The Soup Seer

Written by Nisha Wadhwa

Cassie took a satisfying whiff of the aroma of garlic gently spreading out of the big pot. The warm green colour, the creamy texture and the crisp flavour of freshly ground pepper, added just before serving, made her Green Goddess Soup a bestseller.

The oven dinged, signalling that the last loaf of bread for the afternoon was ready.

Cassie smiled, finished her prep for the day and turned the sign for Soup For The Soul to OPEN. Her best friend, neighbour and partner, Glinda, had finished wiping and arranging the tables and chairs.

Cassie placed the whiteboard near the glass display. Written in easily legible calligraphy were the day’s offerings: Green Goddess and Memories of Thailand. The latter was a variation of the mouth watering Thai Coconut Chicken Soup. Cassie made sure to add a brief description of the menu items right below their names.

Glinda craned her neck to get a view of the street. Soup For The Soul was situated just off the Commercial Street in their little town. Murphy Street was equally charming, lined with small boutiques, shops that sold handmade jewellery, tea and chocolates. On the other end of the street, far from the aromas of Soup For The Soul, was Bertie’s handmade soap shop. Bertie was Glinda’s husband.

“You better go inside, Cassie,” said Glinda. “A customer is walking down.”

“Mr. Curry, is it?” Cassie asked her friend.

Glinda turned around. “I thought you aren’t supposed to see the customers! It’s going to influence what you see about them!”

“Glinda,” Cassie sighed. “Old Mr. Curry has been the first customer of our restaurant for the last six years!”

“Git!” Glinda waved her arms frantically towards the kitchen. She adjusted her dress and got ready to greet the balding man with bushy eyebrows.

Cassie thought of herself as a Soup seer. It was a strange phenomenon that had started when she was six years old. She had loved watching her grandma cook. On that particular evening, she had insisted on helping her grandma. Resigned, her grandma had assigned little Cassie the task of stirring the soup that was boiling on the stove.

Cassie stood on her small stool and stirred the soup with a lot of vigour.

“Calm down child,” her grandma chided her. “You must be gentle with soup.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

Cassie moved the ladle in slow circles, mesmerized by the green shade of the broccoli that was boiling steadily on the stove. It was then that the circles turned into an image.

“Grandma, it’s Mum.”

“What? Where?”

As far as she knew, Cassie’s mother would be in the bus, on the way home. Unless the bus was early, Meredith wouldn’t be home for another thirty minutes.

“In the pot!” squealed Cassie.

Confused, the old woman peered into the pot.

“Look, she’s kissing a man!” Cassie was excited. Then, she frowned. “She’s kissing a man who is not Dad.”

Cassie’s shoulders slumped. She stepped down from her stool. “Dad is never coming back, is he?”

Meanwhile, the old woman had brought out her monocle to make sure the soup hadn’t been contaminated or spoiled. Flustered, she turned her attention to Cassie.

Although Cassie insisted she hadn’t imagined the scene where Mum was kissing a stranger, her grandma reprimanded her for having such atrocious thoughts at her age. She made her promise she would never speak of it again.

Four months later, Meredith announced she had fallen in love with a man. Elliot was looking forward to meeting Cassie.

Elliot turned out to be a kind, albeit boring man. He was happy to live with Meredith’s family. Soon, Grandma was making soup for four.

“Cassie,” Grandma said one autumn evening, “Why don’t you stir this pumpkin soup and tell me if you see anything?”

Cassie’s eyes turned wide with astonishment. “But Grandma…”

“Go on, child. Tell me what you see.”

Cassie stirred the soup and peered in. She stepped down from her stool and started crying.

“What’s the matter, Cassie?” Grandma was worried. Had Cassie seen her casket?

“Mum…” Cassie sniffled. “I think Mum is in trouble.”

“Heh? Meredith? What did you see?” Grandma couldn’t stand the thought of her daughter having to go through another divorce. Elliot had seemed like a nice enough man.

“Her stomach is big, like a beach ball!” Cassie wailed. “Is she going to die, grandma?”

One year later, her younger brother, Daniel, was born.

Mr. Curry was a regular customer who lived the mundane life of a retired widower. There were hardly any days when the soup showed her an image pertaining to Mr. Curry. Cassie valued him, nonetheless. She valued all her customers. Having a regular visit her every day helped her prepare for the images that might appear for other customers.

Cassie didn’t see images every single time she stirred soup. There were times when an image wouldn’t appear for a week. Most of the images that appeared were mundane. A child squealing merrily on a swing, a woman receiving a letter, a man holding the keys to a new car… The worst image soup had produced so far was an elderly lady lying at the bottom of the stairs. Miss Wellington now used a wheelchair to commute.

It was nearly closing time when the spinach soup produced an image for Cassie. It was one of little Tommy accepting an envelope. He looked excited. Cassie went out.

Tommy was immersed in a book while his mother sat, waiting for her order.

“Ah, Cassie!” said Joanna. “You’ve brought the soup! I’m sure there’s a titbit from your intuition for me?”

The only people who knew Cassie saw images in soup were her family, Glinda and Bertie. Everyone else simply believed Cassie was a gifted psychic.

Cassie glanced at Tommy. She noted the book that had Tommy’s attention was a sketchpad.

“Likes sketching, does he?” she said.

Tommy looked up.

“Hello, Mrs. Dudley,” he said to Cassie. “There’s an interschool painting competition I’ve enrolled in. The winner gets two tickets to Happy Town!”

Happy Town was an amusement park.

“He’s been wanting to visit Happy Town for months!” Joanna looked at Cassie hopefully.

“I’m sure you will do well in the competition, Tommy!” She ruffled his hair. To Joanna, “You might get to visit Happy Town soon.” She winked.

Joanna smiled and thanked Cassie.

