Good Fortunes (A Claire Rollins Mystery Book 1)

by J A Whiting

  It only took fifteen minutes to walk down to meet Nicole who stood at the corner of State Street and Atlantic Avenue wearing a yellow sleeveless dress with her dark brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail. When she spotted Claire heading along the sidewalk, Nicole smiled and waved.

  “You look nice.” Nicole gave her friend a hug.

  “You, too.” Claire nodded. “It’s cooler now. There’s less humidity.”

  Chatting away and looking at the boats moored at the docks, the two strolled along Long Wharf to the restaurant they’d chosen and were lucky to be seated right away at a small table by the windows.

  “Wasn’t that woman with the tarot cards interesting today?” Nicole looked over the menu. “I know it’s silly, but I love that stuff … psychics, tarot cards, anything like that. I think it’s fun. Have you ever been to a psychic?”

  Claire blinked and shook her head. “Never. Have you?”

  “Yeah, it was so interesting. The person told me all these things about myself, where I’d traveled, things I enjoyed, people I was close to who had passed away.” Nicole shook her head. “I don’t understand any of it or how it might be possible, but this person blew me away. You should go to one sometime.”

  “Maybe.” Claire didn’t know why, but talking about the paranormal made her feel uncomfortable and she maneuvered the conversation away from the topic by asking Nicole questions about her life.

  “My longtime boyfriend and I broke up about a year ago, just before you started working at the shop. I’d been working so hard getting the business going and he didn’t like the time it took away from him. I wasn’t expecting it at all.” Nicole’s face looked sad. “I thought things were fine between us. He hid his dissatisfaction well. I got broadsided.” Looking across the table at Claire, Nicole said softly, “My loss is nothing like what you’ve been through.”

  Claire made eye contact with her friend. “Every loss is difficult.” She reached over and gave Nicole’s hand a squeeze and when their skin touched, a jolt of fear hit Claire so hard that she almost flung herself back against her chair. Nicole didn’t notice her friend’s flash of anxiety because the waiter approached the table just as it happened. After taking the young women’s orders, he nodded and walked away.

  Nicole smiled. “We need to talk about fun things or we’re going to leave dinner completely bummed out.” She started to talk about planning a short vacation once the fall came and their conversation turned to places they’d each like to visit one day and favorite vacations they’d taken.

  After finishing their meals, the girls left the restaurant and decided that since the night air had cooled, it would be pleasant to walk over to Boylston Street where they’d planned to meet a few friends. Walking side-by-side through the Fanueil Hall Marketplace, the two young women passed stores and restaurants and bars and they people-watched and peeked in store windows as they strolled through the historic cobble- stoned promenade.

  The first part of the marketplace had been built in 1742 and served as the market area for merchants, fishermen, and sellers of food products. Many famous speakers had addressed crowds in the marketplace or inside Faneuil Hall including George Washington, Sam Adams, and Susan B. Anthony.

  Claire always enjoyed the musicians, jugglers, dancers, and other performers who set up their acts around the marketplace, but tonight she felt differently. She wondered if the string of hot and humid days was making her feel ill or if she was coming down with something. Her head pounded, her heart raced, and she felt slightly dizzy. Her unexpected discomfort made her wish she had declined the invitation to meet Nicole’s friends for drinks.

  Nicole chattered away beside Claire and every time Claire bumped against her friend or looked at Nicole’s face, it was like a light bulb was flashing in her head. Claire had never had one, but she wondered if this was how a migraine started.

  As the two headed up the street that led to the side of the Old South Meeting House, Claire broke out in a sweat, but her hands felt ice-cold. Standing at the corner waiting to cross the street, Nicole said something that Claire couldn’t hear and when she turned to look at her friend, terrible images popped into her mind of Nicole laying on the sidewalk, bleeding from the chest.

