Corpse in the Crystal Ball (4 page)

“I can assure you, Ms. Gonzales, I am the real deal. My predictions always come true, eventually. It just sometimes takes me a while to correctly interpret what I see, and these psychic tools help me to tap into my clairvoyant abilities.”

I took her hands in mine and tried not to notice how satiny her skin was. How fine and delicate her bone structure was. Even her cuticles were perfect. Ugh. Who was I kidding? I could see exactly why Mitch had fallen for someone like her. He was a man, and she embodied the perfect female form.

How could I compete with that? Not that I wanted to, I reminded myself, but it was getting harder to believe.

“Is everything okay, Miss Meadows? You look like you’re in pain. Or constipated. I need for you to see things clearly.”

“Yup, that’s it. Haven’t had enough fiber, I guess. I’m fine, really.”

“Don’t worry, dear.” Granny poked her head in through the beads. “I’ve got a cookie for that.”

I groaned. I’d be stuck in the bathroom all day by the time she was done with me. “Thanks, Granny, but I’m in the middle of a session. I really can’t be interrupted.”

“I’ve got you covered, honey. You just do your thing, and I’ll make you feel light as a feather when you’re done.” She scurried off to the kitchen with Morty by her side, as was his habit these days, bow tie and all.

“Lucky you.” Isabel arched a winged brow.

“Yay me.” I grimaced. “Okay, let’s try this again.” This time I held her hands and emptied my brain of everything except focusing on her energy. My eyes sprang open. “You’re a crystal ball person.”

The first flicker of genuine excitement crossed her face. “Really? That’s so exciting.”

“It can be.” I stood and went to my supply shelf in the corner. “You have to be very careful with crystal balls. Scrying can be dangerous. A scryer—that’s me—is vulnerable when she communes with a crystal ball by herself or for a querent—that’s you. I have to protect myself and allow only good positive energy to connect with me, avoiding any evil negative energy from taking over and controlling the session.”

Isabel looked hesitant. “I don’t want to do something that will bring me harm.”

“You’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing,” I reassured her, and then started telling her about Moonbeam. “Each scryer picks out his or her own special crystal ball and names it. Moonbeam is the name of my crystal ball.” I passed my tea leaves and tarot cards, then lifted the black-silk-covered quartz sphere from its stand and brought it to the table.

“In crystal gazing, a sphere is often used because it is shaped like the world, which is the center of all creative impulses where psychics draw their energy from. There’s no beginning or ending so the flow of energy is continuous.” I uncovered Moonbeam so it lay on top of the black silk
cloth used only for scrying, being careful not to touch the ball.

Isabel studied the ball as though fascinated. “I think your crystal is broken. Look at all those cracks.”

“Quartz works well because it has a great vibratory quality. Crystals amplify, transmit, and receive energy. This ball isn’t broken. Those cracks you’re talking about that look like sparkling rainbows are actually better than clear crystal or glass balls because they act as focus points for the scryer and are seen as doorways. Just so you know, I’ve already cleared the ball.”

“What’s clearing?”

“Cleansing the ball to remove any leftover energies, either positive or negative, from other readings.”

“Wow, that’s actually sort of interesting, I guess. Now what?”

I stifled what I really wanted to say and said instead, “Now I finish setting up.”

I placed protective crystal angels on the four corners of the table. Next I put on soft, soothing new age music and burned some granular jasmine incense on a charcoal disk. I chose a purple candle for higher self, lit it, and placed it behind the ball to avoid any reflective images from shining on the ball, which would interfere with the images within. Finally, I dimmed the lights.

“There, all set,” I stated.

“What should I do?” she asked.

“I want you to lay your hands on the crystal ball to charge it so Moonbeam can tap into your energy. Concentrate on what you want to know. When you are done, remove your hands.”

“Okay, here goes.” Isabel rubbed her hands together and then gently laid them on both sides of Moonbeam. Her face was a mask of concentration as she stared hard into the ball with a determined look. Finally, she let go, looking slightly flushed and a bit winded. “Tell me what you see,” she demanded, looking a little crazed and desperate.

“Patience,” I said calmly. “This is a process, not a party trick. These things can’t be rushed. First, I must ground myself. When a psychic is in a trancelike state, she is vulnerable to danger and being attacked. When I go into the trance, don’t say anything or distract me. Let me finish completely, and then we will interpret everything I see. You can take notes or even tape this session if you’d like.”

“No tapes and nothing in writing,” she said a little too quickly and firmly. “I’ll remember what you said.”

“As you wish,” I replied, wondering what she had to hide.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply to center myself. Reaching out to the spiritual realm, I said aloud to the universe, “I will allow only good, positive energy to connect with me during this session. Bad, negative energy be gone.”

When I was ready, I gazed into the ball and let my eyes go out of focus. A slight tingling, vibrating sensation ran over my body as Moonbeam and I fell into harmony, and a psychic connection was established. As I fell deeper into a trance and entered the astral plane, a mist appeared in the crystal ball. I stared at that spot until colors and images formed.

“Your chakra is red. You thrive on attention. You’re very passionate. You wear daring, aggressive clothing that’s bright, bold, and beautiful. You like to be happy and entertaining, but you don’t like it if people oppose your ideas or
behaviors. It offends you. You feel energetic and sexy and just want to be noticed. Beware. You will be noticed but not in the way that you want.”

The color faded, and a kaleidoscope of images took its place. My eyes narrowed into the tunnel vision they always did when my psychic powers took over, and I relayed what I saw out loud. I stood in Isabel’s shoes and felt the excitement and passion Mitch had when he first met her.

She
had
been different. Nicer. Kinder.

