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

by Amy Isaman

  Tricia stepped back, nodding. “Of course. Perhaps next week one evening after the conference activities have wrapped up before we leave. I would love that. This week Laurel’s got us all booked up.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows and nodded, eyeing Darius. “And where is Laurel then?” she asked with a small grin.

  “We’re meeting her now,” Tricia said, giving Lucy one last squeeze before turning to her husband. “Thank you for the chat Collin, really.”

  Collin followed them out the door. “I—,”

  “Collin! We need your help,” a sharp yell from Lucy interrupted Collin, who reddened a bit.

  “Uh, it was good seeing you Tricia,” he said before turning and hurrying back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

  At the corner, Darius turned to find Collin had returned to the front stoop and stood outside, watching them go.

  Chapter 14

  I GAZED OUT THE WINDOW of Darius’ plain sedan as we drove toward his aunt’s house in the country. After leaving Collin’s house, Laurel and I spent two days touring as much of London as we could pack in. Darius joined us a bit, and we even spent one afternoon exploring his favorite galleries and antiquity shops, which had been quite enjoyable to say the least. As we traversed London, most of our conversation focused on trying to figure out Anna Teresa’s riddles, but we’d made exactly zero progress in locating the other cards. Collin hadn’t contacted me about any progress on his translation, so we still only had the Tower card, a pile of riddles, and only a bit of time left before my conference started.

  Laurel met with her British runner again, but I hadn’t met him yet.

  And Darius and I had gone on a dinner date to a quaint little restaurant around the corner from his Inn. I felt comfortable with him, whether we were talking or quiet, and today we were on a date to meet his family. Well, perhaps today wasn’t an official date since my daughter was in the back seat, but it felt that way. He even reached across and held my hand for a bit when we left the city. In any case, a quiet day of driving and visiting an elderly aunt was a welcome respite from the walking, crowds, and sightseeing we’d been doing. I hoped his Aunt Irene might be able to help decipher the riddle. If not, Darius could continue with the search. So far, all we managed to do was possibly confirm that the Tower card was from the Visconti-Sforza deck in the 1400s and that there were three other cards, none of which were hidden in Darius’ storeroom or in any of the other furniture in either mine or Laurel’s room.

  Perhaps they’d be at Aunt Irene’s house. We pulled up, and I followed Darius and Laurel into her home to find it was the opposite of an American “open floor plan.” Each room was small with clearly defined walls. The walls in the front parlor held old painted portraits of what I assumed were Irene’s family members interspersed with larger landscapes. From a cursory viewing, it looked like they were painted by the same person, but I couldn’t be sure without further study. The rest of the room was filled to bursting with figurines and knick-knacks. Irene clearly liked her stuff.

  Darius didn’t bother to knock but entered and took us to the back of the house where we found his aunt tidying up her small kitchen. She invited me to set my purse on the table before leading us to the parlor, which she promptly left to fetch some tea. A moment later, a middle-aged woman with striking red hair arrived. She had a wide, freckle covered face, bright blue eyes, and a full mouth. Voluptuous was the first word that popped into my head when I saw her. Round and curvy, but not at all frumpy like I often felt in my own just-past-middle-aged body. Darius stood and gave her a hug.

  “So, Mum mentioned that you might have found something?”

  Darius smiled. “Susan, you’ve never had any patience whatsoever. I’m doing grand in case you were wondering. And I’d like to introduce you to Tricia and her daughter, Laurel.”

  Chagrined, Susan shook both of our hands. “Lovely to meet you.” She turned to Darius. “Did you find one of the cards?”

  “Let’s wait for your mother.”

  As soon as Irene returned with tea for everyone, Susan asked again about the cards.

  I was surprised to see Darius pull a small leather folder from the inner pocket of his blazer. He held what looked like a passport holder, but I knew it didn’t contain a passport. “We found this,” he said, laying the folder on the table.

  Susan reached for it. “And what is this?”

