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

by Amy Isaman

  “Did she tell you anything about him?” Lucy asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing other than she enjoyed their time together. We mostly talked about the cards and the riddles or whatever tourist attraction we were at. We didn’t talk much about her dates with him.”

  “You talked about the cards and the riddles? In public? Then it could be anybody. But then we have no plan. So, do you know where she went with him? Maybe we can visit there and ask. We can also search the Inn. That’s still my bet,” Lucy said, yawning and glancing at the clock.

  “Lucy, go on up to bed,” Collin said. “It’s late and David will be up soon enough.” He gave me a chagrined look. “No more sleeping in for us. He needs his meds at regular intervals. Taking care of him since the accident is really a full-time job for Lucy. In fact, she quit her job to do it. Did I tell you that?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t made that connection. He was paralyzed and spent months in the hospital. Of course, he would need care.

  “We tried hiring care for him, but my whole paycheck was going to pay for the nursing care for David, so it didn’t seem to make much sense. And, I kept finding things that I didn’t like about how they worked with him, so here I am,” Lucy said.

  “Financially it hasn’t been easy, but David’s made so much progress with his mom as his caregiver. Head on up, dear. I’ll help Tricia.”

  Lucy studied her husband. “And miss all this fun? Leave you two down here alone to hash out a plan without me? Not on my life. I care about Laurel too and want to see her home. Here, with all of us.”

  “Right, but David will be awake in a few hours. You need your rest.” Collin reached for his wife’s hand. “It’s okay. I’ll help Tricia.”

  Lucy glanced at the clock and nodded, begrudgingly, gave me a hug, and left. She plodded up the stairs. Her heavy steps above our heads as she moved around her room reminded me of my own mother’s heavy tread.

  My eyelids drooped as Collin reached for the tea kettle. “I think we need a fresh cup, aye?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I rested my head on my arms as the water began to burble in the kettle. The sound soothed me, like raindrops or a creek burbling over the rocks.

  I ran like my life depended on it. And it did. Though I couldn’t see what came behind me.

  My skirt swirled around my feet, tripping me up. I tightened the cowl around my neck, held my cloak tight, and hoisted my skirt up.

  Clouds scudded across the darkening sky as leaves skittered along the cobbled path.

  Nobody came from behind, though my heart raced as if a thousand horses in armor bore down upon me. A wooden door stopped my progress. I pounded, but it did not open.

  A flame flickered at the door’s base, licking slowly up the darkening panel until the door collapsed in a pile of ash. The wind brushed the remains of the door away. I stepped into a courtyard. Dark doors surrounded a grassy square.

  Faces peered through the small windows in each door, watching me.

  A dark form sat on a bench. Alone.

  His shape felt familiar. Bret.

  My heart quickened, and I grasped at the packet in my hand. He stood and turned toward me, tears streaming down his face as he pointed toward a single door and slowly turned to stone.

  The wind swirled around his cold form. I tried to move toward him, to pull him from the stone that crept up his body inch by inch, but I couldn’t reach him.

  A howl interrupted the silence, and the urgency to escape returned.

  In. I needed to get inside, into a room. A safe room. The room that Bret pointed me to. The one by the Tower, but that door was dark, black and smoldering.

  I ran forward, trying each door in turn. None opened until I reached the base of the tower. The door clicked softly and swung inward on its own.

  I stepped over the threshold, into inky blackness. The door slammed behind me. I turned to grab the door handle, but it evaporated in my hand, and I fell to my knees, nothing but darkness around me until a faint glow came from above and began to lighten the dungeon-like space in a hazy glow.

  Stairs circled the walls and quick footsteps climbed upward. Her feet disappeared into the murky darkness.

  I felt for the packet. As long as I was alone, I could complete my errand, my beloved Mistress’ dying command.

  I sat on the floor in the furthest corner as she had instructed, counted three bricks up from the floor and two over to the right, and wedged my finger into a small divot in the chinking.

  The brick loosened and I pulled. I shoved the packet into the empty space and pushed the brick back into place before kneeling on the hard floor in prayer.

  Footsteps came again. Light. Flutter footsteps. Calling to me. Moving. Up and Up.

  I followed. The stairs never-ending. At the top, I could see all of the land, but the hooded figure perched on the edge caught my attention.

  She pushed her scarf back from her head, revealing her face.

  Laurel. My girl.

  And she fell.

  Chapter 25

  THE GRAVEL DUG INTO Darius’ cheek and the dog continued to stand guard like a sentry.

  “Have you called the constable?” Darius asked again. “And can you please call off the beast?” He could hear the couple commiserating.

  “I’ll let you up, but if you run, I’ll give the command, and Bruiser here will give chase.”

  “I understand,” Darius said. “I won’t run.”

  “Leave it,” the man commanded and the dog backed up, a growl still humming in its throat.

  “Can I stand? Or will he eat me?”

  “You’re safe, but move slowly.”

  Darius pulled himself to his knees, and finally stood, every muscle in his body aching from the run and subsequent fall. He brushed the gravel from his hands off on his jeans, his eyes not leaving the shepherd that watched him warily.

  “I’m going to reach for my phone,” Darius said. “Don’t let him attack me.”

