Mystics are Murder (Bijoux Mystery Series Book 2)

by Teri Barnett

  Teri Barnett Complete Book List

  BIJOUX MYSTERY SERIES

  Romance is Murder: Bijoux Mystery Series Book 1

  Mystics are Murder: Bijoux Mystery Series Book 2

  COMING in 2021: Cupcakes are Murder: Bijoux Mystery Series Book 3

  ORACLE DREAMS TRILOGY

  Through the Mists of Time

  Shadow Dreams

  Pagan Fire

  Published Internationally by Teri Barnett

  Indianapolis, Indiana, USA

  Copyright © 2021 Teri Barnett

  teribarnett.com

  Lucky Crow Press

  Exclusive cover © 2021 Teri Barnett, Mystery Cover Designs

  Interior design © 2021 Teri Barnett, Indie Book Designer

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author, Teri Barnett, is an infringement of the copyright law.

  PRINT ISBN 978-1-7328138-8-5

  EBOOK ISBN 978-1-7328138-9-2

  Editor: Joanna D’Angelo

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For Black Cat Lou, OG Kitty, Best Cat Friend, inspiration for Griselda

  and

  Raven, my Mystical Soul Sister

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  A Special Sneak Peek of Cupcakes are Murder: Bijoux Mystery Series Book 3 - Coming in 2021!

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you…

  Indiana Writers’ Workshop, for your critiques, support, and community over the years. I appreciate all of you.

  Joanna D’Angelo, for your amazing editorial work, eye for detail, and continued vision for this series.

  My family. You inspire me daily.

  Chapter One

  “Tell me.” The customer scooted his chair a little closer to the table. “What do you see?”

  Madame Edna Marisol swiped at the mosquito buzzing at her right ear and bristled. She was still working on getting a vibe on this guy and he was already demanding answers. “Please. You must give me a moment.” She gestured at the deck of tarot cards in her left hand. “I haven’t even laid the cards out yet.” The psychic handled the deck, squaring up the edges, then placed the tarot cards in the center of the small round table, face down. “Information isn’t always readily available.” She forced a smile. “It can take time to get to the heart of things.”

  “You advertise yourself as a medium.” He gestured broadly at the room. “I mean, look at all of this. You have a reading area set up in the back of a nineties Ford panel van with a purple wizard painted on the side of it, for God’s sake. If that doesn’t scream psychic, I don’t know what does.” He leaned back against the metal folding chair and crossed his arms, hugging them tightly against his lean frame. “I’m already getting disappointed. Not with the presentation, mind you. The white twinkle holiday lights, green shag carpet, and candles create quite an atmosphere.” He glanced around. “So does that huge black cat over there.”

  “Griselda.”

  “Whatever.”

  Griselda hissed and twitched her tail.

  “Is that even a house-cat?” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s huge, looks like a black mountain lion.”

  “She’s part Maine Coon. They’re not known for being dainty.” Marisol held her hand out toward the cat. Griselda ignored it and licked her own foot.

  “Well, I don’t like cats. Maine or otherwise.” He stood and, fidgeting, nearly knocked his chair over. “And this conversation is tedious. Do you have any actual information for me? Or should I move along?”

  Marisol looked up at the man and considered him for a moment. High strung, curious thing he was. Though dressed well enough in clean dark blue jeans and a denim button down shirt, his neat appearance was definitely covering up some peculiar streak. She sighed. Oh well, he wasn’t her first weirdo client and likely wouldn’t be the last. She was in the business of fortune telling, after all. And, while the idea of getting your future foretold appealed to most only on a surface level, it did bring out a high percentage of odd folks looking for definitive answers to their haunting life questions and situations. Even she had to admit, though, this one here seemed a little more agitated and stranger than most.

  She briefly considered sending him packing, then inwardly shook her head. No. She would not be daunted. She was the Mystical Madame Edna Marisol after all, a professional psychic with over forty years of experience. The show must go on. She wearily waved a hand over the card deck. The motion sent the candles on the table sputtering and the stack of bracelets on her wrist chiming. “Have you ever had a tarot reading before?”

  “Do I look like a rube? Of course, I have.”

  “Then, as I said — and you should already know — sometimes it takes a few minutes for the information to come through. You only just finished shuffling the cards, after all.” Marisol pointed at his chair. “Please, sit, relax, and I’ll continue.” She rubbed her eyes behind her round, gold wire rim glasses and checked her watch. It was past ten p.m. and it had been a long day of travel to get to Bijoux, Michigan from Cleveland, Ohio for the First Annual ‘Walk into the Light’ Psychic Gathering. She’d only just gotten her little caravan set up at the local Lac Voo Nature Preserve campground when this guy came knocking at her van’s back door. She should’ve followed her gut, just ignored him, and gone to bed. But, money was money, and she had travel expenses to cover.

