Georgie Be Good: Book 2 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery

by Marg McAlister

“Well, you are kind of in the same business.”

  Not quite, Georgie thought. She had a foot in two camps. Sure, she travelled in a gypsy caravan with Great-Grandma Rosa’s crystal ball and told fortunes, but she couldn’t escape the hold that retro and vintage vans had on her, either. Her big problem was reconciling the two. Did sales and precognition mix?

  Not, apparently, when it came to seeing what her brother would do next.

  “Humph,” she said, frowning absently at Scott.

  “What made you come to L.A.?” he asked. “It’s a long way from Elkhart.”

  “Well…” she hesitated. She hadn’t known Scott all that long, and even though he’d grown up with a mother who planned her days by the stars, would he think she sounded a bit flaky? “It was just where I felt I had to come. Not that I can say that to everyone.”

  Scott nodded. “And do you know why you’re here, yet?”

  “Not a clue.” Which was frustrating her no end. This was the second weekend that Georgie had set up at markets around L.A., and so far she’d done well with RV sales prospects but had encountered no one who really appeared to need her help. “The people who come to me for a reading mostly seem satisfied, but half the time I feel like a complete fraud. That crystal ball doesn’t always cooperate. I wish it came with an instruction book.”

  “It’ll work out,” Scott said. “Just relax.”

  At that exact moment, Layla’s face appeared in the doorway. She had an odd look on her face. “Georgie?”

  “What’s wrong?” Georgie stood up immediately.

  “There’s someone here who wants to see you.” She mouthed “Sorry”, and gave a slight shrug, then stood back to let Georgie out.

  Standing in front of the sales table, pushing around the sales brochures with one finger, was a woman of about forty, clad in jeans and a black t-shirt with Moms Rule, OK? written on the front in large white letters. Her blonde hair was caught back in a short ponytail, and she was biting her bottom lip.

  She looked up, and as soon as Georgie met her tired, sad gaze, she knew that the person she sought had found her first.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I know the markets are over for the weekend, but I didn’t know you were here until an hour ago. Please—I really need to see you.”

  Georgie glanced back, to find Scott watching her intently. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, then gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  Weird, she thought again. His mother was the astrologer, but Scott seemed to have a habit of turning up whenever something was going on.

  She glanced back at the woman, and for a second nobody moved or spoke. Her client was as tense as a coiled spring.

  “My mother came to see you yesterday,” the woman said. “Afterward, she phoned me…” she hesitated, searching for words. “She said you knew lots of things that she couldn’t explain and that I should come see you. I almost didn’t.” Then she added, her voice trailing off, “I’m Sarah West.”

  Georgie smiled at her. “That’s fine,” she said, instinctively keeping her voice gentle. “Come with me.”

  They both walked to the caravan, and Georgie could feel Sarah’s panic and anxiety reaching out to envelop her.

  What had she got herself into this time?

  CHAPTER 3

  To counterbalance the other woman’s tension, Georgie made her voice sound calm and matter-of-fact.

  “Would you like tea or coffee? Or water?”

  “Just water, thanks.”

  “Sit here.” Georgie patted the velvet-upholstered seat at the table, and opened the cupboard to take out her lead crystal glasses. She filled them with chilled water from her small fridge, and set one in front of Sarah. Then she sat down, linking her fingers together loosely in front of her on the table, and waited while Sarah took a few sips and took quick, nervous glances around at her surroundings.

  Finally, she put the glass down and met Georgie’s eyes. “Thank you. It was good of you to see me.”

  “No trouble at all.” Georgie gave a small smile. “Do you want to tell me why you’re here, or do you want to see if I can find out from the crystal ball?”

  “My mother’s already said you’re the real deal. I don’t have to test you.”

  An image came into Georgie’s mind, and then flickered out again. A small, wiry woman with lively brown eyes and straight, greying hair. The first of her afternoon clients yesterday. And yes, she had picked up quite a bit on that session. Including a lot of family stress.

