Fortune's Favors

by J A Whiting

  Fortune’s Favors

  A Claire Rollins Cozy Mystery Book 5

  J. A. Whiting

  Copyright 2018 J.A. Whiting

  Cover copyright 2018 Susan Coils at www.coverkicks.com

  Formatting by Signifer Book Design

  Proofreading by Donna Rich

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from J. A. Whiting.

  To hear about new books and book sales, please sign up for my mailing list at:

  www.jawhitingbooks.com

  Created with Vellum

  For my family with love

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Thank you for reading!

  Books/Series By J. A. Whiting

  About the Author

  1

  “I had the strangest dream last night,” thirty-five-year-old Claire Rollins said from her sitting position on the small stool as she stocked a shelf in Tony’s Market and Deli.

  “I have strange dreams every night. Somehow I manage to shave fifty years off my age in my dreams. Too bad that doesn’t carry over into real life.” Tony, in his early seventies, tall with broad shoulders, set down a carton of soup containers next to Claire. “Here’s the last one, Blondie. No need to finish the stocking before you need to leave for work.”

  With their toenails clicking on the wood floor, Claire’s two rescue Corgis trotted past her following Tony to the front of the small, Adamsburg Square market tucked into a cozy, historical neighborhood next to Boston’s Beacon Hill.

  “What was your dream about?” Sitting at a café table sipping coffee with retired state supreme court judge, Augustus Gunther, Tessa raised an eyebrow and gave Claire a concerned look.

  “It wasn’t so much what happened in it, it was the sensations that came over me.” Claire moved some of the cans and boxes around on the shelf to better fit the items she was stocking. “I was making something in my kitchen and somebody pounded on my front door. It was loud and forceful and the sound of it sent chills of dread through me.”

  “Did you open the door in your dream?” Augustus asked. The older man wore his usual outfit of a tailored suit, perfectly pressed white shirt, and necktie. Years of dressing for court was a habit the judge would not change, even in the heat and humidity of Boston’s summers.

  “I didn’t. I kept dreaming the same thing, over and over, all night long. It was weird. I feel like I didn’t sleep at all.” Claire shook her head and reached into the carton.

  “Maybe someone really was knocking on your door,” Tessa suggested pushing an auburn curl from her eye.

  “I wondered the same thing. I did get up to check once.” Claire paused with a soup can in her hand. “When I think of it, the same awful feeling rushes through me.”

  “I’ve had dreams that stay with me after rising.” Augustus stirred his coffee with the slim wooden stick. “Odd how they linger sometimes. Any explanations for those kinds of dreams?” the judge asked Tessa.

  In her fifties, Tony’s girlfriend, Tessa, held a job in the financial district of the city, but worked part-time as a psychic, telling fortunes, employing Tarot cards, interpreting dreams, and counseling people about their pasts, presents, and futures. When she’d told Tony about her special skills, he had snorted and laughed, but when he saw she wasn’t kidding, his demeanor swiftly changed and they had a long, respectful discussion about paranormal abilities.

  Augustus, on the other hand, wasn’t at all surprised by Tessa’s news and asked about the topic as if they were talking about any usual occupation.

  Tessa replied to Augustus’s question. “Dreams can be a re-hashing of someone’s day, they can be a way to highlight something of importance that the dreamer is overlooking, they can point to a concern the dreamer is ignoring. They need to be considered within the framework of what is going on in the person’s life. Sounds, images, events don’t stand for the same things in everyone’s dreams. Those things can be symbolic of other things. That’s why interpretation must be a careful process.”

  Augustus looked to Claire. “Have you had this dream repeatedly over several nights?”

  “I haven’t, no. Just last night.” She stood, broke down the empty carton, carried it to the store room recycle bin, and then returned to sit at the café table.

  Tony brought a new carafe of hot coffee to the beverage bar he’d set up on a cramped counter at the back of the store where customers could find tea, coffee, decaf coffee, sugars, and milk and cream. Three small tables had been set up for people to sit and enjoy their drinks before heading off to work.

  The Corgis greeted the three people at the table for the third time that morning and then hurried into the store room and out through the propped open back door to the walled-off, grassy area behind the store where they could chase balls or rest under the small tree. The dogs stayed at Tony’s store with him while Claire worked at her friend’s chocolate shop in the North end.

  “Those dogs have the life,” Tessa smiled as she watched them scoot away.

  “I’d better get a move on.” Ninety-one-year-old Augustus swallowed the last of his coffee. “I’m meeting some former colleagues for a walk in the park.” The man winked. “That is our code for getting together for a gossip session about the city’s legal doings.” The judge wished his friends a good day and walked briskly out of the store to the brick sidewalks of the square.

