Clairvoyant and Present Danger

by Lena Gregory

  He blew out a breath, glanced over his shoulder, and lowered his voice. “It wasn’t a skeleton. It was a woman’s body.”

  Cass gasped. Harry had referred to it as a body as well, but he’d also referred to the first skeleton as a body, so she’d just assumed—

  “You have to stay out of this, Cass.” Tank grabbed the paper he’d tossed on the counter and handed it to her.

  She opened it and stared at the picture of her coming out of the police station on the front page and the headline above it: “Local Psychic Aids Police in Murder Investigation.” “Ah jeez.”

  “Maybe you could close the shop up for a few days and go away with Luke or something.”

  “You didn’t involve Luke in this, did you?” That was the last thing she needed. She was having enough trouble building any sort of relationship with him without him thinking he had to play babysitter. She folded the paper and tossed it in the trash can.

  “No. At least not yet.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not yet’? How can you even be sure the woman was murdered?” All right, so that was probably a stupid question, considering she’d been found buried on the beach, but still . . .

  He sighed. “This is between us, and nobody else. I mean it, Cass. Nobody.”

  She nodded.

  “The first skeleton was tangled in a large net. There are several ways, both sinister and not, that could have happened. But the woman was found with a plastic bag covering her head and red string tied around her neck to hold it in place. That couldn’t have happened accidentally.”

  Cass struggled to swallow the lump blocking her throat, but she still only managed a hoarse croak. “Artie Becker’s daughter?”

  “We haven’t identified her yet.” He studied her for a moment, seeming to weigh how much he wanted to say. “She does fit the description, though, so it’s a possibility. Now, will you please make yourself scarce and stay out of this?”

  “I’ll do my best, but I can’t close the shop, Tank.”

  He smoothed the goatee he’d been wearing for the past couple of weeks and nodded. “I understand, but I don’t want you there alone at night anymore. Fair enough?”

  That was an easy enough concession to make, since she was in no hurry to confront another intruder. “Sure. Thanks, Tank.”

  He pulled the curtain aside and walked with her toward the waiting room.

  The instant they pushed through the double doors, Bee hovered over her. “Oh, dear. Are you all right, sweetie? Here, let me help you.” He put his arm around her and guided her toward the doors.

  Tank winked at her. “Well, I can see you’re in good hands, so I’ll see you in a few hours.” He nodded to Bee, then headed back into the emergency room.

  “Where’s he going?”

  Bee looked after him for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to talk to the doctor. Anyway . . .” Bee waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s get you home. Do you want to stop for coffee?”

  Her stomach flip-flopped, and sour bile burned the back of her throat. “Definitely not. I just want to get home and lie down. Hopefully, I can sleep now.”

  “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

  She stopped and turned to him, being sure to hold his gaze. “Thank you, Bee. You really are a great friend.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “You’re my best friend, Cass. I’d do anything for you.”

  She rested her cheek against his broad chest, taking comfort from his strength.

  18

  Cass checked the rearview mirror, hit the turn signal, and pulled into the parking lot at Mystical Musings. Tank was supposed to pick her up, but he’d gotten sidetracked with something, and she’d gotten tired of waiting. He could just meet her there later. Besides, she couldn’t wait any longer to stop and see Beast. She’d been worried sick about him. She ruffled his mane, thrilled the vet had released him this morning with a firm admonishment about getting him trained. She’d assured him that she’d scheduled an appointment with Herb Cox.

  She was already over an hour late to open the shop. Although she’d only slept a few hours, it had been dream free, and she felt more rested than she had in a while. Except for the pain in her head, but at least that was manageable.

  Leaving the car windows open to air out the stench of Beast’s vomit, which still lingered despite last night’s and this morning’s scrubbings, she slammed the door and strode toward the shop with Beast trotting excitedly beside her. “Behave yourself.”

  He tilted his head in an expression she might have taken for innocence if she didn’t know him better.

  Several people were already milling around on the front porch. Hopefully they were customers and not reporters.

  “Hi. Sorry I’m late.” She unlocked the door and held it open for the small group to precede her. “Feel free to have a look around while I open up.”

  She left them to browse and crossed the shop to open the back door. Thankfully, the beach seemed fairly empty other than a few kids playing and a couple of women chatting. None of the reporters from yesterday were hanging around. Maybe the thick black clouds hanging overhead were driving people off.

  After settling Beast with a bone, she turned over the OPEN sign, started a pot of coffee and water for tea, and set out a couple of trays of cookies. She found people didn’t mind waiting if she made them comfortable, and that was a big part of the atmosphere she’d worked so hard to create.

  She then opened the register, carefully counting out the change to be sure none had been stolen. It hadn’t.

  With that done, she turned her attention to her customers, walking through the shop, greeting everyone, and offering refreshments. A few of the faces were familiar, but many were not. One woman in particular stood out. She was middle-aged. She seemed nervous, out of place. She was alone, and instead of browsing as most of the others were, she stood to the side, making herself as inconspicuous as possible, arms wrapped tightly across her stomach.

