CHAPTER SIX

“What’s up with the gun?” Erin asked Officer Finn.

“It was found in the shrubbery, right outside the school entrance. No prints. Unregistered. And no bullets, which is interesting. We can go off on a pretty wild goose chase trying to track down the bullets. But who needs bullets when you have a pool? Quick change of plans.

“Thing about changing plans in the middle of a murder is that there’s more room for error. There’s always something that you didn’t work out. We’re going to figure out exactly what happened last night. There’s your buddy, heading out the door. Don’t worry. We got a tail on him.”

Orlando was indeed heading out of the dining room, making a beeline for the hotel exit. Erin followed him. He was standing right outside, almost as if he was waiting for her. The police “tail” was standing nonchalantly nearby. Erin couldn’t be sure whether Orlando was aware he was under surveillance. What a mess.

“Erin. I’m glad you came out. Something I have to tell you. It’s important. It’s disturbing. It’s very disturbing, and I will understand if it changes your mind about getting to know me better.”

“Sounds pretty ominous.”

“It’s bad. So bad that . . . that . . .”

Erin already suspected that she knew what his confession would be. But she also knew that if there was a conflict between thoughts and words, then the thoughts were the best way at getting to the truth. She took his hand in hers, to his great surprise.

“Oh, her hand’s so soft. And she smells so good when she’s standing this close. Am I really going to ruin everything by telling her that I messed up a prescription when I was a resident and that a man had a heart attack and died because of my carelessness?                                

I killed someone. How can I expect her to accept that? She deserves someone who’s not carrying around that kind of ugly baggage. It’s just . . . on top of the malpractice lawsuits and losing the opportunity for all the prestigious jobs I had assumed I’d wind up in, and the bad, bad karma of being responsible for a man losing his life, all the pro bono work I do . . . all the ways I try to atone for my horrible error . . . it just feels as if I’ve paid so heavily for this mistake. Why can’t I be with her? Why can’t I at least have a chance to be with her? But I can’t lie to her. I have to tell her. I have to tell her.”

It was a very unexpected revelation, to say the least. That’s what he meant by his “murder confession.” What a sad, all-consuming burden he was carrying. But he certainly hadn’t committed murder. And now, he couldn’t bear the thought of risking her disapproval and rejection. At least she could make that easier for him.

“Orlando, I know. I know about the malpractice suit. And the prescription mistake. And the man dying. I know about all the opportunities you lost and how you’re trying to make up for it as best you can with all the pro bono work. I know you’re a good guy. I know it.”

“How? How? How could you possibly know about all of this?”

“I . . . I asked around. I Googled you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Of course, I did. How . . . how else could I have known?”

There was a bench nearby along the well-manicured walkway to the hotel entrance. Orlando needed to sit down.

“It was fifteen years ago. You have to forgive yourself. I can’t even imagine how many lives you’ve saved since then. How many painful burns you’ve treated. And don’t even get me started on the avocado hand.”

Orlando finally had to chuckle, which turned into a deep, hearty laugh of pure relief.

“Erin Sweeney. You’ve exceeded my wildest dreams. You really do. Maybe . . . maybe we could do something tonight. Can I take you out somewhere?”

“Yes. You can take me out bowling.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about bowling night. This whole reunion thing is relentless.”

“So . . . I could be your bowling date.”

“Okay, about that. I actually already have a bowling date.”

“Oh . . .”

“His name is Leo Price. We did our medical residencies together, and as fate would have it, we’re having a little fifteen-year reunion/get-together for our residency group. But, for reasons that you now know, that group is pretty hard for me to face. So, I was going to stick with this reunion. But Leo has been my good friend for such a long time. And he never abandoned me, not when things were at their lowest. Not in the middle of that whole malpractice mess. He stuck by me. I would actually love for you to meet him. I told him I’d meet him at the bowling alley.”

“Under those circumstances, I would love to meet your bowling date.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Erin noticed the police tail working in the shadows, keeping a close eye on Orlando. Oh, for heaven’s sake. She had just ratted Orlando out for a murder that he didn’t commit. She had to set the police straight, pronto. She quickly excused herself and raced back into the hotel to find Finn Cochran.

“I have to talk to you. It’s important. It’s super-important. Privately.”

Sounded pretty juicy. Finn escorted Erin to a far deserted corner of the dining room.

“It wasn’t Orlando Wicks. He didn’t kill Regina Gorman.”

“Didn’t you say that he confessed to you?”

“It was the only way that I could explain what I had heard from him. You said you wanted to talk about how I’m special. Well, I can read minds. I can tell what people are thinking. But I’m new at it. I have to be touching them.”

“This, I gotta see,” Finn challenged her.

She used both hands to grip his fist.

“Okay, Miss Psychic. Tell me what I’m thinking.”

“Okay, okay. Just think about something very specific first.”

As she had already responded to his skeptical command, Finn was ready to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Gone with The Wind is at Margo’s theater tonight and you were really hoping for a good excuse to get out of it. It’s freaking four hours, with an intermission. Your butt is going to fall asleep.”

“I know I say it every time, but this is hands-down the mother of all witch talents,” Finn said, hugely impressed. “You need to hire yourself out. The police department could really use someone who could read our suspects.”

