Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel) (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lee found
Marion’s elegant figure draped on a wooden bench inside the door of their
favorite Mexican restaurant, her long legs crossed at the ankles. Dressed in
green wool pants, a pale blue sweater and an understated plaid jacket, she
looked out of place in the garish “South of the Border” atmosphere.

“I’m sorry I’m
late,” Lee tried to smile.

The older woman
stood up and took Lee by the elbow and steered her back toward the door.

“It doesn’t
matter,” she said in her low, melodic voice. “We wouldn’t get a table for
another fifteen minutes, anyway. They wouldn’t seat me alone, and someone’s
throwing a special party.” She gestured toward the back of the restaurant where
black balloons floated among the large fiesta hats hung along the wall. “I
think it’s someone’s fiftieth birthday. Let’s grab a sandwich at the yogurt bar
and go sit across the river. We actually have a little sun to enjoy.” She
squinted at the sky as they emerged outside. “For a few minutes anyway,” she
added cynically.

Although Lee
felt too jittery to eat, she let Marion order sandwiches at a small shop across
the street, and then the two women strolled toward the cement bridge that
arched across the Willamette River. Marion chatted easily about the university
where she was a professor in the English department, but Lee was only half
listening. Halfway across the bridge, she stopped to look upriver, feeling
spiritually and emotionally drained. The gathering dark clouds muted the bright
greens of the trees and surrounding mountains into cool blues and grays as the
river rolled happily under the bridge. Lee gazed at the crisp, clear water,
getting lost in its tranquility.

“How long are
you going to make me wait?”

Lee looked up
as if waking from a dream. “What?”

Marion raised
an eyebrow and continued across the bridge. Lee grabbed a last look at the
river and followed. They turned left at the end of the bridge and tromped
across the damp grass to a bench a short distance from the river’s edge.

“Am I that
transparent?” Lee finally asked as she sat down and took the wrapping off of her
sandwich.

Marion dipped
her chin to look over her glasses at Lee, the sun glinting off her silver gray
hair. “Not necessarily, but you sounded less than casual this morning when you
called. And, you haven’t said a word since we bought the sandwiches.” She
lifted her sandwich and took a bite, swiping a blob of mayonnaise from her
chin.

Lee ignored her
lunch, looking out across the river as it ambled west. This was such a peaceful
setting, contrasting the chaos that battled for control of her mind. She had
chosen Marion to share her thoughts with because she was one of the most
intelligent and honest women Lee knew. Marion wouldn’t judge Lee, nor would she
judge the information. She would feed it back little by little, like dissecting
a poem, until Lee saw it clearly. At least that’s what she hoped. The recent
encounter with Vern Mathews however, had left Lee feeling unsure of how to
begin. Finally, she just blurted it out.

“I think Diane
was murdered.”

Marion stopped
chewing and swallowed. Her pale blue eyes turned in Lee’s direction. “That’s a
bold statement.”

“Do you think
I’m crazy?”

Marion eyed her
for a moment and then threw back her head and laughed, her voice as rich as
bell chimes. “Well, how the hell would I know?  I mean, I teach English. I can
diagram a sentence with the best of them. I know my seventeenth-century authors
backwards and forward, and I’ve written some pretty mean Haiku in my time. But
I have never, for the life of me, known the difference between a schizophrenic
and a psychopath.” She placed her hand gently on Lee’s knee. “God help me,
though, you don’t look like either one to me.”

“I’m serious,
you know. I think someone killed her.”

Marion dropped
her hands in her lap, the sandwich held loosely between them, the wide smile
fading. “I know,” she said, wiping her mouth. “I could tell something was wrong
when you called. I don’t think you’re crazy. Murder though,” she shrugged. “That’s
a pretty big leap.”

Lee twisted on
the bench to face her friend. “Marion, it is hard to have a close friend die.
But, then to feel, to believe, that someone purposely took that friend’s life –
well, it changes everything.”

She shifted her
gaze to a young woman walking along the river’s edge with a large black dog.
The girl tossed a long stick end over end into the river and the dog leaped in
with reckless abandon, barking and sending up sparkles of water.

