In the Cards: A Novel (Tricia Seaver Mystery Book 1)

by Amy Isaman

  Now it was Laurel’s turn to laugh. “That’s my mom. A paradox.”

  I glanced up at my daughter, surprised. “What do you mean by that?” I was glad she picked up on the paradox phrase and not the deepening spirituality part. I had no idea what that meant either.

  “Oh, I don’t mean it in a bad way at all,” Laurel answered. “I mean that, well, for example, you’re super stubborn and sometimes I hate that, but it also means that I know you’re never going to let me down because, well, like Dad always said, you’re like a bull dog and no matter how challenging a problem is for me, you’ll help me figure it out. You don’t give up. Or, that you always want to go, go, go, but you’ve also taught me that sometimes the best solution to a problem is to wait it out.” She looked at me and shrugged. “I don’t know, mom, there’s always a silver lining to the strongest parts of your personality, I guess.”

  I sat back. “Oh, well then. Okay.” I didn’t know Laurel saw that in me. I needed to give it some thought. Later. I was seeing a side of my daughter, a wiser side than I’d ever seen before.

  I pointed to the next card. “What’s that? It doesn’t look good.” The card showed a bunch of sticks flying through the air.

  “That is the eight of wands,” Tori said. “And it’s in the near future position.”

  “That’s my future? It looks like an attack.” As soon as I said the words, I inwardly groaned. I was fascinated by Tori’s interpretations of the pictures on these cards. I took a deep breath to ground myself in reality, to remind myself that this whole adventure was just that, a silly, spontaneous adventure with my daughter with no actual predictions for my future.

  “No, not an attack, but you might be getting some important news. Pay attention to what’s going on. This card says that things will speed up. It’s all about movement.”

  “Okay, if it’s all about movement, am I taking another trip?” I pointed to the card that had the woman and child in a boat.

  “I don’t think so. Tell me, who are you in this card?”

  I studied it before speaking and felt briefly that I was in a session with my therapist, the Godsend who got me through after Bret died. Without her, I think I would still be curled up in the fetal position with the covers over my head at home. I shared my initial thoughts when she first laid down that card. “I think that for the past few years, I was the hidden woman being pushed along, but I’d much rather be the one driving the boat.” I pointed to the gondolier who pushed the woman and her child along.

  “Well, then you are. Congratulations. The next few cards show that you’ve got all the power you need to get there. The Magician is a major arcana card. See here?” She pointed to one with the table in front of a man who wore a white robe with a red cloak. “On his table, he’s got all the tools he needs to get there. This card is all about how others see you. You’re an incredibly capable woman.”

  Laurel nodded in agreement.

  I patted her leg, and Tori continued. “With these last two cards, you’ve got the three of pentacles in the position of Hopes and Fears which would indicate working together and with others is important. Perhaps it’s your family or in the world of work, but you’re someone who strives to create a communicative and productive environment. Another way to look at this, and I feel like this applies to you, is that the figures are an architect or noble person of some sort, an artist or apprentice, and a monk. These three figures can represent the mind, body, and spirit coming together within you. If they do, the outcome will be seen in this ace of wands which indicates new beginnings and creative drive.”

  Tori tapped her finger on the card that was at the top of the right-hand column. It had a giant cloud with a hand coming out of it, holding a stick with a surprising shape.

  I bit back a grin and glanced at Laurel, wondering if I could say what I thought about that card. Heck with it. She was twenty-two. “So,” I said, “this card looks like a cloud hand holding a giant penis. How is that a ‘new beginning’ because hell if I’m going to have another baby!”

  Tori and Laurel laughed. “Actually, I agree, and this card can reference sexuality. It’s the ace of wands, and aces are really about the potentiality of a suit. But, in this case, wands represent your spirituality, your inner growth. That could come through your sexuality. You have the power to create whatever you want.”