Cassie was checking the quantity of bread she had baked that morning when Glinda placed the order slip for an egg drop soup that was named Good Ol’ Eggstasy. Cassie picked up the ladle and stirred the soup gently. An image started to appear.

Cassie gasped in horror. She almost dropped the ladle in the soup and managed to grip it at the last moment. She peered into the pot.

She saw the image of a man, who she had never seen before, holding a knife. His hand was raised and he seemed to be attacking a woman, who Cassie didn’t recognize either.

Stricken with shock, Cassie stepped back.

“Cassie?” Glinda called from the serving hatch.

Cassie seemed to be hyperventilating. Alarmed, Glinda rushed into the kitchen.

“Cassie! What happened?” asked Glinda.

“Glinda!” Cassie’s eyes were filled with terror. “I think I’ve witnessed a murder!”

Cassie was in no state to serve the customer so Glinda went ahead instead. They couldn’t possibly tell a woman they’d never seen before that she was about to die!

Glinda tried to make small talk with the elegant looking woman dressed in red. Her hair was done up in an old-fashioned do that reminded Glinda of her mother.

Cassie watched the interaction from the serving hatchet. At least, the woman wasn’t wearing the blue dress that she had been wearing in the soup.

The woman was polite but not forthcoming. She seemed to be in a hurry. She quickly finished her soup, wrapped the bread in a paper napkin, paid and left. Glinda couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

She sat with Cassie at one of the tables after they had closed down.

“Who could she be?” Glinda wondered aloud.

“How would I know!” Cassie cried. “Did you see anything notable about her?”

“Well, she reminded me of Mum when she was young. Young Mum.”

The bell at the door chimed before Cassie could respond. It was Bertie.

“Hey, Glindi! Cassie!” Bertie, who seemed to be in a good mood, carried a paper bag. He was tall and hefty. His grey hair was thinning and his pullover sweater was a snug fit around his middle.

He paused and studied the women for a moment. Glinda looked paler than Cassie. He decided to address his wife.

“What’s the matter, Glindi? Seen a ghost?” he snickered. “I’ve been waiting to say that all my life!”

Cassie and Glinda exchanged a glance.

“A ghost is what we will have if we don’t do something!” Glinda shrieked.

“Oye, oye, oye!” Bertie pulled a chair from the next table and sat next to Glinda. He set the paper bag on the table.

He extracted a pastry box from the paper bag and opened it. He handed a freshly baked mini tart each to Glinda and Cassie. He bit into another.

“What’s all this bosh about ghosts?” Bertie wanted to know.

Cassie and Glinda told him.

“Eh?” Bertie placed his half eaten tart on a paper napkin. “You two feel responsible for a woman you don’t know who is about to be killed by a man you don’t recognize? How does one un-bake a pudding like that?”

“Maybe we can try finding her?” Cassie suggested.

“Do you have a phone number?” Bertie asked.

“We don’t even know her name.” Glinda gulped.

“Well, do you have the receipt you made out for her? Perhaps the credit card company can help us?”

“She paid by cash!”

“I can’t possibly let a woman die!” Cassie cried real tears.

“Cassie, dear,” said Glinda. “How can we save a person we don’t even know how to reach?”

“Say, Cassie. When was the last time you visited Dr. Hollyhock?”

Cassie looked at Bertie in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, I was thinking this is the second premonition you’ve seen in the last three months. Perhaps it’s more of a warning to you?”

“Bertrand!” Glinda chided.

“I’m just saying…” He saw the look on his wife’s face, picked up his half eaten tart and popped it in his mouth.

“Bertie might have a point,” Glinda suggested reluctantly. “Could your health be messing with your head? I mean your sight?”

“I’m telling you I saw a man threatening that woman with a knife! We can’t just stand by and do nothing!”

“I wouldn’t bet on the police taking us seriously,” said Bertie, reaching for another tart.

They spent the next few days thinking of ways they could find a clue about the mystery woman. They hoped she would return for another bowl of soup. Daniel, Cassie’s half-brother, was certain a woman who paid by cash and disregarded the mindful practice of eating soup had to be up to no good.

“She could be a criminal herself!” he posited.

“Or she could be cheating on her husband!” Glinda joined in.

“Or the husband might be after her insurance money!” Bertie chimed in.

The three of them looked at him.

“That’s not how insurance works,” Daniel informed Bertie.

When they ran out of ideas and saw no news about the woman being murdered, they were left with no choice but to drop the matter.

Cassie hoped there had been a glitch in her seeing abilities and wondered if Bertie and Glinda were right about her being ill. All the other images that had appeared during the last two weeks were happy or hopeful.

Wondering if she should go for another health check-up after all, Cassie stirred the pot of broccoli and almond soup that she had named Grandma’s Delight, in honour of her late grand mother.

She peered in, as was her habit, and recoiled in shock. It was the man who had held the knife!

She stepped forward to take a closer look at what was happening in the current picture. The man was on the floor, as though he had been pushed, and looked up at what Cassie could only assume was his attacker. He was dressed smartly in a crisp suit, his dark hair gelled and styled. Cassie went out to the restaurant section.

She peered into the dining area from the serving hatchet. The man was indeed in her restaurant but more importantly, he was wearing the suit she had seen him wear in the soup. Thie meant whatever she had seen was due to happen today!

Cassie walked to the man and paused for a moment, holding the tray. The man was handsome and didn’t give off even a hint of menace. Yet, Cassie found herself feeling uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if she was afraid of the man or afraid for the man.

“Are you going to serve me, Miss?” The man flashed a wide smile. His teeth were perfectly aligned and unnecessarily bright.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You resemble my cousin Bertie!” Cassie babbled. In her haste, she blurted the first name that came to her mind. “Bertie Pomfret from Greece?” She cringed.

“Oh, I haven’t been to Greece,” said the man. He was charming enough to be a con man.

