Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (4 page)

Once th
e first item on the agenda was accomplished, he asked for the reading of last year’s minutes. After the secretary read the minutes, the president led the members into the voting portion of the meeting.

“If you haven’t already cast your vote by absentee ballot, please come up here and take a ballot,” he directed, pointing at the stack of b
lank ballots piled in front of him. “You are voting for only two candidates, remember.”

After much talking among the members and shuffling around the room, everyone had cast their ballot.
George directed two members to count the votes while a third wrote the tally on a chalk board. The audience watched as hash marks appeared across the board under each of the four contender’s names. It became quickly obvious that the membership preferred Joe and Sheila by a large margin. It wasn’t even a close race with the other two people.

“Members, I declare the winners of the two vacant trustee positions to be Sheila Chambers and Joe Schmidt
,” George stated. “They will assume their three year terms immediately following the meeting.”

Applause rang out among the members. Zach shrugged his shoulders in reaction and
Alex Daniels wore a sour expression. She quickly rose from her chair and stomped out of the hall noisily in a pair of expensive stilettos.

“Well, I guess she isn’t as pleased as the rest of us over the results,” Nightingale noted with a smirk.

“She just want to tell everybody what to do,” Poppy said.

“Yes, Miss Bossy Boots didn’t get her way after all,” Nightingale said.

“Congratulations, Sheila! We’re so proud of you!” Nightingale threw her arms around Sheila and then Poppy followed.

“Let’s get drink at
the Cassadaga Hotel,” Poppy suggested.

“Good idea,”
Nightingale confirmed.

“I have to go meet with the trustees now,” Sheila said. “I can’t join you.”

“It’s okay. We’ll celebrate another time,” Nightingale said.

And so, Cassadaga officially entered into a new era.

Six

Lollie Hobbs, the owner of the Hotel, greeted the two women with her arms outstretched.

“I haven’t seen you girls for a while,” she said. “Must be spending all your time with your gentlemen.”

“
Si,
I with Stephano a lot,” Poppy said, beaming at Lollie.

Nightingale didn’t respond to that remark, choosing instead to go another direction. “We’re here to celebrate Sheila’s election to the board.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!  I’m happy for her,” Lollie said, leading the way to a table. “I’ll send Tina over to get your order.”

“You not here lately?” Poppy asked
Nightingale as they sat down.

“No, Bill has been having me cook for him. Guess I don’t have to worry about that now.”

“He be back.”

“Maybe. If I even want him back.”

“You do.”

“We’ll see.”

They ordered a wine carafe along with a plate of cheese and crackers.

“So things are going well with Stephano?” Nightingale asked.

“
Si.
He love me, I love him.”

“Are you thinking about marriage?”

“Maybe…But we have fun now, so why hurry?”

“I see your point. Have you ever been married?”

“No. I just play the grass.”

“
It’s play the field, Poppy,” Nightingale corrected.

“
Si.
Field. You been married?”

“I’ve been married twice. The last husband is the one I’m suspected of murdering.” Nightingale reached for her wine glass as the waitress set it down on the table, taking a long swallow. “I don’t think I’m in any hurry, either, to tie the knot
with anyone.”

“In South America, girls supposed to marry young,” Poppy said, sipping at her wine. “I be, how you say, old lady?”

“Old maid.”

“
I be old maid down there.”

“How long have you been in the states?”

“I born here when parents on vacation in Miami, but they return home. I stay until eighteen, then come to Florida.”

“That makes you a citizen.”

“
Si,
I citizen. I think it better here, so here where I want to live.”

“What was your childhood like, Poppy? You never talk about it.”

The expression on Poppy’s face made Nightingale think she still didn’t want to talk about it. “Not nice.” She took a sip of her wine, replaced the glass on the table and looked Nightingale squarely in the eyes.

“You promise not to tell?”

“Of course, Poppy, I won’t tell a soul.”

“My father die, my mother had no job,” Poppy said, sighing over the memory. “I thirteen, too young to work.
So my mother move away from Brazil to Colombia. She stay near a friend who got her a job. That why I speak Spanish, but I still remember the Portuguese.”

“What job did your mother take?”

“She work making men happy.”

The statement hung in the air like stale cigarette smoke.

“Oh.” It was the only word that fell out of Nightingale’s mouth.

“Sometime men come home with her, stay the night. More money.” Poppy grew more uncomfortable as she spoke, frequently sipping from the wine glass. “I sleep in next room, hear things. Men sometime come into my room, try touch me. I scream when happen, they run away.”

“Did any of those men ever, uh, try to, did anyone…”

“
Si
. That why I come to Florida.”

Nightingale reached out her hand and placed it on Poppy’s arm. “It’s okay. They can’t hurt you now. And I promise I’ll never say a word to anyone.”

Poppy nodded her head. “
Gracious.
”

~~

Nightingale sat down across from her client, a young girl named Heather who was probably nineteen years of age. She appeared quite nice, perhaps a bit naïve. Nestling into the high-backed chair, Nightingale closed her eyes, waiting for the impressions to appear. What she saw was unusual and not at all like anything she had ever seen in any other reading. Nightingale opened her eyes, looking strangely at her client.