  Okay, we didn’t need to go any further with this conversation with my daughter here. I tried to change the subject, even though I’d broached the topic to begin with. “What is the position of this card again? I mean where you set it, what’s that spot mean?”

  “This is the outcome position. What may come to pass.”

  I leaned over the cards, studying the entire layout. “So, let me get this right. I view life as a battle, and I’ve come through a struggle. But I’m also a strong woman filled with paradoxes. I’ve got the power within me to make whatever I need to happen, happen. My life is somehow going to speed up, and great sex is in my future?” I raised my eyes to Tori. “Am I hearing you right?”

  Tori smiled with a grin. “I’d say that about captures it, yes.”

  Laurel laughed loudly and nudged me with her elbow. “Oh boy, spoiler alert. Maybe we should get a new hotel where we have our own bathrooms and everything.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, as she did to me on a daily basis when she was fifteen. “Uh, no. We definitely don’t need a new hotel for that reason.” I returned my gaze to Tori. “This has been, um, intriguing.” I stood and reached out my hand to shake her hand.

  “Tori, would you mind if I took a picture of my mom’s cards like I did with mine?” Laurel asked, pulling her phone from her pocket.

  “Not at all,” Tori said, stepping back from the table.

  “So, how long have you been doing this?” I asked, wondering if she made a living doing readings.

  “I’ve been a reader for about twenty years, but it’s not my full-time job. I’m actually a nurse. I do this for fun on the side. I started reading about ten years ago after I had a patient who read for me. I found it fascinating, and I still do.”

  “Will you text me that picture, Laurel?” I asked. As weird as this sounded, I wanted to research these damn cards myself.

  Laurel didn’t say a word but raised a single eyebrow at me.

  Chapter 7

  I STOOD IN FRONT of the small mirror that hung on the wall next to the wardrobe in my room and removed my pearl earring from my left ear. It slipped from my fingers and hit the wood floor where it bounced, spun a bit, and rolled right under the giant wardrobe.

  I stared at the gap between the wood floor and the bottom of the giant piece of furniture, hoping it would take a little spin under there and roll back out, but it didn’t reappear. I bent down and got on all fours to see if I could reach it, but I couldn’t even see it in the inky darkness.

  After grabbing my phone and shining the flashlight under there, I could barely see an edge of my earring. It must have gotten lodged in a crack or hole in the floor, and I couldn’t reach my arm far enough under there to grab it.

  I stood and gave the wardrobe a shove. It moved maybe a half-inch, not nearly enough. Laurel turned off the water after filling the tub, so I couldn’t ask her for help. I needed to move the thing about six inches from the wall, so I opened the doors and tried tugging it to move it from the wall. It crept across the floor, like a glacier moving down a mountain. At this rate, I’d be pulling on it all night. Sweat began to bead on my forehead. I sat back on my haunches and stared up at the wardrobe as I caught my breath.

  The dream. That damn dream. That’s where I saw the wardrobe. No, not the dream. I closed my eyes and thought back. It had been a door in the weird wall, but the door looked exactly like the door on this wardrobe. No wonder I saw it so vividly in the dream. I’d fallen asleep looking at this wardrobe and the exact door.

  But then there was the cat. Hadn’t it hidden something inside? And the chintz wall. I thought back to both the wall and the wallpaper.<
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  I never remembered my dreams, but this one was clear in my mind. I stood and opened the door on the wardrobe. Nothing hung from the rack except for a few solid wood and velvet-covered hangers for the guests to use. There was also a small pouch of some sort of potpourri to freshen the wardrobe’s interior.

  This was ridiculous, but the question kept niggling at me. What if something was actually hidden behind it? I had the odd feelings of familiarity and wariness since we arrived. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and pointed it behind the wardrobe. I saw nothing except a tear in the wallpaper where it had pulled away. I peered closer. Was there something underneath the tear?

  Giving the wardrobe another shove to push it out a little further, I held my flashlight in my left hand and reached behind it, pulling back the wallpaper and revealing a rose. An effing piece of rose chintz wallpaper.