“A co-worker in the accounting department introduced you to Detective Stone. He was one of her boyfriend’s close friends. While out on a double date, you and Mitch fell head over heels in love. You’d both come from nothing and had worked hard to get where you were. You at least had a family, but Mitch had confided that since his parents had died young, all he’d had was his kid sister. Until now …

“Over time you started to change and become obsessed with material things. The more Mitch moved up within the police force, the more and more things you craved.”

Yet through it all I felt Mitch’s unending love for her.

“Soon you wouldn’t need material things to fill a void. You would have him. After a big promotion to detective, he was working on a sting operation to take down a huge drug ring, creating tension between the two of you. You didn’t like his late and untimely hours, and his sister always seemed to be hanging around, claiming she was being followed. You threatened him and told him to choose between the two of you. Mitch didn’t want to lose you and felt his sister was just being paranoid, so he ignored his sister’s fears, and then she …” I gasped and nearly lost my concentration. “She died.”

After a moment, I continued. “The drug lords he’d been
after had put a hit on his sister. Feeling horrible, you tried and tried to get through to him, but your relationship was never quite the same. He blamed himself and vowed to find her killer one day.”

My chest ached with the sorrow I felt for Mitch and Isabel. The vision before me clouded, then became clear. Everything was calm, yet there was a slight charge in the air.

“Mitch was in a restaurant with an engagement ring in his pocket, convinced everything would work out the way it was meant to. I can feel his conviction, his love, his sincerity, but you never showed up. He would have forgiven you anything, but then he received a phone call that would change it all. Would ruin you in his eyes. Would ruin his trust in women for good and would make him the hard, cynical man he is today.”

I took a breath of anticipation. “The phone call said—”

“Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” a cuckoo clock chimed over and over, breaking my concentration and yanking me away from my connection with Moonbeam.

Startled, I blinked, coming out of my trance and grounding myself. What was that? I scanned the room, then looked up at the offending clock.

Granny Gert!

Exasperated, I glanced at a stunned and shaken Isabel. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea that clock was in here.”

“I didn’t realize you would see the past, too,” she said in barely more than a whisper, seeming alarmed. “D-Did you see anything else?”

“No, I really am sorry. That clock distracted me.”

She looked relieved.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it, though,” I
continued. “Or we can try again if you’d like.” I had so many questions. What had that phone call been about? Why hadn’t they married? What could have led to her scarring Mitch’s face?

Had he ever caught his sister’s killer?

“I ruined everything. I didn’t know he was going to propose,” she said quietly, more to herself than me. Then she stared at me with a bit of panic. “Please don’t tell anyone about Mitch’s sister. He’s a very private person, and it would kill him if the information got out.”

“My readings are confidential. I only speak of them when I’m forced to. Like, say, if a crime were committed.” I watched her carefully.

Her eyes flashed once, but then her face became an unreadable mask. She stood.

“Wait. Don’t you want to talk about that phone call?” I asked hopefully. “I could help you work through whatever is troubling you.”

“No,” she snapped, returning to her old self. “That’s all in the past. I’m focusing on the future. I’m confident I can get what I came for now.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, unable to deny the dread souring my stomach.

“Mitch. If he loved me once, I can make him love me again.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground. I clearly saw that you will be noticed, only not in the way you want,” I said a bit desperately. “You could be in danger. Be careful, okay? Trust me when I say to heed my warning.”

“Don’t worry. I plan to be very careful. May I use your bathroom, please?”

“Sure. It’s around the corner on the other side of the stairs.”

“Thanks.” She disappeared.

I thanked my crystal ball, did a quick clear with incense and made a mental note to cleanse it fully later, then returned Moonbeam back to its special place on my shelf with the black silk scrying cloth covering it.

I always cleared Moonbeam after every reading by soaking the ball in a bowl of distilled water with a pinch of sea salt. And every full moon I did a deep cleansing by leaving the ball soaking overnight in the moonlight.

Isabel shot me a quick wave as she left through the front door, somehow looking much lighter.

I was glad to know one of us was feeling better. I scowled at Granny’s cuckoo clock. I had been so close to discovering more about Mitch’s past, but once again Granny Gert had interfered. He’d been about to propose to Isabel, and his kid sister had died because of him. And what was up with that phone call?

When had Granny put that stupid clock in my sanctuary, anyway? One thing was certain. Things around here were going to change. Okay, two things were certain.… I’d made a huge mistake in saying I just wanted to be friends with Detective Mitch Stone if the green jealousy monster residing within me was any indication.

Maybe it was time I did something about it.

“Hey, Mitch, just the person I wanted to see,” I said the next morning as I stepped out of my car in the parking lot of Gretta’s Mini-Mart. Clouds obliterated the sun, looming ominously with the threat of rain.

Tuesday was laundry day, so Granny had sent me out with another grocery list while she did her wash. I hadn’t seen Mitch at all yesterday after I’d given Isabel her reading. Word around town was she’d cornered him at Nikko’s Restaurant during lunch, and they’d had a huge fight that had ended with him telling her to leave town or she’d be sorry. Nikko’s was an Italian restaurant with a Tuscan-style theme.

Mitch put a small bag of groceries in the saddlebag on his big Harley-Davidson motorcycle and then zipped up his leather riding jacket. He had on a pair of jeans, black leather riding gloves, and boots.

“Really?” he finally responded. “I seem to remember last we talked you didn’t want to see me, period, Miss Meadows,” he said with a definite bite to his words as he slipped his helmet on.

“Miss Meadows?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t you think we’re past that formality, Detective?” Why had I ever said I just wanted to be friends? At the time, he’d said he was fine with that. Obviously, he hadn’t been “fine with it” at all. He’d treated me differently ever since. I’d been okay with that until
she’d
come to town and made me realize what I was giving up.