Chapter 3 -- 2/14/88, Healer's class activities--solving a murder, interest in Elvis

Chapter 3 has been fun to write!

Most of it came from my files. The interpretation of Sheila's Solar Return -- the astrological map of her upcoming year. The interpretation of the horary chart to answer Mary Lee's question, "Is Elvis really dead?" Introducing Mary Lee to the Healers Class, and telling them about her question. Discovering that several members of the class had questions about Elvis they would like to have answered. Learning that Mary Lee had been the president of one of Elvis' largest fan clubs in the Memphis area for years, and she was a walking encyclopedia on him.

Then we got down to the new project I had for the class. I had met a lady who said she was haunted by the murder of her best friend in 1972. No one was ever arrested for the crime, let alone prosecuted. Could I, and astrology, help her find out who did it?

I told her I had never tried to solve a murder case, but that I would take the problem to my Healer's class. We would work on it and see what we came up with, then we'd have her come to the class and talk to us.

Thanks to Bob at Bookman's

Thank you, Bob, for offering me the Elvis pop-up book for my research. Sorry it took me so long to get back to my posting. Going about like a snail with a broken tail totally interferred with my personal schedule.

Correcting a time frame

My granddaughter Nicole the communications major told me that I'd mentally calculated the wrong way in my last post when I said I was going back eighteen years to recall 1988. She's right. I needed to go back twenty-two years. I welcome all your comments or corrections.

I'm Back!

I wrote steadily for over a week, almost two, utilizing the method of closing my eyes, breathing deeply and once in a meditative state, projecting myself back eighteen years to the time before Sheila's and my joint birthday party given by Deborah.

Since I've never had total recall, there's no way I can swear that what I was experiencing in the meditative state was exactly what had happened. But I have watched my friend Rose, who is a hypnotherapist, take clients back down the river of time to an important occurrence so they can watch it like a movie, not having to experience any pain or suffering, and learn what it is from that time which is causing the client pain and/or distress now. So I told my subconscious mind that I needed to see the day before Deborah's party and focus on anything important that applied to this book The Faces of Love. Then, with what I had "remembered" in mind, I got the pertinent charts out of my files and proceeded to write an account of what happened.

You can see why I'm writing this as fiction, or what Nicole calls faction -- truth written as fiction. Lord knows I wouldn't want to have to prove, after eighteen years, the exact dialogue between people or the exact sequence of events. Except when I'm working from the class tapes.

Chapter One is all about me -- my thoughts and actions -- while preparing for the party and Sheila's Solar Return Reading. I worked hard on this and believe that I've captured the true essence of that period. Sheila tells me the secret to keeping readers turning the pages is to have interesting characters and keep the action moving at a good pace. That's why she gets to be my first reader after I get a decent amount written. Then Cathy Sullivan. Then Nicole. If it's good enough to get past those three, I probably won't need to be ashamed of it.

Cathy has been publishing mystery novels for about twenty-five years now, Sheila for ten. Nicole represents today's generation, who are forever texting each other on their cell phones. I don't really understand them and the way their minds work, but I would like for my book to appeal to them, too. Nothing like being ambitious.

The second chapter is the party, and believe me I've burned up the phone lines calling Deborah, Mary Lee and my friend Duncan to pick their brains about what they remember. I'd love to be able to ask Mama what her take on it was, since Duncan told me about an interesting conversation she had with him about Bill Stuart. Unfortunately, Mama has been dead for over five years now.

Anyway, I have a first draft of Chapter Two. The girls will probably need to help me quite a bit with that one.

I had just gotten a good start on Chapter Three when I slipped on the newspaper under the kitty litter pan and took a header into the bathtub. Didn't hurt my head any, but by ribs caught the edge of the tub. Ouch!! I've been creeping around here like a snail with a dislocated tail. This is the first day I've sat in front of the computer for any period of time, and my ribs are saying I've been here long enough.

The girls spoil me rotten. Sheila pops in to check on me at least once every day; Nicole has moved back in with me "for a while"; and Luz has come with her table and given me massages two or three times a week.

In spite of having been a Type-A personality all my life who wants everything done yesterday, I'm not going to push things now. My ribs need to heal at their own pace.

