Taste of Blood

Chapter Seventeen

Drawing up to Vera James’s house, Jane saw there were three cars parked in the drive. Two other cars were parked on either side on the path, so Jane had to park further along the street.

‘It looks as if Vera has visitors,’ Jane said.

‘Yes, today is a group session. Vera takes one every month. I should have mentioned it to you.’

Jane locked the car and followed Angelica up the path, nervous about how she would be received. Sandra opened the door and did not appear to be surprised by Jane’s presence. She had a cardboard box in her hand.

‘It’s just about to begin, so can I have your payment of five pounds? Please take your seats and remain silent unless brought forwards. It is usually only six people present but we have made this one-time concession, Miss Tennison.’

They both put their money in the box, as Sandra gestured for them to go ahead into the room.

The curtains were drawn, and the armchairs and sofa had been pushed together. Two extra hard-backed chairs had been placed behind them, along with one carver chair. The coffee table had been placed in front of the sofa, still with the outdated magazines; but now also with two large lit candles in thick glass bowls, giving off a strong flowery perfume.

Angelica recognised two middle-aged women who smiled sheepishly at her. There was a twenty-ish, plain-looking girl sitting in an armchair, a grey-haired man in a pin-striped suit in the middle of the sofa and an elderly, smartly dressed, white-haired woman was sitting in the carver chair. Jane and Angelica sat in two hard-backed chairs.

All the furniture had been pushed to one side to leave a spacious area on the other side of the drawing room. Sandra came in, leaving the door ajar. She carried a small bowl of smoking incense and a little brush of twigs held together with string. She began to sweep the brush over the bowl, filling the air with a pungent smell. Sandra left the room, leaving the door wide open, returning a moment later with a wheelchair, placing it directly in front of the chairs and then pulling a small table close to the arm of the wheelchair. She took a large notepad and pencil from the big side pocket in the wheelchair. She then hurried from the room and quickly returned with a tumbler of water which she placed on the table.

Vera entered wearing the same kaftan as before, but now her white hair was loose, reaching below her shoulders. She also had heavy make-up, her eyelashes thick with black mascara and even more black eyeliner, and her mouth shiny with red lipstick.

‘Welcome everyone.’ She smiled warmly as she walked slowly to the wheelchair, sitting down, then carefully spreading her kaftan around her legs. She drew the table closer and opened the notebook. She then picked up the pencil and opened the notebook to an empty page.

‘I recognise some familiar faces, but as always I like to give a little introduction to my group session. I am a medium and I depend on those wishing to contact their loved ones to come forwards. I have to explain that sometimes there is a dominant spirit, and this could mean disappointment for one or two of you, but I have no preconception of who will be with us this afternoon. Understand that if anything occurs that you find distressing, just raise your hand and ask for me to stop. We are here and will comfort each other and find relief from grief, and hopefully leave with our hearts uplifted.’

Vera then scribbled on the empty page, tapping it with the pencil.

‘Does anyone have a wedding ring with a small...’

She rubbed her index finger and thumb together.

‘I think it’s a gemstone... maybe a ruby?’

The grey-haired man lifted his hand.

‘Do you wear this on a chain round your neck?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I do. It’s a garnet stone.’

‘Ah well, I have your wife with me; she passed over quite recently, is that right?’

‘Yes, six months ago.’

‘She wants you to know that she has no more pain, she had...’

‘Cancer, she died of ovarian cancer.’

‘Yes, but it was not diagnosed for a long time. She is indicating her stomach, and something on her head. She is indicating her hair.’

‘She was afraid she would lose her hair.’

Vera made long scribbles and circles in her notebook. Then she sipped from her glass. Jane glanced over to look at what effect it was having on him. He was leaning forwards, his hands clenched together.

‘You were with her when she died, holding her hand and the ring.’

‘It slipped from her finger.’

‘She wants you to know that it was meant to happen. She knows you always have it close to you. She is with you and she is at peace. She knew you were beside her when she passed, and wants to thank you for the loving years you had together.’

Vera turned a page, as if to indicate she was moving on, brushing the empty page with the flat of her hand and frowning. She began to make circles on the empty page while everyone waited expectantly. Eventually she looked up.

‘I have a young girl, touching her heart, wearing white, white shoes, white socks, a veil, too young for a wedding... does the number twelve mean anything to anyone?’

The smartly dressed woman raised her hand. ‘I think it’s my granddaughter, she was twelve years old.’