  Startled, I stepped back, my breath coming in short spurts. How on earth had I known that there was rose-covered wallpaper on this wall? I’d never been here.

  I grasped the door and pulled it open again as I had in the dream. I must have seen a piece of the wallpaper somewhere. Maybe another room was wallpapered in it? Nothing had changed inside the wardrobe. Frustrated with myself, I plopped down inside it, feeling like Lucy in Narnia and wondering if this wardrobe would suck me into some world that I didn’t want to enter. Narnia? Hogwarts? What was it with England? I was perfectly happy living life as an oblivious muggle. Or perhaps, I’d turned into the crazy woman in the attic? I preferred to land at Hogwarts, but maybe I’d been chosen for more of a Jane Eyre version of England.

  I shut my eyes, trying to center myself. Taking another deep breath, I opened my eyes and gazed out of the wardrobe at my room. It looked like a cute room at a quaint and quirky B&B. This was ridiculous. I reached for the edge of the door to help pull myself up when I noticed a dark piece of planking attached to the inside of the wardrobe’s front panel, next to the hinges. I’d never have seen it unless I was sitting inside the furniture, and who does that? It looked as if it had been stained to match, but it didn’t. Not quite. The wood was wrong. A different grain and glaze on the stain. I reached for it and pulled. It hadn’t been nailed in but wedged, tightly.

  The board pulled loose on my third tug. Behind it was a small packet wrapped in fabric and twine. I wondered if this wardrobe was original to the house or if Darius picked it up on one of his scavenging trips. Somebody hid this well, but why hide it? I wondered what it was, and my heart jumped in anticipation. It would only be hidden if it was valuable. The packet was thin, but it didn’t feel breakable.

  Hoisting myself from the wardrobe, I hurried to the small writing desk. Gently, I untied the twine and briefly wished for some gloves. Beneath the fabric, the packet was wrapped in paper, which had yellowed with age. There were no words on the outside. I unfolded it. Several smaller sheets of old paper were tucked inside a larger sheet. There was also a piece of red cardboard.

  When I flipped it over, I gasped.

  It wasn’t cardboard.

  It was a small painting. Had I not been to the V & A Museum today and seen their display of tarot cards, I would have had no idea what this miniature painting was. But I did now.

  It was a tarot card.

  A really, really old one.

  The image showed two people falling headfirst from a stone tower as lightning struck the top of the tower. I hadn’t seen this image this afternoon during the readings, and for that I felt profound relief. This card did not look like it foretold anything happy. It looked like destruction and loss. Some of the gold leaf had come off on the paper wrapping, but the colors were surprisingly vivid and clear. For its age, the card hadn’t been handled much at all. I set it gently on the writing desk. Touching it could degrade it even more, but I had nothing with me to protect it.

  Next, I unfolded the larger piece of paper. Spidery writing covered it. The letter was dated February 3, 1924. It read:

  If this house falls and you are the one unlucky enough to find this card, take care.

  The Knight may no longer be able to pick up the fallen pieces.

  At my beloved daughter’s request, I did not destroy her cards but hid them, separate and alone. Their power destroyed her and all that I hold most dear.

  Let them alone.

  The others are hidden and hidden well, for together they curse the holder.

  Heed the Tower’s sign and read it well. To seek the cards will destroy the seeker. They have a power I do not understand other than to know that they wreak havoc. This, too, is why I did not destroy them. They have hurt me enough, and I don’t know what more their destruction might do.

  I also promised that they may be found. Until then, with their rightful owners, they lay.

  The Knight of Coins is watched over by a man much like himself.

  The Devil resides with the beginning.

  The Three of Swords is my own broken heart.

  I beseech you to let them alone.

