Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (11 page)

Lee was obviously a father figure who plugged the gaping holes in that original, devastated landscape. Dianna knew it and embraced it.

Lee loved her for herself.

He was leaning against his Toyota Highlander when she pulled into the parking lot. Though dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, there was still
a Cary Grant elegance about him.

He tossed his tennis duffle-bag into the back seat. “Hi,” he said.

Dianna thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen.

“You drive,” she said. “You know where we’re headed.”

A small voice said,
where are we headed, Lee?
But Dianna pushed it away.

•

They drove through gently rolling hills into Lake Helen near the St. Johns River. Country lanes took them past turn of the century homes and churches. Lee pulled to a stop at a secluded inn:
The Ann Stevens House,
1895.

A winding brick walk took them to their room in the Carriage House, a later addition, more private than the main house. It had all the bells and whistles: a private verandah, a Jacuzzi and a fireplace. They couldn’t have cared less…their only interest was the big bed in the middle.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Lee’s arm encircled Dianna’s waist, drawing her close. They kissed deeply, passionately. Her hands moved over his back and shoulders, delighting in the hard strength of him. She was eager, so eager to feel the length of his body against her bare skin. She grabbed the bottom of her jersey and pulled it up and off. She stepped out of her linen Capri pants.

Lee audibly sucked in his breath. Dianna’s breasts were softly mounding over the top of a lacy, low-cut brassiere. Another patch of lace barely covered the shaved hair between her legs.

His instantaneous reaction was gratifying and exciting. Then her brassiere was off and his hands were on her breasts, squeezing them, raising her nipples. His mouth was tugging on her breast and his hand was moving inside her. Dianna couldn’t take another moment.

“Now, Lee, now,” she gasped, backing up to the bed.

•

Fortunately, Sherlock’s Pub, right in the Carriage House, was still open. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast. Having satisfied their desire for one another, they were now devouring cheeseburgers with only slightly less gusto.

They were surrounded by images of Sherlock Holmes and his friend, Watson.

“Did you know Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a spiritualist?” asked Lee.

“No. You mean as a religion?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Lee. “He was a lapsed Catholic, I think. But he was also a believer in clairvoyance. He attended séances and things like that.”

“How odd, I never knew that.”

“Not only that, we’re right next to
Cassadaga.”

“
Ohmigod, the fortune-tellers! I’ve never had my fortune told. Can we go there in the morning before we go home?”

“I think they prefer to be called ‘psychics’,” said Lee, laughing. “But, yes. That was the idea; I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Have you gone before?” she asked.

“Yes.
Years ago. A woman named Sophie. She was surprisingly accurate.”

•

Dianna felt a vague disappointment. The village of Cassadaga was more quaint than mystical. Ordinary houses were interspersed with new-age gift shops and art galleries. Lee was driving around the small area, losing hope about finding his psychic, Sophie, of twenty years past.

“Has it changed that much?” asked Dianna.

“No, not much. It’s funny. I remember being in her kitchen, but I can’t remember which house it was. None of these look familiar.”

They got out of the car in front of a building with a prominent sign:
Universal Centre.

Inside, Dianna browsed through a rack of brochures reading about “ethereal vibrations” and “energy hot spots” while listening to Lee as he spoke to a woman.

“Sophie? You must mean Reverend Sophie Tindall. She’s one of the oldest psychics in our organization.”

“Is she still doing readings?”

“Oh, yes. Not as many as before, but I can assure you she’s more sensitive than ever.”

“Where is her house?” asked Lee.

The woman gave him a street map, pointing out the house.

“Twenty-nine Acacia Lane,” she said.

Lee thanked her and they headed back to the car.

“No wonder I couldn’t find the house. It’s two blocks behind here.”

The bungalow fit right into the landscape. Vines crept up on the wood-shingled roof and a spreading sweet acacia threatened to engulf one end of the wide, sagging porch. The house sat on cinder blocks, exactly as Lee had described it. Someone had recently taken a stab at maintenance and repainted all the trim white.

Dianna and Lee climbed the stairs and knocked on the front door, which sported a small, diamond-shaped window. The edge of a curtain was pulled back, and the door opened.

“Hello. Are you looking for a reading?” said a tiny woman, her gray hair pulled back in a bun. Her eyes were a very clear blue, except for a noticeable cataract on the left.

“Yes,” said Lee. “You wouldn’t remember me, Sophie; I was here many years ago.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, of course,” she said, ushering them in.

Dianna didn’t believe for a moment that she remembered Lee.

“I brought my friend for a reading,” said Lee, “if you have the time.”

“Of course,” she said. “You can wait out here with Edward.”

Dianna smiled as the woman directed Lee to an old upholstered swivel chair next to its twin, currently occupied by a snoring old man.

Lee reluctantly sat, as Sophie led Dianna into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

“Sit, my dear,” she said, taking her own seat at a small oak table. “Tell me about yourself.”

Tell you about myself? I thought you were supposed to tell
me
.

Seeing the expression on Dianna’s face, the woman said, “Just generally. What is your first name? Do you live in Florida? Are you married?”

“I’m sorry. My name is Dianna, and I do live in Florida. I’m not married.”

“All right, Dianna,” said Sophie, gently. “Let me hold your hands.”

Dianna held out her hands and Sophie took them, closing her eyes.

