The Celebutantes (10 page)

“You're right,” Lex said. “He seemed a little too interested in her. And now that I'm thinking about it—Poppy left the luncheon after Madison yelled at her, and she never came back. Where did she go? What did she do? She could have gone
anywhere
in that hotel.”

Madison made no attempt to hide the anger contorting her face. “Anywhere,” she repeated in a whisper. “Even to the penthouse.”

8

The Psychic and the Celebs

P
oppy van Lulu opened her apartment door with a whoosh. She cut Madison, Park, and Lex her coldest stare and said, “When the doorman told me it was
you three,
I almost asked him to send you away.”

Madison opened her mouth to speak. Or, more precisely, to say something harsh.

Park knew this, so she immediately stepped in front of Madison and smiled at Poppy. “We didn't mean to offend you today at the luncheon,” she said brightly. “And if we did, we apologize.”

Poppy regarded her with suspicion. “Well, it's nice to know that, dear. But I'm not sure I believe you.”

Park kept the smile in place. “Mrs. van Lulu, you've known our father for years. My sisters and I have never been disrespectful toward you. We're all just very upset, and we'd like to speak with you. May we please come in?”

With a defiant little shrug, Poppy waved them inside. She was dressed in a bloodred nightdress that draped down to her ankles and accentuated the pale boniness of her frame. Matching high-heeled slippers encased her feet. It was still early, but it looked as though she had readied herself for bed.

The duplex apartment overlooked Central Park. Light spilled through the living room windows, illuminating the gleaming hardwood floors and the tall bookcases. The chintz sofa was plush. Several original paintings hung on the walls behind protective glass casings. Marble statues of Greek goddesses stood on pedestals like guards. The apartment was eccentric and opulent. Just like Poppy.

“This place is totally sweet!” Lex commented, letting her eyes sweep across the expansive room.

“Thank you,” Poppy said quietly. “I decorated it myself.”

“That's a Chagall.” Madison pointed to one of the paintings. Her jaw nearly dropped. “He's one of my favorite artists, but his originals are nearly impossible to get. I've…I've never seen one so close up.” She walked to it and studied it, her eyes glazing over. Then she studied the next painting on the wall. “That's a Stefan Luchian! Oh—it's such an amazing landscape! How did you find that?”

“It's nice to know you have good taste when it comes to art, dear.” Poppy walked to the bar and poured herself a glass of pomegranate juice. “I've traveled all around the world buying exceptional art. I'm impressed that you noticed the Luchian—most people don't. I knew there were brains behind that rather rude and testy attitude of yours.”

Madison blanched. She hadn't expected such outright hostility, but thinking about it now, she couldn't blame Poppy for completely disliking her. She
had
been a wee bit rough on the old woman.

“I love the statue of Persephone,” Park said. “She's my favorite Greek goddess.”

“And a powerful goddess, at that.” Poppy sipped from her glass. “I often summon her when I'm meditating. She tells me things, you know.”

“Speaking of you being told things…” Madison cleared her throat and assumed her no-nonsense posture. She was still angry, and she wanted to say something like
How the hell did a psycho like you know about what was going to happen today?
But instead of letting the words shoot out, she pursed her lips and stared at Park, giving her the green light to work her investigatory magic.

Park understood the look perfectly. She was a master when it came to interrogating people. There wasn't an FBI agent or cop out there who could do it better, and any good detective knew that information was the most important thing when it came to solving a case. Even a case as seemingly open-and-shut as this one. She dropped her purse onto a nearby chair and sat down on the couch, crossing her legs and leaning back to impart a relaxed demeanor.

“I know why you girls are here,” Poppy said coldly. “I'm not stupid. I'm not some crazy old lady. You all want to know how I knew someone was going to die at that hotel today.”

“Well…yeah,” Lex answered bluntly.

Poppy stared down at the floor. “I don't blame you for wanting to know, but I can tell you right now that there isn't an easy explanation. And the last thing I want is more publicity—cops asking me questions, reporters at my door. I didn't know Elijah Traymore, and I'm very sorry he's been killed, but I can't tell you anything else.”

