading?” the woman asked.

  Sammie shifted a glance my way. “Yes, that’s what we’re here for.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” I said.

  Madame Gerard soaked in my appearance. “All right. Come on in.”

  With a wave of her hand, she stepped out of the way and opened the door wider. Sammie and I entered, although I let her go first. There was a small hallway with rooms to the left and to the right. She gestured for us to go to the room on the right. It was a typical living room, with a sofa and chairs, but there was also a round table in the middle. Wooden chairs surrounded it. There was a crystal ball in the middle.

  “Please have a seat at the table,” she instructed us. Even though I’d seen a ghost now, and Sammie had seen the ghost as well, I didn’t necessarily believe in psychics. But I would give it a shot and see what she had to say. Sammie and I sat next to each other at the table. The psychic sat across from us.

  “Would you like the tarot cards or a palm reading? Or maybe my crystal ball?” she asked.

  “Well, actually, we’re here because . . . well . . .” I stumbled over my words.

  Sammie and I exchanged a look. I was going to say she should do all the talking.

  “We’ve seen a ghost. And we just want to know more information about her, or maybe why we’re seeing the ghost,” Sammie said.

  The lady stared at us. “I see.” Her attention moved to me. I shifted in my chair. I was kind of thinking about leaving.

  “It’s her,” she said as she pointed at me.

  “Excuse me?” Now I really wanted to get out of there. The scowl on her face told me she might be angry with me.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

  “You did nothing wrong,” she said. “You have a special talent.”

  “Can you elaborate on that?” I asked.

  “You paint the spirits and they come alive.”

  With her question came a jolt of adrenaline. How did she know this?

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” she asked with a tilted smile. She was proud of her astute assessment.

  “I don’t know why the spirit is there,” I said with a weak voice.

  “But you’ve recently painted images within your paintings?” she asked.

  “Yes, but how do you know that?” I turned my attention to Sammie. “Did you tell her?”

  Sammie held up her hands. “I don’t know her. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her. I promise.”

  “This is freaking me out. I refuse to believe you know this. Someone had to have told you,” I said.

  Madame Gerard pushed to her feet. “Thank you for coming. You can pay me now.”

  “Wait,” Sammie said in a panic. “You haven’t told us how you know that yet. We don’t know why the ghost appeared.”

  Madame Gerard glared at me. “I don’t like being accused of shady practices. I am a psychic medium. The spirits talk to me.”

  “That’s how you know about what Celeste does? The spirits told you about it? Who is the spirit?” Sammie’s voice was full of excitement.

  This was interesting news, of course, but I was still so shocked, I couldn’t think of what to say.

  “Well, the spirit is gone now. You broke the line of communication with your
negativity.” Madame Gerard sat back down at the table. She looked right at me, letting me know it was me who was responsible for this.

  “Can you get the spirit to come back?” Sammie asked.

  Madame Gerard pushed up the sleeves of her billowy blouse and adjusted her bangle bracelets. “I can try. You must force out all the negative thoughts in your head.”

  I released a deep breath and tried to clear my mind. I really did want to know what else she had to say. Was there another spirit around? I assumed she was talking about Elizabeth, but if it was her, why wouldn’t she just appear here and talk to me?

  “It will be easier if we hold hands and close our eyes.” Madame Gerard gestured for us to hold her hands.

  “Is this like a séance?” Sammie asked.

  “I prefer to call it communicating with the dearly departed,” Madame Gerard said.

  So it was a séance. Sammie took my left hand and I grasped Madame Gerard’s hand with my right. A ring was on every one of her fingers.

  “I call to the spirit who was just here. We need your help. Can you answer the questions for us?”

  I lifted one eyelid for a peek. Madame Gerard’s eyes were closed. Sammie had lifted one eyelid and looked at me too. I wished the spirit would just appear, like Elizabeth. It would be much easier to speak with her like that than wait for Madame Gerard to relay the message.

  Madame Gerard was silent. Had she fallen asleep? It looked as if the spirit wasn’t coming back for a chat. If the spirit was that sensitive, did I really want a message? Should I interrupt and ask her what was going on now? She would only get mad. Van was sitting on the chair next to me. His eyes were closed too. Was he just doing that because he saw us, or was he trying to help with the séance?

  “The spirit says you have psychic abilities and that is why you are painting the images. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. The spirits are helping you do it. When they want to appear, they will have you paint their image,” Madame Gerard said.

  “Just like with Elizabeth,” I whispered. “Who is the ghost speaking with you?”

  “She won’t tell me her name. She says she will appear soon.” Madame Gerard’s eyes remained shut.

  “What does she look like?” Sammie asked.

  “She has blond hair and a thin face with blue eyes.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Elizabeth,” Sammie said.

  Did this mean another ghost would appear soon?

  “She’s gone now,” Madame Gerard said, releasing our hands.

  She pushed to her feet and walked over to the candles on the nearby table. I supposed that meant our reading was over. It was probably for the best.

  I picked up Van. “Thank you for the information.”

  Madame Gerard remained quiet.

  Sammie and I walked to the door. Van was in my arms. When I reached the door, I peeked over my shoulder. Madame Gerard was right behind me.

  She touched my arm. “Come back and see me sometime, all right?”

  I was surprised. I thought for sure she didn’t like me.

  “Okay, I’ll do that.” Uncertainty filled my words.

  A hint of a smile crossed her lips, but it faded quickly, making me wonder if I’d really seen it at all. The prolonged eye contact with her arctic-blue eyes sent a chill down my spine. Was there something more? What she wanted clicked in my mind.

  “Oh, I forgot to pay you,” I said, reaching into my purse.