‘Ah yes, she is wearing her communion dress, but the ceremony didn’t take place because she was...’

Vera scribbled furiously, making jagged strokes.

‘I have someone else coming through beside her... very protective... she is holding her arms as if to cradle her... is she the mother... did they go together?’

‘Yes, it was a car accident.’

Vera began to make very strong zig-zag strokes on the page. She was visibly perspiring, her face flushed, and she spoke rapidly.

‘Dark night, not in city, country lane, very fast turning a corner, no control, car went down an incline, hidden ditch, an embankment.’

‘Yes, yes it was very badly lit. They found skid marks in the mud the following morning and there was no hope.’

‘You feel a great deal of guilt, but there was nothing you could do. It was not your fault. It was an accident. Your granddaughter is touching her chest, her heart showing me she wants you to know there is no blame, that her love for you is strong and they are together. She says that she liked her veil and...’

Vera pressed her hand to her top lip.

‘She calls you by a nickname. Josie?’

‘My name is Rosemary. She never called me Grandma, just Rosie.’ The tears were streaming down her cheeks.

‘You placed some white roses, tea roses in a coronet and the petals fell.’

‘Oh God, yes I did... they did.’

‘She wants you to know that was her, with the petals. She is always aware of you and wants you to find peace, to know she is happy.’

Jane could feel the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. It was freaky but at the same time she noticed that Vera didn’t talk about the dead girl’s mother, instead turning to a clean page. The grandmother was blowing her nose on a handkerchief, saying ‘Thank you, thank you.’ The grey-haired man leaned towards her and held her hand.

Jane was trying to calculate how long the session would go on, as the two middle-aged women and the young girl had still not had Vera bring anyone forwards. Angelica remained listening intently and smiling, obviously used to being at these sessions.

Vera suddenly laughed softly, looking at the two women. ‘Your father is with me again. He is making a motion with his hand... like writing. Are you in the process of signing some kind of document? Oh yes, you are, because he is making strong signals that it is very important...’

Vera put her hands together with just the fingers touching, like a cat’s-cradle game. Both the women were eagerly leaning forwards.

‘He’s a very dominant man, likes to know exactly what plans you have for your future. He is making funny comical gestures, birds, and a basket... Ah, he is advising you not to put all your eggs in one basket. I recall when he came forwards before, he was very protective of you both and wanted you to know he is guiding you at all times. Now he is stepping back; no, not quite yet, he has something else to say. What is it? Do you have a necktie with you?’

They both nodded, one opening her handbag.

‘It was one of his favourite ties; when we sent all his clothes to charity, we kept one each.’

‘Well, he approves. Does it have a small insignia on it?’

‘Yes, it was his golf club tie.’

Vera frowned, picking up her pencil. She scribbled for a moment. ‘He is stepping back now because I have someone else coming forwards who is very insistent. I have the letter S, and he is a young man. He’s showing me something...’

Vera opened her mouth and gestured as if putting something in, then pressed her throat, making a gurgling sound. Jane straightened. Was this going to be Sebastian? But the young girl raised her hand.

‘My brother was called Simon.’

‘He is with me, dear; recent, wasn’t it? He is very distressed because of the pain he has caused. Oh, my goodness, he is very emotional.’

‘He was a heroin addict, and he had just got out of rehab and came to live with me. I have to care for my mother as she has MS, and I just couldn’t be with him enough.’ She broke down sobbing.

‘Listen to me,’ Vera said gently. ‘You did everything you could for him. You gave him a home, and hoped that he was going to turn his life around. You are a very special young woman. Simon knows he had every opportunity to begin his recovery. He is deeply distressed that he let you down and wants you to know that his depression overwhelmed him, and he did not want to be a burden on you.’

The young girl was sobbing. ‘I loved him so much. He was so talented and brave. He had always taken care of me when we were young because our father was a terrible alcoholic, and all I wanted was to take care of him the way he protected me.’

Vera was nodding. ‘He knows you were always there for him, and he is here with me now to tell you how much he loved you and appreciated everything you did for him. He is asking you to let go of your grief and guilt, as he is now in a better place. He is at peace and wants you to know that his love for you will never fade.’

Vera was sweating as she made circles on the page, bigger and bigger rings over and over again. She stopped abruptly and took a drink. ‘He left a note for you but did not take his life at your home?’

