Psychic Series Boxset: Books 1-3

by Lisa Freed

  “That’s you?!” I shouted, then immediately felt hot blood shoot up into my face as everyone in the room turned their gazes on me. Including the group of businessmen that had been unnoticed by me at a table on the far end of the room near the doorway.

  “That’s me, you did amazing for your first try.”

  “Thank you,” I said, looking down at the remainder of my omelet scattered about my plate in broken chunks.

  “So, other than having a mutual attraction between yourself and Victor what can you tell me about him. How did he die? How long ago? Things like that might help us track him down.”

  “He and his brother Andre were drug dealers and his brother and Victor’s supposed girlfriend who was boinking Andre bashed him over the head and tossed him over a family yacht. Late seventies or early eighties would be my guesstimation.” Victor’s normal attire of a brown and gold silk shirt and skin-tight brown pants came to mind and recalled discos I had seen on movies so I felt safe in my estimate.

  A thought struck me with the force of a minor headache. “Hey! With such a murder there had to have been reports of it. If we could track down a newspaper article it would have his last name and we could find his family.”

  Mateo wiped his mouth before placing his napkin down on his plate. His tone almost apologetic when he shot down my idea. “Greece, alas, is full of drug kingpins, especially during the seventies and eighties. Nothing really stands out nor would there have been mention of it in the papers. They tended to keep those distasteful things on the down low so tourist wouldn’t get put off.”

  My shoulders slumped, that made sense. Then another idea grabbed me. “What about the double-timing girlfriend? She was some sort of actress is what Victor told me. Would the tabloids have something about her, an American actress marrying a wealthy Greek man?

  “Did they get married?” Mateo gently questioned.

  “Yes, that is…” I trailed off trying to recall in Victor’s various ramblings if the two did in fact marry. “Brianna! That’s the girlfriend’s name!”

  “Great! Let’s Google her.” He whipped out his phone.

  I dug around in my purse locating it near the bottom, thank goodness for screen protectors or I would be replacing phones every few months. Or maybe that would make me more responsible with them.

  Mateo got up and pulled his chair closer to mine so we were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder, his clean, crisp citrus scent filled my nose. The slight pull of attraction I had for him earlier gripped me hard. No! Must tramp this feeling down! I could feel his eyes on me but refused to look up from my phone. No doubt I was sending off tons of obvious signals. My mouth dried up and it took some effort to work up enough spit so I could croak out a few words. “What do you think?”

  His hand shot into my field of vision tapping on the fourth link. “Try that one.”

  The link was about Brianna Anderson, a rising star who had appeared in the films Too Much Fun for Business School, Revenge of the Party Girls, and some odd indie film titled BLT’s that had received rave reviews. It stated she was disappearing from public view and had turned her back on Hollywood after marrying an insanely wealthy Greek businessman and playboy.

  “Who wrote this drivel?” I asked not expecting an answer.

  I got one anyway.

  “Some cheap tabloid writer, look a link to pictures.” He tapped it before I could intervene. Grainy, blown-up shots of a blonde woman sunbathing topless on a towel filled my screen.

  “Oh my!” escaped my lips as I stared at boobs the size of coconuts.

  “Think we have a winner?” Mateo asked.

  Looking over I saw his eyes were glued to those unreal breasts. “I think so. But now what? It’s not like I can call her up and ask if her dead ex has visited her recently.”

  With some reluctance, he pulled his eyes away from the screen to look at me. “Good point.”

  “So, what has this gained us?”

  “The last name and an appreciation for the hard-working plastic surgeons of Hollywood?”

  I swiped the screen closed while giving him my death stare.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Okay, fair enough, poor joke. Why don’t you go rest for a bit and we can meet for lunch and I’ll show you some sights?”

  I started shaking my head while dropping my phone back in my purse. “No, I can’t. I need to find Victor and save Lance.”

  “Nonsense, you owe it to yourself to do a little sightseeing. When are you ever going to be in Greece again? Besides, let’s empty our minds of this, embrace the beauty of my country and we’ll see if a solution in locating him might pop up.”