  She nodded. “Your mother was Jeanette?”

  “Yes.” Sarah didn’t seem surprised that she had picked the right person. “She phoned again today. She was absolutely insistent that I make the time to see you.”

  Georgie reached over to slip the black velvet covering off the crystal ball that rested between them. She drew it closer, and then laid her palms over the smooth surface.

  The vibrations rose, and she felt the hum. She still wasn’t totally sure whether that feeling of warmth and the slight vibration came from her or the ball itself, but she was always relieved to feel it.

  The first thing she tapped in to was the same level of family anxiety and tension that she had picked up on when Sarah’s mother had been sitting opposite the day before.

  The second thing was deception. The air was thick with it.

  When she raised her eyes, Sarah was staring at her. The other woman’s fingers closed tightly around the water glass, enough to make the skin go white. “Tell me,” she said abruptly.

  With this one, she had to be totally honest, Georgie thought.

  “Sadness,” she said. “The same stress and unhappiness that I felt with your mother. A lot of that was coming from you, I imagine. But around you, it’s concentrated. And… the truth is well hidden.” She let her gaze return to the crystal ball and saw the familiar mist form inside it. Georgie focused on the swirling patterns until the rest of the room dissolved. “Deception. It involves you, and your husband… and others, too.” She frowned, trying to concentrate while still keeping her senses open. More than once in the past, she had fallen into the trap of trying too hard, which served to block rather than enhance the messages trying to come through. “There’s a whole web of deceit here. And a lot going on in the background.”

  Sarah gave a trembling sigh, and said in a small voice: “Yes, there is. And it’s killing us.”

  Georgie barely heard her, letting herself drift. “Your husband is at home with you most of the time. Something has happened at his place of employment.” She glanced up briefly. “This is all having an impact on you and your friends. And your…daughter? Yes, it’s a daughter.” She opened herself to more information, but nothing was forthcoming. “Sorry, I’m not getting your daughter’s name.”

  “Grace. Her name is Grace.”

  “Grace has a friend—a good friend—who is also affected by all this.” Georgie nodded to herself. “You and this friend’s mother… I see a friendship going back a long time. But the relationship is under strain.” After a moment, she added, “It’s all linked. I see a chain of people reaching back to events that happened months ago.”

  She sat silently for several moments, waiting, but couldn’t penetrate the shadowy relationships and cause and effect.

  Taking her hands from the crystal ball, she sat back and regarded Sarah. “That’s as much as I’m getting now—about this particular matter, anyway. What usually happens is that as we talk, more comes to the surface.” She spread her hands questioningly. “So…do you want to tell me about it?”

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah began. “My husband, James, has been asked to take leave while he’s being investigated. They say he sold secrets to a rival company. He didn’t, of course.” For a moment passion made her eyes flash indignantly before they welled with tears. “James would never do something like that. I can’t believe that they don’t know that. They should know him. They should.” She took a moment to get back control, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket to swipe at h
er eyes. “We’ve had them all to our house, for dinner, parties. My friend Rachel is James’s personal assistant; her daughter is Grace’s best friend. And now there have been all these accusations on social media, and some in the newspaper. It’s awful.”

  “And do they all think that James is guilty?”

  “Rachel doesn’t. She says she doesn’t. But she’s not behaving the same way she used to be. She’s not relaxed around us any more.” Sarah stared bleakly at the tabletop. “The forensic investigator found a trail on James’s computer, showing downloads of records, details of planned new products, tests… all the information competitors would need. All at times when he’d logged on with his password.”

  “I’m sure the investigators have already asked, but—did anyone else have access to his computer?”

  “He was supposed to log out whenever he left the room. It’s standard procedure. But of course he didn’t always do it.” She laughed bitterly. “I’d be willing to bet that none of them do it all the time, but he’s the one that got caught. It would be James. He’s so nice he’d never suspect anyone of wrongdoing.”

