Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (best classic books .TXT) 📗

in fact, over- cooked--I noticed out of my peripheral vision about a dozen women flanking the sides of the room, all wearing tie-dyed dresses and jingling with bangles. The way they all gazed adoringly at Deirdre made me a bit squeamish, and I looked around at the audience to see if anyone else took notice. Everyone seemed transfixed by Deirdre, who was launching into her speech.

``So what I will talk to you about tonight is my own spiritual journey and all the wonderful gifts that have re- sulted from my experience as an internationally renowned psychic.

``My journey began some twenty years ago, when I was in college pursing a Ph.D. in psychotherapy. One day while I was walking to class, a man wearing a black mask and holding a gun stepped in front of me and demanded my purse.

``Now you can imagine my terror as I looked at this thief, willing to do anything he said as long as he didn't shoot me, when all of a sudden I heard a loud, distinctive male voice call my name. It was so loud and clear that I thought someone had come up from behind me to rescue me, but when I turned to look, no one was there. The voice spoke again, and this time he said, `Deirdre, listen to me and you will not be harmed.'

``Meanwhile, the mugger was growing impatient with me, because as I was listening to the angelic voice, I forgot to hand over my purse, so the thief again waved his gun at me, threatening to shoot me, and reflexively, I started to hand over my purse. But just as I was giving it to the mugger, the voice shouted in a thunderous tone, `No! Deir- dre, do not hand over your purse!'''

The audience gasped as Deirdre imitated the detached voice, ``So,'' she continued, ``I said, `Well, what am I sup- posed to do then?' And the voice said, `I am Great Wind BLIND SIGHTED 271 Talker, and I am your spirit guide, and you must do as I say!'''

I stopped eating my food and pushed my plate aside, my appetite gone. All around me people were hanging on Deirdre's every word, waiting for her to tell them more about this ``Great Wind Talker,'' while in my head all I'd heard since Deirdre began her story was, Liar, liar, pants on fire . . . And I knew, well before Deirdre talked about hitting the mugger with her purse and knocking him out, and the appearance of an angel-like figure who claimed to be her spirit guide and set her on the path to deliver heav- enly messages to all the world, that Deirdre Pendleton was a complete and total sham.

The more she talked the more disheartened I became. Her story was rife with the overly fantastic and illusionary, angels, fairies, and Indian spirit guides appearing before her and giving her messages to deliver in her books and writings. There seemed to be no end to her abilities, as she took credit for predicting the last presidential election, the war in Iraq, and the fall of the Twin Towers. I couldn't help but notice that she offered no proof to back up her claims, as the constant drum of, Liar, liar, pants on fire, beat dully in my head.

I glanced over at my sister, knowing there was no way she could be buying this, but to my astonishment Cat sat slack-jawed during Deirdre's speech, and her eyes seemed to widen as every tale grew bigger and more fantastic.

Finally, just about the time I was looking for something sharp and pointed to impale myself on to put an end my misery, Deirdre switched topics and said that her newest mission was to take some of her ``flock'' to the Hawaiian Islands to visit a vortex that allowed the emergence of spiri- tual beings to pass freely from one plane of existence to another. She said that there were only a limited number who would be able to attend the retreat, but the first one hundred to pay the ten-thousand-dollar fare would be guar- anteed a reservation.

Around the hall the rainbow-clad women, who were ob- viously Deirdre's assistants, moved into action, handing out flyers and brochures about the Hawaiian trip to everyone in the room. When a brochure was handed to me, I promptly handed it back and gave a pointed scowl to Cat 272 Victoria Laurie as she held her hand out to accept the flyer. ``What?'' she asked as my scowl deepened when she took the pamphlet.

``There is no way you're going, Cat,'' I said with a hiss.

``Why?'' she whispered back, and I noticed the man in the tweed jacket to my right quickly turn his beady eyes in my direction.

``I'll explain later,'' I said, and pulled the pamphlet from her hand, folded it in half, and put it underneath my plate of half-eaten chicken.

After we'd all had time to peruse the Hawaiian trip, Deirdre claimed to be ready to read the audience. She held out her arms dramatically, and the twin sitting next to Tweed Jacket jumped up and joined her sister onstage, where they each held one of Deirdre's arms and assisted her down the steps.

It was so over-the-top that I wanted to vomit right there: Deirdre swaying slightly as she mimicked a trancelike state, and her two attendants steadying her like servants as they descended the stairs. For a moment she stood at the bottom and eyed the audience, her eyes going unfocused as she seemed to concentrate, and then, with deadly precision, she turned her attention directly on Cat. Motioning to her two attendants, she fluttered over to our table, her gown bil- lowing softly as she walked, and flickered to a stop when she came directly in front of my sister and smiled wisely down at her.

Cat was caught a little off guard as a