“First things first. I misunderstood Orlando when he said that he’d killed someone. He meant that he accidentally prescribed a dosage of medicine fifteen years ago during his residency and the patient died. And he hasn’t forgiven himself for it. So . . . not a murderer. He did not kill Regina Gorman. You’ll see that he’s taken off the suspect list, won’t you?”

“Umm. It’s not going to be that easy. He’s already on the suspect list. In fact, because of your statement, he’s our primary suspect. So, can I go to my fellow officers and tell them that you got the bad tip because you were reading his thoughts? But now you know better because . . . now you’re are able to read the fine print on his thoughts. Because you’re a witch. Nope. That’s not gonna fly. All I can do is push them to pursue all the other leads. But we need to find the killer. That’s the only thing that’s going to get your new friend off the hook.”

*****

There was one person Finn was terribly interested in having a chat with, but he wasn’t hanging out with the reunion crowd. Erin agreed to accompany him to the Notel Motel, where Wesley Gorman, the angry hot dog vendor, was staying.

Finn stopped to prep her just as they were about to approach the motel. “You already know about the gun. Two more things. Wesley Gorman’s prints were found on Regina Gorman’s car handle. And there’s something else that we need to keep on the down-low because it’s something that probably only the killer would know. Regina Gorman’s purse was at the bottom of the pool. Right in the middle. That’s not something that she would’ve done herself. It feels like a lure—something to get her close to the edge. And then a good, hard shove was all that was needed. The woman couldn’t swim.”

“And you think Wesley Gorman . . .?”

“Sounds like family to me. But with your help, I intend to get every answer I need out of this guy.”

The Notel Motel was a very modest, nondescript place for budget travelers and afternoon affairs. Wesley Gorman was clearly a man on a budget. He answered the door in a state of disheveled bewilderment.

“Mr. Gorman. We need to talk to you about Regina Gorman. Starting with why you two have the same last name. If the answer is random coincidence, I’m going to haul you down to the police station to encourage better cooperation.”

“No. No, you don’t have the haul me anywhere.” He let them in, and they sat down on the room’s only two chairs.

“So, are you and Regina Gorman family?”

Wesley scoffed. “My mother and Regina Gorman married the same guy, my father, Alex Gorman. He was a good father. At least I think so. I was only five when he died. Perhaps he wasn’t such a good husband. He . . . he was still married to Regina when he married my mother.

“Yeah, yeah, bigamy. I don’t know why he did it. Maybe Regina refused to give him a divorce and he felt entitled to start over. But because he married her first, their marriage was the official one, and the one to my mother was the one that was fake. The one that was illegal.

“So, when he died, everything he owned went to her—Regina. Even though I was his child. His true child. Even though his marriage to Regina sounds like it only lasted for two years. And he was with my mother for six years. So, Regina wound up getting the entire inheritance. My mother and I didn’t get a dime.

“It wouldn’t be all that important if my mom hadn’t gotten sick. It happened when she was visiting my uncle out of state. And because it was out of state, the insurance didn’t cover it. Can you believe that? Now, we’re drowning in medical bills and can’t afford the payment for her treatments. I’ve been in touch a few times over the years with Regina Gorman to see if she’ll share some of Dad’s money with us for my mother’s sake. That sure was pointless. No sympathy. No heart. So, I finally drove all the way out here to have it out with her.”

Finn gestured at Erin. “Okay, Ms. Sweeney. Do your thing.”

Erin dragged her chair close to Wesley and laid her hand on his arm. “Did you kill Regina Gorman?”

Wesley gave a small laugh. Then a hearty laugh. And then when he noticed that they weren’t joking, his laughter came to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“Did you kill Regina Gorman?”

“Are you telling me that she’s dead?”

“Dead as a doornail,” Finn said emphatically.

“Somebody killed Regina Gorman. Sweet. Thank God. Thank God it wasn’t me who pulled the trigger. At least I don’t have to suffer the consequences from doing it myself.”

Erin glanced over at Finn and then back to Wesley. “Where did you go after the guards took you out of the building?”

“I went home. I mean here—back to the motel.”

“I think you meant to say that you lingered on the premises. Near Regina Gorman’s car? Waiting for her. With a gun.”

Wesley got the sickliest expression on his face. “How’d you know all that?”

“What kind of gun was it?” Finn asked. On hearing the answer, he shook his head at Erin—that wasn’t the same type they found in the bushes.

“What did you intend to do with the gun?” Erin demanded.

“Get that money for my mother. One way or another.”

Erin shrugged at Finn and gestured toward the door.

“When were you planning on leaving town, Mr. Gorman?”

“In a few days. It’s a long cross-country drive. But . . . so, she’s really, really dead? If that’s the case, maybe you could help me out. I was wondering if I could get into Regina Gorman’s house and try to find some pictures of my dad. Would that be all right?” he asked sheepishly.

Outside, Finn turned to Erin. “Is that our murderer?”

“He’s capable of murder. He was prepared to murder. But I don’t think you can convict anyone for thought crimes. It wasn’t him.”

