A Peculiar Party ~ Part Ten March 31, 2013
Posted by nrhatch in Fiction, Magick & Mystery, Word Play.comments closed
“So, Eddie, tell me about Madame Frieda and her thoughts.”
“I can’t.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“The Telepathic Creed. I can’t divulge what I’ve overheard, except to save someone’s life.”
Frustrated, I glared at Eddie.
“I thought I heard YOU say that you could be of assistance. Seems you’re just wasting my time.” I stood up, tossed my napkin on the table, and turned to go.
“Wait! I can’t tell you what she THOUGHT, but I can tell you where she lives.”
I turned back. Ashamed of my outburst. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. It’s just that I’m worried about Freddie, Betty, and Teddy.”
“No need to apologize. I heard you the first time. Your mind said it all.” Eddie hopped down from the wall and motioned me to follow him. “Let’s go.”
“You’re going with me?”
“Of course. Frieda lives close by. And she never opens the door to strangers.”
Within moments, we came to a small cottage, two blocks north of Fifth Avenue. Eddie rang the bell.
When the door opened, I gasped at the ghastly apparition.
Eddie smiled in greeting. “Hey, Claire. Is Madame Frieda around.”
“Yes. She’s expecting you.”
Claire turned. Eddie hopped over the threshold. I shut the door and followed them down a short hallway.
Claire said nothing else. I didn’t know whether to apologize for my audible gasp or not.
Eddie leaned over and whispered. “You would only need to apologize if you hadn’t reacted to her stage make-up. Claire is somewhat of a drama queen.”
Reassured, I nodded.
Claire walked into an expansive library and announced us to Madame Frieda.
I surveyed the space.
Comfortable sofas and over-stuffed chairs filled the room.
Elaborate murals hung on the wall.
Curtains framed the windows.
Eddie hopped past the coffee table and sat in an arm chair next to a checked sofa.
I sunk into the seat opposite him. Exhausted. The day had taken its toll on me.
Madame Frieda’s voice boomed out. “Eddie! It’s been too long.”
“Frieda! You’re looking stoic.”
Turning to me, Frieda smiled a small smile, reminding me of the Mona Lisa. “You must be Ms. McGee.”
“I am. I’m here because . . . ”
“I know exactly why you’re here. I’m clairvoyant. As is Claire.”
My words rushed out in rapid stream. “Can you help? What can you tell me about the alleyway, the totem, the plaque, or the spell-weaver?”
“The totem is as old as time itself. Intended to be eternal. Sand ever-flowing. A fountain of time.”
She stopped.
As if that explained the all.
“I’m sorry. The day is catching up with me. I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”
Claire sneered. “No. You wouldn’t.”
Madame Frieda glared at Claire, then returned her impenetrable gaze to me. “Who sent the necklace to Betty?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I just assumed that . . . ”
Madame Frieda held up her hand. “I sent the necklace to Betty to protect her from the spell-weaver. And, instead, I set the wheels in motion.”
To be continued . . .
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