The young woman nodded through her tears. Everyone was clearly moved by her outpouring of grief. Jane had been watching Vera closely, noticing how she quickly latched onto little clues in her clients’ reactions, just like an old-time professional. But after listening to the young woman whose brother had committed suicide, she was no longer so sure.

Vera wiped her perspiring top lip. ‘He left you a note, like a list. He tells me he could not put into words what he felt. Did Simon have a record collection, not the big vinyl ones but the small CDs, small round ones, and they have a message for you. He chose each one and they each have a special meaning. He wants you to listen to them in the order he left them and that when you play each one, he will be beside you, listening.’

Vera closed her notebook. It was a signal the session was over, and everyone got ready to leave. Sandra opened the door, standing to one side as she ushered everyone out. As they filed past Vera, those who had been given messages from their loved ones thanked her.

As Angelica passed her, Vera reached out and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Angelica, I became very tired, but we’ll have our usual session next week, and I hope we will have Kofi coming forwards.’

‘That’s OK,’ Angelica said with a smile. ‘It was very moving this afternoon. It gives me such a wonderful spiritual energy to be present.’

Angelica turned and put her arm around the young girl, suggesting they have a cup of coffee together along with the sisters.

‘Would you like to join us, Jane? We like to go over everything as it is such a wonderful experience.’

‘Another time,’ Jane said.

Sandra hovered at the door as Vera waved her hand dismissively. ‘It’s all right, Sandra, show everyone out.’

Jane remained standing by Vera, who ignored her as she collected her notebook and slipped it into the pocket of the wheelchair.

‘What do you want?’

‘I’m sorry I came without an appointment.’

‘Angelica called to say she was bringing you. I thought it was cheeky, and I didn’t like you being here; it made it harder work for me.’

‘I was very impressed. Although some things I questioned.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, you were so comforting about the little granddaughter, but her mother died in the accident, too. Why didn’t you mention her?’

Vera laughed, shaking her head. ‘You think I held back to get another session in? What do you take me for? Do you think it would be a comfort to know her daughter was drunk and caused the accident? Or is it the boy’s suicide? That poor girl blamed herself because she kicked him out of her flat, and now she’ll get comfort. As for the sisters, their father was a dominating bastard that drove their mother to an early grave, but they are still dependent on him. Anything else? Because I am tired out.’

‘I want you to tell me about Angelica’s son Sebastian.’

‘Get the fuck out, Miss Tennison. You are really beginning to make me angry. I’ve told you more than enough. It is breaking a confidence.’

She picked up her glass and drained the last drop before placing it back on the table.

‘Miss James, I know that you are making a good income from your sessions, and I doubt very much you declare it; you could be investigated for tax evasion.’

‘You are a nasty piece of work, aren’t you, making threats to me!’

‘I am not saying I would report you, all I am asking is for you to tell me if Sebastian Martinez is alive. You said that you felt the taste of blood in your mouth, and I asked you what it meant but you refused to answer. You said he has not passed to the other side.’

Vera pursed her lips, taking deep breaths through her nose.

‘I give you my word that whatever you can tell me remains with me and I will not repeat it to Angelica,’ Jane said.

‘Why? What do you want?’

It was Jane’s turn to take a deep breath. ‘I just have a gut feeling that something happened to him. I mentioned that I’ve been investigating an assault on the owner of the house where Miss Martinez lived with her son.’

Vera cocked her head to one side, and then took out her notebook.

‘I know you suspect I am some kind of fake, but you know something, you have a side to you that is almost spiritual. You have what you said is a gut feeling and you should listen to it. I have always been able to contact the dead, and as a result I can give some kind of peace to the living.’

Jane suddenly felt like crying.

‘I am so sorry, Vera, I didn’t mean to insult you. I am sorry that I came here under false pretences. Please accept my sincere apologies.’

Vera looked at her, her face glistening with sweat. She gripped the arms of her wheelchair and heaved herself up to stand. Then she reached out and drew Jane into her arms.

‘It’s all right, dear, you will find him. He’s long dead. And it had to be brutal because he cannot lie in peace.’

Sandra opened the door as Vera stepped back.

‘Show her out, Sandra. I need to go and lie down.’

As Jane sat in her car, the tears that she had felt surfacing at Vera’s now came with a vengeance, and suddenly she was sobbing. It was as if all her emotions about the bust-up with Eddie were flooding out. She realised she wanted to see if they could get back together. She took deep breaths to calm herself down, focusing on the last thing Vera had said. She was certain now that Sebastian Martinez had been murdered.