  He dropped back into the chair. “Fine. Fine. What did you say your name was again? I’m trying to decide if I’ve met you before.”

  Not a chance. You, I’d remember, she thought, but replied, “Madame Edna Marisol.” She forced a smile, picked up the cards, and began laying them out in a traditional cross pattern, chanting softly as she placed each one. “Here at the center is you, the querent. To the left is the past, to the right is the future. Love is above you and the world, below you. These four on the far right represent your challenges, hopes, and fears.” She held up one final card and laid it across the center querent card. “And this represents your current challenges.” When complete, she put the balance of the deck face down and rested her elbows on the table. “Now, what exactly is it you wish to know? What questions do you have?”

  He snorted. “Like I said, this isn’t my first time so I’m not going to start telling you things. I know some of you read body language and such.” He leaned forward in his seat again and the candles cast shadows around his high cheek bones. “You tell me.”

  Oh. He was going to be one of those clients; someone who wanted to challenge her gift. She dropped the last remnants of formality. “Look, Mister
, I’m tired. I’ve been traveling all day and I only agreed to do this reading after hours because you offered me two hundred dollars. Speaking of which...” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers until he placed four crisp fifties in it. She counted the bills, then tucked them into her bra strap.

  “I’ve paid you. Now. Seriously. What do you see?”

  Marisol squinted at the man, then studied the cards. She picked up the current challenge card. It was the Tower, a card based on the destruction of the Tower of Babel. Beneath it was the Nine of Swords, a man sitting on his bed, head in hands, with swords hanging on the wall next to him. “Something disturbs you. It’s keeping you awake at night.” She waved the Tower card. “Combined with this, I’d say there’s been a huge disruption in your life.”

  Eyebrow raised, he nodded slightly. “Okay. Go on.”

  Usually, clients were a whole lot chattier and you could sort of figure out what was bothering them from the conversation. This guy was hanging true to his word, though, and wasn’t going to help her out at all. Good thing she could actually read the cards. She knew some of those ‘psychics’ he referred to who relied completely on cues from their customers.

  “It wasn’t recent though. I’d say it’s been about six months.”

  “Huh. Maybe you are the real thing. What do you think this disruption was?” He picked up the Tower card and studied it, then placed it back where it was in the spread.

  Marisol scanned the layout. Ah. She pointed at the card representing the past. “The Lovers tell me it’s a broken heart. Your partner left you for another.”

  “Wow. You could not be more off base on that. Maybe you aren’t so real after all.” He pointed his finger at her, like he was holding a gun, and said, “Strike one.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re wrong. Strike one.”

  “O-kay...Let’s look at your future, shall we?” She took a breath and allowed her mind to clear, then moved the cards around slightly with her fingertips as she considered them. “Though you have possibly felt disconnected from others, I do see you finding some new friends and celebrating life, possibly even love. The Three of Cups tells me that.”

  “Do I really seem like the sociable type to you?” He pointed at her again. “Strike two.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop pointing at me.”

  He shrugged.

  She looked him over. His arms were now crossed and he was sitting back in his chair, leaving his face in shadow. “Well, you are closed off right now. So, I suppose, for the moment at least, probably not. And, you know, sometimes people change. The cards are encouraging you to step outside yourself, relax, have a little fun.”

  “Everything you’ve told me is surface stuff. Claiming the mantle of psychic,” he glanced around the space, “as you have so obviously done, I’d think you could go deeper. You know what I’m saying?”

  “I do know.” Marisol leaned back in her chair and let out a breath. “Tell you what. You come back tomorrow when I’m less tired and I’ll do another, full on spread and toss in a palm reading, too. No extra charge.”

  “How about the palm reading now and then I leave?”

  Griselda growled, and he shot the cat a look. “Is that animal dangerous?”

  Marisol reached over to ruffle the cat’s head. The cat was, of course, just out of arm’s reach. She chuckled and shook her head. “Gris likes to think she is. I found her in a campground like this one, probably seven or eight years ago. She walked right up to me and decided I was going to be her human. We’ve traveled together ever since.” She relaxed a little and moved the cards to the side. “Put your hand here, palm up, in the center of the table.”

  He did as instructed. She brought a candle nearby and studied the crisscross of lines. “I see three or four children. A couple of marriages. Your family of origin was a happy one.”

  He kept his hand where it was but curled his fingers into a tight fist. “I was hoping you were the one, you know?”

  Her eyes met his and a shiver of premonition, like an old memory, ran through her. “Excuse me?”

