Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery)

by Baron, Marilyn

  “Hale here.”

  “Jack—” Katherine looked down at the adoption document and coughed.

  “Kate, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m—I had a question. There’s something I’d like you to take a look at. Something…unofficially. Could you come over?”

  “Now?” His voice sounded froggy.

  “Did I wake you?” Of course she had, because she had lost track of time.

  “I had a late shift last night, but I’m off today, so I’ll be right over.”

  “Thank you.”

  Katherine heaved a sigh of relief as she realized she trusted Jack, implicitly.

  In the kitchen she poured herself a glass of lemonade while she waited. There was a lot of food left over from after the funeral service. She set out some cheese and crackers and some cookies, two plates, napkins and glasses. Jack had a big appetite and he might be hungry. She felt bad that she hadn’t invited him back to the house after the burial, but she’d wanted to be left alone, and he had respected her wishes. But now she needed to see him.

  He must have flown over, because he materialized at her front door in record time. That made sense. He lived in Midtown, and Buckhead wasn’t that far away.

  “Come in,” she said, and he stepped through the door. She led him into the dining room. Katherine couldn’t stop staring at his face and felt an almost overpowering longing. She was so glad to see him. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him.

  “How are you holding up?” Jack considered her to be as fragile as a china doll, she knew.

  “Okay, I guess. I’m still numb. I can’t believe this happened, that I’m never going to see my parents again. And I can’t get my mind around the fact that someone tampered with their car. Do the FBI have any leads yet? They won’t tell me anything.” Katherine smoothed her hands down her green velour running suit. It was wrinkled because she’d slept in it. Jack must think she was a mess. Her mother wouldn’t have approved of her state of complete disarray.

  “Nothing definitive to report yet,” Jack said, still staring at her sympathetically. “Things like this take time.”

  Was he referring to the investigation into her parents’ murder or the time necessary to get over their deaths?

  “I don’t know how you’re coping. When I lost my father, well, I’m still not over that, and to lose both parents at the same time… I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling.”

  It was comfortable being around Jack again. She’d missed their closeness. When she could bear thinking about anything. She didn’t really know much of anything about him. Maybe it was time to learn more.

  “What’s your mother like?” Katherine asked, as she offered Jack a chair and placed a dessert plate and a glass of lemonade on the end table, within easy reach. One thing she did know about him. He was perpetually hungry. “You still have her, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Mom is great,” Jack answered, attacking the food with a vengeance. “A little too trusting. I mean, she’s open to anything. After my father died, she, um, brought a medium into our house who claimed she could contact my father.”

  “Did she?” Katherine asked, moving closer.

  “Are you serious?” Jack said. “She was a fraud. My dad was dead, and that was the end of it. You don’t actually believe you can contact the spirits of the dead, do you?”

  Katherine bit her lip. That’s exactly what she believed. And she was determined to try it.

  Jack shook his head and pursed his lips. “You’re not considering doing that, are you, Kate?” But he could see plainly that she was.

  Katherine lowered her head. “I don’t believe they’re just gone. Don’t you believe that love survives—?”

  “You and my mom are so gullible. Like two peas in a pod. When will you ever learn that love is not that powerful?”

  Katherine lifted her chin. “My parents’ love was. I-I really think they’re together right now.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, Kate, but you’re not thinking rationally. You have to look at it from a scientific point of view. When the body goes into the ground—”

  “Stop!” Kate shouted, stomping her foot, then covering her face with her hands and sobbing as she sank into the wing chair opposite Jack’s. “I don’t want to hear it!” She wanted to shut off her brain. Some things didn’t bear thinking about.

  Jack bolted out of his chair, crossed the distance between them, and gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry. You’re not ready to hear it. It’s okay, baby,” he said, trying to soothe her by rubbing her back.

  Kate finally stopped crying and pulled out of his arms. “You’re just trying to placate me. And you are so wrong about the power of love.” She gestured toward the ceiling. “Somewhere out there…I know they’re still together. You’ll never convince me they’re not.”

  Jack was overcompensating. He was all for getting her to talk about her tragedy, but he staunchly refused to confide in her about his. He’d built up an emotional barrier between them as big as a boulder.

  “When your father died,” Katherine began tentatively. “Could you tell me about that?”

  Jack stiffened and began pacing the room. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “Let’s just say this medium should have been arrested.”

  “For what crime? Peddling false hope?”

  “It went way beyond that.” Jack struggled with his anger in his desire to be supportive of Kate.

  “I’m a psychic, too,” she challenged. “Are you going to arrest me?”

  Jack narrowed his eyes and he regarded her quizzically. “That depends. Have you done anything illegal?”

  Katherine bit her lip. “Not that I know of, but there is something that might be, well, not quite kosher. I don’t know what to make of it, but you have to promise me that if you look at it, you won’t report it.”

  “You know I can’t promise you anything like that if a crime is involved.”

  “Still going strictly by the book, Beauregard? I don’t think it’s anything that sinister, but I’ve asked you here as a friend, not as a detective. I don’t want the police involved in this.”