  Cass approached her first. “Good morning. I’m Cass. Can I help you with anything special today?”

  A tremor shook her hand as she patted her perfectly coifed hair. “I hope so.” She offered a tentative smile. “I’m Trish.”

  “Do you know what you’re looking for? Or what you hope to accomplish?”

  “Actually, I have no idea what I’m looking for. As for what I’m hoping to accomplish . . .” She cast a quick look around the shop and lowered her voice. “I’m very much hoping to find out if my husband is being unfaithful.”

  “Do you have reason to believe he is?”

  She nodded but didn’t expand. This woman didn’t need to discover anything; she already knew.

  “Come with me. I may have something that will help.” Cass led her toward a small seating arrangement. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  She shook her head.

  Cass left her sitting on the love seat long enough to pull out a few trays of stones, a suede pouch, and a leather cord, then she returned and sat next to her. Though she was confident her customers would wait, and she didn’t want to rush the woman, she didn’t like to keep anyone waiting too long. “I’m a little busy right now, but I’d love to do a reading for you if you have time to come back later.”

  Trish clasped and unclasped her hands. “Would it help?”

  “It might help us get to the bottom of what’s going on, but for now, I have some stones you can carry that might help you feel better.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll come back.”

  “Good.” Cass patted her entwined hands and watched her carefully. “Now, what do you hope to accomplish? Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, he is cheating on you. How do you want to handle it?”

  She needn’t have bothered looking for subtle tells; Trish’s pain was written all over her face. “I love my husband,” she whispered.
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br />   “Okay, then. Let’s do this . . .” She sorted through the stones, lifting some, turning them over in her hand. Some she returned to the bins. Others, the ones that felt just right to bring this woman comfort, she set atop the suede pouch she’d laid on the table.

  When she was satisfied she had the correct combination to help attract love, but also give her the strength to accept the truth and the confidence to move on if need be, she set the rest aside. She held a greenish-blue stone up between her thumb and forefinger. “This is Lapis Lazuli. It does many things, but one of the things it’s known for is enhancing love and fidelity within a marriage.”

  Trish’s eyes widened. “Really? Stones can help with that?”

  “Sure. There are crystals that aid with all sorts of things: love, healing, strength . . . confidence.” Cass had hoped for a reaction to the last one, but she was disappointed. That was the one thing she felt Trish needed more than anything else. Well, she’d do what she could, but faith in herself was something Trish would have to discover on her own.

  She held up an amber crystal. “Amber is considered a good luck charm for love and marriage.” It also helped bring clarity of thought and wisdom.

  Next came a rose quartz, one of Cass’s favorite stones. Its beautiful pink color always brought her a sense of peace and calm. “Rose quartz is known as the love stone. It brings all kinds of love, as well as soothing energy. It also lowers stress.”

  For the first time, Trish offered a tentative smile. “I could definitely use that one.”

  Cass smiled back, glad to see she might finally be reacting a little. “Okay, this one is a little different.” She held up an abalone with gorgeous iridescent whirls of silver, pink, and blue. “It’s a seashell, and it’s not only known for its soothing and healing qualities, but also for offering guidance in relationships.”

  Cass slid the handful of stones into the pouch and told Trish to turn around. She tied the top with the leather cord, then handed it to Trish. “Hold this over your heart.” When she did as instructed, Cass tied the leather cord around her neck. “There. Hopefully, that will help some, but I’d still love for you to come back in for the reading.”

  “You bet I will.” She threw her arms around Cass’s neck in a quick hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re very welcome. I hope everything works out.”

  She smiled, her fingers wrapped tightly around the bag against her chest. “It will.”

  Cass’s heart soared. Maybe Trish hadn’t lacked confidence as much as she’d lacked hope. Good. Maybe now she’d take charge and work things out.

  Cass scheduled an appointment for Trish’s reading, rang up her purchase, and bid her good-bye. Then she turned to the other customers milling about the shop.

  When there was finally a lull, she ran upstairs. A cursory walk of the perimeter didn’t show anything out of place. Bee had moved the file cabinets into her office and put her papers in the drawers. She’d have to go through and reorganize it when she had time, but for now at least it was upstairs and they could concentrate on getting the room ready for Saturday. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell if anything was missing.

  The tinkle of wind chimes as someone entered the shop cut her search short. She headed down the stairs. Maybe Tank had finally arrived. If not, she’d give him a call and tell him not to bother. Nothing seemed out of place. She had no clue what the intruder had been looking for.

  Leighton crouched next to Beast, petting his head. When she spotted Cass, she stood and brushed off her hands. “Oh, hi.”

  Cass’s heart skipped a beat. Had she noticed the smudge Cass had left on the painting? Her tone was too neutral to tell. “Hi.”

  “I heard about what happened last night, and I wanted to stop in and see how you were feeling.”

  Relief rushed through her. “Oh, thanks. I feel all right. A couple of stitches and a little sore, but that’s about it.” Cass grinned. “Where’d you hear about it?”

