Georgie and Layla looked at each other, and Tammy hid a small smile.
Jerry, always quick to pick up on what was not being said, shrugged. “OK, I might have made a wrong move or two in the past. But I fixed it, didn’t I?”
Quelling the impulse to point out that his ‘wrong moves’, like threatening to move the vintage trailer division to a seedy part of town, were purely based on self-interest, she simply nodded. “You did. And now you’re going above and beyond. But now that you’ve appeared once, the crowd will expect it.” Shamelessly, she piled on flattery. “They loved you. They see you and Tammy as a pair. Better block out all the retro rallies in your diary.” She sat back and beamed at him.
“Hear, hear!” Tammy raised her glass in a toast and planted a kiss on Jerry’s cheek. “The next one we’ve scheduled is five weeks away. It’s a Happy Days theme. How do you feel about Fonzie?”
A slow smile spread across Jerry’s face. He put his head on one side while he regarded Tammy, looking sexy and irresistible in her black Sandy spandex and killer red heels. A tiny hint of calculation flashed in his eyes.
Uh oh, thought Georgie. Some kind of trade-off coming up here…
“Sure, babe,” he said easily, reaching across to tug on one tousled blonde curl. “Fonzie’s an easy move sideways from Danny Zuko. Who are you going to be?”
“Joanie, I guess.” She grinned at him and turned sideways to lie back on one of the charcoal and ebony striped armrests, casually plunking her feet across his knees.
Jerry eased off one red shoe and massaged her foot, while Tammy heaved out a sigh. “Oh, that feels good. I love these shoes, but my feet are killing me. Hours of dancing.”
“Find some saddle shoes and go bobbysoxer,” Layla said, sticking out a foot to show her practical footwear. “Dance all night and come up laughing.”
“But she looks so good in heels,” Jerry objected, slipping off the second red shoe and holding it up like a trophy before putting it down and resuming his duties as a masseur. Then he added casually, “Might as well wear them now; she won’t be in high heels to talk with the preppers. No dancing at the Apocalypse.” He laughed.
And there it is, thought Georgie. She caught the guarded look in Tammy’s eye and raised an eyebrow. “To talk to the preppers…?”
“Quid pro quo,” Tammy explained, her smile somewhat forced. “Jerry puts in time with vintage if I do the same with preppers.”
Georgie waved a hand at all the black spandex. “You never wear anything but retro, Tams. How are you going to help sell bug-out vehicles and ‘Get Out Of Dodge’ packs?”
“Retro might not be quite the look,” Jerry allowed, “although survivalists are learning more about traditional farming and crafts. Home-grown food, making do, recycling clothes. But it’s Tammy’s former life that we’re calling on.”
From the other side of the RV, reclining in a leather easy chair, Layla sat up and paid attention. “Tams! You were a prepper? No, you weren’t.”
“Of course I wasn’t.” Tammy did a little shimmy in her skin-tight Grease outfit, a movement that had Jerry grinning in appreciation. “Do I look like one?”
“Not right now,” Georgie said, “but remember, we’ve seen you go incognito. You could play anyone.”
“Preppers don’t have a ‘look’, anyway.” Jerry warmed to his theme. “They have a lifestyle. They don’t all dress like commandos, but they’re prepared for all eventualities. Tams can talk to anyone. Throw in a few guns, and what prepper could resist her?”
Georgie and Layla spoke at the same time. “Guns?”
“Jerry,” Tammy said warningly, “I told you, no guns.”
“You don’t have to fire them. Just talk about them as though you know what you’re doing.”
“And how, exactly, is Tammy supposed to know anything about guns?” Georgie asked.
Jerry looked faintly guilty, as though he had betrayed confidence. “Uh…well…you tell them, babe.”
Tammy rolled her eyes and hitched herself up, kicking free of Jerry’s grip. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, a tiny crease in her forehead. “I know guns, right?” she said reluctantly. “My dad and brothers hunted. They still hunt. I used to go out with them.”