The woman said nothing. Dianna’s skepticism grew steadily as the cypress clock on the wall loudly ticked off the seconds, then the minutes. Still, feeling slightly foolish, she waited.

Suddenly, Sophie opened her eyes and spoke.

“He will cover you with his feathers. Under his wings you will find refuge.”

Dianna waited for her to continue, but the woman had given her hands a squeeze and let go.

“Can I ask you questions?” said Dianna. “Do you see marriage in my future?”

“I’m sorry, my dear, I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. It’s a message from God. You’ll have to figure out how it fits into your life.”

•

“So, are you going to tell me what she said?”

Dianna told him.

“That’s it?” Lee said.

“That’s it. I’m not sure if it’s a message from God or a fortune cookie.”

They both laughed…

* * * * * 

Chapter
21

I
t was a Bible verse, Julie recalled, out of context…and yet…wings, feathers, refuge.

Had Dianna found refuge in the swan boat?

“Dianna didn’t kill herself. I just don’t believe it,” said Evelyn, getting up. She stood at the balcony railing looking out at the lake. “I think somebody attacked her. Maybe she got into that swan boat to get away.”

“Maybe she did,” said Julie.

“Evelyn…did you know that Dianna was seeing another man besides Lee?”

“Yes, Linc Tyler…her ‘cowboy’. She told me about him.”

“I don’t understand,” said Julie. “If Dianna was so in love with Lee, how did she get involved with Lincoln Tyler?”

“I think it was to get back at Lee. From the way Sylvia Porter was calling the office, I think she suspected that Lee was cheating on her. She began showing up for lunch unannounced, telling him at the last moment about dinners they had to attend. Lee was canceling plans with Dianna –
actually
,
I was
– left and right.

“Dianna was furious. They had a huge fight. She told him she didn’t want to see him anymore. I supported her
completely
. Dianna didn’t need to play second fiddle;
she could have had
anybody
.
”

“Did Lee know about Lincoln?”

“He thought Dianna was seeing someone. He asked me all kinds of questions. I didn’t tell him anything. I would never have betrayed her confidence in me.”

She sat at the table again. Tears were running down her face. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed around her eyes, her cheeks. Sol looked up at her, as if sensing her distress…and Julie waited, respecting her grief.

“So Dianna stopped seeing him?”

“Yes.
For a few months. He left her messages, sent her flowers. ‘Did Dianna call? Did Dianna call?’ He was crazy without her. I shouldn’t have told her, but I did…and she started to see him again.”

“Evelyn…you said they only broke up for ‘a few months’…so…Dianna was seeing both men at the same time?”

“Yes. She told me Linc Tyler wanted to marry her. I believe she was considering it for a while…until Lee told her he was going to leave Sylvia. Until he leased the condo…”

“What condo?”

Evelyn looked away, hesitating.

She doesn’t want to tell me…feels like she has to…to clear her conscience.

“The one Downtown here, on Franklin Street.”

“Franklin?”

“Yes. Across the lake.”

* * * * * 

Chapter
22

November 26, 2009

S
ylvia Brandt-Porter deftly twisted her husband’s tie into a perfect bow.

“Really, Lee, why do you insist on wearing tennis cufflinks to a formal dinner?”

He sighed and turned away, not bothering to answer her.

Because Dianna gave them to me.

It was so much harder to tolerate Sylvia now. Lee didn’t even
like
her anymore.

When did that happen? Was it year two, or three?

Whichever it was, it was shortly after his law partner, James Brandt, walked her down the aisle. Lee remembered being happy on that day, glancing at Sylvia beneath her veil, soft blonde waves framing her face. Her elegant profile had reminded him of a delicately carved cameo. Things were good then. Sylvia was fun to be with, a friend with benefits. Lee had honestly expected their friendship to grow into love.

Right.
It was our first anniversary. What a joke.

Inspired by their wedding day, Lee had known what Sylvia’s first anniversary gift would be. He ordered a hand-carved Sardonyx shell cameo from Italy. He was so excited when it arrived. He thought it was beautiful, high relief set in gold, on a fine gold chain. He’d kept it in the office where she wouldn’t find it, and presented it to her on their anniversary over dinner at Le Coq Au Vin. He held her hand and explained why he’d chosen a cameo for her.

Sylvia was “touched”; it was a “wonderful gift”.

Lee couldn’t remember her ever wearing it…not even once.

Screw you. I’m wearing my tennis cufflinks.

•

Dianna walked into her townhouse and hit the button on her answering machine.

“
Received December first at ten-forty-seven-a-m,”
said the recorded voice. And then it was Lee:
“I’ve leased a condo, Dianna. I’ve already moved some of my things. I’m leaving her right after the holidays. Please, please, call me back. I love you.”

He was leaving her! She played the message again. He was moving!

Overcome with emotion, Dianna walked around in a tight circle, tears running down her face, her hands clasped at her chin as if in thankful prayer. She picked up the phone and began to key in the familiar number, then quickly hung it up.

What should I say? I shouldn’t be so easy. It’s not like he’s already moved! Evelyn said he would
never
leave Sylvia. What if she’s right? It makes sense, though, to wait until after the holidays. It would be cruel to leave before then. I should at least see him.

She punched in the number.

“Porter and Brandt.”

“Hi, Evelyn.
Is Lee there?”

“Hello, Dianna,”
she said, whispering into the phone.
“I thought you might call. Are you sure you want to do this?”