  Claire’s ears buzzed and the words the tarot card woman had said to her clanged inside of her head. Staring at Nicole, Claire imagined seeing a ring of fire blazing around Nicole’s face. As a flood of adrenaline raced through Claire’s body causing her heart to beat so fast and hard that she was sure it would burst from her chest, a sense of dread hit her like a four-wheeler and nearly knocked her to her knees.

  “Nic!” Claire lunged for Nicole and the two crashed to the sidewalk just as a black sedan tore up the street with a dark figure leaning out of the back window, his hand holding something that flashed hot red. Bullets flew in the girls’ direction and they would have hit Nicole if she and Claire hadn’t thudded to the concrete.

  People’s high-pitched screams filled the air as men and women darted in every direction.

  Blinking, Nicole pushed herself up to sitting position and rubbed at her pulsing shoulder, pain shooting down her arm from smashing into the ground.

  “Are you okay?” Claire’s eyes raced over her friend looking for an injury.

  “Yeah. You?” Nicole rubbed the back of her neck. “What on earth?”

  A police car, its blue light flashing, screeched to a halt in front of the sidewalk where the girls had fallen and two officers jumped from the vehicle, their hands on their weapons as they surveyed the area.

  Nicole shook her head and her eyes looked misty from the shock of what had just happened. “You spotted the car coming towards us? Thank heavens. If you hadn’t seen it, I don’t think we’d be sitting upright.”

  Claire stood up onto wobbly legs and reached under her friend’s arm to help tug her to her feet. She hadn’t seen the car at all. She didn’t even notice any traffic coming up the street towards them. All she knew was that danger was nearly upon them and that she had to act in order to save Nicole. Claire’s head was pounding and she felt dizzy and unsteady.

  What just happened? How did I know something bad could happen? Do not ignore your intuition. That’s what the woman in the café said to me.

  Claire’s trembling fingers pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. But how did I know?

  3

  Robby, Nicole’s employee, stood behind the counter filling the cases with the day’s sweets, breads, and buns. “Did you hear the news about shots being fired from a car near the Old South Meeting House last night? The cops didn’t catch the guy. It wasn’t even that late when it happened. I walk around there all the time. It’s always been a safe area.”

  When neither of the young women answered, twenty-one-year-old Robby, his sandy hair falling over his forehead, looked up to see their two faces staring at him from across the shop. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not making this up.”

  “We know.” Nicole pushed the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal a huge black and blue mark running up the length of her arm. “My shoulder looks even worse.”

  Robby looked blankly at Nicole.

  “We were there.” Claire frowned and stepped around the table, pointing at her scraped and bruised knees sticking out from under her black skirt.

  “No way.” Robby’s blue eyes were as wide as saucers as he hurried out from behind the serving counter to inspect the girls’ injuries. “You were there?” His hand flew up and covered his mouth. “What happened? What did you see?” He tilted his head to better see Nicole’s banged-up arm. “How did this happen? Did you get knocked down by people running away?”

  Nicole shook her head. “We were standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street. Claire sensed something was wrong. She tackled me and we fell to the ground just as the car raced by.”

  Robby spun his head around to look at Claire. “How did you know something was wrong? Did you see the gun?”

  Claire had no idea how she
knew something was wrong, but she didn’t think Robby would believe her if she told him that, so she tried to think of something to explain her feeling that danger was close to them.

  A man spoke from near the door. “I’d like to ask the same thing.”

  The three café workers turned to see who had come into the chocolate shop. A tall man with dark brown hair and brown eyes wearing gray slacks and a navy blazer walked towards them. “I’m Detective Ian Fuller.” He glanced down at the small leather notebook in his hand. “I’d like to speak to Claire Rollins and Nicole Summers.” He looked at the two women standing in front of him with worried expressions on their faces and he reassured them. “It’s just a follow-up to last night’s interview with the police officers.”

  Nicole and Claire glanced at one another before Nicole took a step forward.

  “I’m Nicole, the shop owner. Why don’t you speak with Claire first. I’m just getting some chocolates prepared before we open for the day.”