  A grin played on Darius’ mouth as he pulled a pair of gloves from his coat. “You’ll need these.”

  Susan pulled on the gloves before opening the folder and laying the card and the letter next to one another on the table. “Oh, wow,” she whispered, her gaze moving from Darius’ face to the table and back again. “She didn’t destroy them. I thought you might be full of shit when you told me on the phone.”

  Darius shook his head, a playful grin on his mouth.

  Irene leaned forward in her chair, clucking and shaking her head. Dismay and perhaps even fear filled her eyes. “You found a card,” she said, her voice low. She turned her head and pointed at the faded sheets of paper that lay next to the card. “What’s that?”

  “It’s an old letter, written in Italian,” Darius said. “Aunt Irene, do you know anyone who would have written anything in Italian? Or why?”

  Irene leaned back in her chair, her face pinched. “My great-grandmother, who came from Italy as you’ve heard many times was the only one who spoke Italian, but she refused to speak it with her children. I never knew her, only her story.” Irene tapped her finger on her chin, lost in thought. We all waited for the elderly woman to gather her thoughts and speak. “As far as I know, she didn’t write anything in Italian either, but I suppose if she wanted to record something secret, she might have. I can’t imagine what though. You know she arrived here in England when she was still only seventeen?” She reached her hand toward her daughter who passed the letter to her. “Can I see it, please?”

  Susan turned back to Darius. “So, where did you find all this? You’ve said yourself there’s nothing in that house because you would’ve found it by now, but obviously, you were mistaken. We all were.”

  “It was behind a panel on that old wardrobe, the one that’s up on the third floor. Do you remember it?” Darius turned to his aunt, his eyebrows raised in question. “Wasn’t that room originally the painting studio?”

  “Which room do you mean? You’ve changed it up so much, I’m not sure.”

  Darius grinned. “Not so much except for the ground floor. I mean the room at the top of the house,” Darius clarified. “I use it as a guest room.”

  “Ah, yes. That was my grandfather’s studio.” She grinned. “My grandmother often banished him up there, but he did all of his paintings up there, too. He liked the light. We tip-toed up and down the stairs so as to not disturb him while he painted.”

  “So, Mum, your grandmother hid the card and letter intentionally in his studio.”

  “No, that piece used to be in his office, off the landing there. Darius moved it.”

  Susan glanced at him. “Was there anything else? Just the old letter and this card? I thought there were four cards.”

  “There are four,” Darius said. “There’s another note in there from Noni.”

  Surprised, Susan reached for the leather folder when a young woman with long strawberry-blonde hair burst through the front door. She wore gray pants and top, sort of like scrubs a nurse in the U.S. would wear, but this uniform had a collar. We all jumped a bit as we’d been engrossed in the discussion.

  “Chelsea,” Darius said, rising to give her a hug.

  She wrapped her arms around him and squealed. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so excited. I came as soon as my mum called and told me, but I can only stay for a bit. I’m working a night shift at the hospital tonight. You found the tarot cards? From great-great whatever grandma?”

  Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the Tower card laying on the table. “Oh, my God! Is that them?”

  “It’s one of them,
but I didn’t find it. Tricia here did.” Darius waved casually in my direction. “I thought it might interest her to hear the entire tale from your grandmother.” Darius introduced us, and his niece Chelsea plopped onto the floor near Laurel.

  Irene narrowed her eyes at her family. “I don’t see any reason to bring any of this up now. Nothing good will come of this.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “There’s a curse, you know.”

  “Gram,” Chelsea said, “if there was a curse, it’s got to be broken by now. Do you really think talking about it will, I don’t know, wake it up? If there is even any kind of curse? It’s not like you to believe in this stuff.”

  “Well, it was my mother who died when I was only six, and I remember how those cards changed her. I remember. There’s lots I don’t remember anymore, but I do recall that.”

  “Can you tell us about it?” Chelsea coaxed. “It’s our family history. That’s all.”