“So Tams and I came to an agreement.” Jerry grinned at them all happily. “I play Danny Zuko and make nice at the retro meets. I help to expand the division. In return, she talks guns and survival in the wild with preppers.”
“I’m not wearing camo gear.” Tammy pointed a finger at him with a clear warning in her blue eyes.
“Wouldn’t dream of asking you to, honey. Just forget the swing skirt and bobby sox, OK?”
While listening to their exchange, Georgie had been watching their body language.
Tammy was not comfortable with this.
Jerry, on the other hand, was not only comfortable but was hiding something. The one thing he couldn’t control was that telltale twitch in his jaw; the sure signal over their years growing up together that her brother was up to no good.
She was determined to find out what.
Chapter 3
The next morning Georgie and Layla waved as Tammy pulled away with her cherry red and white trailer in tow. A cheerful little loop of scarlet flags strung along the truck fluttered in the breeze.
She slowed and stuck her head out of the window as she passed by, her Sandy curls peeking out from under a cherry-sprigged bandana. “See you back at Elkhart!”
Georgie nodded. “Three days!”
Jerry rolled along behind her in his monster black and gold RV, casting a shadow over them as he passed. Unlike Tammy, he had ditched the retro look in favor of cargo pants and a t-shirt with the Johnny B. Goode logo. “Bye girls!” He pointed a finger at Georgie and grinned annoyingly. “Keep those sales targets up, now!”
Georgie choked back an unladylike reply and merely smiled coolly, which simply earned her a laugh. Her brother had always liked pressing her buttons.
He moved on and she watched him follow Tammy’s trailer out of the campground and up the road, staring after them until they were out of sight, frowning.
Disquiet curled uncomfortably within her.
Layla touched her arm. “What’s up?”
Georgie turned to meet her friend’s concerned gaze. “I don’t know. I just feel that something’s… off. Like I should run after Tammy and tell her to be careful.” She shook her head. “But careful of what? It’s just a feeling.”
By now, Layla knew that if Georgie said she had a bad feeling about something, it was time to take notice. “Time to talk to the crystal ball?” she suggested tentatively.
Georgie’s experiences with the crystal ball over the past few days didn’t give her much hope, but it was worth a go. Anything to quell this queasy feeling of almost-dread in her gut.
“I’ll give it a shot. You keep packing up; I’ll come over when I’m done.”
All around them, people were hitching up retro trailers, many of them to vintage cars. It was a casual process, with plenty of catch-up chats going on at the same time. As usual, everyone was reluctant to leave.
Georgie, dressed in Boho pants and a drawstring blouse, ran up the steps of her caravan and closed the door against the noise of departure. She needed to concentrate.
The crystal ball rested on its usual shelf, covered with Rosa’s old velvet cloth. “Please,” Georgie murmured as she moved it to the table and slid off the covering. “I need something…”
She rested her hands on the globe and closed her eyes, thinking of Tammy and Jerry heading off on the road to Elkhart. Were they going to be involved in an accident?
No, she thought, that wasn’t it. They were going to reach Elkhart safely, but what was in store for them after that?
Under her fingertips, the crystal ball stayed firm and cool. Georgie concentrated harder, but her thoughts kept intruding, skittering around in her mind like nervous mice. Tammy, Jerry, Tammy, Jerry… they were her family, she ha
d to be able to see what was coming.
Nothing.
Georgie opened her eyes and looked bleakly at the crystal ball, knowing what she’d see. Clear, cold crystal, gleaming in the bright morning light filtering through the stained glass windows. There was none of the growing warmth that she’d come to expect; no soft white mist that allowed messages through.
If only Scott were here. Her mind filled with the image of his open, friendly face and smiling eyes the color of whisky in sunlight. He’d been gone for three weeks now after answering a call for help from a former work buddy in the Cherokee National forest in Tennessee. Thank goodness he was getting close to the end of his relief stint. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss his steady presence in her life until he was gone.
She smiled, remembering his calm assertion at the rally back in California. We’re going to get married one day, but don’t worry about it now.