  Everything he said made sense, and I had asked myself the same question. When would I ever be here again? On several sea glass groups, I had seen some of the glorious pieces that had been found on the various beaches here. Was I really going to come all the way to Greece and go home without at least one beach walk?

  “If you can take me to a beach, we have a deal.”

  Mateo nodded his head, “Deal.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number? I’ll call you when I get the details worked out.”

  I rummaged in my bag once again to locate mine. “Good idea.” I rattled off my number and carefully put his into my contact list. Then we grabbed our plates and dumped the trash before placing the plates and glasses into a stack with other dirty dishes on a rolling service cart.

  Mateo walked me back to the elevator, giving me a cheery wave as the doors shut.

  Entering my room, I found my bed had been remade and the wet towels that I had left on the bedroom and bathroom floors were gone. A pair of slippers were placed on the bed. Nice!

  Sitting on the bed, I kicked off my flip-flops, in my hurry this morning I had forgotten to change into sandals. Checking my phone, I saw it was only ten, though it had seemed longer, it had only been an hour since meeting Mateo downstairs.

  Time with him had a way of seeming slow, funny I had just met him yesterday and already we were on such good terms. Then again what were the odds of having another psychic stumble upon me? Many people have a touch of something, what might be called simple good luck, nothing big but enough to get them by. Being in the right spot at the right time, cruising through things others found difficult. But Mateo, it was more than luck, he was the real deal.

  And the heat between us! I flopped back on the bed staring up at the white ceiling. I was single, there was nothing wrong with the attraction I felt, but I was here for one reason and it wasn’t for a short fling. Because he’s a Greek and I’m an American, knowing my luck I would get attached and there was no way I could handle that sort of long-distance relationship.

  Dating my neighbor had eaten up too much of my time, what would jet-setting every few weeks do to me? Get me fired from my own rescue that’s what!

  Time to shake it off, I had to remain friendly but emotionally uninvolved.

  I considered calling John again but after doing some quick mental calculating, I determined that if he didn’t appreciate me calling at four am he definitely wouldn’t like being woken up a day later at the same time. This time difference was going to take some getting used to. In order to reach anyone back home, I had to call later on in the day to get them at a decent morning hour or super early in the morning here to get them in the evening.

  So, calling John or Whisker Kisses was out, maybe a proper shower complete with shampooing and conditioning was in order. And hot water this time.

  My second shower of the day I enjoyed very much. Not only did I wait until the water was hot but I scrubbed my hair twice then left the conditioner in for a good ten minutes while I shaved. I felt invigorated when I stepped out of the shower into the steamed-up bathroom. This time I also remembered to put down the new bath mat that housekeeping had left for me. No more disgusting cold puddles under my feet.

  Wrapping the towel around myself, I then fetched my brush and makeup bag. I rarely wore tons of makeup, usually, just concea
ler, mascara, and blush did the trick, but I found myself doing the entire beauty routine. It had nothing to do with seeing Mateo again later today I told myself, making the O face while putting the mascara on.

  I undid the towel that was wrapped around my head, releasing my hair which I gently brushed before letting it hang free to dry. Then, dropping the towel that encircled my body onto the floor, I walked naked into the bedroom. I spotted the slippers still on the bed and put those on. I wonder if I could keep them? Would it be rude to ask? Hmmmm…

  Walking over to my suitcase, I decided to dump everything onto the bed and put things away to make it easier to locate later. I was sorting through the pile for some underwear when my phone went off scaring me.

  My eyes darted everywhere, where the devil was my phone?! Then I realized the noise came from under my clothes. Of course! I had left it on the bed when I went to shower and had inadvertently emptied the suitcase on top of it. Pawing through things, I found it before it stopped ringing.

  It was Mateo!

  I hesitated to answer it, I was naked and just knew he would know. Frantically, I pulled on the top items on the clothes pile which ended up being a t-shirt and PJ short bottoms. The phone ceased ringing.