“Lee, I’ve
never known you to exaggerate, so I can’t believe this is just a hunch on your
part. What makes you believe she was murdered?”

Lee thought of
the onyx bird and reached over and rested her hand on her purse as she spoke. “Small
things. Inconsistencies, mostly.”

“Well, what
about the police?  Have they looked into it?”

“No. There were
no obvious signs of foul play, so they didn’t go any further. They accepted the
suicide note.”

“So, what’s
keeping you up at night?  You look like you haven’t slept much. Maybe you just
need some rest.”

Lee shrank from
the remark, knowing that her appearance had to be off-putting to someone like
Marion who was as comfortable in her own skin as a pair of old shoes. Marion
wore little makeup, yet her skin was the color of peaches, and her short hair
wasn’t just gray, it was as rich as polished silver. Her long, lean body was
weathered, but sound, leaving Lee to think that if Marion were a musical
instrument, she would be a cello − not because of her shape, but the
strength and depth of her soul. Feeling a sense of comfort in her presence, Lee
finally voiced the one question she’d kept hidden from everyone.

“Do you believe
in ghosts, Marion?  Or the paranormal?”

Marion stopped
with the sandwich poised an inch from her lips. She didn’t say anything, but
the sharp chin tilted to one side, and the straight brows knit together.

“Don’t tell me
you think Diane is talking to you?”

“Maybe. First
in dreams and now…well, now I’m not sure how she’s doing it.” Lee reached into
her purse and pulled out the onyx bird and handed it to Marion.

“I don’t
understand,” Marion said, putting her sandwich on the bench and taking the
bird. “What’s this?”

“Carey gave it
to me at the funeral. It was one of Diane’s favorite possessions. I was with
her when she bought it last year from an old Indian up in Yakima. He went on
and on about how it was her totem.”

Marion wrapped
both hands around the bird as if it were a warm cup of coffee and looked up
with an odd expression. “Totem?  Like an Indian spirit?”

“He said it
belonged to her. I thought he was just trying to get her to buy it, but now I’m
not so sure. I don’t even know what kind of bird it is.”

Marion rubbed
her finger along the crest of the bird’s head. “It’s a hawk,” she replied with
confidence. “You can tell by the hooked beak and the elongated body. But, I
thought girls’ totems were always things like
doves or deer.”

“Not according
to this guy. He held it cupped in both hands, much like you’re holding it now.
He said she had a strong spirit and that her totem was strong. We both laughed,
thinking he was joking, but he just looked at the two of us and said he was
dead serious. He told Diane that one day she would need this totem and to keep
it close.” Lee paused, her eyes drifting to the river. “Of course, I made some
snide remark, but Diane bought it, and now that she’s gone, strange things have
been happening.”

“Like what?”

Lee sighed,
watching a duck float aimlessly among the shallows of the river. “If I tell
you, you might change your mind about me being crazy”

Marion smiled. “Give
me a chance. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Okay,” Lee
said. “Twice, I’ve left the bird at home. I mean, I’m
positive
I left it
at home. And yet both times it showed up later in my purse.”

She glanced at
Marion for a reaction. Her friend frowned, but encouraged her to continue.

“The first time
was the night after Diane’s funeral, when I stopped by her condo to check on
something. Just before I left, I heard a thud and found my purse in the middle
of the living room floor with all its belongings strewn across the floor. Along
with everything else was the bird. There was no one else in the condo. A moment
later, I thought I saw something flit past the mirror in the hallway and found
a bird feather on the carpet where there hadn’t been one ten minutes before.”
Lee shivered. “Then there are the birds around my house.”

“Around your
house?”

Lee realized
Marion hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time she’d been speaking. Instead, she
listened with the bird held just above her lap as if she were about to release
it into the air.

“I’m beginning
to feel like Tippi Hendren in
The Birds
. Suddenly, groups of birds
surround my house and seem to be watching me all the time. It’s like this bird
is connected to all other birds and together, they’re trying to tell me
something. I just don’t know what.” She looked over at Marion who watched her
quietly. “Now, do you think I’m crazy?”