*****

Erin ran home to pick up Radio and then hurried over to the nursing home to meet Mia and her mother. Radio had told her in no uncertain terms that he did not appreciate being left at home by himself for longer than two hours. He was a free spirit. A sociable cat. He didn’t appreciate being cooped up.

When Erin walked into the room, Mia was already there.

“I hope no one in here minds cats. Any allergies?”

“Not me or Mom,” Mia said. “I’m not sure about her roommate.”

The elderly woman in the next bed crooked her finger at Radio. “Here, Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

“Go and hang out with that nice lady,” Erin ordered. “Keep her company. Cheer her up.”

“All right. But she’d better be a good head scratcher.”

Erin could barely recognize the frail Mrs. Garland. She had lost so much weight, and after all, it really had been twenty years since Erin had last glimpsed her at their high school graduation ceremony.

Mrs. Garland’s eyes sparkled with recognition as Mia introduced Erin and her mother. Then they dimmed again, sad and hopeless. Mia bustled around, trying to create some positive energy and establish any kind of connection possible with her mother. It was time for Erin to try to make good use of her abilities. She put a comforting hand on Mrs. Garland’s arm.

“How can it be that two such beautiful young women never got married?” Mrs. Garland fussed. “Maybe Mia has a boyfriend and just hasn’t mentioned him. That would make me so happy. But there’s no way to ask her. I can’t even write.”

Erin hesitated. But it was such a small favor for someone who had lost so much.

“Mia, do you have a boyfriend?” Erin asked innocently.

“My goodness. Aren’t you the nosy one!”

“Well, didn’t it occur to you that it’s the kind of thing that your mother would take a great interest in?”

Mrs. Garland’s eyes flickered back and forth between Mia and Erin—mostly on Erin—in utter amazement.

“So?” Erin prodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. It’s only been two months now, but he’s kind and mature and . . .” Mia looked bashfully in her mother’s direction. “very affectionate.”

“I think your mother approves—he sounds like the perfect type.”

“He wanted to come with me, but there just seemed to be so much that I needed to face on my own. I can still invite him, though, for next weekend, if you’d like.”

“She’d like that very much.” Erin’s hand was still resting on Mrs. Garland arm. “She hopes that he loves children, and . . .”

Now, Mrs. Garland’s eyes were wide. She looked at Erin’s hand, realizing what must be happening. But Mia was laughing.

“Now, I don’t know if she’s thinking that far ahead.”

Mrs. Garland’s eyes never left Erin, who sighed.

“Okay, yes. The answer to your question is yes,” Erin told the older woman.

“What question?” Mia asked.

This was a pretty pivotal moment. Erin had been advised by all her new friends that this was not something to be shared with the general population. The presence of witches in Oyster Cove was best left as an unconfirmed rumor. Significant others were another matter. You just had to choose wisely enough to find a partner who could handle it.

But Erin had to do it, against all advice. This was a mother and daughter who would be separated in thought from one another, possibly for all time. Just the thought of it broke her heart.

“Your mother wanted to know if I could read her mind. And the answer is yes.”

“No, you shouldn’t say that. I know it feels like harmless fun, but . . .”

Erin walked over to Mia and touched her hand. “Think about your boyfriend’s name. Quentin. Nice. What does he do for living? No, you’re kidding. He’s a teacher? Yes, Mia. This is for real. But you can’t tell anyone. The only reason I’m letting you know is that I can’t stand the thought of your never being able to talk to one another. 1182. You’re testing me with your SAT score?”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. You can actually do this.”

“Yep. Strange but true.”

Erin returned to Mrs. Garland’s side. “You let me know when you’re coming for visits, and I’ll try to be here as often as I can as a go-between. And when you leave town, maybe Mrs. Garland wouldn’t mind if I stop by occasionally for a visit?”

Mia nodded gratefully and Mrs. Garland did her best to try and squeeze Erin’s hand.

“Okay, she wants you to sit down and tell her everything. Start with the diagnosis. She doesn’t know if the doctors have been straight with her. Is there any chance of improvement? Can she be put in a wheel chair and taken outside for some fresh air?”

“I’ll look into it, Mom. I’ll find out first thing tomorrow,” Mia said dutifully.

“So . . . Quentin. Got a picture of him?”

Mia pulled out her phone, laughing and crying all at once.

Erin had explained what she could do without using the word witch. The odd thing was that she had never been prouder or happier to be a witch.

*****

Back at home, Mia’s gleeful romantic prospects again turned Erin’s mind back to thoughts of Orlando. She could kick herself so hard for getting him into trouble.

Radio was at it again. “You look very sad today. You know what would make you happier? Finding me a bite to eat. Those liver treats would work just fine. Or finding something soft to line my bed with. There’s a fleece sweater in the back of your closet that would be perfect. Oh, and then giving me a little tummy rub.”

He was unashamedly self-absorbed.

“How are any of those things going to keep me from feeling less sad?”

“You like making people happy. I can tell. So, I’m letting you make me happy. I believe that’s known as a win-win.”

“Okay, okay.” But what I really need to make me happy is to get Orlando in the clear. And to find the killer. How hard could that be? After all, I can read minds.