  Irene sighed deeply and threw her hands up. “So many years ago,” she muttered. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” And she began to speak, beginning with the love story of her great-grandmother Luisa fleeing Italy with her English lover and the ancient tarot cards, but she also talked about Rosina, her mother, who supposedly had the sight. “When my mum was nine-years-old, she found the cards that her mother, my Noni, had hidden away. Noni always felt they were cursed somehow, and she kept them secret from her husband, Edmund. When he discovered she found the cards, he was furious that she hadn’t told him about them. He would go to the Reading room at the British museum to meet up with a group from one of those secret societies that were so popular back then. As part of their initiation process, they were required to create their own tarot deck. My grandmother thought the whole society was evil and cursed from the very beginning. She never trusted any of them. She never would go to the museum after that either.”

  Darius leaned forward, his elbows on his knees listening intently to his aunt.

  Irene continued, “My grandfather was a painter on the side, so he created quite an elaborate deck. But it was his wife’s old cards that were his prized possession. He found that once he shared them with the members of the society, they gave him a level of prestige that he never had before.”

  I pointed to some of the portraits in the room. “Did he paint these?”

  She smiled. “He did, though I didn’t find them until after he died, and we finally got into his studio. They were leaned against the wall with a whole stack of portraits. This one is of my father, William, as a young man.” She pointed to a full body portrait that hung on the wall. “He was more like an uncle after my mother passed since we lived with my grandparents at what’s now the Inn, but we all loved him. He was a decidedly cheerful soul.” The painting reflected that. The painter had used lighter colors and a softer hand. In the portrait, Irene’s father stood on a knoll outside. His blond hair and casual clothing blowing in an unseen breeze.

  “This other one,” she gestured toward a darker portrait that hung almost behind her, “is a portrait of my husband, John. Grandfather must have painted it just after we wed. As far as I can tell, it was the last piece he painted before he died. When I found it, I could almost forgive my grandfather for using my mother and the tarot cards. That’s what destroyed our family.” This portrait showed a young man from the neck up against a mottled dark gray background. The angles and lines of his face reflected a stern demeanor, but his eyes had a bit of sparkle that somehow belied the tone in the rest of the painting.

  “Did your husband fight in the war?” I asked. The tone in this piece was much darker than that of the earlier painting.

  Irene nodded. “He flew for the R.A.F. It changed him. My grandfather captured the darkness he had in him when he came home.” She fell silent. We all did.

  Finally, Chelsea broke the silence and redirected the conversation back to the story. “So, what happened with the cards, Gram? You say your grandfather used your mother? How?”

  “He did. He left the cards out one day and found my mother, Rosie, playing with them. She would almost go into a trance when she held them, and she’d say the oddest things. Sometimes she’d pull them out when I was a little girl. The first time I saw her do it, I thought she was playing, but it was no game.”

  “What kind of things did she say?” I asked.

  “Oh, all sorts of odd things. Most of it was gibberish. It made no sense whatsoever, but I was just a small girl. Grandfather believed that she was speaking a deeper truth. Perhaps she was, or he could make more sense out of it than I could. When she was a girl, he took her to his meetings and made her read the cards. I remember she said he always got her a treat, and she liked that as any young girl would, I suppose.”

  Susan and Darius shared a surprised glance. “Mother,” Susan said, “Did you ever ‘play’ with the cards? You’ve never told us any of this before.”

  “No. They terrified me. Still do.” She pointed at the Tower card. “I want that out of my house. My grandfather made me hold them once or twice, to see if I could read them like my mother, even though by that time there was no longer any secret society to impress with the cards, but I prayed instead. The whole time. I just prayed until he left me alone. My grandmother always blamed the cards for anything bad that happened. The Great War. Even Hitler’s war. They were cursed evil things. I never saw them again after my mum died giving birth to my sister. And I never cared to.”

  “So, you think she destroyed them?” Darius asked.