  Georgie hesitated. “So…he would have left his office unlocked at times?”

  “Undoubtedly. Well, of course he did—somebody got in, didn’t they?” Instantly, Sarah looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—we’ve gone round and round, and we can’t think who. We can’t think.”

  Georgie thought for a moment while Sarah regained her composure. “I imagine I’m asking the obvious questions, but it’s because that’s the way information flows with me.” She tapped the crystal ball. “The more we talk, the more I can sense. So my next question—you said your friend Rachel is his personal assistant. Did she have the opportunity to access the computer more than anyone else?”

  “Theoretically, yes, but she’s just a shared PA. The company’s quite small, and half the time she’s in another office or doing work for one of the others. That’s why this hit them so hard. This new product was going to be their pot of gold. They were all set for rapid expansion.” She gave a mirthless smile. “James had already put in a bid for Rachel full time as soon as they could afford another PA. Now, she’s thinking of leaving—the stress there is incredible, and she’s been grilled by the directors, and the forensic investigator. She’s had to name anyone she’s seen coming into James’s office, and people are taking it the wrong way, as though she’s pointing the finger at anyone but James. It’s been hard for her.”

  “Does anyone there have a grudge against him?”

  Sarah hesitated. “There are two directors above James. He plays golf with one, Damian; they’re good friends. They’re both clever, too: they bounce off each other with ideas. They each had a lot of input into the idea that was stolen. James thinks that the other director, Cory, resents that a bit. He can be a bit cool.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “There are only nine involved in the company, plus contractors. There’s Diana, a woman in her fifties who does the books. She has a virtual office, but she does come in sometimes. There’s Marty in IT… does their website, some of the tech stuff, promotion.”

  Georgie closed her eyes for a moment, and reached out to the crystal ball with half-formed questions in her mind. Damian? Cory? Rachel? Marty? Was any one of them the key to this? Marty, she reflected… if he handled their information technology, then he might have the skills to crack a password.

  He might also know a hacker.

  Getting out of your depth, Georgie, she thought.

  Something teased at the back of her mind. Nothing as convenient as a name, but the crystal ball had stubbornly refused to even share Grace’s name, so that was not a surprise.

  Deception. There was a web there, all right, and the person weaving that web was somewhere in that office—but she could feel another person behind it all, too: someone hidden in the swirling mists.

  She couldn’t force it.

  “What do you see?” came Sarah’s voice.

  She opened her eyes and watched the flickering candle light play on Sarah’s face. The deep shadows under her eyes were accentuated, as were the lines of weariness and despair.

  Georgie chose her words carefully. “I can’t tell you who, yet, but someone at the office is behind all this. You would have guessed that, anyway.” She held up a hand to forestall the questions she could see on Sarah’s lips. “I know this probably sounds like standard psychic claptrap, but I can’t just pluck it out of the air. With time, I could possibly come up with answers for you—or I might never dig down to the truth. I’m not a detective, and I’m not a miracle worker. You can choose to give it more time and keep working with me, or call it quits.”

  “We’ve got money.”

  “I’m not asking for money.”

  Sarah bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to insult you by implying that’s what you’re after. I’m just saying, I can pay for your time.”

  Georgie glanced back at the crystal ball, which was now nothing more than a pretty sphere of glass. She picked up the cover and floated it down over the top.

  “Did you see the sign outside, Sarah? The one that said ‘for entertainment purposes only’?”

  Sarah nodded, her eyes asking: Where are you going with this?

  “People pay me to be…entertained. It’s up to them whether they take it seriously or not. With friends, I don’t take money. We just talk. Sometimes I seem to be able to predict things.” She smiled. “I think you and I can be friends, Sarah. So we’ll just talk, from time to time, and see what comes up.”