This is the part where you’re supposed to say where you’re from, champ, thought Cassie. When the man volunteered no further information, she had to leave so he could eat.

Glinda followed Cassie into the kitchen. She had watched her friend squirm in distress while talking to the man in the suit.

“Cassie, are you alright?”

Cassie gripped the kitchen slab. She looked at Glinda, her eyes filled with shock and terror.

“That was the man I saw holding the knife!”

“What?” Glinda’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Did you see another image?”

Cassie nodded. “Only this time, it looked as though he was being attacked!”

Glinda thought for a moment. “Maybe the woman defends herself? I hope she succeeds.”

Cassie took a deep breath, her mind made up.

“I’m going to follow him.”

“What!?”

“That’s right. I have to find out what’s going on.” She looked at the watch. The kitchen was supposed to be open for two more hours. “What should we do?”

“I can take care of the restaurant if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Right. I’ll follow him.” She rushed to pick up her purse.

“Oh, Cassie!” Glinda followed her, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s the only idea I have.”

“Why don’t you take Bertie with you?”

Cassie paused to give her friend a look. “I want to succeed.”

“Fine, fine. I better get back to work.”

Cassie went out of Soup For The Soul and waited in her car for the man to exit her restaurant. While the images she had seen had been real, she wondered if she had imagined the fear she felt in the man’s presence. Surely, her mind wouldn’t play such a cruel trick on her.

She began to wonder who the mind would play tricks on if the targeted victim is oneself. Was her mind messing with her intuition? Was intuition different from the mind?

So lost was Cassie in her thoughts she almost didn’t notice the man walk out of the restaurant. Good thing he had travelled in a car and had to walk to a spot quite a few yards away. It was the movement of his suit that brought her out of her thought paralysis.

Cassie had never covertly followed another person before. This man could be a criminal. He could be charged with attempted murder if he didn’t succeed. He could be charged with murder if he did succeed.

Did Cassie want the woman to succeed? Was murder be a viable solution to a problem?

Concentrate Cassie, she reprimanded herself.

If murder was a viable solution to a problem, her mind continued, Mrs. Erwing would have killed Mr. Erwing long ago.

The thought made her chuckle.

The Erwings lived a few houses down from Cassie. The distance didn’t stop the spectacle of their quarrels from reaching Cassie’s eyes. Mrs. Erwing once threw a potted plant at Mr. Erwing. If there ever was a competition for ducking objects aimed at a person, Mr. Erwing was sure to win the gold medal.

The man had turned on the indicator to take a left turn. The turn led to the motorway that would take them to a different town.

So, this is why I don’t recognize the man, thought Cassie. He lives a few towns away.

She slowed down so she wouldn’t be suspected, and waited for thirty seconds before she turned left. She hoped she wouldn’t lose the man.

His blue sedan was cruising a few cars ahead of hers. Cassie felt relieved she hadn’t lost him. She felt grateful they were on the motorway. She couldn’t be accused of following him; not in this traffic.

After about twenty minutes, the man exited the motorway and took a few more turns. Cassie knew enough to figure out they were in a section of town that housed abandoned warehouses.

This must be where he keeps his victims, thought Cassie.

A chill went up her spine. Now, why did she think he had victims?

Her foot slowly withdrew from the accelerator. What if this man was a serial killer? Shouldn’t the police be involved?

In her eagerness to follow him, she had not considered the fact that she was far away from home. Even if she sent her live location to Glinda, it would take her at least thirty minutes to get here. That is, if Glinda even checked her phone. She must be busy serving soup.

An image of her late husband flashed in her mind.

If all does not go well, I’ll see you soon, Larry.

The sound of knuckles rapping her window brought her to the present moment. It was the man in the suit!

Gathering all the courage she could muster, she rolled down the window.

“I noticed you weren’t following me anymore so I backed up. Did you lose me?” His eyes were alight were humour. Clearly, he found this situation funny.

Well, that’s a plus, thought Cassie.

To the man, she said, “Um… um…”

“It’s alright!” The man laughed. “I figured you had recognized me.”

This man was a celebrity? Cassie didn’t know how to respond. She ended up chuckling awkwardly.

“You watch a lot of YouTube, ha?” he enquired.

“Too old to go to the gym,” Cassie responded, trying to catch on. “Spend a lot of time on my feet at work.”

“Follow me.” The man said cheerily.

Now that Cassie had admitted to recognizing him, there was no way she could ask for his name. Dismayed, she started her car.

It was only when he parked in front of a warehouse did she realize she could have just asked for an autograph and excused herself. It wasn’t autographs people asked for these days, she corrected herself. It was a selfie.

She brightened at the idea of taking a selfie with this man. Perhaps she could ask for an autograph, too, and then see if she or Glinda could decipher a name.

She parked next to the man’s car and got out. The abandoned warehouse that stood in front of her was huge. If all did not go well, it would take days for Glinda to find her. Cassie didn’t want her children to ever see her as a frail, disabled old woman. Now, there was a good chance they’d end up seeing her as a murdered, mangled woman.

Oh, why did she have to be such an obedient girl? She could have excused herself.

The man smiled at her in a welcoming manner. Reluctantly, Cassie followed him.

She paused to breathe at the door, hoping she wouldn’t be remembered as a woman too stupid for her own good.

It did not occur to her that she could have declined the invitation to walk into an abandoned warehouse.

The sight that awaited her inside the warehouse was baffling, to say the least. Big white curtains on one side and green curtains on another side. Sitting on a stool in front of the green curtain was the woman she had seen the other day. She wore a blue dress and was filing her nails. Cassie realized it was the same dress that had appeared in the image in the soup. She gasped.

“It’s not much,” said the man. “But we figured it would be realistic to shoot the final scene at a proper location. All we could find is this old warehouse.” He pouted. “How do you like it?”

“Mmm... Marvelous!” Cassie managed to say.