  “The one who would know my secret, who would actually see and understand the pain and guilt I carry.” In one quick motion, he grabbed the back of her head and yanked her forward. The cards went flying. A candle fell over and the flame went out. A thin stream of wax moved across the table.

  Terror filled Edna. She struggled against his grip. Opened her mouth to scream but no sounds would come. Her nightmare. This was her nightmare!

  Griselda jumped, spitting, and launched herself at the man. The cat landed squarely on his back and he stifled a yell as her claws dug into him. He yanked the animal off with his free hand and, panting, pulled a length of rope out of his pants pocket. He held it poised next to the older woman’s cheek and stared hard into Madame Marisol’s eyes.

  “You are not the real thing, Madame Edna Marisol.” He flicked the rope. “Strike three.”

  Chapter Two

  Morgan Hart, Bijoux’s new-ish police captain, walked purposefully into Dave’s Deli, a retro throwback diner which had changed little since the fifties. She checked her watch. 7 a.m. Still some time before she was on duty. Not that she was ever really off duty, but it felt good once in a while to tell herself she wasn’t working.

  She stopped just inside the door and inhaled the familiar blend of aromas — blueberry muffins, cinnamon pancakes, bacon, and, most importantly, coffee.

  “Hey, Captain Morgan!” Tom the Cook called out from behind the counter. He snickered and shook his head. “That just never gets old.”

  Morgan stifled a smile as she shot him a look. The teens in town had started the whole Captain Morgan rum thing when she first arrived and it had stuck. Oh well, she’d been called much worse in her time as a homicide detective back in Detroit. “Yeah. It does. As long as you’re there, how about a cup of that coffee?”

  “Oh, you just haven’t been here long enough,” Tom said as he flipped a red ceramic cup over and filled it almost to the rim. “Folks will soon find something, or someone, new to tease. It’s only been a couple of months, after all.”

  She nodded her thanks and took the cup over to a window booth. Morgan breathed in the delectable scent of caffeine, took a sip, and sighed. She’d ventured back to her old hometown of Bijoux on Lake Michigan, when her dad, Able Hart, the former police captain, retired. While she may have only been back for just three months, the fact she had to deal with a murder investigation her first day on the job certainly made it feel a lot longer than that.

  Morgan looked out the window and scanned the street. Outsiders were rolling in for the Walk into the Light Psychic Gathering being held over the upcoming Fourth of July weekend, so she felt the need to be extra vigilant. Especially since there were no such things as psychics, despite what her dad’s girlfriend, Zoe Buffet, claimed. Always the cop. Always observant. Morgan knew it was her job to make sure nothing bad happened around here, including locals and tourists getting bilked.

  “How’s the coffee?”

  She looked up as Jeremy Jones, her tall, solid, red-headed deputy slid into the seat across from her. “Just like the sign says. Best in town, JJ.”

  “Don’t let your dad hear you say that.” He picked up a menu and scanned the breakfast choices.

  Able had purchased Hal’s Hardware store when he retired, and it quickly became the place where the old timers gathered for coffee and gossip. The addition of Zoe’s coffee cake day once a month had grown Hal’s into the Unofficial Center of the Universe in Bijoux. Morgan looked across the street. A line was forming out the front door of Hal’s. “Is it coffee cake day?” She glanced at her smart watch and checked the date. “It’s early this month if it is.”

  “Huh. Does seem early. Maybe Able got in a new batch of paint swatches and they’re celebrating,” JJ offered. “I think sometimes Zoe looks for an excuse to try out new recipes on everyone.” He chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining. She makes a mean coff
ee cake.”

  Jerome, the Deli’s waiter, strolled over. “What’ll you have, Mr. JJ?”

  “Give me the Truck Stop, please. Eggs scrambled, rye toast, but no hash browns.” JJ patted his belly. “Too many cupcakes from Hannah’s shop lately. She brings over the day-old ones and I can’t resist ‘em. Need to watch the carbs.”

  JJ’s girlfriend, Hannah Bellamy, owned Hannah’s Heavenly Creations down the street and her cupcakes were the thing of dreams. “Oh, please,” Morgan said. Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced down at her own belly. She had loosened her belt a notch since moving here. Maybe she should skip potatoes once in a while too.

  As if reading her mind, Jerome said, “Wouldn’t hurt you to make healthier choices sometimes, you know. Remember,” he pointed his pencil at her, “I see how you eat.”

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed. To hell with it. “Just bring me a blueberry muffin. With a lot of butter. And please top off this coffee.”

  The server shrugged as he walked away. “Someday you’ll wish you’d listened to me.”

  “So much attitude rolled into that skinny body,” Morgan grumbled.

  “He just likes to take care of everybody. Remember, it’s part of his charm.” JJ winked. “Oh, hey Cal. Come join us!”