Double Take

people who called with an illness.”
    “You mean he gave them medical advice?” Wallace Tammerlane nodded. “I didn’t realize Dr. Ransom had a medical degree.”
    “He didn’t,” Julia said. “August said that sometimes he could hear a person’s voice and visualize what was happening in his body. Then he said he simply knew whether the person was very sick. He’d suggest medicines and treatments, or send the client to a doctor, but he often knew, he said, whether that was right for the patient.”
    Wallace Tammerlane said, “Yes, that’s it exactly. It’s the same with me, sometimes.”
    “So you’re saying, Mr. Tammerlane, that he might have missed a diagnosis and this led to his murder, for revenge?”
    “Perhaps.”
    Cheney said, “Did Dr. Ransom ever connect you to any of your dead relatives, Mr. Tammerlane?”
    “No, I never asked him to. Truth is, they’re a paltry lot, every single one of them except my grandfather. He robbed banks and died in his bed at the age of eighty-three. Why would I want to hear that they’re happy? Actually, I don’t much care if they’re happy or not.”
    Cheney said, “From what I understand, the psychic line always seems to be that all dead loved ones are at peace and happy, no matter what they did in life.”
    “Not necessarily,” Wallace said. “You have nine minutes, Agent Cheney.”
    “Do you think your wife Beatrice is at peace now, and happy?” If he’d shot him in the gut, Wallace Tammerlane couldn’t have been more shaken. He lurched forward, nearly falling. “How dare you say anything at all about my wife?”
    Julia rose quickly to go to him. “Agent Stone didn’t mean it to come out that harshly, Wallace. But he’s an FBI agent, and he’s got to question you about your wife’s death. Surely you understand.” Julia touched his arm, to calm him. “I know it came as a shock, but he’s only doing his job. Please tell him about Beatrice.”
    Wallace looked down at her thin white hand. His mouth was tight. “You’re saying, Julia, that August told you about that horrible time in Spain and you repeated it to Agent Stone?”
    “Yes, of course she told me,” Cheney said. “I told her it was critical that she tell me every single thing about all of you. Don’t blame her. Now, did August Ransom find proof you’d shoved your wife off that aqueduct in Segovia? Threaten to expose you?”
    Wallace shook off Julia’s hand, shoved away from the mantelpiece. “I won’t listen to this. Julia, how could you?”
    “I’m sorry, Wallace. Agent Stone, surely you’re not being fair.”
    Cheney shrugged, looked down at his fingernails.
    Wallace shouted, “That’s it! I want you to leave now, Agent Stone. Julia, you can stay, but not him. I’m going to call my lawyer, and yon can talk to him from now on.”
    Cheney said, “Tell me, Mr. Tammerlane. As a renowned psychic medium, do you ever speak to your dead wife?”

CHAPTER 27
    Wallace Tammerlane was breathing hard and fast; anger reddened his cheeks, nearly reached his eyes. Cheney waited patiently. Finally, Wallace drew in a deep breath. He got himself together. Julia held her breath, watching the man she’d always liked, a man she knew liked her and had honestly admired her husband. She’d never been certain if he was a legitimate psychic or simply a great showman, if he was also a legitimate medium or one of those despicable individuals who claimed to speak to your dead father and tore out your heart. When she’d asked August, he’d evaded her, said only that belief in someone was based on indefinable things, that we each had to decide for ourselves, which meant nothing. She touched his arm again.
    Wallace said finally, calmer now, at least on the surface, “No, I do not speak to my wife. I have never tried to speak to Beatrice. She killed herself, that is all. She was an unstable woman, on medications, which she many times forgot to take. Her suicide was the result. It was a horribly painful time for me, Agent Stone.”
    Cheney nodded. “Your real name is Actis Hollyrod?”
    “Yes. My parents were sadistic and insane to name me that. I had my name legally changed when I turned eighteen. I changed it to something more suited to my actual self.”
    “You knew your actual self at eighteen?”
    “Naturally. I knew I had a precious gift from the time I was seven years old, a gift that demanded I use it to help others, to provide healing and comfort to those in grief. I try to