“My best friend has been charged with killing Elijah,” Madison said. “And I know she couldn't have done it. If you know anything that could help us, Mrs. van Lulu, we'd appreciate it. Or maybe you could just explain…”

Poppy shot her another cold stare. “Psychic phenomena can't be explained—they can only be experienced.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Park replied evenly. She hadn't expected to say those words, but she knew there would be only one way to get around Poppy. They would have to psych her out. “You know, Mrs. van Lulu, that young women like us have to be very careful when we speak about certain things or go to certain places. People are always following us, snapping our pictures and stuff like that. A simple act like buying a book can end up in the gossip columns for us. And that's exactly why we don't talk about our own personal beliefs when it comes to psychic phenomena. You know how mean people can be.”

Poppy nodded. “Of course, dear. I've dealt with that all my life. When I divorced my husband, everyone said I'd only get one hundred and fifty million, but I knew better. I had already seen my settlement in a vision, and when I said publicly that I'd be receiving
two
hundred and fifty million, people said such awful things about me.”

“And that must have been terribly difficult.” Park folded her hands in her lap. “But believe it or not, my sisters and I know exactly what that feels like. That's why we know we can trust you.”

“Trust me?” Poppy set down her drink. “With what?”

“With a little confession,” Park replied. “We believe completely in psychic phenomena. In fact, we've had several otherworldly experiences ourselves.”

“Do you…do you mean that?” Poppy asked in a whisper. “You're not just saying that to fool me, are you?”

Park smiled even though she felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. It wasn't nice to take advantage of old people. It was even meaner when an old person exhibited early signs of dementia. She was sure Poppy van Lulu didn't get psychic vibrations from anywhere but the new fillings in her teeth, but playing along seemed easier than having to explain another side of the story. “Of course we're not trying to fool you,” she said. “Madison and Lex and I don't like talking about it, but we know how gifted you are. And we know all about visions and energy and premonitions.”

Poppy gasped. “I
knew
there was something different about you girls. I've always known it. Since the day you were born. I can feel it now too. Right now. Your collective energy is…different. Stronger than most people's.”

Lex walked to Madison's side. She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

“That's very true,” Park said. “In fact, Lex has very strong psychic powers. She doesn't like talking about them, but she's simply amazing. She happens to be a fashion psychic, and she's got it down to a science.”

Poppy whirled around, her mouth open. “Really?” she asked excitedly. “Tell me, Lex—what is it you can do? A fashion psychic? I promise I won't spill the diamonds.”

Lex's eyes went wide with shock and she swallowed hard. The spotlight had fallen on her unexpectedly, but she knew she had to play along. She didn't want her uncertainty showing, so she nodded quickly and said, “Oh, yeah. Totally. I'm like…extremely psychic.”

“How?” Poppy asked, her excitement growing. “Oh, please tell me. I'm so glad to hear that you girls don't think I'm a complete nut.”

“Yes,” Madison said with a smirk, “tell Poppy about your otherworldly adventures, dear.”

Lex cleared her throat nervously. She
hated
being put in this position. She was good at faking excuses for not doing her homework, but the nuns at St. Cecilia's Prep were easy to handle. This was new territory. “Well,” she began, “it's…I…It came to me suddenly when I was designing one day a couple of years ago. It all has to do with certain…” Her voice trailed off as she opened the magic purse and started rummaging through it. She spotted her trusty tape measure and held it up. “Measurements!” she said. “It all has to do with measurements. You see, when I'm measuring someone for an original piece, I get very intense psychic vibrations. The numbers tell me things I wouldn't know otherwise.” She held the tape measure up and gave it a wiggle.

“Fascinating,” Poppy whispered. “Do you astral-travel?”

“I only travel by private jet,” Lex answered automatically. Only when she felt Madison jab her in the side did she realize her faux pas. “Oh! You mean…
astral
travel. Like, leaving my body while in meditation. Yes, sometimes I do. I've…I've uncovered some of the best sample sales an ocean away while astral traveling.”