“Yeah, I know. Weird, huh?” the client said.

“Beyond weird. Do you believe someone has put a curse on you?”

“Yes, my mother.”

“Your
mother
?” Nightingale couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Why would your mother put a curse on you?”

“Because she’s afraid I’ll get pregnant before I get married. So she put a curse on me so I repel men.”

Nightingale dropped her chin to her chest. Now, she had truly heard it all. Nothing could top this for bizarre readings. Ever.

“Okay, to begin with, no one can put a curse, spell or anything of the sort on you unless you are a willing recipient. Understand?”

No, she didn’t understand, judging from the blank expression on Heather’s face.

“Okay, let me explain.” Nightingale tried again to reach the girl, hoping to d
estroy her concept of curses. “People who are most affected by curses are those who know a curse has been placed on them. They become fearful because someone just put a spell on them, or so they think, therefore, they have accepted that this can occur and help to bring it into their reality.”

Heather
stared at Nightingale without saying a word.

“Right, okay…So
a person has the freedom to reject the idea and then the curse doesn’t work. Does that make sense?” Nightingale asked.

“But I’ve seen people who have had a curse put on them by my mother. It always works
,” Heather insisted.

“Because they accept that a curse has been put on them, they make it happen.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Okay, how can one person make bad things happen to another, huh?
”

“By using a curse.”

“You’re missing my point. They can’t do that, Heather.” 

“I’m not so sure.”

“Why are you giving your mother so much power? She probably just told you she put a curse on you and really didn’t.”

“My m
other is a voodoo priestess.”

“Oh. Well, my opinion still stands. It can’t be done unless you’re willing. “

“My mother objected to me coming for this reading.”

“Of course she did. She didn’t want you to learn the truth.”

“I don’t know. She said she’d do something to you, too, if I came.”

“I emphatically do not accept your mother’s curses, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so drop that idea.”

“I can’t. She has amazing powers. I’m under her control.”

“Well,
apparently so if you believe that she put a spell on you. She wants you to remain under her control.”

“Probably,” the woman acknowledged. “But can you help me? Can you remove this curse?”

Nightingale had received requests before to have spells and curses removed that people believed had been cast on them. She didn’t believe curses held any power, but Heather did, so she decided to create something that would make her feel that the spell had been lifted.

“Okay, this evening, at eight o’clock, I want you to take a salt bath, using sea salt. Put lavender oil in the bathwater with the salt
. If you want to add some patchouli oil, that’s fine, too. Light the bathroom up with white candles, as many as you like. Relax in the tub with your eyes closed for as long as you wish. Scrub your body with a handful of sea salt, rinse off and go to bed. You’ll sleep like a baby because the spell will be gone.”

“That sounds great,” Heather said. “Thank you so much.”

Heather stood to leave.

“I haven’t given you your reading,” Nightingale told the girl.

“All I wanted was to have this spell removed. You gave me that information, so I’m good. Thank you, Nightingale.”

Heather left the reading room, all smiles.

Nightingale shook her head in disbelief. When she started to get up from her chair, a smashing pain entered at the side of her head, causing her to fall back into the chair. Holding her head between her two hands, Nightingale curled over in pain, feeling short of breath. What was happening?

As she rocked from side to side, the pain came in short bursts, sending what felt like electrical shock
s into her head. This went on for several minutes, making Nightingale feel like she could pass out at any moment. As suddenly as the pain had come upon her, it retreated.

Nightingale didn’t like what had just occurred. Besides the obvious pain, s
he knew someone was messing with her head.

“Probably the mother,” she murmured. “Bitch.”

Word hit the streets of Cassadaga as hard as a sledgehammer striking a metal pole.

Joe Schmidt had been murdered!

His wife had found him in the backyard where he had been working in their flower garden, fertilizing the plants. His body had been curled up on the ground with fertilizer all over his head and face, as if someone had intentionally poured half a bag of manure on him.
Jorie had come screaming back into the house and called the police.

“See if you can brush away some of that fertilizer from his face and head,” Detective Martinez directed one of the deputies.

Following orders, the deputy did as he was told
, using his gloved hand.

“Just what I thought,”
Martinez remarked, observing a red area appearing under the manure on the side of Joe’s head. “Blood.”

Martinez’s quickly
surmised that a murder had taken place.. “Bag up anything you see. Not that I see anything….”

Jorie was standing nearby, shaking, with a
tissue in her hand. Nightingale came hastily walking around the corner of the house to join Jorie.

“Are you okay?” Nightingale asked, putting an arm around Jorie.
“I got here as soon as I could after you called.”

“Yes, I’m not hurt, but Joe is dead.”

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry, Jorie,” Nightingale said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I just came out to ask Joe if he wanted me to fix lunch. And there he was,” Jorie said, pointing at his body, “lying on the ground
. With fertilizer all over him.”

Detective Martinez walked over to where the two women were standing. “Ladies,” he said, nodding his head in greeting. “Mrs. Schmidt, tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know what happened. I found Joe just like you see him, on the ground. With fertilizer all over him. So I ran to call you.” Jorie’s eyes were filling with tears again.

“Did you hear any noise outside before this happened?”