Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (7 page)

“Umm, not so sure about that, Chloe. It feels like he abandoned me when I needed him the most,” Nightingale said. “Now my business is suffering from my name being in the newspaper and broadcast on TV. I’m not a happy woman.”

“I’m so sorry, Nightingale. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I can’t think of anything. Just be my friend.”

“I’ll always be your friend. I’m not about to abandon you.”

“Well, that makes one,” Nightingale said. “At least I have
one
.”

Ten

Detective Martinez had experienced better Mondays that this one. Not only was he juggling the murders of Bradford Perry and Joe Schmidt, a scull had mysteriously popped up over the weekend to add to his load.
And then there were all those bikers in Daytona attending the motorcycle races, plus all the additional activities surrounding those events. Coleslaw wrestling and whatever  else they could dream up, took man hours away from the normal schedule.

The
re was also the havoc with rival gangs to deal with. If he didn’t end up with a dead biker due to a fight or an accident because the dummy didn’t wear a helmet, he’d really be lucky. It was too overwhelming since the department was shorthanded.

Corporal France entered his office, per request.
The detective observed the young man with appreciation. “You know I want you to take the detectives test?”

“Yes, you mentioned that once before,” France replied. “I have the paperwork at home.”

“Good. Take the test,” Martinez said, lounging back in his chair. “I need another detective—a
good
detective---and I want you. Like yesterday.”

“Thank you for your confidence, I appreciate it,” he said. “I take the test in a
nother week, so I can’t work for you yet, assuming I pass.”

“
You’ll pass. Maybe I can sneak you in sooner, request you at times. I really need your dedication and smarts.” Martinez truly admired the work France had done and appreciated his intelligence, both things he felt were lacking in some of his men.  “You were there for the discovery of that skull.”

“Yes
, sir.”

“They’re running
tests on it now. Probably nothing much to it. I hope, anyway.”

“How is it coming with the body at the Tavern?”

Martinez looked carefully at France. “Oh, yeah, that psychic is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“Was. I called it off since she’s was under suspicion.”

“Wise thing to do, especially with the detective’s test coming up. You don’t want anything to smudge your chances.” Martinez pulled open a drawer, rummaging around for a notepad. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she had anything to do with it.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t either.”

“We have determined that Perry had a long list of enemies, including employees. Once we finish interviewing potentials, we’ll be in better shape. Being shorthanded isn’t helping much in that process, though.”

“If I can help…”

“I’ll be sure to call you.” Martinez shot an encouraging smiled at the deputy.

~~

Ralph was re-distributing the torn up ground in front of the bookstore so it had a more presentable appearance. Chloe wanted him to start planting the flowers once he finished leveling the ground.

“Ralph.”

Hearing his name, he looked up from the ground, rake in hand. It was Chloe standing at the door.

“I was thinking, it would be nice to plant some bushes behind the bookstore. How about that, too? Interested?”

“Sure, Miss Chloe, anything you want, I’ll do.”

“I thought some azalea bushes would do nicely there, give a little color.”

“Whatever you want, just buy it and I’ll plant it,” he said. “But I need to get these poor plants in the ground first before they die. They’ve been waiting too long as it is.”

“Oh, of course, Ralph. Do those first.” She smiled at him, happy to have found a willing gardener.

“Now, you quit flirting with that man, Chloe, and let him work,” a female voice called out. It was Alex, returning from the post office. She smiled over her little joke. “You’ve got a hunk at home.”

“Don’t I know it, Alex,” Chloe responded. “So, what are you up to?”

“Not much. I’ve got too much time on my hands since I didn’t win the election. I was planning on diving into everything and now I haven’t got a pond to swim in.”

“You’re just full of wit today, Alex,” Ralph said. He
really didn’t care much for the woman, but he thought he should at least be polite.

“I hope you find something that interests you soon. Maybe the board will appoint you to replace the vacancy caused by Joe’s death?”
Chloe said.

“Maybe,” Alex said, shrugging. “Maybe.”

~~

Alexandra
Daniels was appointed the following night  to serve on the board. Many thought it was tacky to appoint her, in particular, since she had run such an adversarial race against Joe Schmidt, but Zach had expressed no interest in being considered.

Mud hadn’t been invented that was uglier until Alex had flung it at her fellow candidate. Surprisingly, Joe was the only candidate she had gone after with such venom. And now he was dead. Everyone suspected Alex had the
cajones to do bodily harm and wondered why the police hadn’t arrested her. But then, Zach could just as easily have been the culprit, for all anyone knew. He had served in Vietnam, and more likely than not, killed people.

No one had to stretch their imaginations far when it came to Zach. The Reverend Zachariah Taylor had been under suspicion when women were being raped and murdered who attended his church. But he had been found innocent after a stint in the county jail.
However, that menacing persona and his weird appearance often elicited suspicions.

But s
omeone had killed Joe Schmidt. Investigators were seen around Cassadaga frequently, interviewing neighbors, asking questions. Nightingale, for one, was not pleased with the recent murders and the slow progress the investigations were taking, especially that of Bradford Perry.

Nightingale felt her life was on hold and, currently ruined until they found the culprit who killed her ex-husband. Her readings had dropped, at best, to one a day. Eyes followed her everywhere she walked
within the community. Little minds were spinning inside their heads like a hamster in a cage, no doubt creating all sorts of possibilities. It was depressing to be alive.

