A Murder in Mohair (10 page)

Or had she done a little homework online or at the library and found Bill's obituary and local news of Maggie opening the shop a few years back and mentioned her recent widowhood?

The Internet had made it frighteningly easy to set yourself up as a psychic medium. Especially if you had good research skills.

Maggie's cards showed a new relationship, “a harmonious match.” That had to be Charles, of course. But again, Cassandra could have gleaned this from gossip or talk between Edie and Nora. Or taken a guess.

Dana was clearly the hardest nut for Cassandra to crack. The only evidence of Dana's reaction: a tightening of her clasped hands, which she was soon conscious of and hid in her lap.

Dana's cards spoke about her “path” as a “healer” and the challenge of working with unstable energies. A card with twins, two faces—two sides of her personality, a public face and a private one.

All true, but easy to say about anyone—and Dana had told Cassandra she was a psychologist when they'd met at the diner, Lucy recalled.

Dana's final card pictured an acrobat, juggling two golden orbs in a balancing act. Once again, a card that would have suited just about any woman Lucy knew. But it did particularly fit their pal Dana.

Was this all just eerie coincidence, smooth and clever improvisation? Or was it really messages from some other realm?

Lucy shook her head to clear the smoke and mirrors, remembering their promise to Edie.

Finally, Cassandra began to ease out of her trance. “I guess that's all for tonight. I'm feeling a bit drained. The connection is fading,” she reported with regret.

Lucy glanced at her watch to see that precisely an hour had passed. The spirits were on a tight schedule, weren't they? Maybe they had a union.

“Thank you so much for inviting me.” Cassandra gathered her cards and blew out the candle. As Maggie turned the lights up again, reality quickly set in.

Lucy walked Cassandra to the front of the shop and handed her a check in an envelope. “Thanks again for coming on such short notice. It was all very interesting,” she added, which was true enough.

“Good night, Lucy. And don't worry. Things will work out for you. Eventually. You'll see.” A misty summer rain had begun to fall. Cassandra drew her soft shawl around her shoulders and draped it over her head, in the exotic style of women in the Middle East.

Lucy didn't answer at first, annoyed that the psychic assumed her predictions had been correct and Lucy had good reason to worry. I am not worried . . . am I?

“Good night,” was all Lucy managed to say. She watched from the doorway a moment as Cassandra darted out into the rain.

When Lucy returned to the back of the shop, she found her friends bustling around, quickly setting out plates and flatware on the table. Maggie emerged from the storeroom with a tray full of different dishes, and they were soon sipping won ton soup and passing around bowls of Chinese food.

And critiquing Cassandra's performance.

“She's good at stroking your ego with subtle compliments and flattering observations about your ‘energy,' ” Lucy observed.

“Very good,” Dana agreed. “She had a wonderful knack for associating the pictures and symbols on the cards with the clues we gave her, just by our appearance and the little bit she knows about each of us. Even what she could tell from first impressions about our personalities.”

“That's what she did to all of us,” Lucy insisted. “It was so obvious after a while. I bet she has some set lines she pulls out of her hat, for the working-mom types and the thirty-something singletons, like yours truly.”

“Lucy's right. And I wouldn't doubt she did a little research on a few of us,” Suzanne added. “Maybe just by chatting up Nora after she met us at the diner? That would have been enough to help. She could have even googled our names. We all have a few bits of personal information floating out there on the Internet.”

“Okay, I can buy all that,” Phoebe agreed, picking through a pile of lo mein noodles on her dish. “But how did she know Lucy was a water sign?”

“That is a fair question, but she might have just taken a guess. She could have just tossed out water sign and if Lucy said it was something else, adjusted her reply,” Dana suggested.

“Or maybe she did a little research and a copyright entry came up with my name on it. I do have a credit for illustrating a children's book. They put your birthday down in the copyright information . . . though I have no idea why everyone in the world needs to know that. Thank you, Library of Congress.”

Maggie laughed at her dismay. “Oh, fear of turning thirty-five, rearing its ugly head again. You should be proud you have a copyright of something, Lucy. But she may have found the entry. That's very true.”

