his clients.
Lenore: Which means sometimes he books our gigs. And usually does a good job.
Brad: That's good to know, but how does this relate to séances?
Lee: Let's just say that Dave has a very eclectic group of friends.
Anna: To be fair, that does include us. Dave also tries his hand at song-writing every now and again too.
Brad: Oh, I see now he has a song-writing credit.
Belle: We do try to give credit where credit is due.
Brad: So is this really about a séance?
Lee: Yes.
Brad: So you believe in that kind of supernatural stuff?
Lenore: Whether or not we believe in the supernatural doesn't matter. We don't particularly care for someone profiting from another's grief.
Anna: And the song is sort of a lesson in watching what you wish for. Sure, maybe you want to talk to a long-dead relative, but what if they tell you something you don't want to know? Or tell someone else something you don't want other people to know?
Belle: If you had a relative who always told secrets, why should people change so much once they're dead?
Lee: Séances don't have all be reassurances that everything is, in fact, better, on the other side.
Lenore: Who wants to have a loved one tell them they've been consigned to the sixth level of Hell? Or that everything they believe about the afterlife is completely wrong?
Belle: And all that assumes the medium is real and isn't just some con-artist.
Brad: Wow. I think I understand why you picked such a hard key for a song with lyrics that would suggest a more pop tune.
Lee: I'm glad we could totally blow your mind.
Brad: [laughs] You really are making it hard for me to wrap my head around your music and your inspiration.
Lenore: It's not that complicated, really. You like the song, or you don't. It's just that easy.
The Flashback:
“Dave really gets it,” Leah said as Isabella steered them through Miami traffic. “He gets our music, and he gets the scene. And he gets that it's a lot better to be in Florida in April than August.”
“We really aren't going to have a lot of time to relax,” Isabella said.
“Oh, no, that's not true,” Nora said. “We've been super busy and here we are in Florida in April just after the Spring Break rush and before the summer rush. Aunt Claire and my cousins happen to be on a cruise this week, and asked me to house-sit for them for a few days. Oh, and did I mention they have a house right near a beach?”
“That's awesome,” Maryann squealed.
“What about our other jobs?” Isabella countered.
“I already checked on this with Dave,” Nora answered. “He knows what his dad booked for us. He says we're clear for a couple of days, but he does want to crash with us.”
“Doesn't his sister live here?”
“Yeah, but why would he want to stay with his sister's family when he could stay at the beach house? He says every time he visits his sister he's stuck babysitting her kids while she and his brother-in-law go out. He also says the kids are little hellions,” Nora said.
“That's fair,” Isabella agreed. “Will your aunt mind another person?”
“Nope. She's fine as long as we don't wreck the place. And there's plenty of room to store the gear.”
“Awesome,” Leah said.
The band was running slightly behind schedule so they headed directly to the site of that evening's show.
“Hey guys,” Dave said, greeting them. He was tall, pale, very near-sighted, and tended to wear a lot of black clothes, especially t-shirts with skulls on them. But he knew his father's business and he knew his father's clients. “I'm glad you're letting me crash with you while I'm here.”
“Not a problem. Just a way of thanking you for getting our music,” Nora said.
“Dad means well.”
“Oh, and he gets us jobs. Don't think we're not grateful,” Isabella said.
“I know. He's kind of clueless. I'd do more, but school just takes up a lot of time, even with as many online courses as I'm taking.”
“Say no more, Dave,” she said. “We're cool.”
“Um, also, there is something else.”
“Oh, no, here we go spoiling our nice vacation,” Leah muttered.
“I'll tell you guys more after the show, but I'll just say Vanessa is really concerned about some of her patients,” he said.
“Damn it Jim, we're musicians, not doctors!” Leah said.
Only Dave smiled. The other women rolled their eyes. “Well, I think once I explain what's going on, you'll see the problem. In the meantime, what can I help carry?”
The band played with extra energy that night knowing a long-overdue vacation was waiting for them after they finished. They dragged into Nora's aunt's beach house late at night or early in the morning.