Poppy was nodding as she absorbed that bit of information. She didn't look as though she disbelieved the strange claims. In fact, she looked more relaxed than she had a few minutes ago. More trusting. Less defensive.

It was exactly what Park wanted to see. She inched her way to the edge of her seat. “Tell me, Mrs. van Lulu…was that how you knew Elijah Traymore was going to die today—through astral travel?”

Poppy turned around. “I…I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “But I don't want to talk about that. It's still much too shocking to me. I
knew
I should have just gone to the police when I had my premonition—but the police don't bother with me anymore.”

Park knew from experience to stay quiet.

Nearly a minute later, Poppy walked to one of the windows and stared down at the treetops of Central Park. “I saw a body plunging through the air,” she said gravely, wringing her hands. “I knew death was in that room today. And I
can't
talk about it. Not now. I'm sorry. I—”

“I understand,” Park cut in gently. Then she motioned with her thumb for Lex and Madison to join the mission.

Taking a deep breath, Lex pranced across the room to Poppy's side. “Here,” she said, “let me show you what I can do. It'll relax you.” She pulled one end of the tape measure out, striking an over-the-top pose as she did so: both arms outstretched, her right hip jutting out. “I'm already feeling your energy.”

Poppy gasped. She froze and quickly forgot her train of thought.

Playing along, Madison opened the magic purse and pulled from it a long white silk scarf. She wrapped it around Lex's head three times, creating a fashionable little turban. “Is it me?” she asked dramatically. “Or did the room just get colder?”

“A temperature drop,” Poppy said. “The first sign of a spirit presence.”

Lex snapped out of the pose and circled Poppy twice. Then she flicked the tape measure like a whip, the sound reverberating through the living room.

“The spirits are churning,” Park commented from her place on the couch.

Lex pressed one end of the tape measure against Poppy's forehead and then drew it down along the length of her body. “Seventy-three inches,” she whispered. “In fashion numerology, seventy-three is the number of power and knowledge. That means you know intuitively how to choose your battles
and
your outfits.”

Poppy nodded and closed her eyes.

“Tell me,” Park said, “when you had that vision of the body plunging through the air, did you know it was Elijah?”

“No,” Poppy answered right away. “I only saw a figure…a form. Nothing else.”

“What did you think of Elijah Traymore?”

“A nice young man,” Poppy said quietly, distractedly.

Lex flicked the tape measure again; this time, she wrapped it around Poppy's waist. “Twenty-four,” she said. “The number of steps it takes to get to the middle of a standard runway at Bryant Park. You know the path you're walking on right now is very dangerous. You also had a secret desire to be a model many years ago.”

“Oh, yes! I did!” Poppy smiled. “When I was younger, I used to practice walking as if I were in a show.”

Park stood up. She liked what she was seeing. Poppy was loosening up, letting her guard down. Now it was time to up the ante. “What else do you think about Elijah? His personality.”

“Smart, intuitive. He believed in ghosts,” Poppy murmured.

“He did?” Park kept her voice even. “How do you know that?”

Poppy's lips twitched. “I…I'm feeling light-headed. I think I need to sit down.”

Madison quickly placed her hands on Poppy's shoulders to keep her in place. She knew better than to let the act disintegrate. After all, how many chances would they get to psych out a crazy psychic?

“Did you know you have very circular shoulders?” Lex continued. “They measure sixteen inches across. Sixteen is the number of secrets. I can tell you have a few secrets floating around.”

“No,” Poppy said. “I…don't….”

“Maybe Elijah told you he believed in ghosts?” Park offered. “It wouldn't surprise me to hear that. Did you know he wore a pentacle around his neck? A five-pointed star held in a circle.”

“The symbol of modern-day Wicca,” Madison added, prying for more information. “You must know all about that, Mrs. van Lulu.”

Poppy gulped. “I…no. He didn't say anything to me.”

Impossible,
Lex thought. She couldn't imagine the self-important and dramatic Elijah not talking about his connections to the occult. She wrapped the tape measure around Poppy's head. “A perfect twelve. That's the number of truth. There's something important you really want to say.”

“What did he tell you?” Park asked pointedly. “Why did he believe in ghosts?”