“Alfred, stop wasting my time,” said the woman. “Where’s Carl?”

“She’s a fan, Jenny!” Alfred replied.

“Nice to meet you.” Jenny gave her a fake smile, complete with the tilt of her head.

“Carl is our cameraman and director,” said Alfred, “He’s on his way here. Can’t wait to butcher you, Jenny.”

“Butcher?” Cassie was shocked.

“You’ve just ruined the suspense for her!” Jenny yelled at Alfred.

“Oh.” he frowned. “You will still watch our web series, won’t you?”

The cloud of confusion cleared from Cassie’s mind.

“Oh!” She heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re actors!”

“I thought you recognized me?” Alfred was confused.

Cassie licked her lips. “Um… I did recognize you but I didn’t know who you were,” she confessed.

Alfred crossed his arms and bobbed his head. “What does that mean?”

“You see,” Cassie began, “I’m a psychic. When this woman,” she pointed at Jenny, “Came to my restaurant, I had a vision. You were holding a knife in the vision, and she was afraid for her life.”

“Ah!” Alfred glanced at Jenny, who was busy filing her nails again. The woman seemed glued to her seat.

“Imagine my shock when you walked into the restaurant today!” Cassie went on.

“You had to follow me to find out if Jenny was still alive.” Alfred filled in the blank.

Cassie was embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be!” Alfred assured her. “You did what any responsible citizen would do. I’d advise you not to take such a daring risk in the future, though,” he cautioned. “What if you really stumble upon a serial killer?”

“I’ll be cautious.” Cassie promised.

She didn’t know what to say next.

“I suppose you want to get back to work? There’s no point in you hanging around if you don’t actually know who I am.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Um… Glinda is by herself.” Cassie sounded apologetic.

“Oh, I understand,” said Alfred. “This was… an interesting experience. Perhaps I could use it as a plot for my next web series.”

“Oh, I would definitely want to watch your web series,” said Cassie. “I might know that Jenny gets killed but I don’t know why.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Alfred. “I’ll come by to your restaurant once the post production is complete. Give you the news myself!”

“That sounds wonderful! I’ll look forward to it. Your meal will be on the house, of course!” She leaned in Jenny’s direction. “You’re invited too!”

“Oh, that’s a bit much!” said Alfred.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ve suspected you of murder and you’ve been such a gentleman about it.”

Cassie bid Alfred and Jenny goodbye and walked to her car, relieved. It was only when she was back on the motorway, safe and on her way home, did she remember the uncomfortable feeling that seemed to fill her in Alfred’s presence. Even Jenny’s behaviour was strange.

She chalked it to her own nerves and went on with her day.

More than a week later, early one Tuesday morning, Glinda knocked on Cassie’s door.

“Cassie! Cassie! Have you seen this?” she asked. She held a newspaper in her hand.

“Oh, Glinda. You know newspapers remind me of Larry!” She looked closely at her friend. Glinda’s face was a picture of panic.

She clasped Glinda’s wrist and led her inside the house, to the kitchen. She had a fresh pot of coffee brewing, and had taken the time to make breakfast burritos. Soup For The Soul remained closed on Tuesdays.

She sat Glinda down at the dining table, filled a mug of coffee for her and served her a breakfast burrito. She picked up her own cup of coffee and used her other hand to see what breaking news Glinda had been referring to.

Cassie gripped her cup of coffee when she saw the headline. Glinda stared on curiously, having taken a sip of coffee. She hadn’t touched the burrito.

The local crimes page had a column stating that the police were on the lookout for a Lorraine D’Souza. The picture that accompanied the statement was Jenny’s.

Cassie put the paper down on the table and stared back at Glinda.

“Are you sure you heard Jenny?” Glinda asked, sounding fearful.

“Do Jenny and Lorraine sound anything alike?” Cassie shot back. She was still dressed in her nightgown, which was a granny gown. It was the first Tuesday this month that she had no chores planned. She was in no mood to get dressed either.

“What did Bertie say?” she asked.

“Ugh. He thinks Jenny has a twin.” She let out an exasperated breath. Then, “What does this mean? Wasn’t Jenny an actor of some sort?”

“She might have gone missing after I met them.” Cassie theorized.

“It doesn’t say missing.”

“Huh?”

“It says the police want her.” Glinda’s eyes widened with fear. “Oh, Cassie! That chap who called himself Alfred told you he’d return to Soup For The Soul. What if he meant he’d return to finish you off?”

Cassie put her coffee mug on the table with a thud. “Finish me off? Whatever for?”

“You found his hiding place, didn’t you? What if he isn’t an actor? What if he really is a killer? What if Jenny is missing because Jenny is dead?”

Cassie blinked. “Glinda, you need to slow down.”

“You aren’t fully awake yet.”

“I made breakfast burritos!”

Glinda stood up. “Well, they will be lunch burritos. We have to go to the police station and we have to go now!”

Cassie looked at the burritos. They’d be sad and stale by the time they returned. She looked up at Glinda, who had her arms crossed stubbornly.

“It helps to meet the police with a full stomach.”

An hour and two burritos later, Cassie and Glinda sat at Inspector Tartar’s desk.

Cassie noticed Glinda squinting at the inspector’s name tag. She knew her friend wanted her to confirm the inspector’s name was really Tartar.

She kicked Glinda’s foot.

“How can I help you ladies?” Tartar was polite. Pleasant, even.

Cautiously, Glinda extracted the newspaper from her cardigan. The woman was behaving like a fugitive.

“We understand the police is looking for this woman?” Her tone was diffident.

“I am the police,” Tartar said good naturedly. “Let me see that.” He put on his glasses and glanced at the newspaper.

“What do you know about this woman?”

“She had come to our soup restaurant…” Glinda began.

“Oh, wait a minute! You ladies run Soup For The Soul! I love your chicken soup! Comforted me during many a flu. How can I help you?”