  Sarah seemed nonplussed. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “That’s easy,” Georgie said. “You’re the reason I’m here. I can’t say no.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Standing at the door of her caravan, Georgie watched Sarah walk to the car park and wondered whether real detectives felt the way she did right now. Now she had a whole bunch of suspects, and not the first clue of who was up to what behind the scenes. Moreover, there was no guarantee that she would ever find out.

  It must happen in law enforcement all the time, she told herself. Well, of course it did. That’s why there were so many cold cases.

  And she wasn’t even a detective; just an inexperienced fortune-teller with a hand-me-down crystal ball that seemed to send through information on a whim.

  She turned to look at the crystal ball, quiescent under its velvet covering, and thought about its history. Its previous owner, her great-grandmother Rosa, was now in her nineties—but Georgie knew that she had started telling fortunes in her teens.

  Seventy years of seeing every facet of human nature, from the good to the bad. You’d think that with all that experience Rosa would have been keen to offer some advice to her great-granddaughter, but no. All she had said was “It will all come naturally,” and “you don’t need to fear it”.

  Big help that was.

  “I could do with a few tips, Rosa,” she said out loud, reaching across and tugging the soft velvet cloth off the crystal ball. “If your face can appear in this when I’m not expecting you, why can’t you come when I need you?”

  Like a genie, she thought. Yes, that would be much more convenient. A tame genie that she could call upon only when she wanted.

  As she had expected, there was no response from the crystal ball. No mist, no face forming with Rosa’s lined features and snapping dark eyes.

  Nothing at all.

  “Phooey,” she said to the crystal ball, disgruntled. “I’m going back to the RV park and have some wine.” She covered it up again.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Scott’s voice from the open door. “But why ‘phooey’?

  “I’m talking to my great-grandmother. Or I would be, if she were here, which she’s not.”

  “She’s the one who appears when she feels like it?” He grinned. “The one who said to say hello to me? I like the sound of her.”

  “She just said ‘say hello to your Leo’. She didn�
��t actually name you.”

  “Same thing,” he said cheerfully. “It’s exactly the sort of thing my mother would say. When do I get to meet her?”

  “No idea. And you probably wouldn’t like her once you met her; most of the time she’s an irascible old crow.” Then she stopped to consider, her head on the side while she looked at him. “No, wait, you probably would get on, because you’re a believer. Not like me, the problem child.”

  “For someone who doesn’t believe, you’re doing a good job,” he pointed out. “Ask Kaylene. Or any of your customers.”

  “Like Marcy Kruger this morning?”

  Scott shook his head, amused. “Better get back to the RV park so you can have that wine. Want a hand hitching up?”

  “Sure. I’ll secure everything in here.” She plucked the keys off the hook and handed them over. “Keys to the truck.”

  She watched him run down the steps and efficiently back the truck up to the caravan, before turning to secure everything for travel.

  It was kind of nice to have someone helping to pack up, she had to admit.

  ~~~

  Back at the RV park, the three of them met up in Layla’s trailer, since she had comfortable seating for four. Scott and Layla were sipping on a rich red shiraz, while Georgie opted for her favorite semillon sauvignon blanc.

  “A Margaret River wine,” said Scott. “You have discerning taste. I’ll take you there when we go to Australia.”

  Georgie looked at the label. “I didn’t even know it was Australian,” she said. “I just like it.” Then she realized what he’d said. “What do you mean, when we go to Australia? I’ve got my hands full here, trying to figure out how to drive a crystal ball as well as how to stop Jerry taking over.” And what’s this ‘we’? she thought.

  Scott looked at her as though he knew exactly what she was thinking, and smiled. “Plenty of time.”

  “Okay,” Layla said, sitting back with a sigh. “Council of war. What do we do about the planned move for vintage and retro?”

  “Fight it,” Georgie said immediately. She opened up the laptop that she’d brought with her, turned it around so they could both see, and pointed to the Google Earth images. “Here, look. How often does the Google car go around taking photos? This is what it looked like then. It hasn’t changed.”