Never Saw It Coming

Twenty-nine

As Detective Wedmore walked past Kirk’s truck, she glanced into the cargo bed, empty save for the green garbage bag with the red tie at the top. Keisha opened the door wide as Wedmore mounted the three steps.

“Detective,” she said.

“Ms. Ceylon,” Wedmore said, nodding. “Mind if I come in?”

Keisha admitted her into the house. Wedmore saw Kirk standing there and said, “Hi, how are you? I’m Detective Wedmore with the Milford police.”

Kirk’s right hand was busy stuffing the five thousand in cash into the back of his pants, so he awkwardly extended his left. Wedmore accepted it as though she always shook hands that way.

“Hey,” he said with false cheerfulness. “I’m Kirk. Nice to meet you.” He flashed a smile.

“What’d you do to your face there?”

He touched his scratched cheek. “Nothin’,” he said.

“I had an interesting chat with Mrs. Beaudry,” Rona Wedmore said to Keisha. “She brought up something I wanted to bounce off you.”

“Sure,” Keisha said. “Did you want to talk privately?”

“No, this is fine,” the detective said, smiling again at Kirk, who still had one hand rubbing the lump of cash in the back of his jeans. “This all comes back to the card.”

“My business card,” Keisha said.

“That’s right. She says…” Wedmore stopped herself and looked at Kirk. “I’m sorry, I’m probably being very rude here. Has Ms. Ceylon told you about what’s happened today?”

“Uh, a little,” he said hesitantly. “Some dude got killed or something.”

“That’s right. Wendell Garfield.”

“That’s the guy was on TV asking for help to find his wife. Yeah, I know who you mean.”

“When we found Mr. Garfield, he had Ms. Ceylon’s business card in his shirt pocket.”

Kirk’s eyes went wide. “Wow, well, that’s something. Isn’t that something, Keisha?”

Shut up, she thought. She should have said it out loud.

Kirk said, “So maybe he was thinking of hiring Keisha to find out what happened to his wife. She does that, you know. She’s got this gift. She can see shit.” He smiled at her and put a hand on her shoulder. “And she likes to help people.”

Shut up shut up shut up.

Wedmore turned her attention back to Keisha. “You had a theory about how Mr. Garfield got your card. A theory that didn’t include you handing it to him yourself.”

Keisha said, “I don’t know how he got my card, but yes, I do think maybe he could have gotten it from his sister, Gail. Since she’s already been coming to see me for some time for consultations.”

“Right, that’s what you said. So I asked Mrs. Beaudry about that. Whether she had given her brother your card.”

Keisha waited.

“And she said it was possible. She didn’t actually remember doing it, but she said she could have given it to him, or to Mrs. Garfield.”

“Well, there you are,” Keisha said, not feeling as relieved as she’d have liked.

“So I asked her how many of your business cards she still has. And she said, so far as she knows, none. Which would seem to mean that the only card she might ever have gotten from you ended up with Mr. Garfield.”

“Like she told you, she thinks it was possible.”

“Yes. I asked her, if she only ever had the one card from you, when did you actually give it to her.”

“Well,” Keisha said, “if you’re asking me, I have no idea. I hand out cards all the time. I could have had some on the table there and she took one on her way out.”

Wedmore nodded, looking at the coffee table decorated with beer and half a Twinkie. “I can see how that might happen. But the thing is, she was able to tell me when it happened. When she got the card. She says you told her earlier today.”

“I did?”

“She says you brought it up. She told me that during a session some time ago-something to do with Amelia Earhart, I think she said?”

“Gail believes she channels the spirits of some notable people throughout history.”

“Nuttier than a fruitcake,” Kirk said, grinning. “I mean, I’m just sayin’.”

Keisha shot him a look, then told Wedmore, “I take all of my clients’ beliefs very seriously, Detective, even if Kirk doesn’t. I don’t mock them.”

“No, of course not. Anyway, Mrs. Beaudry was saying that while she was-do you say channeling?”

“Yes.”

“While she was channeling Amelia Earhart, she says that she asked you for one of your cards because she believed it could help someone. She says you reminded her of that this morning.”

“I think-yes, I do believe I mentioned that earlier today.”

“But Mrs. Beaudry doesn’t actually remember asking for it.”

“Often she does not remember discussions she has with me when she’s channeling another person.”

Wedmore nodded slowly and smiled. “So it was as Amelia Earhart that she asked for this card?”

Keisha sighed. “It’s not quite like that. I mean, Gail is still always Gail, even when she’s channeling someone else. So I believe it was Gail asking for that card. But she may not recall the incident clearly because of the confluence of personalities at the time.”

“Uh huh,” Wedmore said. “But don’t you find it interesting?”

“It’s all very interesting. Helping people connect with past lives is fascinating work, Detective.”

“No, not that, though I grant you, that is pretty interesting. No, what I find interesting, fascinating, in fact, is that you brought this up today. That you happened to remind Mrs. Beaudry about this incident, about giving her a card. And this was before I spoke to you and told you we’d found your card on Mr. Garfield’s body. Don’t you find that curious?”

There was a noise at the door behind them. They all turned and saw Matthew, backpack slung over his shoulder, coming into the house. He stopped short when he saw the three people-one of whom he’d never seen before-standing there.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Keisha said, grateful for the interruption. She moved around Wedmore, greeted her son with a hug and helped him slide the backpack off his shoulders.

“Hey… buddy,” Kirk said. Matthew didn’t look at him as she pulled off his winter coat.

“Who are you?” Matthew asked the detective.

“I’m Rona Wedmore,” she said, and Keisha was grateful that she had not identified herself as a police officer. But the feeling was short-lived.

“Are you a cop?” he asked. “That’s a cop car out front, isn’t it? I can tell because it’s got those little hubcaps and the big antenna on the back.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m a cop.”