“Well, folks, all I can say, is whatever she does, she's darned good at it. But I don't know that our observations really help Edie. We didn't really catch her at anything, did we?” Lucy glanced around at her friends.

“No . . . we didn't,” Dana agreed. “It would be interesting, though, to write down all the predictions and see what really comes true, over the next few weeks or even months. Sort of an evidence journal, like an experiment.”

“I like that idea. I'm going to do it,” Lucy replied. “I do think once you try to write down what she actually predicted you'll find she didn't say anything that definitively. There was always some wiggle room. Some possibility of this . . . or that.”

“Right . . . and that makes you want to see her again, and ask for clarification. Cha-ching.” Suzanne added her cash register sound. “In my case, I already know that the Warrior Princess, yours truly, will conquer the Evil Marcy Devereaux, client-snatching Witch. But it's a comfort to know the universe is on my side.”

Suzanne turned her attention to Lucy. “How about you, Queenie? How did you feel about Cassandra's predictions? I think the spirits pushed a few buttons.”

“It was a lot of fishing. Matt and I are not facing any challenges,” she insisted. “He's not even that tall. He's only five eleven.”

Her friends didn't reply, just glanced at each other.

Maggie was the first to speak. She rose and cleared away some dirty dishes. “I'll talk to Edie and tell her how we think Cassandra manages her act. I'm not sure it will help her convince Nora to end her sessions. But maybe Edie will use what we've observed to confront Cassandra and ask her to leave Nora alone.”

“That might be enough. Edie just wants to protect Nora,” Dana said. “Not necessarily chase Cassandra out of town.”

“True . . . though sooner or later, I think somebody will see through this game and get pretty angry about being taken for a fool.” Lucy was happy to take out her knitting and forget all about Cassandra Waters. But it was harder than she'd expected.

She thought the evening would be an amusing lark. But the soulful, simpering Cassandra had gotten under her skin, as well as the eerie images of the tarot. Even chatting and knitting with her friends for a while after dinner didn't completely dispel her mood.

When she got home, she found Matt had gone up to bed early and was asleep with a book open on his chest, a memoir of a naturalist who stalked a wolf pack through the wildest regions of British Columbia for a full year. You had to love a guy who read books like that, didn't you?

Lucy lifted the book aside and turned out the light, relieved that she didn't have to answer Matt's questions about the session with Cassandra Waters right now. She was sure he'd have a lot of them.

She slipped into bed beside him, listening to the rain on the roof and windows, and the lonely sound of the wind rustling the trees. Images of the tarot cards filled her mind; was she really the dreamy Queen of Cups? Or the dreary Hermit? Neither alter personality fit exactly, though a note of truth still echoed within.

Lucy turned to her side and plumped her pillow, willing herself to fall asleep. It would be easier to put a light, breezy spin on Cassandra's ponderous predictions tomorrow morning, in the full light of day.

Matt did not need to hear half of this.

*  *  *

Matt had to
dash out early the next morning and didn't get around to asking about the reading until they were together again that night. The rain had cleared and they decided to bring dinner—and the dogs—to the beach. Not always a good combination, but the dogs loved the outing so much, it was hard to ignore their sad faces when they saw a picnic basket being packed.

“So, how was the fortune-teller last night? Should we buy a lottery ticket this weekend? . . . Mmm, this is good.” Matt was in the midst of a thick sandwich Lucy had made with a few leftovers she'd found in the fridge, grilled vegetables and cheese and other odds and ends.

“It was . . . interesting. She did say a few things to each of us that seemed on target. But I still don't think she's really psychic,” Lucy said. “There are so many ways to ‘read' people and she's definitely very sharp and knows how to gain a person's trust.”

Matt nodded thoughtfully. “Sort of sizes you up and lulls you in? Like a used car salesman?”

Lucy laughed. “A little more subtle than that . . . but yes, I guess that's her technique.”

“So, what she'd say? I'd still like to hear some of it.”