  Detective Fuller gave Nicole a nod and turned to Claire. The man’s gaze sent a flutter over Claire’s skin that surprised her so much that she almost blushed. She gestured to a table near the windows to divert his attention from the glowing pink tinge on her cheeks.

  Robby noticed Claire’s fluster, raised an eyebrow, and gave her a teasing look which Claire promptly ignored.

  When she and the detective were sitting at the table across from each other, the man began his interview. “Can you describe the evening for me?”

  Claire recounted her and Nicole’s last night’s activities, from meeting and walking to the restaurant, having dinner, and then heading towards Boylston Street to meet some people for a drink. Reliving the event caused a tidal wave of anxiety to nearly choke her and she had to stop her story at the part where she and Nicole were waiting to cross the street.

  “Was there a lot of traffic on the street?” Detective Fuller had his notebook flipped open and a silver pen in his hand.

  Swallowing to try to ease the tension in her throat, Claire managed to squeak out her reply. “I don’t remember.”

  “Why hadn’t you crossed the street yet?”

  Claire scrunched up her forehead trying to recall the details. “We were waiting for the crosswalk sign to show the green Walk signal.”

  “You grabbed your friend and hit the sidewalk, is that correct?” Detective Fuller made eye contact with Claire.

  Claire nodded. She knew what he would ask next.

  “What made you do that? What indicated the need to duck?”

  The corners of Claire’s lips turned down and she gave a shrug. “I really don’t know. Something seemed off, but I didn’t know what it was or why I felt that way.” She hesitated for a moment and then said, “Maybe it was intuition.”

  The detective held her eyes. “Think back on the night. Imagine yourself standing at the corner. What did you hear? Describe what you saw.”

  Claire turned her head and, through the window, watched the activity on the street outside the shop. A wave of sickness rose from her stomach into her throat as she imagined herself and Nicole standing on the corner in the dark. Clutching her hands together in her lap, Claire leaned back against the chair and sucked in a few deep breaths. She lifted one hand and passed it over her eyes, as she murmured, “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” The detective leaned forward and his voice was calm and reassuring. “Feelings bubble up. You don’t expect the intensity of them. It’s the body’s way of trying to protect us. Time passes … and those intense feelings will fade gradually.”

  Feeling light-headed, Claire gave a slight nod, but squeezed her hands together even harder, determined not to give in to the sensation of vulnerability that washed over her when she thought back on what happened the previous night. The detective’s kind words lessened the racing of her heart and she attempted to go on with her story. “Nicole and I were waiting for the light to change so we could cross. In a split second … no, it was less than a split-second, I felt a terrible sense of impending doom so I grabbed Nic and pulled her down to the sidewalk.” Claire rubbed her forehead. “If I’d stopped to think about what I felt compelled to do, I would have held back, thinking how stupid it all was.”

  “Instinctive feeling has protected human beings for thousands of years.” Detective Fuller held Claire’s eyes. “It’s the ability to know that something is likely without conscious reasoning playing a part. It’s like a sixth sense that tries to guide us. More people should listen to their instincts.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Claire gave the detective a slight look of skepticism.

  “It’s true.” Detective Fuller nodded. “In interviews with victims of crimes, time and time again, the person reports having feelings of unease or a sense that they should get out of the situation, but then they dismiss their feelings as foolishness because the reasoning mind tells them that nothing is amiss. That sixth sense is on alert and is trying to warn the person that something is wrong and everything is not fine.” The detective paused. “It’s good that you listened to the warning.”

  Claire relaxed slightly, thankful that Detective Fuller did not make light of her reaction to something she didn’t understand. “All I can recall is the feeling of alarm. I don’t remember anything about our surroundings that seemed odd or off.” She gave a shrug, sorry that she couldn’t be of more help. “We were on the ground when the gun fired from the car. I only heard the shots. I really couldn’t tell the make or model of the car. It all happened so fast. I’m not even sure that I could tell you with any certainty that it was a dark vehicle.” Claire tried to lighten the mood. “Next time, I’ll try harder.”