  She took the cash but remained silent.

  Sammie and I stepped out onto the porch. Madame Gerard closed the door behind us. The clicking of many locks sounded from the other side. Why did she have so many locks? Sammie and I exchanged another look, but we didn’t say anything. Maybe it was better if we didn’t know the reason.

  We got back into the truck and pulled away. When I glanced back, I spotted Madame Gerard peeking out the window. Was she making sure we’d left?

  “What do you think about what she said?” Sammie asked as we headed back toward the fairgrounds.

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said. “What she says matches with the crazy things that have been happening. I wish I knew why, though.”

  “Maybe she will be able to explain that later. She asked you to come back sometime. Do you think you’ll see her again?” Sammie asked.

  “I suppose I am curious,” I said.

  “You should definitely go back soon,” Sammie said.

  I supposed that was what best friends were for. To talk us into things we didn’t want to do, knowing it might actually be good for us. Sammie had persuaded me to visit the psychic and now I was thinking that might have been a good thing. She had revealed that I had a special talent: I painted the spirits and they spoke to me.

  How would Madame Gerard have known that if she wasn’t a true psychic?

  CHAPTER 22

  Travel trailer tip 22: Sometimes you need all hands on deck.

  When we arrived back at the fairgrounds, it was in a bit of chaos. Police cars crowded the parking lot. Soon the craft fair would be over, and honestly, I was surprised the police hadn’t shut it down already because the event was basically over.

  “This is beginning to be a regular occurrence around here. I doubt people will want to come around with this much crime,” Sammie said as she parked the truck. She’d made sure to park in the designated area this time.

  “What do you think is going on?” I asked as I picked up Van. “I hope it’s not another murder.”

  Sammie’s eyes widened. “Do you really think it could be?”

  “Anything is possible,” I said.

  As we neared the area where people were gathered, I asked a couple of vendors if they knew what had happened.

  “Someone stole money again,” the tall, middle-aged blonde said.

  “Who was the victim this time?” I asked.

  “I believe it was Wanda, the woman who makes Native American beaded jewelry.”

  I’d seen her work, and we’d had a great conversation about her jewelry and how she used copper and carved beads. These items had been used as far back as prehistoric times.

  “That’s terrible,” I said.

  “I hope they find the rotten scoundrel who’s responsible for this.” A woman with a tangle of auburn hair spilling past her shoulders rubbed her arms as if she was fighting off a chill. The hot temperature let me know her goose bumps came from fear.

  “I heard the police are closing in on a suspect for this, and the murder,” the blonde said with a click of her tongue.

  “But they didn’t catch the person this time?” I asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” the woman said. “Though I think they should tell us more about what’s going on. It would ease our minds to know if the murderer has been caught, or at the very least is close to being behind bars.”

  “But you heard they were close to finding the culprit?” I asked the other woman.

  “Well, that could just be hearsay. You know how people like to gossip.”

  Yes, I certainly knew that all too well.

  “I wonder if I can go to my trailer,” I said.

  “Probably not until they finish checking out the crime scene,” Sammie said.

  Wanda’s booth was close to mine, and that was scary. To think, while we’d discussed her making the beaded jewelry in the same tradition as her Cherokee ancestors, the perpetrator could have been spying on us. After all, I’d sensed being watched during the entire conversation.

  As we stood chatting, I spotted Caleb in the distance, standing off by himself by a tree. A flash of the time I’d seen he had all that cash in his pocket came to mind. I tried to push it away. Caleb really was too nice to do anything dishonest.

  Looking farther, I spotted Max walking to the left of the group. The detective walked up behind him, stopped him, and they talked. I supposed he was speaking with him about the crime. Caleb watched the detective too.

  “Celeste, I need to leave,” Sammie said. “Do you want to come wi
th me tonight? There’s no sense in you staying here.”

  “I’d rather stay here with my trailer and my paintings,” I said. I loved the trailer and worried about leaving it for too long. It was part of me now. “I’m sure things will be fine. The police are here.”

  “Yes, but they have to leave sometime.”

  “Van and I will be in the trailer, so we’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure, but call me when you find out anything or if you need anything at all,” Sammie said.

  “I promise I will.” After hugging Sammie goodbye, I turned my attention back to the scene.

  The area near my trailer was still blocked off. Curious about what Max was up to, I walked around the edge of the taped-off area. I thought the police should pay more attention to him. After all, everyone was a suspect as far as I was concerned.

  Max walked all the way over to his trailer and went inside. Now what? I wanted to know what he was up to. I supposed peeking inside would be bad. If the police caught me doing that, it wouldn’t look good. They’d probably handcuff me and take me to jail. Yet I had to take a look. Something about him made me uncomfortable.

  I eased over to the trailer, looking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was watching me. The trailer’s front windows were open. How could he relax when all this chaos was going on around him? When I was next to the trailer, I stood on my tiptoes so I could see into the window.

  Max sat at a tiny table. If he looked over and saw me, I would be in big trouble. I didn’t want to be banned from the grounds for future craft fairs, but it would be worth it if it meant I got to the bottom of this crime. Max was counting money, placing each crisp bill onto the table in front of him. Where had he gotten so much cash? I was pretty sure the detective should know about this.

  “What are you doing?” a male voice asked.

  I turned around so quickly, I fell to the ground. Luckily, I caught myself with the palms of my hands. Caleb rushed over and helped me to my feet. I wiped off my hands on my pants.

  “What are you doing?” he asked again.

  My face was probably red with embarrassment. I motioned for him to follow me away from the trailer.

  We’d only made it a couple of steps when I said, “Stop. Let’s go back. I want you to see something.”