Cassie and Glinda gushed at the compliment. They took turns to explain Cassie’s premonition and the events that followed.

“They told you they’re actors?” Tartar asked, after having listened to them intently.

“That’s right.”

“They’re liars is what they are.” Tartar announced. Good cover though.”

Glinda leaned forward. “Liars?”

Tartar looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. He lowered his voice.

“They are smugglers.”

Cassie and Glinda gasped.

“Drugs?” Cassie asked, wide eyed.

The inspector shook his head. “Spirits.”

“Spirits?” Cassie and Glinda repeated in unison.

“Spirits.” Tartar confirmed. He pointed at Jenny’s picture. “That’s Widow Jane.”

Cassie led Tartar and his team to the abandoned warehouse where she had met Alfred and Jenny. She had learnt that Jenny was called Widow Jane not only because she smuggled rare whiskey but also because her last three husbands had gone missing. Widow Jane had been married five times.

The man they thought was Alfred was known on the streets as Cognac Clocker. He had various interests besides smuggling spirits. Cognac Clocker and Widow Jane had been asked to team up to transfer a shipment.

The area was as desolate as it was the last time Cassie had visited. Not a soul in sight. Not a car parked in any of the lots. Cassie sighed, upset at the existence of a place so bereft of life.

Tartar insisted they return to their town but Cassie and Glinda were adamant. They wanted to know what the police would find. Frustrated, Tartar asked them to park at a spot that wasn’t accessible from the warehouse.

They sat in silence, preparing for a long wait ahead. Surprisingly, Tartar returned after twenty minutes. He signalled that they could get out of the car.

Cassie and Glinda stepped out of the car and waited for Tartar to speak.

“I’m afraid it’s bad news.” He looked ready to vomit. “We found Cognac Cobbler.

“Clocker.” Cassie corrected him before she could stop herself.

Tartar’s eyes swam recklessly, as though he were about to be sick.

Swallowing, he said, “He was stabbed to death. That’s what it looks like from what’s left of him.”

Cassie and Glinda gasped.

“She succeeded,” Glinda whispered.

Tartar wasn’t listening.

Cassie touched his arm. “Are you alright?”

He jerked back to the present moment and mumbled an inaudible response.

“I have just the thing that will help you.” Cassie said, and proceeded to pour him a cup of coffee from the flask she had carried from home.

One year later:

Cassie flipped the sign on Soup For The Soul. Glinda had left early. Bertie had wanted her help with accounts. While it had been a good day, there was still enough soup and bread left for Cassie. She decided to have an early dinner in her restaurant.

As Cassie stirred the warm soup, an image began to appear in the pot. A pretty white gate with arches on top, giving way to a garden. Beyond it lay the largest house Cassie had ever seen. It was painted in a soft shade of pastel blue and appeared regal and intriguing.

Cassie’s eyes drifted to the engraving on the outer wall of this palatial residence. Rosie’s Retreat.

Cassie was no expert with computers but she did know how to search for a thing or two. Rosie’s Retreat, it turned out, was a real place. It was located in a town about a hundred kilometres away, and was accessible using a narrow road surrounded by wild bushes and trees. Cassie looked for the contact details and sent them an enquiry.

Two days later, after she had received a response and had the time to think about it, she brought up the topic of her birthday at dinner in Glinda’s house.

“It’s your sixtieth,” said Glinda. “We should have a party!”

“Oh no,” said Cassie. “I’ve already decided what I’m going to do, and I want you there with me!”

Thus, Cassie and Glinda set out on their long but exciting three-day sojourn.

Rosie was a portly woman with comically large cheeks. She enhanced the appearance of her cheeks with bright pink blush. Her hair, arranged in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, contained generous amounts of silver. She wore a silk dress and shoes that didn’t quite match. The strong odour of a herbal anti-perspirant surrounded her.

“Talk about judging a book by its cover,” Glinda muttered as they followed Rosie to their room.

The house, however, was a stark contrast to the owner’s fashion sense.

The entrance led them to a large foyer with a staircase right in the middle. The ground floor contained a living room, a library, a dining room, a lavatory and Rosie’s room.

The staircase led to a common area that had a table and four chairs. On either side was a corridor one had to use to get to the rooms. The passages were carpeted and had soft lights emitting from floral wall sconces. The walls were adorned with mirrors. Potted plants lined the walls. Two bronze statues marked the end of the passage.

Cassie had selected the second room in the right wing. It was called Crown Daisy. The walls of the room were a pale and pleasant shade of yellow. The twin beds had chocolate brown pillow cases and blankets.

The furniture comprised of a small antique table flanked by two intricately carved wooden chairs, a TV stand and a dressing table. The closet was next to the bathroom.

A wooden tray mounted on the wall held a kettle, a tea pot, two mugs and a selection of teas. The room had a balcony that provided a view of the garden on the premises, and the wilderness beyond. Two bamboo chairs and a bamboo table were present on the balcony.

“This is lovely!” Glinda clasped her palms. She and Bertie seldom went on vacation. The trips they did go on did not interest Glinda in the least because they usually went to Bertie’s sister’s house.

“You can visit the town tomorrow, or spend time on the premises.” Rosie suggested. “We have a huge garden and walking trails in the forest yonder.”

“I think we’ll stay in,” said Cassie. She glanced at Glinda.

“Oh, absolutely. We’re here for R&R.”

“Alright,” Rosie smiled. “Dinner will be served at 7:00. If you need anything, just ring the bell.” Rosie pointed to a button on the wall.

There were three other guests in the house. A middle aged couple who seemed to be devoid of facial expressions, and an ancient looking man, frail and bent with age.

“Oh, I’ve been here for the last twelve summers,” said the old man, whose name was Edgar. “My daughter drops me here for a month to enjoy the fresh air.”

“This is our first time here,” said Sarah, her voice nasal and twangy.

