the railing, and sucked down nearly half of the tea in one or two gulps. Early evening silence began to settle on the neighborhood. Rush hour traffic had eased, joggers and mosquitoes came out, and people walked their dogs in the park.
It was a great place to live. A stately, dark-red brick structure that looked more like an old house than an apartment building because it had once housed a single family, it now held four separate apartments. Concrete balconies and curvy masonry trim were kept a bright white, and the magnolia tree in the front yard looked to be at least thirty feet high. It had survived all storms so far, and creamy blossoms that smelled lemony sweet grew big as dinner plates every year. Oak trees shaded the back, and hedges along each side of the green front yard muffled noise from the street and provided shelter to so many birds it sounded like an aviary most of the time.
The neighborhood was a mix of one-family homes and apartment buildings like this one, a quiet area of Memphis, or as quiet as it could be with the busy thoroughfare of Poplar Avenue only a stone’s throw away. At night, she heard the shriek of peacocks and the roar of lions and tigers in the zoo. During the day, the grumble of city bus engines drowned out other sounds. In the summertime, the nights held the busy whine of mosquitoes looking for their next meal. She slapped at one on her arm and thought about going inside.
Her house phone rang. Suddenly, going inside wasn’t that appealing. Phone calls these days rarely held good news. There was the chance it could be a harmless call, but why be foolish? While she debated, it rang again and her answering machine clicked on. Diva’s husky alto drifted out the open doors. “Harley, nothing is forever, not even the bad times.”
That was so Diva. She always seemed to know things. Very disconcerting. Of course, Diva could mean anything from Sorry you found a dead body to Sorry you can’t find that ten dollars to balance your checkbook. But knowing Diva, it was about the other calamity in her daughter’s life. Morgan.
Sighing, Harley got up and went inside to pick up the phone. “I know,” she said.
“This will pass, Harley. Then all will be well again.”
Sam jumped onto her lap when she sat down in the chair, and she started stroking his soft fur with her free hand. He began to purr loudly and, oddly enough, it made her feel better. “Any chance I can hold you to that?” she asked her mother.
Diva laughed softly. “See? You’ll be fine. The circle must be completed.”
A soft throb started behind her eyes, and Harley put her fingers to her temples. “What circle? Or do I want to know?”
When Diva went off into her talk of mantras and chakras and chi and spirit guides and all that other stuff she believed in, Harley thought about the baker’s dozen of Elvises that had been on the van. One of them had to be the killer. The guy didn’t stab himself in the back. If she went over the list of passengers to be picked up at the hotels, maybe she could remember who got on where. The odd man out would be the killer. This time, though, she intended to give the info to Bobby and not go off on her own. It only caused more trouble.
And right now, that was the last thing she needed.
Maybe she should go on vacation. Get some fresh air, see new sights, leave town for a while until this all blew over.
“Harley?” Diva said, sounding like she’d said her name a few times before.
“Sorry. Just focusing on what I should do instead of what I did do.”
“You didn’t cause anything. It’s just that your life force is so strong it generates energy that attracts negative as well as positive. There’s a reason for that.”
“What is it? I’d give a week’s pay to know.”
Diva’s laugh was soft. “It will come to you.”
“Right. Let’s hope it comes in time.”
“It will. Your spirit guides are
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley