Double Take - Catherine Coulter [55]
“Seems to me that keeping white clean would cost much more,” Cheney said. “How long has Ogden Poe been in your employ?”
Wallace Tammerlane shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe fifteen years. I don’t understand that question, Agent Stone. You will appreciate, as Julia already does, that my time isn’t my own. I have a client coming in twelve minutes. What can I do for you?”
“Tell me what you thought of Dr. August Ransom.”
“He was a great man, a compassionate man. He helped scores of people throughout his life.”
“You believe he was a legitimate medium?”
Wallace Tammerlane didn’t move a muscle. A faint sneer appeared. “This is an outrage, an insult. How can you ask such a thing? Haven’t you assured him of August’s integrity, Julia?”
“He’s a skeptic, Wallace, as everyone should be. No one should automatically buy what every psychic is selling.”
“Listen to me, Agent Stone, skeptic or not, August was one of the greatest psychic mediums of our time. Why, I cannot tell you how many grateful people he’s connected to loved ones who’ve passed over. He was revered by thousands. I admired him, respected him, as did everyone else I know.”
“Well, not exactly everyone, Wallace,” Julia said. “Someone murdered him, after all, and it wasn’t me.”
“Of course not, Julia, but I’m convinced, I’ve always been convinced, that his killer was an outsider, someone jealous of him, someone who took offense at one of his consultations, and this blighted individual held a grudge, wanted revenge.”
Cheney said, “Why would a person hold a grudge against him for telling them that their loved one was happy or content, or whatever they are in the ether?”
“You mock what you don’t understand, Agent Stone. Not unexpected, I suppose, given who and what you are. August also occasionally helped 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