If she had, then the devil and death card could have some meaning. It caught my eye and made me wonder, if the cards were for a client reading, did it mean there was a devil mucking up their life? Or the client was the devil intent on death?
“Do the cards mean anything to you?” Win asked.
“Well, if she was doing a reading for someone, they’re not good, but it also depends on the order she pulled them. Sometimes during a reading, you pull cards reflecting your own feelings. If that’s the case here, she had a hint he was her killer.” I stopped for a moment and gazed down at the corner of a card I was pretty sure was the King of Cups, but I couldn’t get a good look at it without disturbing the order of the cards. “I think that’s the King of Cups, which, if this was the client’s reading, speaks of a family member bringing them to this point.”
“But to the point of murder? Did she know she was going to die?”
I swallowed hard when I heard the evident distaste and upset in his question, and bit back my own disgust. “I don’t know because they’re such a jumble.”
“So if this wasn’t a client reading, then we can consider Dan or Liza as suspects. They’re certainly family.”
“It’s a definite possibility. And see the competition card? That suggests someone who needs to be noticed. It represents brashness, someone who doesn’t care who they anger.”
“And the one to the right there—with the woman bound and blindfolded?”
“It’s the card of a victim…” I whispered, surer than ever this reading had been for whoever killed Madam Z. “And the card with the cup, that represents relationships…and if I’m reading it from the killer’s standpoint, he kills because the victim has what he wants.”
“Which makes Dan a prime suspect,” Win spat.
“Maybe, but what did MZ have that he wanted? The store? According to Liza, she had no money but her pension.”
“We certainly need to talk to Liza.”
I’d managed to find Dan’s number in the phone book, but according to his dog-sitter, he and Liza were out of town in Tacoma due to a death in the family, and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. “Well, we can’t do that until tomorrow when they come back from Tacoma.”
I rose as I took in the scene again, including the scattered cards. “You know what I don’t get? If MZ was strangled, what happened to her foot? If that hole in the ball of her foot was the point of entry, which is what I suspect, how did she electrocute herself like that? Did she step on a live wire?”
Win grunted low. “I’m just now remembering. Madam Zoltar had a pedal, almost like one you’d use to run a sewing machine. It was right under this table.”
I looked to the floor, but the pedal Win mentioned was gone. “And what did she do with it?”
“The usual psychic fare. She used it to control the lights flickering on and off, move items and such.”
“Okay, so then maybe it was an accident after all? Maybe the wiring was faulty.”
“Or maybe someone tampered with the wiring. But if what Sandwich says is correct, strangulation was the cause of death—so the point is moot.”
Win’s voice had sailed across the room to an outlet on the wall next to the table. The white outlet plate was scorched, as was the wall itself.
Hands on my hips, I eyed the outlet. “Well, I’m no electrician. Any thoughts on how we’d even be able to tell someone tampered with it—or why they’d tamper with it?”
“Not a one. But after your explanation of the tarot cards and the talk of strangulation, it still means murder—by whichever means came first.”
That’s when I remembered the necklace. “Do you remember Liza mentioning a Senior Alert necklace she’d given Madam Z? She said they’d given it to her because she was keeping late hours here just to keep the place running. But I don’t remember seeing it because she had a scarf on.”
“I distinctly remember hearing Liza mention it, but I don’t remember seeing it around her neck during any of our conversations. Of course, she did always wear a scarf. Maybe it was to hide the necklace. She mentioned a time or two how her family worried, and she did whatever she could to alleviate their worries while she went right on living her life out loud.”
“You think she was embarrassed to wear it? Sort of like a babysitter she didn’t want or need?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“So why wouldn’t she press the dang thing?” I muttered, squatting down to look around the water cooler.
“That could be one of three things. One, if there was foul play, she didn’t sense any danger from her assailant. Or two, someone took it to cover their tracks. Or three, she did press it, and the investigators have it in evidence. There’s likely a chip inside that would have recorded a help signal when she pressed it.”
“Or maybe she just didn’t wear it at all. I’m more inclined to go with my first theory that Madam Z was a tough old bird and she didn’t like the idea she needed help at all.”