How can an old lady just vanish in her own hometown? And why? Police ask a reclusive psychic and her reformed young assistant to unearth clues through visions and investigation. They must ask themselves what in the woman's past needed silencing...
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"Don't suppose we can run," said Clarence as he swept his arm over DeeDee's shoulder. They turned to the door.
"Lord! What are you doing on the outside in this bloody heat?" blathered Bianca from behind a cool façade of Sophia Loren sunglasses, Marcella Borghese blush and Paloma Piccasso lipstick. She's bristling, thought DeeDee with an irritated blink. She watched her stepdaughter clap hands and teeter forward in pattened mules.
"No need to push," Clarence snapped at her. "We've finished our business and are in retreat."
"Wanted to deliver my news personally..." Bianca posed on the stoop for a moment, then barged into the foray with them.
DeeDee noticed the marked contrast between flushed, dewy face and tonal taupe linen. Very un-Bianca-like. Lord, those are perspiration stains on her blouse.
"Let's go sit," said Bianca, bulldozing for the sunroom. "I'll explain."
DeeDee let out a sigh and Clarence veered off towards the kitchen. "White wine spritzer?" he called out over his shoulder.
"Not for me."
"Count me in," called DeeDee with too much vigour. The women's eyes met for a steely moment and then Bianca's face broke into a wide smile. Spookey, thought DeeDee, settling onto her usual chair. Clarence would appear shortly. This was her prayer. She folded hands and reflected on her manicure.
"Chicago was wonderful. Did I tell you?" said Bianca.
Her eyes are too bright. An impossible shade of green. "Not in so many words." DeeDee looked to her husband as he eased down the steps, two long-stemmed glasses in hand.
"Dearest," he whispered, extending, then posting himself at the door with his back to the garden like some dyslexic sentry.
"Oh, I can't wait," gushed Bianca. "I'm going to have a baby."
Clarence choked. DeeDee nearly ejected a mouthful onto the glass-topped table. She swallowed hard while Bianca continued.
"I'm not yet – but – I've made my selection – back in Chicago – good genes, you know?"
Clarence marched back to the steps and sat on them abruptly.
"Not like this in our day, huh?" managed DeeDee in her husband's direction.
"Takes all the fun out of it," mumbled Clarence, pale as paper. He took another gulp. "Ah..." He raised his glass to his daughter. "Best of luck. You'll need it. You have no idea..." His words tailed off, gaze fixed on the floor.
"But I've decided," snapped Bianca, then fell into a pout.
"Quite right, my dear," said DeeDee, recovering her breath. "Take life as presented. Opportunities and desires as manifest. No regrets!" She raised her spritzer across the table, watching the younger woman cheer up. "After all, time and gravity are always against us." The younger woman winced. DeeDee chuckled knowing she'd have a ringside seat to the escapade to come. "Now, be gone. Please. Your father and I've had a hell of a day."