Married to Scott… She had no idea how that was going to work, once his visa expired and he had to return to Australia, while she was tied up with the vintage trailer division of her father’s RV Empire back here. She could foresee lots of problems with sorting that one out.
But right now he wasn’t here, and she still had the problem of what was going to happen to Tammy.
She sighed and picked up Rosa’s velvet cloth to cover the crystal ball again.
They’d be back in Elkhart in a few days. By then her great-grandmother would be climbing the walls with her enforced inactivity, getting crankier by the minute and making her grandson Johnny’s life a misery. She would probably welcome a visit…and maybe Georgie could find out what was going on with her crystal ball.
A gypsy fortune-teller whose crystal ball was malfunctioning. What a joke.
Chapter 4
Three days later, Georgie was making tea in Rosa’s compact little kitchen and was already, after ten minutes, wishing she were anywhere else. The moment she arrived, her great-grandmother had launched into an indignant account of how people were treating her like a baby and she didn’t need mollycoddling and they just didn’t breed people tough any more. Over in her easy chair by the window, with her sprained ankle up on an ottoman, she was still venting. Her unfortunate day nurse, overwhelmingly grateful to be told to go and take an hour off away from Rosa’s interminable grumbles, had just scurried out of the door.
“As though I need a nurse,” Rosa griped. “A nurse. Waste of good money. Your father knows I’m capable of looking after myself.”
“Of course you are,” Georgie agreed, carrying in a tray with two teapots and cups and the carrot cake that Rosa favored. “When you don’t have a sprained ankle. But right now you need a bit of help. Remember what the doctor said: the last thing you need is to fall and break a hip.”
Rosa wasn’t feeling receptive to common sense. She waved that away with a disgusted ‘Pah!” and accepted a cup of tea. “Did you warm the pot first? And let it steep?”
“Yes, I know you like it strong.” Georgie put a plate with a slice of cake on the side table next to Rosa, and picked up the second teapot and poured her own tea, inhaling the delicate fragrance of Earl Grey.
Rosa eyed the second teapot with disfavor. “When did you start drinking that perfumed muck?”
“Layla converted me.” Georgie grinned. “You haven’t met Layla yet. She’s on our road team for retro trailers.” She sat in the chair opposite Rosa and sipped, closing her eyes in appreciation. “Lovely. How’s yours?”
Rosa tried hers. “It’s good enough, I suppose.”
“You must be pretty bored, sitting here all day. Dad tells me you’re supposed to be still confined to bed. I can imagine how well that suggestion went down.”
“I don’t know why I can’t go to the RV yard. At least there’s always something happening there.”
“There are trucks and RVs moving around all the time; while you’re indisposed, you can’t get out of the way quickly.”
“I could sit in the showroom, or the waiting room.”
There was no way Georgie was going to win this one. Rosa was grumpy and still suffering some pain, and she was going to let the world know it.
Time to change the subject.
“The crystal ball,” she said. “It’s not working for me.”
“I was wondering when we’d get to that.”
Georgie put her head on the side and sent Rosa a quizzical glance. “You already knew?”
“Not for sure, but it’s been harder for me to get through and know what you’re up to.” Rosa shrugged. “It was always going to happen.”
Georgie felt her shoulders relax as a surge of relief swept through her. “So it’s not just me? It happened to you too?”
“Happens to pretty much anyone who uses a crystal ball,” Rosa said. “Sometimes I sit back and picture the Gods sitting up there in the clouds somewhere, having a great old laugh at our expense. Lying around and eating grapes and drinking mead and talking about how humans always expect to have their questions answered.” Without thinking, she went to move her foot away from the ottoman, then winced and wriggled in discomfort. “Damned ankle. We don’t appreciate being mobile until we’re not.”
Georgie sat forward. “Can I get you another cushion for your leg?”
“No, then it’s too high. Don’t worry about it,” Rosa snapped. She was silent for a moment and then said abruptly, “Sorry. I’m a pain in the rear end, I know.”
In a flash Georgie went from being irritated by her to feeling guilty. She could only imagine what it must be like to be ninety-three—or was it ninety-four?—and confined to a chair with a sprained ankle. Difficult at any age, but much harder when you were older.