  Nibbling on my lip, I waited to see if he would leave a message or call back.

  My phone beeped signifying a message.

  “Teresa, hey, it’s Mateo. I checked into going to Milos Island, apparently a good spot for some sea glass. Problem is the airplane from Athens only goes a few days a week, today being one of them. So, we either go today or can take a ferry tomorrow. The ferry takes around four or so hours, the plane takes forty-five minutes. When you get this call me back asap so I can book flight tickets if that’s what you decide. Thanks!”

  Had I mentioned my sea glass habit to him? I frowned, I didn’t think so. As cute as the guy was, I really didn’t care for this mind reading bit. As for which option to choose, that was a definite no-brainer. The idea of over eight hours round-trip on a boat after that long-ass international flight was a big nope.

  I pressed the redial button and listened to the phone ring waiting for Mateo to pick up. After about six rings he did, sounding out of breath. “Hello?”

  “Mateo? Hi, it’s Teresa. Book the flight, please. When does it leave? Do we have time to go today?”

  “That was fast, I didn’t expect you to get back to me that quickly.”

  “You just caught me unable to get to the phone.”

  “Okay, give me a moment,” he said.

  I heard the sound of him rummaging around then the distinct click of a keyboard.

  “Can you be ready and outside your hotel in fifteen minutes?”

  Looking down at my mismatched clothes, I felt thankful that I had already done my makeup. “Sure, I’ll be out there waiting.”

  “Great, see ya soon,” he said then disconnected.

  I tossed the phone onto a clear area on the bed so I wouldn’t lose it again then tore through the pile looking for appropriate airplane and beach attire. I settled for my white fringed shorts that suitably covered my buns, a tank-top, and a gauzy white and turquoise print shirt for modesty on the plane and to ward off the chill of AC.

  This time I also made sure to put on my sandals, it would be mortifying to be out waiting for Mateo in slippers. I hadn’t brought any sunscreen thinking I would purchase it here if needed. When packing and planning for this unexpected trip, I honestly had no idea how long I would be here or what I would need. I still didn’t.

  Knowing it was another flight and not wanting to bother with any checked luggage there was no point in buying sunscreen at this moment, all I could hope was that I could get some on the island and then would toss it before taking the flight back here. The same was not true of a hat though, and that I did have on hand. It was a floppy beach hat that rolled up and was kept in my purse for just such adventures or hair emergencies.

  My hair! It was still wet. Did I have time to dry it? Consulting my phone, it appeared not. At least it would dry on the way. I did take the time to brush my teeth and do a fast swipe of lipstick before gathering my room key and purse. My passport I had never taken out of it so I knew that was good.

  Just when I opened the door, a memory tugged which sent me dashing back to my bag to retrieve the red sea glass necklace I had found at Lance’s house. My thumb rubbed against the satiny smooth piece of glass and I chewed on the inside of my cheeks to control the zing of emotion that bolted through me. For all his many faults, Lance had been a bit of a romantic, having this made for me knowing how much I adored sea glass, and red is one of the rarest. Fumbling with the tiny lobster claw clasp it caught on a few of the thin, wispy hairs on the nape of my neck. The fragile strands of hair broke as I pulled the chain free from them while leaving the room.

  I got lucky and had the elevator entirely to myself with no stops on the way to the lobby. Exiting the hotel, I loitered around looking up and down the street wondering how I would identify Mateo. A sleek back Porsche approached from the right and I found myself holding my breath, then it passed by.

  As my eyes trailed after it, admiring its smooth lines, a beat-up brown Civic pulled up to the curb next to me. My head whipped around as an ugly horn blast sounded. The rear passenger window went down and Mateo’s head popped forward.

  “Teresa, come on, come on!” he shouted while the door opened and he scooted over on the seat.