“And our last night,” said her husband, Milton, in a doleful voice.

The dinner was simple, delicious and filling. After a last cup of tea, the guests retreated to their rooms.

“This place is gorgeous,” said Glinda. “But it feels strange, don’t you think?”

“Strange how?” asked Cassie, who had been having a thought of her own.

“There’s an air of creepiness, don’t you think? It’s as though we’re standing on top of a dark secret.”

Cassie glanced at her friend. “Creepy or mysterious?”

“I guess you could say there’s an air of mystery about this place.” Glinda shrugged.

Once they had showered, changed and tucked in, Cassie voiced her thought.

“Doesn’t Rosie look familiar to you?”

Glinda stopped adjusting her blanket. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere. Do you feel that, too?”

Glinda shook her head. “I would have remembered those buck teeth.”

“She does not have buck teeth!”

“Does too!”

“Well, I’m tired from all the driving. Goodnight, Glinda.”

“’Night ‘night, Cassie!”

Glinda couldn’t sleep. She called out to Cassie, who mumbled something on the third call.

“Can’t sleep without Bertie’s snores,” Glinda complained.

Cassie said something that sounded like chamomile tea and fell asleep again.

After a desperate hour, Glinda woke up and went to the tea tray. She used the torch on her phone to see if she could find chamomile tea on the stand. All the sachets contained teabags that refreshed the mind. Perhaps she could use a glass of milk?

She didn’t see any reason to ring the bell and wake Rosie. Even though Rosie’s Retreat was a business, it was, after all, a house. A house with a fridge.

Torch in hand, Glinda trotted to the edge of the staircase. The idea of raiding the kitchen of a commercial house sounded absurd and criminal. Besides, she’d have to warm the milk. And then she’d be tempted to look for hot chocolate mix. She would end up committing serious violations.

Sighing, Glinda turned around to return to her room when she caught sight of a ghostly figure.

Glinda didn’t know how she found the presence of mind to do so but she switched off the torch on her phone and crouched.

Walking across the foyer, holding a candelabrum, was a woman wearing a long, silky gown. The light illuminated her face just enough to reveal she had dark hair. Glinda watched the woman saunter into Rosie’s room and close the door.

After a quick breakfast, Sarah and Milton bid the other guests goodbye. Since Glinda hadn’t slept well the previous night, there was no question of them driving into town. Edgar invited them to another cup of tea in the living room.

“No sign of the mystery woman,” Glinda remarked.

“I told you Rosie doesn’t have a lover.” Cassie shook her head.

“Mystery woman?” Edgar raised an eyebrow, his voice conspiratorial.

“Glinda had a raunchy dream,” Cassie teased.

“Oh, I must hear this!” Edgar’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“It was nothing,” Glinda waved, and proceeded to tell him what she saw.

“Oh, that must be the ghost of Maria!” Edgar smiled sagely.

“What?” Cassie and Glinda reacted in unison.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry. Maria used to work here. I met her the last time I visited. I heard she went missing!” The man’s eyebrows waggled. “I saw her the first night I was here. I had a bit of an oopsie daisy, you see? I hadn’t had a full dinner the previous night and got hungry in the middle of the night. Came wandering out because I misread 3:00 AM as 8:00 AM.” He chuckled.

Cassie and Glinda exchanged a glance.

“Did you tell Rosie what you saw?” Cassie asked Edgar gently.

“Ah, why to bother the living with the matters of the undead?” He placed the cup of tea on the table, crossed his arms and settled into his chair.

“I think I’ll have a nap, too,” said Glinda.

Cassie spent the morning walking in the grounds. The sprawling acreage was filled with flowering and fruit trees, huge lawns, small sculptures and strong benches. It was warm and sunny outside. The air was fresh. The only sound was the chirping of birds.

Cassie decided a weekend getaway every few months wouldn’t harm her business all that much. All she had to do was plan her finances. Perhaps she could plan her next adventure with her children!

One thing that did puzzle Cassie was the absence of ground staff. Surely, a property as well maintained as Rosie’s Retreat required at least one gardener? Perhaps one or two house keeping staff as well? As of now, it seemed as though Rosie was managing everything on her own. And the place served three meals!

Cassie returned in time for a chicken and ham sandwich. Rosie was nowhere to be seen. Cassie decided it was probably for the best. She wouldn’t be able to contain herself about the lack of staff and Rosie might be offended by her nosy questions. Besides, they were due to leave the next morning.

“Edgar tells me the couple who were here… Sarah and Milton? They’ve had a lot of work done!” Glinda’s eyes gleamed with the excitement of being let in on a secret.

Cassie took a seat at the table.

“What? As in painting?” She looked at the walls. “Gardening?” She was confused.

“No, silly!” said Glinda as Cassie unwrapped her sandwich. She lowered her voice to a shrill whisper. “Their face.”

“Oh, you mean Botox?” Cassie whispered back.

Glinda nodded, eyes still shining.

Cassie nodded, her attention on the sandwich. “To each their own, I guess.”

She waited until she’d had half of her sandwich before making a show of looking around.

“I don’t see Rosie,” she commented.

“Oh, she must be cleaning or doing whatever it is retreat owners do,” Glinda responded absently.

Cassie glanced at Edgar. “This place is too big for Rosie to manage on her own.”

“Oh, but she isn’t on her own,” said Edgar. “There is a gardener, Calvin. Nice fellow. Rosie should have found someone to take Maria’s place.” He paused to think. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anyone else either. Perhaps they’ve all taken a vacation at the same time. Poor Rosie.” He shook his head in sympathy.

“But it’s summer!” Cassie pointed out. “Surely, this is the peak season?” She glanced at Glinda, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Glinda was busy taking a picture of the cup of tea she had poured for herself.

She leaned towards Cassie and showed her her phone. There was a selfie, a picture she’d taken with Edgar, photos of food and a cup of tea.

