Free Died Blonde by Nancy J. Cohen Page B

ceases in the near future.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Transformation occurs. To a higher plane of existence.”
    “You mean someone dies?”
    “Within months, but delay may be possible with the proper treatment.” She gripped Marla by the elbow. “Heed my words. I’m not a nut case. This is the message I’m receiving.”
    “It’s just your interpretation.” Perhaps Carolyn had left a ghostly residue. That might account for the fading aura Wilda visualized. But in the event her words held any truth, Marla considered what other questions to pose on her way to the exit.
    “Why did Carolyn go to the meter room that day?” she asked. “Were you able to gain any information from her staff?”
    “No, but that’s a good angle for you to work on.”
    Marla sidestepped an obelisk on the floor. “How could Carolyn afford to move in the first place? I thought her other salon wasn’t doing too well.”
    “She had her resources. Sometimes people can turn around their fortunes with the right attitude. Let me tell you a story about this man who came to see me.”
    Recognizing another lengthy tale about to begin, Marla raised a hand. “I really have to go. Thanks for your hospitality.” Her temples throbbed, and she longed for the comfort of her own home. An hour’s drive wouldn’t help her mood.
    “Wait, you have a headache. Let me relieve it.” Stepping forward, Wilda pressed her fingers to Marla’s brow.
    “It’s getting late,” Marla protested, strangely hesitant to move. Maybe she was just hungry. She felt oddly weak. “Do you feel anything? A sensation of warmth?” Marla stared at Wilda’s age-crinkled face. “Nothing.” “You’re not receptive.” Wilda regarded her knowingly. “It’s okay. Just remember to protect yourself. Absorbing too much negative energy will bring you down.”

Chapter Six
    “I can’t decide if Wilda is for real or not,” Marla said after describing the interview to Tally. Speeding down 1-595 in her Camry, she gripped the steering wheel. They were on their way to the bingo hall in Hollywood. By seven o’clock on Wednesday evening, most rush-hour congestion had cleared, although it mainly affected the opposite lanes. She couldn’t conceive of why anyone would move farther west, despite the prestige of a Weston address, when you’d commit to fighting bumper-to bumper lines crawling east every morning and the reverse every evening. Maybe she just wasn’t a commuter.
    Tally turned her blond head to gaze at Marla with wide blue eyes. “You don’t think Wilda is a true medium? Or is it that you don’t believe the soul lives on after death?”
    “It’s not a matter of what I believe. Why would Wilda say Carolyn wants me to find her murderer?”
    “Perhaps she did get a message from beyond.”
    Glancing at the rearview mirror, Marla grimaced. An edge of storm clouds marched from the west. She pressed the accelerator, hoping to beat the torrential tropical downpour. “Wilda claimed messages come through in symbols, not words. Telepathy is the means of transmission. So how do you think Wilda received this message, as an image of Carolyn’s dead body? And where did I come into the picture? Give me a break.”
    Tally’s eyebrows arched. She’d darkened them with pencil, her natural color being so light as to be almost invisible. “Carolyn knew you solved crimes. It’s possible she truly does want your help. Her soul will be doomed to wander until justice is served.”
    “Ha. Then what about those crimes that never get solved? Police files are full of cold cases.”
    Sadness altered her friend’s expression. “Let’s hope the victims find peace.”
    “Wilda said people who die suddenly can’t understand what happened to them. They may linger in the same spot for months, and a medium can pick up their negative energies. She advised me to protect myself. Maybe this was her oblique way of warning me against someone who is very much alive.”
    “Could