“Let's see. . . . She started with Suzanne, whom she called a Warrior Princess. She guessed that there was an office rivalry. But with Suzanne's pushy personality, that was low-hanging fruit, right?”

Matt nodded and grinned. “Very true. Go on.”

“She already knew that Dana is a psychologist and said she has to be careful of the dangerous energies of her clients . . . and that she has a public and private personality. She said Maggie was creative, but could improve her business skills. Oh, and the spirits were happy to see her sharing her gift with the world. Maggie looked very pleased to hear that.”

Matt shrugged. “Who wouldn't be?”

Lucy laughed at him. “Now that I'm recapping all these pronouncements, it doesn't sound like very much. Does it? Her delivery adds a lot. She's very dramatic.”

“Well, I'm not that impressed. I must admit. I could have dressed up in a turban and told you all that stuff for free.”

“We'll take you up on that, honey. Next time,” Lucy replied.

“What did she say about you?”

Lucy looked away from his curious gaze and focused instead on Tink, who sat calmly beside her, gnawing on a toy. “Oh . . . the usual stuff. She did see a tall man in my life,” Lucy said, embellishing a bit. “Do you think she means you?”

She laughed at his reaction. “It better be. . . . What did she say about this tall, handsome guy?”

“She just said tall,” Lucy corrected. “But a suitable match, I think.”

“You think? You don't remember?” Matt was acting mildly insulted but she knew he was just teasing her.

“Yes, definitely suitable. I guess she said a few more nice things about the tall man, too,” she added for good measure.

She picked up the other half of the sandwich; definitely a winning recipe, though she doubted she could ever reproduce the combination.

“This is good. . . . I don't even know what I put in here.”

“Don't try to change the subject. What else did she say?”

Lucy wondered now how much she should tell Matt. Was this a good time to initiate that “No pressure . . . but what's up with our relationship, pal?” conversation that Suzanne had been encouraging?

Lucy wasn't sure. As good a time as any, she supposed.

“Let's see . . . first she told me I was a queen. Creative and dreamy.”

“And beautiful,” he added quickly.

“She did say that. I didn't want to brag.” Lucy smiled at him, sipping a cold beer. “But she also said I was Hermit. Or even an upside-down hanging man . . . Or maybe you are? The tall, handsome man in my life, I mean. Hanging upside down.”

Her explanation trailed off, treading in tricky territory now, she realized.

Matt glanced at her, still smiling, but his eyes squinting a bit with unease. “A Hermit? Or an upside man?”

Lucy nodded and took a breath. She said there's a question in our relationship. A challenge that needs to be resolved. Regarding our future. Our commitment? The words formed in Lucy's head, but she couldn't quite get them out. Tink had licked every possible tasty morsel from her toy and stuck her nose in Lucy's paper plate, investigating new possibilities.

Lucy snatched it away, but not before a pile of pita chips spilled over and the dogs both descended, like hungry gulls.

“Oh, dear . . . chips are bad, dogs. . . .”

Matt laughed. “Too late now. It won't hurt them.”

True enough. She sighed, as big sandy paws tramped around the blanket and Matt's cell phone rang insistently as well.

He checked the number. “It's Claire,” he said, mentioning his ex-wife. “I'd better take this. She was trying to reach me all day.”

“Nothing wrong with Dara, I hope?”

Matt had an adorable nine-year-old daughter. Lucy had worried at first how Dara would feel about sharing her father. But she and Dara got along wonderfully, mainly because some part of Lucy had remained perennially ten years old. Everybody knew it. She loved to play kick ball, do crafts, bake cookies, and watch Harry Potter and Disney movies.

“No big deal. We still didn't sort out the camp thing and vacation time. I'd better talk to her.”

Matt picked up the call and Lucy picked up the mess. The tide was going out very quickly now. Small tide pools reflected the fading sunlight and little children waded in the puddles, some trying to catch tiny crabs and fish trapped there. Lucy loved the beach at this time of night.

But the biting flies soon arrived. They loved dusk on the shoreline, too. Before too long, she and Matt ended up running to Matt's truck, blanket, basket, and dogs in tow.