  “The deli, not long after they opened.” Leighton’s soft chuckle echoed in the shop. “I have no clue how news spreads so fast on this island.”

  Cass joined her laughter. “Me neither, but it certainly does. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?”

  “A cup of tea sounds great.”

  “Sit, I’ll get it.” Cass gestured toward the back table she used for readings. Hmm . . . An idea started to form. If she could talk Leighton into a reading, maybe she could get a better feeling for the woman. Or even better, maybe she could lead the conversation to the painting and get her to open up a little.

  “I love your shop. It’s so cozy.”

  “Thank you.” A surge of pride shot through her. She dropped tea bags into two foam cups, poured water over them, then set them on the table. “Milk or sugar?”

  “No, nothing, thanks.”

  Cass took her usual seat directly across from Leighton. “So, how’s business?”

  Leighton’s stormy gray eyes showed no emotion, making it difficult for Cass to get a read on her. She shrugged. “It’s not bad. I’m hoping it’ll pick up over the summer.”

  “It will. The boardwalk and beach are crowded with tourists all summer long. The rush starts in the spring and lingers into the fall, but summer is when most of us make the bulk of our sales.”

  “Winters must be tough.”

  Cass blew on her tea and nodded. “They are.”

  “This will be my first winter on Bay Island, so I’m hoping to establish myself and maybe sell to some of the galleries on Long Island before it starts getting cold.”

  Cass searched for an opening to bring up the painting. “Do you often sell to galleries?”

  “Occasionally.”

  Her interest piqued. “Bee designs most of his lines and then sells them to buyers, but sometimes he’ll design something specifically for someone. Is that how it works with paintings?”

  Leighton squeezed her tea bag out against her spoon, then set it aside and sipped her tea. “My business is about half and half. I paint what I like, and often people buy the paintings. I’ve gotten to know what will sell, so that helps. But some paintings, like the one I’m doing for Bee, and often portraits, are special order.”

  It was now or never. Trying to appear casual, Cass asked, “So, the portrait I saw in your window, did someone commission that one?” She lifted her cup to take a sip while she waited for an answer, but her shaking hand probably gave away her nerves.

  Leighton picked at the top of the foam cup, breaking off little pieces and coaxing them into a small pile, wiping off those that stuck to her fingers with static. Keeping her gaze averted, she turned the cup to the other side and sipped her tea.

  Cass waited. There was obviously some problem she was hesitant to talk about, but years of practice had taught Cass silence was sometimes the best way to get someone to talk. She steadied her hand and took another sip of tea, the heat almost scorching her throat. It took all of her willpower to give Leighton the time she needed and to keep her gaze from shooting to the doors, hoping desperately no one would come in and interrupt.

  “That painting was commissioned by the woman’s boyfriend.”

  Yes! Now to figure out if it was Artie Becker’s daughter. “Did the woman pose for you, or was it done from a picture?”

  “No, she came in and posed for the portrait.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  She ignored the question.

  Dang.

  “Let me ask you a question now.”

  Uh-oh. Cass shrugged. “Sure.” How in the world could she explain the smudge? Maybe she could just play dumb.

  “Why are you so interested in that painting?” She tilted her head, her expression hard.

  Cass took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. I am going to be completely honest with you.” Since I just cannot come up with a go
od enough lie to explain my interest. “I don’t know if you believe in anything . . . otherworldly, as Bee would call it . . .”

  She watched for a reaction, but Leighton gave nothing away.

  “But I’ve been dreaming of a woman lately, a woman who asks me for help, and when I saw the portrait in your window, I was almost certain it was the same woman.”

  Leighton frowned. “How long have you been having the dreams?”

  “A little over a week now.”

  “So you think the woman I painted really needs help?”

  “I don’t know what to think.” She wasn’t quite ready to share her suspicions that the woman from the portrait was the same woman who was found on the beach. “But I’d like to try to find the woman and at least make sure she’s okay.”

  Leighton smiled. “Sure.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yes. I’ll help you—if I can. I don’t have much information. The woman and her boyfriend came in and asked me to do the painting. I agreed. She posed for a while, then they left. That was it. They were supposed to return the following week to pick it up, but they never showed up.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “About a month ago.”

  “Do you remember the woman’s name?”

  “I don’t remember. I think it was Kathy or Kerry or something like that.”

  She was lying. The certainty plowed through Cass with a vengeance. “Do you remember the boyfriend’s name? Or could you look it up?”

  “When they didn’t show up for the portrait, after I tried to reach them several times, I just tossed the paperwork and painted over the portrait. No sense wasting a perfectly good canvas. I do remember the man’s name, though. Vincent DiSilva. He’s from Long Island. East Hampton, if I’m not mistaken.”

  If the calculated look in her eye was any indication, she was not mistaken. Cass chose to ignore the lies. No sense calling her on them when she couldn’t prove anything.

  Besides, if Cass went about it the right way, she could probably get the information on her own anyway. “Have you ever had a reading before?”