  Irene shrugged. “I never knew what she did with them. It made no difference to me.” She leaned back in her chair and paused, thinking. “I saw how they affected my mother, and I didn’t like it, but if you found something written in Italian, then Noni hid them.”

  Darius sat back and sighed. “Susan, look at that other letter.” He flipped the leather folder open and pointed at the final sheet of paper.

  Susan scanned it, then read it out loud. “What do these clues even mean? ‘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?’ Why the cryptic riddle?” She tapped her finger on the letter, scanning it.

  “Ha? You ask why? Because the cards are cursed, Susan,” Irene stated. “She knew that. Search for them only if you want to destroy this family.” Irene’s voice shook as she spoke, though I wasn’t sure if it was in fear or anger, most likely both. “Those cards killed my mother and destroyed my grandparent’s marriage. Nothing good will come from finding them.”

  “Mum, they’re pieces of painted cardboard. There’s no curse. And, they’re worth a fortune. Lord knows my branch of this family could use a little infusion of cash.”

  “I’ve got all I need, right here in this room,” Irene said with a solid harrumph at the end. “No need for them to come back into my life.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “Just like Noni said. You’d best let those cards lie.”

  “We’re not going to let these cards lie.” Susan began pacing. “Tricia, tell me exactly how you found this.” She stopped and stared intently at me.

  I felt like I was on the stand, but before I could speak, Darius told her about my dream.

  Mortified, I interrupted him before he got to the wallpaper. “I don’t think any of that is relevant.”

  “Oh, it is, Tricia,” Susan said. “We’ve been keeping our eyes out for these cards for almost ninety years. But you find them and have visions about the house? Something is going on here.”

  Her studied glances unnerved me, as did Darius sharing those details. I told him in confidence, but then he never promised to keep it a secret, nor had I asked him to. Perhaps this was my fault. I assumed far too much about this day and what it meant. My unease with the whole situation was getting the best of me here. I took a breath to try to calm myself. Laurel set her hand on my knee and patted it, like I used to do with her when her temper began to spiral out of control.

  Darius finished his story of how I found the
cards with the comment that I seemed to be the key to finding the cards

  Susan turned to me, “Well, then, of course we’ll need your help to search.”

  “Absolutely,” Darius agreed.

  I took a deep breath. “I already explained to Darius that I’m here on vacation with my daughter, and I’ve got a conference to attend shortly. I’ve pretty much done all I can. We haven’t been able to solve any of the riddle, but I’m sure you can.” I tried to speak as graciously as possible but couldn’t help feeling that Darius knew exactly what he was doing when he let me take him to Collin and brought me here. All he wanted was my help, which I didn’t even know how to offer. And I thought it was a date. I felt like an idiot.

  I stood. “Darius, I think it’s time to go. It was nice meeting you, Irene, Susan, Chelsea,” I nodded at each as kindly as I could, though I felt mortified at my own naiveté.

  “Tricia, wait.” Susan said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you, but it does seem that you’ve got some sort of connection with the house, with these cards even.”

  “No, there is no psychic connection with the house. I’m sure you’ll be able to find the rest. Laurel? Darius? Are you ready?” I headed toward the back of the small house where I’d left my purse.

  “Mom, hold up.” Laurel’s voice trailed behind me, but I didn’t stop or even slow my steps. I wanted to get out of this house and leave this whole humiliating experience behind me.

  I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table when I saw another portrait up high on the wall. Irene had decorated the kitchen with vintage prints and paintings, and nestled in the mix was a miniature portrait, maybe seven by ten inches. It was the same man who she described in the larger portrait in the parlor. Who had Irene said it was? I wracked my brain. It was Irene’s father, so he would have been married to Anna Teresa’s daughter who died in childbirth. Irene loved him and hadn’t she said Anna did, too? I couldn’t remember, but could he be the Knight of Coins? I could hear soft murmuring voices from the front parlor. Thankful that nobody except my daughter followed me, I reached up and grabbed the painting off its hook.