I stood up quickly to put some distance between Vi’s crazy idea and myself. “You don’t know anything about detective work.”
“I’ve been reading up on it,” Vi said. “It doesn’t seem that hard and I have some natural talent—I took a test online.”
“I can’t talk about this right now,” I said. “I really need to get some sleep and you two obviously have plans to search out a psychic answer to this mystery.” I gestured at the cards and pendulum.
“Okay, you’re right,” Vi said. “Let’s focus on the problem at hand. It will give me some practice for when I have my own cases.”
Mom was already flipping cards onto the table. I noticed she was using the queen of swords again. That was the card she used to indicate me in her queries. I had had this argument with her enough times to let it slide. She would say that she needed to determine how I would affect the situation. Mom and I don’t usually agree on things psychic, but after spending time with Neila Whittle, I was softening toward Mom’s view. I had been leaning toward the “if you can’t fight it you might as well use it” camp.
“Okay, the cards indicate that you will have a lover’s quarrel—oh, my. I didn’t ask the cards about you and Mac. . . .”
“Maybe they’ll fight about who the killer is,” Vi said. “Or Clyde will get tired of seeing him in that snowman sweater.”
I grinned at Vi. “That’s already happened. Don’t worry about Mac and me. We’re fine. What else do the cards have to say?”
Mom shook her head. “It looks like this will be a tough case. There are many secrets surrounding the situation and some of them are still hidden.”
In the past I would have said something like “super helpful as usual” but my new leaf dictated a more tolerant view. “Thanks, Mom. We can ask again when we know more.”
“Let me have a try,” Vi said. She grabbed the pendulum and set up her piece of paper with the big plus sign indicating the yes and no directions. The pendulum is only able to answer if given two choices.
“What are you going to ask it?”
“I’ll ask whether the killer will be caught before the weekend is over.”
Vi stabilized the pendulum and let it go. It hung from its chain, unmoving. Slowly it began to move in the yes direction.
“Well, that’s good news,” Mom said.
“Was the killer a knitter?” Vi asked the pendulum.
The pendulum swung rapidly in the yes direction. Vi looked up, her eyes intense.
Unfortunately, the pendulum seemed to sense Vi’s eagerness and refused to identify any of the knitters as the killer. By the time she had run through the list it was almost midnight and I could barely keep my eyes open. Mom and I both begged her to give it a rest.
I walked Mom back to the cottage and hurried through the snow back to the hotel.
By the time I got back to the room, the cold had seeped into my core. I wore a pair of Vi’s wool socks, three T-shirts, and my jeans to bed and still shivered. I was sort of wishing I had Mac’s snowman sweater as I struggled to get warm enough to fall asleep.
21
I am running through the snowy woods. The wind sucks the air from my lungs and snowflakes pelt my face, so I can’t see where I’m going. My heart races and I feel the panic rise in my chest. I’m looking for someone and getting more and more worried. I realize that I am lost. I can’t see the castle anymore and none of the trees look familiar. The snow is piling up so fast I can barely keep moving. My thin sweater doesn’t protect me from the cold and I am shivering.
Then I hear a weak cry. “Clyde . . .”
I run in the direction of the voice, then I hear it behind me—is it an echo? The sound is getting weaker. “Clyde . . .”
A gust of wind knocks me to my knees and I can’t breathe. Just as I fall into the snow on the forest floor I hear it again. “Clyde . . .”
I jerked awake in an unfamiliar bed and realized Vi was shaking my shoulder and saying my name.
“Clyde, wake up!”
I sat up quickly and still felt panicky from the dream.
“Vi, what is it?” I felt like I should have paid more attention to the dream. Something was wrong.
“I think I heard a noise in the hall,” she said. She pulled her fluffy robe tightly across her chest. Her hair was in a braid, but pieces had come loose while she was asleep. Her brows drew together and she looked every one of her seventy-three years.
“It’s a hotel, Vi. It’s probably someone going to their room.” I rolled away from her and pulled the covers over my head, trying to get warm and slow my heartbeat.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Vi said. “This isn’t a party cruise. Everyone is asleep.”