  Jack turned to face her. “Kate, you can trust me. I’m not going to do anything that would get you into trouble.”

  “That’s why I called you.” She walked around the coffee table and pushed the adoption document toward Jack.

  He examined the piece of paper for a few minutes. Then he looked her squarely in the eyes.

  “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

  Katherine blinked. “Is this an interrogation?”

  “Well?” Jack tapped the paper with his index finger and stood waiting for an answer.

  “Are you going to make me take a lie detector test?” Katherine bristled and finally relented under the pressure of his gaze. “I found it in my parents’ home safe. What is it?”

  Jack rubbed his chin. “It looks like an adoption of some kind, but not a legal one. This is not an official certificate. What does this have to do with you?”

  Kate shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I’m not sure. But look at the date.”

  “May 19, 1983,” Jack read.

  “That’s the day I was born.”

  “Could be a coincidence,” Jack said, half-heartedly.

  “I don’t believe in them.”

  “Neither do I.” Jack looked at the names on the certificate. “Have you ever heard of these people? Juliette Spencer and Reverend Carter Coulter?”

  Katherine shook her head. “Never. And I never heard my parents talk about anyone by those names. Maybe it was a private adoption.”

  “Where the parents pay through the nose to buy a baby?” Jack accused.

  Katherine shrank back. “That’s pretty cynical.”

  “Yes, and it’s also illegal. I doubt if your father was involved in anything like that. He was a respected judge.”

  “And he was just an attorney at the time I was born,” she noted.<
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  Jack scratched his head and reviewed the document again. “This Baby Girl Coulter was born in Florida. Where were you born?”

  “In Atlanta, as far as I know. That’s what it says on my birth certificate.”

  Jack fixed her with a knowing glance. “Birth certificates can be forged.”

  Katherine stuck her chin out. “I don’t think my father would be involved in anything illegal.”

  “Desperate people do desperate things every day, Kate,” Jack reasoned, softening his glare.

  “My parents weren’t desperate.”

  “You’re an only child, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t your parents ever want more children?”

  “My mother told me she couldn’t have any more children, that I was enough. I always wanted a brother or a sister.”

  Jack glanced at the document, trying to piece together the clues, to determine what was missing.

  “Maybe you already have one.”

  Katherine held up a hand. “You mean I might be a twin, that this Baby Girl Coulter is somehow related to me?”

  “I didn’t say that. What if you are Baby Girl Coulter?”

  Katherine looked up at Jack. “Are you saying that my parents bought me?”

  “I’m not saying anything, but it does raise suspicions. Your parents certainly could have afforded to buy a baby, judging by this house. But this document doesn’t prove anything, and we can’t exactly ask them now. There’s no dollar amount written on here. This isn’t a bill of sale, but it’s worth looking into.”

  Kate hesitated. “How would you do that?”

  “First, by conducting some research on the Internet. Making a few calls, possibly taking a trip to this place, Casa Spirito. Are you up for that?” Jack considered the prospect of another trip with Kate with promise. He missed her, and the thought of spending all that time alone with her on a car trip was tantalizing.

  “But not in an official capacity.” Katherine shot Jack a warning glare.

  “No, I’ve got some time coming. Why don’t we take a little trip to Florida?”

  Kate seemed to weigh the idea. “Well, okay. I don’t want anything coming out that would reflect negatively on my parents. And the media—those vultures would love to get their hands on something nefarious about me or my family.”

  “Do you have a computer here?” Jack asked, looking around the room.

  “Yes, in my bedroom.”

  “Your bedroom?” Jack’s voice rose an octave and his eyes twinkled.

  “Yes, but don’t get any ideas.”

  “Me?” Jack threw his hands up. “Furthest thing from my mind. The only thing I’ll be turning on around here is your computer.” Unfortunately.

  “I could have predicted you’d say that. It’s already on. Follow me.” Katherine led the way.

  Jack followed her up a winding staircase worthy of a Gone with the Wind movie set. “Sorry. I’ll stop making stupid comments, if you’ll forgive me.”

  Katherine took a right turn and ushered Jack into a spacious bedroom on the left that overlooked an Olympic-size swimming pool, a tennis court, and some woods, with a jaw-dropping view of the Atlanta skyline. “You live like a princess.”

  “A lonely princess,” Katherine lamented.

  “You’re not alone now, are you? I’m here.”

  Katherine smiled and pointed to her workspace. “Have a seat, Detective.”

  Jack sat down in Kate’s chair and began entering data. His hands flew across the keys. “Hmm,” he said, after about fifteen minutes of surfing the net.

  “Tell me what you found?” Katherine’s hand flew to her heart.

  “Well, a cursory search brings up several entries about this Juliette Spencer. Says she’s a first-class scam artist.”

  “Jack, you’re teasing me. I know you’re just making that up,” Katherine said.

  Jack smiled and turned his attention back to the computer. “Apparently she’s a strong psychic and spiritual healer in a small community called Casa Spirito, Florida. She’s known as Psychic Juliette. Her ad says she’s a gifted psychic intuitive and a medium specializing in love, relationships, careers, and other passions.” Jack took Kate’s hand and pulled her around to give her a closer view of the screen. It felt good to have her so near again. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and she squeezed back.

