Part 1 of 7
It's a cool autumn night, mid-October, and Camille can't sleep. Again. And for the usual reason. Him. Again.
So she throws on an old T, pops a bowl of popcorn, smothers it in hot sauce (the only spicy thing in her life at the moment, more's the pity), and finds an old black and white movie on TV, 'Something something Appelant les Esprits'. It's incredibly bad and she laughs at the absurdity of anyone holding a séance in a haunted prison where executions took place… when an equally absurd idea pops into her sleep (and male) deprived mind.
Her eyes widen as she draws her feet up and hugs her knees. No! I can't! He'll go ballistic! He'll rant and stamp his heels and refuse! He'll shout and wave his hands and accuse me of being too French and… and… She giggles at the idea of an aroused and irate Richard Poole pushed to the brink of his British manners. Oh, the image is irresistible!
She rushes to her kitchen, grabs up the phone book, and checks. Yep, there's several listings, this being Sainte-Marie and all. 'Zeta Akande, medium, reader of palms and tea-leaves, and spirit guide for private séances' is listed twice, once under 'Medium' and again under 'Spirit Guide'. Such business acumen should be rewarded, she thinks, and calls to leave a message.
First thing next morning, she gets a reply. When Ms. Akande asks her where the gig will play, Camille bites her lip. Good question! The station? No, he'll absolutely forbid that and he'd have a valid point. La Kaz? No, too public and he'd never attend even with the lure of all the tea in China. His little beach shack? No, that's pushing the prank too far. Her eyes rove about then fall onto her little kitchen table, just right for 5 people because… of course… Fidel and Dwayne must be in on this lark too.
The date and time is set… October 31st at 9pm… allowing 30 minutes to convince Richard to stay and sit down, another 10 minutes to convince him to hold hands, 20 minutes of blah blah blah nonsense from 'the other side', then however long she can cajole him to stay after everyone else leaves… so that something promising might happen and… and perhaps more…
She pulls a note pad towards herself and jots a reminder to tidy her room and buy new sheets.
And she is right… it takes a lot of wheedling to get Richard to agree to attend. First she has to get him to admit he has no plans for that night and that Trick or Treaters never visit his home. Next she enlists the help of Dwayne and Fidel to wheedle on her behalf.
"C'mon, Chief," Dwayne asserts, "I dated Zeta's sister, Xena, an' the whole fam'ly sez she's got real talent fer this kinda thing."
Richard fumes, "Dwayne, is there ANY one on this island you haven't dated?"
Dwayne grins. "Sure they is, that's why I need t' sit with Zeta an' find out who they are."
Richard's ire is deflected by Fidel speaking up. "And I have questions about whether it's a good time to try for Sergeant and if I need to buy a house soon for a new baby." This announcement immediately leads to a 3-way discussion among the men until Camille steps in to say the fee is already paid and a true gentleman never reneges on a promise.
Richard knows that last remark is directed at him. "I never promised anything of the kind!"
She wags a finger at him. "Oh, yes you did! Don't you remember that dinner we attended a few months ago for the Sainte-Marie Small Business Association? You told the Chairwoman that you upheld the right of people to make something of themselves using whatever skills they possessed! You even donated to their 'Support for Improvement' fund."
He crosses his arms crossly. "That was in support of professional skills, not scammery."
She crosses her arms right back at him. "Ms. Akande lives in a tiny little house with her blind grandmother and deaf great-aunt. She fosters orphan goats and volunteers at the senior centre, the daycare, and the soup kitchen. She sews and knits and takes in washing. The LEAST you can do is…"
He frowns massively and throws up both hands. "The least I can do is say 'Yes' and end this pointless argument. You are determined I shall attend and so I shall… but under duress."
She nods smugly. "D'accord," and turns away.
He holds up a bossy finger. "But only for an hour, yeah? I have important things to do…"
She flips an insouciant hand over her shoulder. "Yes, yes, yes, important things like sitting all alone as night falls, listening to the ocean and the wind and the silence of your house."