  Detective Fuller smiled at her. “Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”

  Claire admired the man’s high cheekbones and the strong cut of his jaw and marveled at the way the detective gave off a combination of authority mixed with a kind, gentle manner. What Detective Fuller asked next yanked Claire out of her idle thoughts and back to the reality of last evening’s mess.

  “Is there anyone in your life, or who you know, who would wish you harm?”

  The question hit her like a ton of bricks and Claire’s jaw dropped, not because there was anyone she thought of who wished her ill, but because the possibility chilled her that there could be someone who wanted to harm her.

  “Is there anyone who would want you dead?”

  The detective’s question made Claire’s heart race. Trying hard to keep her voice even, she shook her head. “No.”

  Reaching into his pocket, the detective retrieved a black leather business card holder and slipped one of the cards from inside. He slid it over the tabletop to Claire. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

  Picking up the card with shaky fingers, Claire stood. “Thank you.”

  Detective Fuller held Claire’s eyes. “Call me anytime at all.”

  A feeling of warmth rushed through Claire’s body. “I’ll have Nicole come over to talk to you now.” Walking away to retrieve Nicole from the back workroom, her legs felt weak and wobbly and her heart was pounding, but Claire didn’t think it was solely due to recalling the gunshots from last night.

  Grinning, Robby raised an eyebrow and leaned close to Claire as she passed him. “I think Mr. Detective has his eye on you ... and not because you’re guilty of anything.”

  Heading into the back room, Claire shot a few daggers out of her eyes at Robby and ignored his comment, but she realized with surprise that she almost wished that it was true.

  4

  As soon as the first customers started to file into the café, Nicole and Detective Fuller ended their conversation and Nicole, looking white as a sheet, hurried to the serving counter to wait on some of the regulars. Claire watched the detective leave the chocolate shop with a slight twinge of regret. She leaned towards Nicole as the young woman brushed past to go behind the counter. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess so.” Nicole’s facial muscles looked tense. “Let’s talk a
fter the morning rush.”

  It was nearly noon when things finally slowed down and they got the chance to properly refill the cases, wipe down the café tables, and carry trays of dirty dishes to the back room to load into the dishwashers.

  “Where did all those people come from?” Robby opened the chocolate case and added new sweets to the trays. “Did a bunch of tour buses park out front and dump people at our door?”

  Claire chuckled, one of her blond curls had slipped from her ponytail and bobbed next to her temple. “The chocolate shop must have been added to a list of favorite places to see in Boston.”

  Nicole stepped from the back room looking frazzled. “I’ll be working all night to replenish what we sold today.” Pushing a stray lock of her hair back from her face, she smiled. “I’m not complaining though, really I’m not.”

  Robby glanced at Claire. “She is complaining.”

  “Maybe a little.” Nicole’s shoulders sagged a bit as she washed out the containers that were used to make frozen coffee drinks and admitted, “I’m exhausted.”

  “I’m sure you slept as well as I did last night.” Claire frowned and turned to Robby. “We got home late after speaking with the police and I just could not fall asleep. The whole thing kept replaying in my mind. I kept hearing the gunshots.”

  Nicole leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. “Detective Fuller asked me if there was someone who might want me dead.”

  “He asked me the same thing.” Claire tried to push the worry from her mind that there might be someone who wanted to hurt her, but her thoughts raced as she thought back to when her husband died. Teddy Rollins had never been married before he exchanged vows with Claire at the age of seventy-three years old. Though, he’d never had children and he had no siblings or cousins and his parents were long dead, none of that stopped people from coming forward after Teddy’s death with claims to the man’s fortune. In the midst of her grief, Claire had to retain several attorneys to field and handle the avalanche of demands and assertions of people who were determined to get their hands on the money.