“To make Bertie jealous!” Her face gleamed with child like mischief.

Cassie smiled at her friend and turned to Edgar, hoping to continue her conversation about the absence of ground staff. She didn’t know why she was so curious but she just couldn’t help herself.

Edgar, unfortunately, had fallen asleep again.

“If there’s any remedy I’d like for old age,” said Glinda, after they had managed to wake Edgar up and guide him to his room, “It would be one that’ll keep me awake at the dining table!”

“I’d like the one that’ll stop me from making random noises while chewing nothing.” Cassie said.

“Oh, don’t remind me of my grandmother!” Glinda shuddered. Grandma Petunia had been a walking trumpet.

Cassie remembered her own grandmother. It was Grandma’s encouragement to peer into soup that had led Cassie to Rosie’s Retreat. The memories of helping her in the kitchen flashed in Cassie’s mind. Her mouth curved in nostalgia.

“Earth to Cassie!” said Glinda.

They were back in their room.

“It was Botox that made their cheeks so stiff and plump?” Cassie asked.

“That, and a boatload of makeup,” said Glinda.  “Why would anyone spend all that time doing makeup in a place like this? I feel my pores have already opened and I haven’t even stepped out!”

“Are you planning to?”

“Of course! Who do you think I am? Edgar?” Glinda walked to the dressing table. She sprayed perfume.

“I figured you might take a nap now,” said Glinda, pausing to apply lip balm. “I’ll go for a walk.” She puffed her hair. “Alone time in nature will do me good, too. Plus, I need the sun!”

She spent one final moment looking at her reflection in the mirror and turned to Cassie, who had been watching her.

“No matter what you do to your face,” said Glinda thoughtfully, “The eyes never lie.”

Cassie woke up from her nap. It was the eyes, she realized. Rosie’s eyes felt familiar. She knew she had seen them before. On a woman much younger than Rosie.

Her phone pinged, indicating she had received a message. Glinda was back and was in the living room.

Cassie decided she could use a cup of tea. She freshened up quickly and went to meet her friend.

Glinda was pouring herself an Earl Grey when Cassie walked in. She requested a cup for herself as she settled into the plush couch.

“Glinda,” said Cassie, “This woman you saw last night, who Edgar thinks is Maria’s ghost?”

“Yes?”

“How old was she?”

“Well, I didn’t see her face.”

“Take a guess.”

Glinda thought for a moment. “Wild guess? Over thirty, for sure.” She looked into Cassie’s eyes. “It’s just a gut feeling. Don’t accuse me of being ageist and all.”

“Do you remember seeing anything else? How was her build, for example?”

Glinda frowned. “Can’t remember. Why are you so interested?”

“Just curious.”

Just then, Edgar walked in, looking embarrassed.

“That’s alright, Edgar,” said Glinda, “These things happen.”

“Never fallen asleep on a sandwich.” Edgar grumbled.

Glinda smiled and poured him a cup of tea.

“Say, Edgar,” Cassie began, “How old was Maria?”

“Oh, she was a young thing!” He made a slurping sound while he sipped his tea.

Cassie took a deep breath to stop herself from saying at his age, everyone would look young.

“Take a guess. A wild guess.”

She could feel Glinda’s gaze on her. She chose to observe Edgar instead.

The man narrowed his eyes and made a chup-chap sound while he thought. Cassie and Glinda exchanged a glance. Cassie rolled her eyes.

After what seemed an eternity, Edgar finally said, “I’d say about twenty.”

“You’re saying Maria was twenty years old?” Cassie asked.

“Uh huh.”

Cassie took another deep breath and looked at Glinda. Her friend’s eyes were already on her, eyebrow raised.

Before either of them could say anything, Rosie walked into the room. She spent a few minutes chatting with them.

Glinda, who had started off friendly, fell silent in the middle of the conversation. Her silence went unnoticed because Edgar chatted away happily with Rosie.

He spoke about his previous visits and how wonderful her husband, Arthur, had been. Rosie’s responses were vague and calculated.

Cassie stared at Glinda once Rosie excused herself. Glinda was staring at Rosie’s retreating frame.

Glinda glanced at Edgar. “I wonder if Rosie has a daughter,” she said.

“They didn’t have children.” Edgar supplied. He stood up. “Alright, ladies. If you will excuse me, it’s time for my evening walk.”

He strode out while Glinda muttered something about him falling asleep on a bench.

Cassie’s gaze was curious.

Glinda indicated for her to sit next to her on the sofa.

“That woman I saw last night,” she whispered, “She had the same body as Rosie.”

“But you said her hair was dark.”

“Do they make twenty-four hour hair colour?” Glinda wondered.

“We saw her in the morning,” Cassie reminded her. “Are you sure her hair was dark?”

“Positive.”

Cassie leaned back on the sofa. “She’s not who she says she is.”

Glinda leaned forward and looked ahead. “The question is, is it our business?”

Cassie spent the few minutes when Rosie appeared during dinner to study her eyes. The eyes never lied.

Rosie made an excuse when Glinda invited her to join the three of them for dinner. Edgar mentioned that Rosie did have dinner with guests occasionally. He didn’t see why she couldn’t join the three of them. This made Rosie even more uncomfortable and she returned to the kitchen shortly thereafter.

“I’ve seen those eyes,” Cassie repeated, once they were back to their room.

“I was observing her, too,” said Glinda. “I didn’t recognize the eyes but the hair could be a wig.”

“You think she’s had work done on her cheeks?”

Glinda gave the question a thought.

“No,” she replied, sounding certain. “I think they’re implants. Those fake, detachable ones?”

“Prosthetics?”

“Yes, that one.”

Puzzled, Cassie sat on her bed. “Why would anyone use prosthetic makeup on the job?”

Glinda picked up the towel. “I have no idea.”