Her friend
unwound her fingers from around the bird and stared at it. “Do you believe in
coincidences?”

Lee considered
the question. If all the occurrences with the bird had been coincidences, then
Diane’s spirit was truly gone, and she was on her own. If they weren’t
coincidences, then something other than a natural phenomenon was at work here.

“I don’t know.
I guess I do.”

“Well, I don’t.
Things happen for a reason.” Marion handed the bird back to Lee. “Just out of
curiosity, when was the last time you handled it?”

“Maybe twenty
minutes ago. I was just over at the condo, and Diane’s brother-in-law showed up
and tried to take it back. Why?”

Marion picked
up her sandwich again. “The stone was warm when you handed it to me. Very warm.
As if it were alive.”

The chill that
emanated from deep within Lee’s soul rippled to the tips of her extremities.
The two women were quiet for several moments, Marion nibbling at her sandwich, and
Lee watching the bird as if it might take wing. Someone whizzed along the path
on roller blades behind them, leaving the running sound of wheels on pavement
in their wake.

“You know, Lee,
this is nothing to fool around with,” Marion began again, wiping her mouth with
a napkin. “If you really think there is reason to believe Diane was murdered,
you need to talk to the police.”

“I know,” she
replied.

“But you should
also find out more about that bird. There’s a Native American woman who works
at that new age gift shop
downtown called Inspirations
.
 I don’t
know her name, but one of my students used her for some research last quarter
on Native American mythology. Why don’t you go talk to her?  Take the bird. See
what she says.”

“That’s a good
idea,” Lee said, growing quiet.

“What else is
going on?” Marion asked, watching her out of the corner of her eye.

Lee put the
bird back on the bench, allowing a long moment to stretch between them. “Someone
broke into my house last night.”

Marion gasped,
reaching out for Lee’s hand.

“You’re
kidding?  What happened?”

“They destroyed
my living room looking for something, but nothing was stolen. But Diane’s condo
was broken into, too.”

Marion’s eyes
were as wide as saucers. “There’s more, isn’t there. I can tell from your body
language. What happened, Lee?”

Lee felt
herself squirm as she prepared to tell at least part of the truth.

“The guy who
broke in… attacked me.”

“Oh, my God!”
Marion’s hand flew to her mouth, and then she was silent.

“He caught me
in the hallway and pushed me up against the wall. I’m sure he was going to do
something,” she said, remembering the warmth of his hand as it touched her
skin, “but Amy’s dog scared him off.” Lee’s entire body felt scorched, as if a
flame had seared her skin. This was too painful. She needed to change the
subject. “But I need to focus on Diane. A nurse at the hospital just told me it
would have taken ten to fifteen minutes for Diane to die after she was injected
with insulin.” Lee leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, looking
out to the river, tears forming in her eyes. “Initially, I wondered if Diane
had tried to defend herself and finally just ran out of steam and died. But a
large vase she kept on her coffee table is missing. I’m pretty sure it was used
to knock her out first.” Lee sighed, wiping the moisture away from her eyes. “Diane
and I had an argument that night. I said some awful things. Things I can’t take
back now.”

Lee dropped her
head, the pain of the memory swelling in her chest. Marion reached over and put
a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you sure
it’s not guilt that’s making you think someone killed Diane?”

In between sniffles,
Lee said, “No. In my heart, I know she didn’t kill herself. But if I’m right,
that means someone else did. I need to know, Marion.”

She used the
palm of her hand to wipe her face just as a little bird landed in between them
on the back of the bench. Lee sat up and looked at it in expectation. Marion
stopped as well. A long moment passed in which the bird hopped back a forth,
but did little else.

“It’s just a
bird,” Marion chided. “It probably just wants a snack.”

Marion pinched
off a piece of bread and held it out for their guest. The bird ignored the
treat and hopped away.

“Come here,
little guy,” Marian coaxed it.

A breeze rose
up and caught Marian’s empty sandwich bag and tossed it into the air. It
startled the small bird, and it flew off the back of the bench and landed on
the lawn behind them.