  Anna Teresa Webber

  I read the letter over and over. “To seek the cards will destroy the seeker.” I had no intention of seeking any cards and being destroyed, but this must be related to the family legend that Darius grew up hearing. Apparently, his family’s story wasn’t a legend after all. It was true. The priceless tarot card sitting in front of me proved there was something to it. I glanced at my watch, but it was far too late to knock on the door to his private quarters and try to explain what I found.

  Reaching for the other folded paper in the packet, I tried to unfold it, but the paper began to come apart. I set it back down on the cloth. There were at least three pages with tightly packed script, but the writing was so faded that it was difficult to decipher. I bent closer, but quickly realized that I would never be able to read the text anyway as it was written in Italian, maybe even Latin. I knew a few words but not enough to read this. We needed to have it translated. Collin would know who could translate it, and he might be able to do it himself. Maybe Darius would know somebody, too? He would probably want to know what it said. Maybe there were some hints as to where the cards were hidden. But that didn’t make sense. Unless the letter came with the cards from Italy? The thought made my chest tighten. What did this all mean? And was this really a curse?

  Studying the Tower card, I sat back. This was an original tarot card, from medieval Italy. It looked too much like the cards we saw today not to be, though, if memory served there were some slight differences. I struggled to recall the details to compare them to this card, but I couldn’t. How on earth had this card gotten from Italy in the 1400s to a wardrobe in London more than five or six hundred years later?

  Maybe Narnia was closer than I thought.

  “Mom, you asleep?” Laurel knocked on my door.

  My heart leapt as she tore me from my reverie.

  “Not yet, hang on a sec.”

  I carefully picked up the two letters and the card and re-wrapped them in their original packaging before gently placing them in the writing desk drawer.

  Laurel knocked again. “You okay? I just wanted to say goodnight.”

  I hurried across the room and opened the door. “I’m good. Just getting ready for bed.”

  Laurel poked her head into the room, taking in the open wardrobe which was still pulled out from the wall. “What are you doing?”

  “I dropped my earring, and it bounced under there. I was trying to get it.”

  “Oh, do you need help?”

  “Actually, that would be great. That thing is heavy, and I think it’s stuck in a crack in the floorboards.”

  Laurel came in and together we got the wardrobe moved far enough that she could reach her hand under and rescue my earring.

  I thought momentarily of pulling the card and letter from the desk drawer to show her, but for some reason, I couldn’t. I needed to figure this out a bit. And I still sort of felt like I’d been transported somewhere in the wardrobe. I kept my eyes on my daughter’s face. She was real. This r
oom was real. The card in the desk? I wasn’t so sure.

  We pushed the wardrobe back in place against the wall, and I gave her a hug. “Nighty night sweetie. See you in the morning.” As soon as she shut the door, I changed and crawled into bed, my mind racing. I needed to tell Darius about the card, but it might be kind of cool to have the Italian letter translated before I gave it to him. But that meant telling Collin about it before I told Darius which didn’t feel right. No, I needed to give the entire packet to Darius first thing in the morning, so he could get both the card and the letter to a museum and a conservator as fast as possible.

  Then, I could focus on my vacation with my girl.

  Chapter 8

  I WOKE TO FIND a note from Laurel sitting on the bedside table. She’d gone on a long run and wouldn’t be back for over an hour. How could she possibly be running? I still hadn’t adjusted to the time change, and unless the zombie apocalypse occurred and hordes of the undead decided to come after me, I wouldn’t be running anywhere.

  Instead, I snuggled deeper into the covers and relaxed for a few more glorious minutes. At least until I remembered my treasure, which started my mind racing. I climbed from my bed and checked the writing table. The card and letter were right where I left them. Now, the priority was to explain to Darius that I’d been crawling around inside his furniture and had come across a truly priceless piece of art history. I rubbed my hands across my face and eyes, trying to wake myself up. I just needed to tell him, no matter how moronic it made me sound.

  A half-an-hour later, showered, dressed, and fully awake, I found Darius seated in the back garden. Other guests sat at the tables that he’d scattered around the garden, including the Maxwell’s, the younger couple we met at the V & A.