  “Why do you need your phone?”

  “Not that it’s any of your bloody business, but I’m calling my solicitor.” After slowly reaching his hand toward his pocket and pulling his phone out, he dialed the number for his dearest friend, Jeremy, who’d provided legal counsel for years, but in the art collecting industry. Jeremy had zero to no experience in criminal law.

  Darius, his arms crossed, glared at the annoying couple while he informed Jeremy of his predicament. They then had a stare-down until the police arrived at George Coates’ back garden.

  “What have we got here?” Two policemen strode toward the small group.

  “Breaking and entering. He robbed our neighbor’s house here,” the excessively perky wife said, smiling. “We’re the neighborhood watch, and we found him coming out of Mr. Coates’ house, but George is visiting his sister for a month.”

  The constable eyed Darius. “So, did you break into Mr. Coates’ house?”

  “No, I did not,” Darius said, willing Jeremy to hurry up. “And I’ve got no idea how they came up with that idiocy either.”

  The constable turned to the couple. “Well, then, what did ya see? Yer the neighborhood watch, you say?”

  The couple proceeded to tell their story. Thankfully, they elaborated and exaggerated so much that they only got halfway through by the time Jeremy strode down the alley. He listened silently to the remainder of the story.

  “Well, hello,” Jeremy interrupted, reaching out and shaking the cop’s hand. “Looks like my friend here is in a bit of a pretty pickle.” He turned back toward the couple. “From what I’m hearing, you’re saying that Darius here broke into this house, but you only saw him approach and leave it?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re saying.”

  “Your logic is less than impressive,” Jeremy said.

  “You weren’t even here. I saw him run out of Mr. Coates’ garden with a woman who kept running even after we yelled at them to stop.”

/>   “And how is that a crime?” Jeremy asked, laughing. “They ran out of Mr. Coates’ garden? Perhaps my friend and his woman friend were merely looking for a private space. Where is the crime?”

  One of the constables covered his mouth, hiding a grin, as the neighborhood watch woman puffed herself up in a fury. “We saw him several hours ago, heading that way. And then we saw him leaving at a dead run. That is suspicious.” She turned to the officer. “Wouldn’t you agree? And it’s our job to report suspicious behavior.”

  Jeremey didn’t allow the constable to answer. “So, these are the facts of the case. This is Mr. Coates’ garden. He hasn’t been home for over a month. You say that you saw my friend and a woman approach this garden several hours ago. Then, you saw him and his woman friend jogging from the property. What, may I ask, is your evidence for a crime?”

  “Excuse me,” the constable interrupted. “I’ll take this from here.”

  Jeremy shrugged.

  “Have you been watching Mr. Coates’ house while he’s been gone?”

  She nodded warily. “We have.”

  “Have you entered his garden daily?”

  “No,” she said. “Why does that matter?”

  “Well, I wanted to know if you’d recognize if anything is different today than yesterday. Perhaps you might notice something other than this gentleman leaving the property. Suspiciously.”

  “He ran from us!” She screeched, pointing her finger at Darius.

  “Of course, I bloody ran. Look at that beast you’ve got there.”

  Jeremy set his hand on Darius’ arm to quiet him.

  “All right then,” the police officer said. “Were you in the garden for a few hours? What were you doing?”

  “Well, as I already told the overzealous watch. I’m friends with Mr. Coates. He’s got an interest in history, and I’m an art collector.” Darius reached into his pocket and handed his ID to the police. “Here. You can look me up or whatever the bloody hell it is that you do to perfectly innocent British citizens. I wanted to introduce him to my friend, who also has an interest in art history, so we came to visit. He wasn’t home, and well,” Darius paused and grinned at the infuriated young woman, “I think you can fill in the blanks. It is a lovely garden.”

  “Oh, this is bloody ridiculous,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving.

  “Ah, yes, I agree. Dropping the charges, are you?” Jeremy asked her retreating back.

  Her husband glared at both of them before turning to the cops. “You might at least check the house. Somebody could be in there. Mr. Coates has quite a collection of historical documents and valuable items. You could search him, too,” he added, glaring at Darius.

  “Nobody’s been in that garden other than my friend and me. Of that, I can assure you.” Darius’ heart was thundering through his chest, but its pace began to slow as soon as Jeremy handed him his out. God, he wished he’d been shagging Tricia in the garden for the past few hours rather than pilfering through filthy dusty bookshelves and drawers.

  “I’m going to check the house,” the constable replied. “And stay here. I’m holding on to this.” He waved Darius’ ID in the air before shoving it into his pocket.

  The neighborhood watch kept guard with his beast.

  “Goddammit, why did you give that to him?” Jeremy asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

  Darius opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, knowing that Jeremy would destroy him no matter what he said. He reached his hand into his pocket and felt the hide-a-key. If the cops searched him and found that, he’d be royally screwed. But he couldn’t really pull it out in front of his personal guard to get rid of it if they searched him. His heart raced, but he focused on relaxing as if he truly had been shagging Tricia and not doing exactly what the neighborhood watch was accusing him of doing.