While Nightingale may have questioned Brad’s tactics in business and his lack of understanding
, she had never wished him dead. Not even once. Frequently, little pangs of sadness would come upon her over his passing, even though they had been divorced for some time.

It wasn’t Nightingale’s nature to hate anyone. She loved people and truly enjoyed her occupation of helping people
. Brad’s killer couldn’t be found soon enough to suit Nightingale and clear her reputation.

Nightingale stepped outside her house, thinking she might relax if she went for a walk.
It was then that she spied the black cat, gawking at her from the same post as before. Did that cat ever move? How could it be at the very same location?

Dismissing the cat from her thoughts, she began to walk around the quaint community. As she approached the bookstore, Nightingale suddenly felt a searing pain knife through her left eye and into her brain.  She dropped to her knees
, holding her head between both hands. Wondering if she was having a stroke, Nightingale tried to rise. If she could make it to the bookstore, Chloe would help.

Wobbling on shaky legs, Nightingale managed to stand up.  She crept forward, slowly, inching along until her hand touched the front door. Barely able to turn the knob, she all but fell into the building from leaning on the door.

“Nightingale!” Chloe cried.

Running to her friend, she gathered Nightingale into her arms, trying to give her support. One of the customers
came quickly over to assist Chloe in getting Nightingale into one of the reading chairs. Nightingale fell back against the chair, breathless.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Tell me where you hurt?”

“My head,” Nightingale slurred out.

“I think she’s having a stroke,” the customer said. “Call an ambulance.”

Chloe ran for the phone while the customer got some water on a paper towel to apply to Nightingale’s face. The ambulance arrived in ten minutes, the EMTs scooping Nightingale up onto the gurney and wheeling her out to the vehicle. Off they went, leaving Chloe with her mouth gaping in horror.

Chloe called her backup employee, Heidi, begging her to come into work so she could go to the hospital. Heidi said she’d be there in fifteen minutes
and hung up. Chloe’s eyes filled with emotion.

Eleven

Nightingale’s head rolled around like a ball
, as if it wasn’t attached to her neck. She groaned in agony over the pain she felt and cried tears of remorse for anything she might have done to bring on this horrific karma.

People were fluttering around her like
curtains, shoving needles into her arms, applying cold compresses to her head. They drew blood, then ran off with the specimen. Unexpectedly, she saw a friendly face, Chloe, standing behind the action around her bed. She could see her at a distance, in  between the bodies circulating around.

“Chloe.” Nightingale whispered the name. “Chloe.”

And then it was gone.

The pain left her head as quickly as it had entered. It was just—gone. Nightingale looked at the doctor and attendants with wide eyes, mystified.

“It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?” a nurse asked.

“The pain. It’s gone. All gone. Nothing.”

The doctor took interest in her statement
. “Where does it hurt now?”

“Nowhere. It’s gone.”

“Gone? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“That can’t be,” a nurse said.

Nightingale didn’t feel she needed to explain further. The pain was gone.

“You don’t hurt anywhere?” the doctor asked.

“No.”

“I thought she’d had a stroke,” one nurse said.

“Me, too,” another nurse said.

“We’ll look at the blood work and know later,” the doctor said. “Take her to a room”

~~

Nightingale was lying in a hospital bed, Chloe at her side, when the doctor entered the room several hours later. He looked both grim and puzzled, she thought, reading into his thoughts.

“Nightingale, right?” he asked as he looked down at her chart.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Okay, it appears you’re just fine.”

Nightingale looked blankly at the doctor who was supposed to know so much about medicine.

“I thought I was having a stroke. The pain…”

“Yes, it did appear that way, but the tests don’t show anything like that.” The doctor stared into her face without blinking. “You seem to be just fine, in good health.”

“Then what was all that pain about?” Chloe butted into the conversation, realizing Nightingale was baffled.

“I have no explanation; perhaps a severe headache.” The doctor made the next statement with obvious reluctance. “Perimenopause, perhaps.”

“
Perimenopause? Aren’t I little young for that?” Nightingale asked, thinking,
I’m only thirty-two
.

“It can happen.”

“Okay,” Chloe interjected, “if that’s all it is, can she go home now?”

“I don’t see why not,” the doctor said. “As long as she’s not in pain, she should be just fine.”

“Great. I want to go home.” Nightingale was quite decisive about that issue.

“I’ll sign the papers right now,” the doctor said.

After he left the room, followed by the nurses, Chloe and Nightingale exchanged looks.

“What just happened?” Chloe asked.
“You were in dire pain. Now you’re fine.”

“I have a hunch,” Nightingale answered.

“What? Tell me.”

“I think some bitch put a curse on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I gave a reading to a young woman whose mother is a voodoo priestess. The mother didn’t want her to get a reading, so I think she’s trying to make me
suffer.” Nightingale pulled up the sheet closer to her chin. “As dumb as this is going to sound, there’s been a black cat watching the house—and me, ever since.”

“
Watching
you?”

“Yes. It’s always in the same place when I look out the window or go outside. It was there when I went for my walk and was struck with that incredible pain in my head.”

“You’ve never seen this cat before?”

“Never.”

“Is that what they call a familial spirit?” Chloe had never heard of an animal stalking a person.