  I climbed inside and was in the process of closing the door when the car lurched into traffic. The air whipped through the open window sending my hair billowing around my head in a crazed hair tornado. Too busy trying to locate the other end of the safety belt to close the window I spit out bits of hair and tried not to sneeze as a few ends went up my nose. Finally, I got my belt clicked in place and stabbed a finger at the window button feeling my hair settling around my face as the glass rapidly closed.

  Using both hands, I swooped the wild mess of my hair back then looked over at Mateo to find him staring at me with his knuckles shoved into his mouth to stifle his laughter. My own lips twitched at the sight of him trying so hard.

  That apparently sent him over because a deep chortle escaped from around his fist and when he removed it, waves of laughter broke free rocking him forward in the seat. Tears glistened in his dark eyes when he calmed down enough to look at me.

  “I’m sorry, so sorry, it’s just you looked like that hairy character from The Addams Family movie, Cousin It.” He broke out in a fresh round of laughter.

  Whether it was that kooky image or the sight of him cracking up, I came completely undone and joined him in helpless laughter. It felt great!

  When we both calmed down, he wiped at the tears under his eyes, flashing a huge grin my way. “Thank goodness you took that well; most women wouldn’t be so good natured about it.”

  I let that pass, deciding to change the subject. “So, what’s the deal with the limited flights?”

  Mateo shrugged his shoulders, he still wore the same polo shirt and shorts he had been wearing when we had breakfast this morning, the only difference was a pair of black sunglasses he had in one hand that he swung by the tip of the earpiece. “Just the way things are. Probably not worth the expense of having flights out every day. I’ll warn you, we’ll be going on one of those small thirty-or-so passenger planes.”

  “You’re joking?” I cried out, though by the bland expression on his face I knew he wasn’t.

  “It’s a short jaunt, nothing to worry about.” He studied me for a moment then added, “We could take the ferry tomorrow if it is a big deal to you.”

  “No, no, I’m just being silly.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We arrived at the airport but this time, instead of going to the nice impressive looking terminal that I had arrived at yesterday, we bypassed that and walked down to the far end to a rundown looking hanger and a dinky little area where unclaimed luggage was taken. This wasn’t inspiring confidence.

  The pilot himself
called us for boarding. It was just two older women and Mateo and myself. We exited a rather average door and immediately found ourselves out on the apron where a small silver plane sat. As we climbed up the tiny, rickety stairs, which swayed under our weight, I had second thoughts. Mateo had been polite, ushering us ladies up first and was directly behind me. He wasn’t very nice about my hesitation though and whispered in my ear. “Up you go, you can’t back out now I already turned our tickets in.”

  “I’ll reimburse you,” I hissed over my shoulder, both hands holding onto the metal stair rails hard enough to hurt.

  “You’ll kick yourself for not doing this.”

  He had a point. Gripping the rails even tighter, I slowly went up the rest of the stairs, my eyes fixed upon the door not the moving steps under me. Inside the plane seemed even smaller than it looked from the outside. Both the other ladies sat in seats up front, one directly behind the pilot’s seat, the other at a window seat on the other side of the aisle. There were only four rows of seats with four seats in each row, two on either side of a narrow aisle.

  Not wanting to be in the last row or right behind the other passengers, I chose the middle row and sat down on a dingy gray/blue upholstered seat that had no cushioning left to it. Mateo sat down beside me, stretching his left leg out into the aisle. A wide grin stretched his mouth as he pulled a tattered magazine out of the back pocket of the seat in front of him.

  “We’re not going to crash,” he said calmly, paging through what looked like a news journal type magazine.

  “We haven’t even taken off yet,” I argued, wishing I had brought a book or something in my purse. The pocket in front of me was devoid of reading material other than a safety pamphlet on how to apply your oxygen mask. Looking up, I didn’t see where any such masks could pop out of.

  “I would know if this plane were going to crash. Wouldn’t you?” His deep, dark eyes lifted to look at me.

  “Maybe. Mine doesn’t work like yours. Sometimes I get flashes, or dreams, those are harder to interpret. Mostly it’s through touching things that I get an idea of what is going on, or because a spirit gives me information.”