  Jack smiled and felt his heart stutter. He turned toward the screen and back to the business at hand. “As far as the old reverend, he’s the founder of a secret spiritualist society in Casa Spirito, a federally tax-exempt church governed by a board of trustees, which he heads.” Jack’s fingers flew across the keys. “It looks like he was booted out of another spiritual community in central Florida. No reason given. He has his finger in a lot of pies down there,” Jack observed. “He’s a certified trance medium and spiritualist healer who claims to be a descendant of one of the world’s most illustrious mediums. He is known throughout the community as a spiritualistic seer who can communicate and channel through spirit guides. Sounds to me like he’s a first-class crook.”

  “How can you be so certain? You don’t even know the man.”

  Jack frowned. “I know enough to know I don’t like him already. He’s about twice this Juliette woman’s age, and he’s married and was married at the time this child was conceived. He must be a very randy reverend. And I can’t find any official record of any child born in that community on that date. I say we go down there.”

  Katherine nodded her approval of his plan. “When can we leave?”

  “Let me clear it with the department, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. I’ll drive.”

  Katherine placed her hand on Jack’s arm. “Thanks, I really appreciate this.”

  “No problem. This is a mystery, and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

  Katherine closed the files and they walked downstairs.

  “What is your sign?” Katherine asked as they stood in the living room.

  “My sign?”

  “Yes, what month were you born?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “All the difference in the world. I study the position of the sun, the moon, the planetary rising signs, and other astrologic aspects.”

  “Are you a palm reader?”

  Katherine lifted her hands, palms up toward Jack. “I’ve studied palm reading. Astrology is a hobby of mine. I can consult an astrology chart to determine romantic compatibility, among other things.”

  Jack took one of Kate’s hands into his, inched closer, and softly traced imaginary lines on her palms. Kate shivered. “I thought your parents didn’t like you dabbling in the occult.”

  Kate tried to pull away, but Jack just took her other hand. “They didn’t know. It was something I hid and experimented with when they weren’t around. Like you probably hid Playboys under your bed. I hid tarot cards.”

  “Caught me,” Jack chuckled and pulled Kate’s body in to his.

  “For example, I’m a Taurus,” Katherine said, trying to extricate herself from Jack’s hold, unsuccessfully.

  “What am I?” Jack asked, lowering his voice to a whisper, his lips dangerously close to hers. He was breathing heavily. “I was born on January twenty-third.” He felt Kate move restlessly against his body.

  “Then, you’re an Aquarius, so your Zodiac element is air,” she said softly. “Taurus is the earth sign. Taurus and Aquarius are considered potential soul mates. Aquarius embodies traits that are missing and needed to fulfill Taurus. But the attraction between air and earth can’t last too long, if you ask the stars.”

  “I’m asking you, sweet Kate,” Jack whispered against her ear. Kate tried to twist out of his grasp, but he pulled her harder against him.

  Kate licked her lips, and if she didn’t stop wriggling, he was going to kiss her until she quieted. She had already invaded his senses and if he wasn’t careful, she was going to creep into his heart. And love was definitely not on his agenda.
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  “Aquarius has a special charm. He’s mysterious and seductive,” Katherine sighed, snuggling against him. “Aquarius will be instantly attracted to Taurus. But Taurus and Aquarius don’t make the best bed mates.”

  She gave him a challenging look, as if she were drilling straight down into his mind.

  Well she got that right, Jack thought. The instant attraction part, anyway. She was dead wrong about the bed mates. And damn it to hell, he couldn’t wait to prove it to her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Casa Spirito, Florida

  Katherine could hear the ocean from her room at the quaint Victorian bed-and-breakfast in the pretty seaside town of Casa Spirito on the Florida coast. After an exhausting seven-hour drive from Atlanta, she’d had a restless night. Once she’d thrown back the white chintz curtains, the sun came streaming in and she could see the ocean, and smell it too. She was mesmerized by the relentless rhythm of the waves in their unceasing roll to the shore, and for the first time in weeks she felt a sense of well-being, of comfort, of peace. She ran a brush through her hair, applied her lipstick, took a last look in the oval mirror in the bathroom, and went downstairs to meet Jack for breakfast.

  She hoped Jack wouldn’t continue the litany of psychic jokes and disparaging remarks he had regaled her with on the trip to Florida.

  “This place is out in the boondocks,” he’d complained at dusk, when they’d finally arrived in Casa Spirito, past fields of cows and horses, a row of towering pine trees, and oaks trimmed in Spanish moss. Each of the homes, some brick, some ramshackle wooden ones, flew flags proudly in their front yards beside covered carports.

  After a delicious meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits and a fresh-squeezed glass of Florida orange juice, she and Jack took a leisurely stroll through the tiny town.

  They walked along a quiet, shady street lined with pine trees, past the grand, two-story stucco Casa Spirito Hotel, a large church with a tall wooden cross, art galleries, walking paths, and parks.