“Don’t give it a thought,” she said. “I don’t like having to sit still for long myself. Which makes things difficult when I’m spending a good chunk of each morning sitting at a table with a crystal ball.”
“Word is that you’re not charging for a reading?” Rosa watched her, sipping slowly at her tea.
“That’s right. If they don’t pay, they can’t criticize.”
Then she and Rosa both said at the same time, “But they still do,” and both laughed.
“I don’t need the money,” Georgie pointed out. “Not with my commissions, and with Dad’s business I’m set for the future. I just put out the sign so anyone who needs me can find me.”
Rosa’s eyes were keen as she studied Georgie’s face. “And how’s that working out? People finding you?”
Georgie gave her a quick overview of the kind of people who came to her, as well as a run-through of the three cases she had solved so far. Her account of Nick, the teenager with the spy video pen who was determined to hand her over to the cops, saw Rosa’s leathery wrinkled face break out in a broad grin. “I remember that kid,” she said. “Passed on a message for him, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” Georgie said with some asperity, remembering that day with the crystal ball when Rosa’s voice had sounded in her ear. “You told me that his mother wanted him to feed his dog. That was really useful in solving the case.”
Rosa winked. “Got to let you do your own thing.”
Thinking about the crystal ball brought Georgie back to the main purpose of her visit. “Anyway, back to the crystal ball. How long will I have to wait until it…readjusts itself, or whatever it has to do? The thing is…” She hesitated, not sure of whether she should be worrying Rosa.
“Go on,” her great-grandmother commanded. “Spit it out.”
“I think Tammy is headed for trouble,” Georgie said in a rush. “And Jerry, too—but I’m not so concerned about him; he can look after himself.” She set her cup down, and leaned forward, her hands linked on her lap while she stared at Rosa. “Something’s going to happen, Grandma Rosa, and right now I can’t see what it is. I haven’t even warned them yet, because I don’t know what to tell them. I need the crystal ball working again. Unless—” She bit her lip. “Unless you could try?”
Rosa had gone very s
till. “You say you see something coming?”
“Kind of. I can’t see anything. But I know it. I do. I just don’t know what.”
Rosa stared down at the cup, and said quietly, “I haven’t felt a thing. Nothing.”
“Well, you’ve been sick. You were knocked out for a few minutes, Dad said, and you’ve had headaches.”
“Doesn’t matter. The Sight gets past all that.” Rosa suddenly looked shrunken and old. “I thought I’d have it until death.”
“Do you want to try the crystal ball?”
“No, not if it’s not working for you.” She drained the rest of her tea, and stared into the cup. Her eyes narrowed, and she lost focus, as though she was staring right through the cup to the floor and down to the center of the earth. Then she tilted the cup and turned it around a few times, before glancing up at Georgie. “Come here.”
“I’d forgotten that you read tea leaves as well as the crystal ball. And cards.” Georgie leapt to her feet and went across to look over Rosa’s shoulder. The tea leaves clumped in a few places, and she saw something that might have been a horse’s head, or maybe a bucket?
She sighed. “Means nothing to me.”
“That’s because you’re trying to make them into any symbols that make sense to you. Just stare at them, and let your mind go blank.”
“It’s been blank for days,” Georgie muttered unhappily, but did as Rosa asked. She stared until the tea leaves blurred together, and then, crazily, began to take on some meaning.
Leaves. Not tea leaves, but leaves, generally, thick and clustered. Branches, trees.
A forest?
Yes, a forest. Some wilderness area.
She blinked, and the tea leaves came back into focus again, but somehow she could see that yes, that odd clump there somehow meant…out in the wild.
“A forest,” she said. “Wait.” She did the same thing again, and from the blur came an impression of shadowy figures. It was so strange: she couldn’t actually picture them, but she could sense what was going on. The meaning came through.
“People, in the forest.” As she said it, pain lanced into her forehead. “Ow.”
Up To No Good: Book 4 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Page 2
