As my aunt turned the car out of the driveway and onto the road, I crossed over with Maggie in my arms toward Esmeralda’s. She really needed to keep a better eye on her cat.
Maggie meowed, like she was agreeing with me. I rang the doorbell and listened to the round of church bells echoing through the house. Esmeralda must have finished playing fortune-teller since there wasn’t a car in the driveway. I hoped I wasn’t interrupting a reading or a visit to the other world for someone. I didn’t believe in my neighbor’s ability, but I respected the allure her so-called profession or talent had for bringing tourists to our small town. Including my shop.
The door flew open and there she stood in her full costume, a beaded scarf tied around her head, the beads and small bells mixing in her long dark hair. “Jill, I didn’t expect you today.” She looked down at the cat in my arms. “Oh, Maggie brought you.”
“Actually, I brought her. She was on my porch again. You really need . . .” My words trailed off as I watched Esmeralda walk away and sit at her reading table.
“Come sit, we’ll find out what Maggie thinks you should know.” She patted the chair next to her and Maggie meowed again.
Seriously? The cat thought I needed to know something? I needed to know how to keep my nose out of the cat’s business, that’s what I needed. I should have sent her with Aunt Jackie. “I’ve got stuff to do.” I turned toward the door.
“Please, Jill, it will only take a second. Maggie won’t give up, and I’d hate to see her hurt while trying to get you to listen.” Her voice was calm, but an image of a speeding car flying toward town came to me.
I closed the door, then put Maggie down on the hardwood floor. Immediately, she ran to the open chair, then jumped onto the table and sat. Her eyes bored into me.
This was stupid. “I really don’t have a lot of time,” I grumbled as I walked toward the chair.
“Laundry can wait.”
I eyed Esmeralda. Maybe the woman had a bug set up in my house, listening to me. Now I was being paranoid. Greg thought he had a leak in the department; maybe I’d be able to find out if his dispatcher was the source of Darla’s information or just a good guesser. “Fine.”
I sat in the chair and Esmeralda grabbed both of my hands, pulling them to the table. “Relax, and let your mind wander. I’ll do the heavy lifting.”
I started to giggle, but her harsh look quieted me. I closed my eyes and wandered through the list of names Pat had given me. Kent had been busy his last few months on the earth. I felt sorry for Sherry; no one deserved that type of betrayal.
“You’re on the right path, but the reasons will be different than what appears at first.” Esmeralda’s trance voice broke my thoughts and my eyelids flew open. Her gaze was focused on the crystal ball in the middle of the table.
The ball had been clear when I sat, but now a gray mist floated in the middle. Cheap parlor trick. Then I noticed Maggie watching the ball, as well. This better keep the kitten off my porch and out of harm’s way.
The cat looked up from the swirling mist and meowed.
“A woman scorned. Some are silver and the others gold.” Esmeralda repeated the line she’d given me the last time she’d read for me. Apparently she believed in friendships. Maybe that was the point; the woman wanted a friend. Maybe I’d ask her to go with me and Amy on our next girls’ night out. I glanced at the gypsy outfit. Or maybe shopping in town would be a better start.
The grip on my hands loosened, and I felt the fortune-teller lean back into her chair.
“Sorry about that, I guess I was wrong. Sometimes the spirits don’t want to talk when we want to listen. Do you want to come back tomorrow and we can try again?” Esmeralda picked up Maggie, rubbing her under her chin.
“But you d—” I broke off my statement. It could be like sleepwalking; you were never supposed to wake the guy up unless he was about to walk off the window ledge. “Sure. I’ll talk to you later then.”
I walked the few steps home and wondered if Esmeralda was just messing with me. Had she not heard herself talk? I decided to do some research on the practice. Maybe she did have a gift. She’d been right before, but I’d chalked that up to hindsight. The old camp song echoed in my head . . . Make new friends but keep the old . . .
Friends like Pat and Sherry. Or Aunt Jackie and Mary. Or me and Amy. What would you do for a friend? Pat’s visit seemed to be a prime example of a way to be stupid for a friend.
After grabbing a bag of chips and my beer, I pulled out my laptop and looked up the list of names on Facebook. Not Investigation 101, but a good place to start. On the third name, I hit pay dirt. The photo was a group shot with what appeared to be a husband and a cute three-year-old. The woman had been the model who’d slipped out of the Business-to-Business meeting. And according to her last Facebook post, she and her spouse were celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary next week.
She’d have reason to keep the affair secret. And reason to kill Kent.
CHAPTER 11