Market Research

"I had an idea earlier," Sheila said as she stroked the kitten. "I thought it would be fun to go to Bookman's and do a bit of market research."

"Besides she wanted to go to Bookman's anyway," Tony supplied.

"I've loved Bookman's for years!" Sheila protested.

"Me, too!" Nicole said.

"I think we all have," I said. "It goes back to the years I couldn't possibly afford to buy new books for Laura, the twins and myself. But how do you mean to do market research there?"

"First, we'll look to see how many books about Elvis they have. Then we'll ask how they're moving -- do they stay on the shelves a long time, or are they gone in the blink of an eye? Then we'll go look at the astrology and healing sections and repeat the process."

"That sounds like fun!" Nicoleburbled. "Let me get some shoes on. Who knows, Gramma, they may have some books about Elvis we've never heard about."

"But probably not any that Mary Lee hasn't heard about," Sheila said. "We should have thought of this while they were still here."

I chuckled. "Don't worry, she'll be happy to give her opinion on any we choose."

We were standing in front of the shelf where the books about Elvis were when Bob, the owner, came by from his office. He clapped Tony on the shoulder. "Do you know what a fortunate man you are to be out on the town with the three most gorgeous redheads in Tucson?"

"I do."

"So what can I help you with?"

"We're looking for Elvis books," Nicole piped up.

"You've come to the right place," Bob assured her. "We've even got 2 or 3 of the new ones by George Klein. He's one of the Memphis Mafia, but his book is about what a good friend Elvis was to him -- even paid for his wedding and was his best man. The book is written up in today's paper."

"I want one," Nicole said.

"We're doing a little market research, Sheila told him. "You don't have very many books about Elvis today. Is this normal? Or do they go out as fast as they come in?"

Bob looked astounded. "Are you writing a book about Elvis? I don't know what kind of mystery there could be about him now." Then his eyes sparkled. "Unless you can prove he's not dead. I remember when you went to Memphis about twenty years ago for the paper. Everybody was in a flap because they thought he'd come back."

Sheila pointed to me. "Auntie is the one who's writing the book."

"Really? Annabelle Lee, is that true."

I nodded.

"Well, I'll be damned. Sort of a . . . "An Astrologer Looks at Elvis" book, huh? I don't think anybody's done that yet. Let me know when it's due to come out. We'll handle signings for it."

"Here?" I asked. The store at Grant and Campbell was our neighborhood store.

"In all the stores. Famous hometown astrologer doing a book on Elvis. We ought to have them lined up all the way down the block."

"Oh, don't tell her that, Bob," Sheila admonished. "You'll scare her out of doing it. Believe me, we've been working on her for years to get her to write this."

Bob shook his head. "The Annabelle Lee I know is no ways near that shy. When she used to hold seminars here, she'd pack 'em in like sardines. They all loved her." He looked at me. "Haven't heard anything about you lately. Thought maybe you'd retired."

"So," Sheila pinned him down, "you think a book about Elvis would sell?"

"Absolutely."

"So what do you think, Auntie?" Tony asked as he escorted me to his white SUV with tinted windows.

"I think I'm being sandbagged again."

Nicole's New Job

We heard the front door open and close carefully, then murmured voices, one male one female, headed in our direction.

"You two look like you own the world, stretched out on the couches like that," Tony announced as he stood in front of my desk, decked out in tan corduroy jeans and the blue and tan tweed pullover sweater I'd knitted for him for Christmas quite a few years ago. It would probably never wear out since he wore casual clothes so seldom.

Sheila was a differnt matter. She, too, wore a hand-knitted sweater and jeans, but hers definitely showed signs of wear. "Can you believe it, our house is as quiet as a tomb. So we thought we'd come see what you guys were up to since your company has left." She stopped suddenly and stared at the kitten in Nicole's arms. "I thought he was Auntie's Christmas gift."

"He is. She'll have him all to herself when I go back to school."

"Hummn. So how was it, here with the Southern Belles?"

Nicole sat up and scooted over to make room for Sheila. Tony had already made himself comfortable in the wing chair to the side of my desk which gave him a commanding view of the rest of the room.

"Oh, I had a ball! There were so many of you guys poppping in and out. It was like living in a matriarchal society and having a whole tribe of mothers."