The next day Nora found out that her aunt had thoughtfully left the refrigerator well-stocked, so she made breakfast for the group. Despite the late night, they were all laying out on the deck listening to the waves by mid-morning.
“I love my aunt,” Nora said. She was wearing a tiny lavender two-piece bikini, stylish and expensive sunglasses, and updating her social media on her tablet.
“I love your aunt too,” Leah agreed. She was wearing a bright green one-piece swimsuit, cheap sunglasses, and reading an Asimov story on her e-reader.
“I love having time off,” Maryann said. She was wearing a red one-piece and a wide-brimmed hat with an orange ribbon and almost comically oversized sunglasses. She was also sharing the shade of an umbrella with Isabella while she jotted down song lyrics in a notebook.
“I love having an agent that gets our music,” Isabella said. She was wearing a light blue modest two-piece bikini, practical sunglasses, and crunching the band's finances.
“And who doesn't get up until noon,” Nora added. “Which means it'll be another two hours before he bothers us with whatever he was getting at last night.”
“Just once I'd like to have a normal vacation,” Maryann sighed.
“Since when have we had a normal anything?” Leah asked.
Maryann kind of nodded. “Good point.”
The band had time to laze about on the deck, get in a swim in the ocean, clean up, and make lunch before Dave finally emerged.
Maryann was now sporting a pair of glasses with thick frames. “I don't get how you can keep wearing your contacts after that dunking in salt water,” she said.
Isabella shrugged. “I just rinsed them out and they're fine now. Oh, hey Dave.”
He was wearing all black and sunglasses indoors. His shirt had a picture of a skeleton in a cowboy hat at a poker table with two black aces and two black eights showing and an unknown hold card. “So, that was a good show,” he said in a low voice.
Nora, who knew where the medicine cabinet was, gave him some headache medicine and some water.
“Cheers,” he said, taking the medicine.
“It was a good show, and now we get a good break. Right?” Leah asked.
“Well, yeah, that. So you know my sister Vanessa, right?”
“She's the elderly care nurse?” Isabella answered.
“Yeah, that's her. So she's got a pretty nice job at a pretty upscale retirement community. Her patients are in pretty good shape, you know, for being old. They get out, they play sports, they do stuff. Most of them are all there, mentally.”
“Sounds like a good place,” Maryann said. “Good elderly care is hard to find.”
“It is. And usually there's no trouble except what you'd expect with old people. But Vanessa thinks something is going on. She says lots of them are suddenly interested in mediums and psychic phenomenon.”
“Well, they are pretty close to death themselves. Maybe they're just getting worried,” she replied.
“Yeah, I'd think the same thing too, but there's other stuff,” Dave said. “She says she's
noticed some of her patients are missing pieces of jewelry they've always had, but no one has reported any thefts or that they lost anything. She says they are usually right on top of that.”
“I suppose they accuse the nurses and other orderlies?” Nora said dryly.
“Yeah, sometimes, or other residents. Either way, it gets real ugly real fast. But it means Vanessa is always on the look-out for that kind of stuff, you know? She also says there are a couple of old ladies who are just not themselves. She says they've lost all their spunk and she's worried they're going to just up and die.”
“Does that really happen?” Leah asked.
He shrugged. “Vanessa swears she's seen some of her patients just lose the will to live, especially after their spouse of decades dies.”
“So what do you think is going on?” Isabella asked.
“Well, I think these old people got taken in by a con-artist pretending to be a medium. Except the missing jewelry makes me think some of those people are being blackmailed, you know? I mean, they've got great retirements if they're living in that kind of community, but they are on fixed incomes, and personal items are easier to turn into cash than trying to pull from a pension or stock portfolio. But then that makes me wonder if maybe the medium isn't pretending. Maybe there's someone else who can talk to spirits and is finding out all sorts of dark secrets on these poor people.”
They looked at him, stunned.
He took a drink of water. “But that's just a theory, you know?”
“So it's either a con-artist pretending to be a medium who's really good at cold-reading, a con-artist pretending to be a medium who's got one or more accomplices who are also private detectives...” Isabella said.
“So then she's hot-reading?”