“Cool,” he said. “How fast can your car go?”

“I’ve never driven it flat out, but it can go pretty good.”

“You ever chased anybody with it?”

“Not that car. But back when I was in uniform, in a regular police car, I chased a couple of people.”

“I’d like to do that,” Matthew said.

“You have to be really careful, though,” Wedmore said. “If the chase starts getting too dangerous, innocent people can get hurt.”

Keisha said, “Sweetheart, why don’t you go to your room while we finish up talking with the detective.”

“You have to help me with my math,” he said.

“We can do that later, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, and walked away.

“Nice boy,” Wedmore said.

Keisha felt a lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“Lots of questions about the car, but he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in why I might be here.”

“He likes cars,” Kirk said. “Gonna grow up to be a real car nut, I bet. Kind of like me. You see those wheels over there? They’re for my truck.”

Wedmore persisted with Keisha. “So, Ms. Ceylon, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry, I kind of lost track there.” Except she hadn’t.

“Don’t you think it’s curious you’d go to all the trouble of reminding Mrs. Beaudry about the time she asked you for your business card, just before I was going to question you about why Mr. Garfield had one on him?”

Keisha said nothing. Kirk filled the silence. “Like I said before, the woman’s a total Froot Loop. I mean, no disrespect intended, and Keisha, she does her best with these nutcases, but come on, you really going to believe anything a woman says who thinks she was Emily Lockhart or whoever you said?”

Wedmore asked him, “So you think Mrs. Beaudry is wrong? That she never did take a card from Ms. Ceylon, and never did give it to her brother?”

Kirk made a face that suggested his brain was hurting. “Oh, well, that part, that part sounds about right.”

“Mrs. Beaudry strikes me as a-what’s the word-suggestible woman,” Wedmore said to Keisha. “Would you agree with that?”

“Not… necessarily.”

“I’m thinking, it wouldn’t be that hard to plant an idea in her head. That’s what I’m thinking you did with the card. You made her think you gave her a card, when you never gave her one at all.”

“I gave her one,” Keisha said forcefully. “I’m sure I did.”

“A couple of minutes ago, you didn’t have any memory of doing that.”

“You’ve reminded me of some things, that’s all. There’s been a lot going on. I’m still not over being taken into that house, seeing all that blood.”

“Sure, I can understand how upsetting it would be to see that again.”

Keisha turned on her and said sharply, “I told you, I was never there. You hear me? Never. You may think that stupid little card puts me there, but that’s bullshit. Complete and total bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Kirk said.

Now Keisha looked at him, just as angrily. “Don’t you have something to do? An errand to run? A delivery?”

He blinked. “Yeah, I do.” He nodded at Wedmore. “I should get going.”

“I have you blocked in,” Wedmore said. “I’ll come out with you.”

Kirk threw on his coat, pulling it down at the bottom to make sure it covered the bulge of cash. He checked the pocket to make sure he had his keys and said, “So, Keesh, be back in a bit, okay?”

He went out the door, followed by Wedmore. Keisha, worried about anything he might say to the detective, stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.

“You don’t have to worry about Keisha,” Kirk said. “She’s a good person.”

“I’m sure,” Wedmore said as they approached the truck. “This what you have to deliver?”

She pointed to the bag in the cargo bed.

“Huh?” Kirk said, his hand on the door handle.

“This bag here?”

“More drop off than deliver. Just getting rid of some garbage.”

“They don’t have pickup on this street?” Wedmore asked.

“Oh sure, but sometimes, you have a lot of stuff, you don’t want to wait for garbage day.”

“This is hardly a lot of stuff,” she said. “It’s just one bag.”

“Yeah, but we had some fish, and you know, that stuff sits around, it gets pretty ripe by pickup day.”

“In the summer, yeah, I could see that,” Wedmore said. “But you tuck that in a can, it’ll probably freeze these days.”

Kirk shrugged, hauled himself up into the driver’s seat. “You know, everybody does stuff different.”

“So you’re really going to make a trip to the dump for this one bag? Isn’t that kind of crazy?”

Another shrug. “I just do what the boss tells me.”

Keisha, watching this, knew it was all over. She wondered whether Kirk had been born this stupid, or if it was something he’d worked at over the years.

“Where is the dump, anyway?” Wedmore asked.

“Say again?” Kirk, evidently, had just suffered some partial hearing loss.

“I said, where is the dump? In case I ever have a lot of stuff I have to haul out of my place. Where is it?”

“The dump?” Kirk said. “You asking where it is?”

Keisha thought about lawyers. She didn’t know any offhand. She didn’t want to just pick one at random out of the Yellow Pages. A personal recommendation would be useful.

“That’s what I was asking,” Wedmore said.

“You just go out Route One, up aways,” he said.

“Open the bag,” the detective said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Open the bag.”

“It’s gonna stink to high heaven,” he said. “You sure you want me to do that?”

“Yes.”

Wedmore took a couple of steps back, giving Kirk room to slide out of the truck. He stood alongside the cargo bed, reached for the bag, lifted it out by the red ties, and set it on the driveway.

“Mom, can I have something to eat?”

Keisha whirled around, saw Matthew standing there. “Go to your room!” she shouted.

The boy, startled, bolted.

“Open it,” Wedmore said.

The red ties were knotted, so Kirk had to poke a finger into the green plastic of the bag and make a tear in it. He glanced back at Keisha, giving her an apologetic grimace before enlarging the opening. Once he’d created a hole about the size of a paper plate, Wedmore asked him to step away.

She leaned over the bag, peered inside, then looked at Kirk. “I don’t see any fish in here.”

“No?”

“No. I see a lot of pizza scraps, but no fish.”

Kirk blinked. “I guess I got mixed up,” he said.