  He entertained himself as they waited by staring at the remaining neighbor, glaring, like that game children played to see who could stare the longest before somebody dropped their eyes.

  Darius won.

  “The door was locked. Nothing looked disturbed,” the constable said, walking into the alley and shutting the gate behind him. “You know, the neighborhood watches are helpful, but generally it’s best to wait until an actual crime has occurred before placing the call to us. It’s best you put that dog up and stop assaulting people who are out visiting your neighborhood.”

  Jeremy turned to Darius. “Are you injured?”

  Darius held his hands up, showing his raw palms from his skid across the gravel. “My knee’s a bit sore too from my tumble across the garbage bin when he let that beast off on me.”

  “Would you like to file a report?” Jeremy asked with feigned sincerity.

  “No, no. Can we just leave?” Darius asked.

  Jeremy turned to the watch and the police. “I’d like my client’s ID back, please. And you, young man, next time, whoever you assault might not be so easy on you. You’d best watch yourself.”

  He gaped at Jeremy in a fury before stalking off.

  Jeremy grabbed Darius’ arm and escorted him toward the street.

  Chapter 26

  I JERKED MYSELF UP, choking on the scream that roared from my body when Laurel tumbled over the tower’s edge. I gripped the edge of the table where I’d obviously fallen asleep. My arm tingled in pain, and my cheek felt wet and slimy. My whole body hurt. Blinking my eyes open, I saw Lucy and Collin’s kitchen, not a tower, in the dim morning light.

  Morning. They’d let me sleep. I rubbed at my burning eyes and searched for a clock. Every minute counted. And that dream. Was I already too late?

  I shook my head, clearing that thought. I couldn’t think that. I wouldn’t. I had twelve more hours to find the final card and get the other two cards from Darius’ safe at the Inn.

  Darius.

  I hoped he got away, but he might have spent the night in jail. I needed him to be safe because I couldn’t do this without him.

  I walked to the sink, shaking out my arms and legs, and rinsed my face. First, I needed to go after my phone. Perhaps Collin would take me. If not, I could call a cab to take me. I had to be extra careful, as I was sure the neighborhood watch was on high alert.

  The house was silent this early in the morning, but I needed to wake Collin. I crept to the staircase which was lined with David’s school photos, sweet pictures that I wanted to study, but there was no time. Halfway up, I realized that my tip-toeing around was ludicrous. I’d much rather have them awaken by hearing me. I took the second half of the staircase at a heavy stomp. Happily, it worked.

  A door flew open, banging the wall, and a frazzled and somewhat frightened Lucy met me at the top of the stairs. She paused and belted her robe.

  “Tricia, oh my. I heard a thump and thought David fell.” She held her hand over her heart as she spoke. “My heart’s racing. Let’s go downstairs, shall we?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. But, I need a ride.”

  “A ride?”

  “Yes, I need to get my phone, remember?”

  “Oh, of course.” She headed down the stairs and to the kitchen where she filled the tea kettle with water and put it on. “I’ll be right back, though it might take a sec to waken Collin. The man sleeps like the dead.” She hurried back up, and I appreciated her haste.

  I found my purse on one of the kitchen chairs. There was no time for tea this morning, no matter how lovely it sounded. I draped my purse strap over my shoulder but didn’t feel the Yeats book inside. I pulled it open and searched. Gone. My heart constricted in my chest, and I sank into a chair, struggling to take a breath. If the book was gone, so was the Three of Swords. I thought back to last night. It was in my purse when I left George’s house.

  Had I lost it when I’d fallen after leaping from Susan’s car? Or while I’d been running through the dark streets? How could I not only have lost the card but also my phone? Tears welled in my eyes. The three hours of exhausted sleep at the kitchen t
able energized me a bit but emotions still simmered just below the surface, ready to erupt at any twist in this already twisty-awful nightmare.

  I sat at the table and leaned my head into my hands, holding back tears. I glanced at the clock. Five minutes passed before I heard the mumble of voices from upstairs.

  I watched the second-hand tick on the clock for two entire circles before I took two deep breaths and headed toward the stairs. Enough of this bullshit.

  I heard their voices, but as I climbed up the stairs, they fell silent. I opened the first door I came to. Their son David lay in his room that’d been transformed from a teen boy’s bedroom into a full-blown medical suite. He’d been in a terrible car accident with a group of teens and had been the only one to survive, but his back broke in two places, rendering him a paraplegic in need of care. He’d regained some movement, but I knew they spent a fortune on therapies to help him. I watched him sleep for a moment.

  David turned his head when he heard me. “Mum?”

  I took a deep breath, stepped into his room, and pasted a smile on my face. “No, sweetie. I’m sorry. It’s me, Tricia. Do you remember me?”

  He grinned sleepily. “Yes. You’re Laurel’s mum.”

  He’d only met Laurel once when he was quite a bit younger, so I was surprised but also pleased that he remembered her. It was well before his accident, and he’d been quite taken with her. She would have been fifteen or sixteen when they met, which would have put him at twelve or thirteen.

  “I am. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I need your Dad to give me a lift to her.”

  He nodded, and I hoped he didn’t ask any specific questions. Another door opened, and I turned to see Lucy heading down the hall toward me.