Chapter 23

 

 

The evening had grown chilly, and Pen drove away from the Temple feeling exhilarated over what she had learned and too keyed up to immediately go home to sleep. She phoned Sandy and asked if the group would be up for a drink somewhere.

“O’Malley’s would be an easy detour for me,” Sandy said. “I’m just leaving the Mesa Community Center. I’ll call the others.”

Traffic was light and Pen arrived twenty minutes later. Amber, Sandy, and Gracie had already found a corner table, and Mary walked in a minute behind Pen. All agreed that the hot mulled wine sounded like an excellent choice. The server brought baked brie and a sliced baguette to go along with it.

“Quite interesting, the show—reading, séance—whatever you would call it. The technique became obvious to me, given that Mary had already told us about the existence of the earbuds.” She ran through the events, including the fact she’d actually spotted Sunshine’s communication device when she leaned in to speak to the woman in the next seat. “I felt sorry for her, this Anna. She clings to the hope that her deceased husband is out there somewhere and will speak with her.”

“Do you think she’s one of those who will pay extra to go back and learn more?” Sandy asked.

Pen nodded. “I fear so. Others were even more desperate. A woman who lost a child was sobbing and clinging to Sunshine’s arm when I left. I feel for them, and wanted to tell them none of it was real. But people need something … some shred of hope that a loved one is not really lost to them.”

“None of us really know, do we?” Gracie asked, cupping her mug of hot wine between her palms.

“We don’t. It’s just so sad when people like the Fordyces, who are very adept actors, instill a belief in innocent ones,” Pen said.

“And where those innocents have paid money to back it up,” Mary said. Her mouth was set in a firm line. No one asked, but Pen got the feeling Mary had personal experience along this line.

Pen patted her hand. “The money is the sad part. As I left, several of the attendees were hovering around Sunshine and I heard her hinting about the costs for private consultations. They’ll pay dearly and receive only whatever scripted lines Orion chooses to give them.” She let out a pent-up breath. “So—that’s my report, sad as it may be. Has anyone else found something more positive?”

Amber and Gracie exchanged a look.

“Not sure if this falls under good news or not,” Gracie said, “but Amber and I decided to look into the claims that the Moon Temple duo are building houses for poor people.”

“They show all these photos of happy people standing out in front of new homes, but where are they? Are they even for real?” Amber said. “So, I began digging through their website, parsing the exact words, and I came up with three houses I could match to a location. Then I used Google Earth to actually go there …”

She pulled out her phone and touched an app. Stretching the picture and playing with the angle of it, she showed a small house with white siding and blue trim.

“Supposedly this is one,” she said, clicking over to a different page in her browser. She showed it all around. “But, when Gracie went to the tax records for this town it turns out the house at that address has been there twenty years, and the same owner has been paying the property taxes on it the whole time.”

“I called the owner,” Gracie said. “They bought the house when it was a new subdivision. Gave me the name of the builder who did the whole neighborhood. They’ve never heard any of the names we know to be associated with the Fordyces.”

“Maybe it’s not the same house?” Mary asked.

“Or some quirk of misinformation,” Amber said. “So I checked the others. Similar stories. The pictures and addresses the Moon Temple folks claim match up, but the owners never heard of them and they certainly didn’t get a free house.”

Mary was drumming her nails on the table top. “So, if the money isn’t being used to build houses, where is it going?”

Amber got a gleam in her eye. “I’m working on that. And I will find out.”

Smiles all around. They knew she could do it.

Gracie yawned and Mary piped up. “Before we call it a night, I want to give a quick report on my findings at the shelter. Sandy and I took Amber’s list of the residents who were there all the times a theft happened. So far, we’ve only been able to question three of the six. One of the others was a victim—Micah—but I plan to get to the others soon. I’ll be going back there tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget our little party at my house on the twenty-third,” Pen said as they left the table. “Spouses, dates, others are included.”

They split up in the parking lot, but while the others got into their cars, Sandy pulled Pen aside.

“This is starting to look a lot more serious than I’d guessed,” she said, pulling the lapels of her sweater together against the chill breeze from the west. “I thought we were looking at a couple of hippies who talked all love-and-helpfulness and lived in an old bus, but it looks like some big money is changing hands and a lot of false claims have been made. Isn’t there something we can do about it? I feel awful for people like that lady, Anna.”

Pen looked thoughtful as she fingered her keyring. “I agree. I’m not sure what laws they’re breaking, especially if people are willingly handing over their money.”

“A good case for fraud, I’m thinking, and that’s just for starters. What about tax evasion? Any bets on how much of that money is being reported to the IRS?”

Pen nodded. “I shall talk to Benton. He’s not in the District Attorney’s office any longer, but he’s been a wealth of information in the past. And I owe him a dinner.” She winked at Sandy. “I shall report.”