Cassie and Glinda packed their bags and took them along for breakfast. Rosie offered to store it in the luggage area for guests. They were due to check-out only after a couple of hours.

Edgar’s eyes were on Rosie. He shook his head and addressed Cassie.

“I wish I knew her secret.”

“What secret?” Cassie asked, mentally picking out her sausages.

“She’s aging backwards. If I could have trusted my memory, I would have said she’s younger and stronger than last summer.”

“Could be cardio,” Glinda offered.

“Heh, cardio? You mean she got stronger after having a heart attack?”

Cassie decided to eat an extra sausage as an advance reinforcement for the long drive ahead while Glinda explained what she meant by cardio.

“She speaks funny,” Edgar insisted. Then he waved, as though swatting away his thought. “It’s your last morning here, heh? Pretty short stay if you ask me.”

“It was a weekend trip.”

“Right, right. Back to making soup from tomorrow, then?”

The rest of their stay at Rosie’s Retreat was uneventful. They hadn’t learnt anything about Rosie, they hadn’t spotted any other staff and Cassie hadn’t remembered where she’d seen those eyes.

They bid Edgar and Rosie goodbye, left positive feedback in Rosie’s guestbook and began the long drive home.

Fifty kilometres into the drive, after Glinda had changed the radio station at least twenty times before finally settling on gospel music, Cassie spotted an advertisement board for a diner. The board was rusty and the paint was chipping off but the name of the diner was legible: Jenna’s.

Cassie’s eyes widened with realization.

“That’s it!”

“Ouch! You scared me.”

“I remember where I’ve seen Rosie’s eyes. Better still, I know who Rosie is!”

Glinda was confused. “What are you talking about?”

Excited, Cassie dared to turn her eyes away from the motorway for a few seconds to look at Glinda.

“Rosie is not Rosie!”

“Who is she, then?”

Cassie turned her attention to the road.

“She’s Jenny! Alfred’s Jenny.”

“Widow Jane?” Glinda sat up. “She’s a killer on the loose!”

“We must inform the police!” Cassie slapped the steering wheel.

“What’s Tartar going to do about Rosie’s Retreat that’s located a hundred kilometres away?”

“We don’t know!” Cassie replied. “It’s our duty to inform him. Maybe she’s running a covert alcohol business from the basement.”

“That would explain why she was wandering about in the house in the middle of the night.” Glinda slapped her thigh.

They couldn’t get home soon enough. They went straight to the station.

Tartar was bewildered by their little story. He agreed to take action because Widow Jane was a serious offender. He praised Cassie and Glinda for being model citizens and promised to be in touch.

Three days later, Tartar called Cassie and asked if she could meet him at the station. His tone was quite serious. She left Glinda to handle the business and rushed to the station.

An hour later, she returned to Soup For The Soul, her face ashen.

Glinda took one look at her friend and turned the sign. The only customer was Joanna, who had a nice tan from her recent visit to Happy Town. Joanna could see herself out.

“What happened?” Glinda asked Cassie once they were in the back.

Still in a state of shock, Cassie handed Glinda a piece of paper. It looked to be the photocopy of a letter.

Dear Cassie,

I was shocked beyond words when I first received an enquiry about Rosie’s Retreat from you. I could have told you we were booked but where’s the fun in that? I like having fun.

I knew you were onto me from the moment you arrived. When Edgar started talking about Maria’s ghost, I was certain Glinda had seen me returning to my room from the basement. Your sneaky stares only confirmed what I knew was bound to happen.

I like to think I’m a wayfarer, a dreamer, an adventurer. I guess my time at Rosie’s Retreat is up. It was a good seven months.

I don’t know what fate made you pick Rosie’s Retreat but I do hope that same fate leads us to cross paths again.

Give my love to Glinda.

Tada,

Jenny/Rosie.

Glinda blinked.

“That was Widow Jane. You were right.”

Cassie, who seemed frozen, managed to nod.

Glinda plonked on a stool next to Cassie. They were quiet for a few minutes, processing the information and reliving the experience that had brought them so close to a criminal.

“We ate food cooked by a killer.” Glinda gulped.

Cassie took a deep breath, unsure of whether she should reveal all the information she had received from Tartar.

Glinda read the letter again. Her face scrunched as she thought about the missing piece.

“Says here she had a good seven months at Rosie’s Retreat.” Glinda looked at Cassie. “Does that mean she had been pretending to be Rosie for seven months only?”

Cassie nodded. “That’s right.”

Glinda’s face twisted in confusion.

“How is that possible? Rosie’s Retreat has to have been around for twelve years, at least, unless Edgar was out of his mind. Wait. Edgar was a real person, right? We didn’t hallucinate him?”

“Edgar was a real person,” Cassie confirmed. “The police found him in the basement. His daughter reported he wasn’t answering her call. They were planning to contact Rosie but Tartar’s call put them on high alert.”

“Found him? What do you mean they found him? What was he doing in the basement?”

“Must have gone looking for Rosie. She must have disappeared after we left.”

“Disappeared? What about the other guests?”

“There were no other guests, remember?”

Glinda was getting impatient. “What happened to Edgar, Cassie?”

Cassie looked at her friend, terror swimming in her eyes.

“Edgar got a fatal heart attack when he saw what fake Rosie kept in the basement.”

Glinda braced herself to listen to the description of a homemade hooch laboratory. “What was in the basement?”

A sense of disbelief enveloped Cassie as she considered the message she was about to deliver.

“Jenny, Widow Jane, isn’t just a smuggler. She’s a crackpot serial killer.” She paused to swallow. “She replaced the real Rosie.”

Glinda’s mouth hung open. It took her a few moments to process the insinuation.

“Are you telling me the real Rosie was in the basement?” she asked slowly.

Cassie’s lips quivered. “Along with the bodies of Calvin the gardener, and Maria the housekeeper.”