His finger slowly folds back down and he looks betrayed… and found out. Then he stiffens and harrumphs. An Englishman's home is his castle… even if that castle is empty and lonely. He shakes his head. It's not empty, I've got Harry. Then he looks thoughtful. I've never been to Camille's. Far be it for me to be curious about her home life… but maybe I could stay for a cup of tea afterwards… and maybe she'd like to sit and talk… and maybe…maybe… um…
And so they both go to their desks with hopes for a possible romantic moment pending, if all goes well, if the séance is brief, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
October 31, 9pm
Everyone arrives promptly and takes their places at Camille's freshly polished kitchen table. The officers are still in uniform with utility belts as they have just closed up the station, Richard is in his version of leisure wear (no tie, one button undone, suit jacket folded over his arm), and Camille is wearing her best shorts and a crisp blouse with one button also undone (so far).
Dwayne is eager to learn about future ladies, Fidel hopes to learn about family and promotion, and Richard is predictably grumpy, his bottom lip as stiff as anyone has ever seen it. Camille hopes to have the whole farce over with as soon as possible so she can spend the rest of the evening soothing Richard's ruffled feathers and maybe steering him into a much to be desired conversation about what really interests her – their future together.
Zeta sets up fat white candles and a brass spirit-bell. She starts to light a dozen incense sticks but is prevented from doing so by a clipped remark that suffocating wasn't in the agreement so only one tiny curl of scented smoke is allowed to waft upwards into the dimly lit room.
The stage set, Zeta takes a deep breath and holds out her hands to Fidel and Dwayne on either side of her. "Join hands t' make a circle of protection an' power. Our combined life force will draw the spirits t' us." Then she settles back into her chair and closes her eyes. "I never done a cop séance afore, this should be interestin'."
Richard looks ready to argue but is forestalled by Dwayne grabbing his left hand while Camille captures his right. He jerks in surprise then looks to her cautiously. She gives a side-glance which he misinterprets as unease about the séance. He gallantly gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, not at all macho, just enough to tell her that she doesn't need to be nervous as he is present, all is well, and it's just mumbo jumbo after all.
His gesture does nothing to convey assurance about the séance and everything to raise her hopes for the 'after everyone else leaves' scenario. Maybe he likes the candles, she thinks and starts making plans for later and where does she have candles stashed in a drawer somewhere?
"Spirits," Zeta suddenly calls out, making everyone start in their seats, "I call any spirit who cannot rest due t' injustice. I have an entire police team here waitin' fer whoever needs help in rightin' past wrongs. Our police chief is a magic man an' he finds ne'er-do-wells easy!"
Richard frowns, eyeing his team. "What's this?" he hisses, "Who told her I'm interested in cold cases? I solved the mystery of the missing plantation slaves, isn't that enough?"
"Not me, Chief," Dwayne mutters, never taking his eyes off Zeta's slackening face.
"Me neither," Fidel is quick to add, watching Zeta begin to sway in her chair.
"No one needs to tell anyone anything!" Camille huffs, "The whole island knows about you and your amazing skills of finding the bad men…"
"Or women," Richard interjects stubbornly.
Camille nods. "Right, right, or women, and…"
The argument is just picking up steam when Zeta groans and slumps sideways. If she hadn't been holding hands with the men, she would've fallen to the floor. Fidel and Dwayne both jump in reaction and help her back into her seat, somewhat hampered by her death-grip on their hands. As she rouses to sludgy awareness, she slurs, "Don' break the circle. Somethin's comin'… somethin' dark an' smoky… somethin' I've never felt afore…"
"Who is it?" Fidel asks in a hushed voice.
"WHAT is it?" Dwayne growls, eyes darting about the room which doesn't exactly look like Camille's kitchen anymore. The walls seem to have taken a step back.
Richard asks, "If there's a spirit, why is the bell silent?" Everyone looks to the bell. It's jittering silently as if afraid to make a sound. Four pairs of eyes flash in silent question… What's happening? Are you doing that? Not me! Is it you? Stop it! What's happening?
END – part 1