"But were they able to keep you in line?" Sheila asked as she stole the kitten.

"I sure didn't get away with much! There were eyes on me from every direction."

Tony smiled at the byplay between them. "So, Nikki, what's your schedule going to be like for next semester?"

"I'm definitely going to take one class, maybe two. My adviser's on my case about my thesis."

"What are you writing it on?"

"Don't know."

"That could definitely pose a problem." Tony's face broke out into the female-killing smile that had kept women of all ages at his feet since he was in his cradle. "How much of a stickler about staying within tried-and-true formats is he?"

"He is a dinosaur! I've had several good ideas, but he's shot 'em all down."

"Humn," Tony rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and supported his chin on his steepled fingers. "You've worked in my office quite a few times over the years, and seemed to enjoy it. Now, I need an investigator, a good, unorthodox one. I was going to ask you if you wanted the job."

Nicole's green eyes brightened. "Yeah! I love nosing around and finding out all kinds of stuff other people don't know."

"I've noticed that, and now I think I may have tweaked onto a solution to your thesis difficulty."

"What?"

"Auntie," Tony asked me, "would you be willing to help Nikki out now and then?"

"I usually am," I said drily.

"Good!" He sat up and rubbed his hands together. "How about I hire Nikki as my unorthodox investigator (we'll call her some kind of assistant), and you help her with the charts and astrological know how she'll need to do the job?"

"You want your own astrological investigator?" I was astonished. "What will your exteemed legal compatriots say about that?" I asked.

"Who cares? Besides, I wasn't planning on telling them. What they don't know they can't gossip about. I'm probably not telling you anything you don't know, Auntie, but it's perfectly fine for men to have hunches or gut instincts, whereas female intuition or astrology is usually not."

"I've noticed that," I agreed drily. "But how would it tie into Nicole's thesis?"

"What if she writes it on how astrology can be used to help solve cases? She could cite Susan's case and a few others -- with your permission -- and the use of pseudonyms. Do you think that would set the old dry stick on his ear?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Can I have the job, anyway, Tony? Whether he lets me use it as a basis for my thesis or not?"

"Consider yourself hired, kid. Come to the office and fill out the paperwork. Just remember that around the office, you're following hunches or gut instincts when you pursue directions the others wouldn't."

"Anthony Alemada, you are a sneak!" Sheila exclaimed.

Tony grinned at his wife. "You're just jealous because you didn't think of it first."

Not a lot has changed over the years about the relationship between these two astrological opposites.

Sheila made a face. "Would you take some of the questions to your classes, Auntie?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. It depends." I looked at Tony. He was grinning broadly from ear to ear.

"Look at him!" Sheila shook her head. "He's congratulating himself on tapping into your entire astrological network to power his secret weapon."

Winddown

Deborah, Mary Lee and Nicole all came down for breakfast Sunday morning about eight-thirty, because Nicole was afraid she might miss out on something.

"You took that cat to bed with you?" Deborah asked sternly.

"Sure. He just snuggled right under the covers with me. He's used to sleeping in a pile of kittens so he felt right at home. I didn't want to have to listen to him cry all night."

"So where do you plan to go next with the book?" Mary Lee asked.

"To the birthday party when I met you, I think."

"Was that when you asked Gramma to do an horary chart to see if Elvis was really dead?"

Mary Lee nodded.

"And then you could segue right into the class trying to solve Sunny's murder," Deborah agreed. "I had forgotten how shocked, and then impressed, Tony was by that until he mentioned it last night."

"Of course he would have been," Nicole put in, "since it eventually led to the discovery of Susan's killer."

"Not exactly," I corrected her. "What Sunny's case did was prove to us, and Tony, that astrology could be helpful in solving such a case. But there was a long way from that to actually being able to use it, and then get anyone in authority to pay attention to what we found."

"Boy, howdy, I remember that!" Deborah said. "That chief of detectives was so self-righteous he was lucky I didn't strangle him myself."

"Think how much worse it would have been if you'd been in Memphis -- squarely in the middle of the bible belt," Mary Lee reminded her cousin.

Nicole and I cleaned up the kitchen after the girls left for the airport, one to fly west and one east. Then with a sigh of relief we went in to relax in front of the fireplace; and that's where Tony and Sheila found us an hour or so later.