  When some customers came in and Tony went to wait on them, Tessa looked pointedly at Claire. “What’s up with this dream you had?”

  Pushing her long, naturally-curly blond hair up into a loose bun, Claire asked, “What do you mean?”

  “It seems to have bothered you.”

  “It did, but we all have nightmares from time to time.”

  “You didn’t describe it as a nightmare. You described it as strange and recurring. A nightmare usually frightens a person,” Tessa said. “Did this dream scare you?”

  Claire ran her finger in small circles over the tabletop, thinking. “I was anxious, full of dread … and sort of sad. It was as if someone needed something from me that I couldn’t give them.”

  Tessa’s eyes held the young woman’s.

  “What?” Claire asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Tessa reached for her briefcase. “Time will tell.”

  With narrowed eyes, Claire said, “I really don’t like it when you say that. It usually means something is about to happen and that something is never good.”

  “You’ve helped people several times so you could describe those situations as being good.” Tessa stuffed her phone into the bag. Since moving to Boston, Claire had assisted in helping solve several city crimes.

  “I just want things to be normal.”<
br />
  “You’re special, Claire. Things that need fixing will find you.” Tessa stood, gave the young woman a kind pat on the shoulder, and walked to the front of the store to give Tony a kiss before heading to her job.

  All of her life, Claire’s intuition had been strong, but before moving to Boston, she’d been able to brush it off as coincidence or something anyone could sense. Since her husband had died and after moving to Massachusetts, her skill had grown while living in the city and now it was nothing she could dismiss or ignore and Tessa had been a huge help in assisting Claire with acceptance that her ability was outside of normal.

  With a sigh, and some worry that something might be brewing, Claire gave Tony a hug and left the store for her friend, Nicole’s, chocolate shop. The walk to work took her past the gold-domed state house and the Common, through Faneuil Hall Marketplace and Christopher Columbus Park and then into the North End.

  The day was sunny and pleasant with a bright, blue sky and a warm breeze occasionally coming off the ocean. After work, Claire looked forward to taking the dogs to the Common for a romp and then going for a run, hopefully with her boyfriend, Detective Ian Fuller, if he was free.

  The previous evening, she and Ian, along with Nicole and her new boyfriend, went for dinner at a new restaurant and then strolled along the waterfront together. Thinking back over the enjoyable evening, Claire couldn’t pinpoint anything about the get-together that might have precipitated her dream of someone knocking incessantly at her door.

  Nicole met Dr. Ryan Foley at the hospital when Ian had been attacked by a killer, and the sparks flew as soon as they laid eyes on each other. Ryan had similar interests and enjoyed running, biking, swimming as well as snacking on Nicole’s delicious chocolate treats.

  Once when Ryan mentioned he’d better slow down on consuming the shop’s tasty goods, Ian had said, “Just give up. No one can resist those sweets.”

  When Claire opened the door to the shop, Robby, the twenty-one-year-old, part-time co-worker, greeted her by saying, “Well, well. Look who decided to finally show up at work.” He glanced at Nicole. “We don’t have to do everything ourselves now that Claire decided to grace us with her presence.”

  Claire smiled at the talented, young, music student and kidded him, “You’re welcome. Now that I’m here, the shop will run smoothly and efficiently.” She took an apron from the wall hook, pulled it over her head, and brought a tray of chocolates out to the glass case.

  With a chuckle, Nicole gave her friend and employee a hug. “Ignore him. He’s in rare form this morning.” Filling one of the coffee machines with water, she said, “We had a great time last night. Ryan fits in with all of us so well.”

  “He’s a lot of fun,” Claire nodded. “Ian and I really like him.”

  “So do I.” A bit of pink flushed Nicole’s cheeks. “I’m so glad Ian got bashed in the head last month. Otherwise, Ryan and I never would have met.”

  Claire laughed. “I’ll let him know how happy you are he got hurt.”

  Robby walked by carrying a package of napkins to fill the holders on the coffee bar. “Let’s go, ladies. Save your swooning over those men of yours for later. I’m about to unlock the door to admit the hungry hoards.”

  “Okay, we’re ready.” Claire headed to the backroom for the last tray of chocolate sweets for the glass cases. Several customers entered the café as she was slipping the tray into the case and when she looked up, she saw Ian approaching the counter.

  Her heart did a little flip of joy when she spotted the good-looking detective, but when she noticed his expression, an unusual feeling of dread came over her.

  Just like the dread from the dream she’d had last night.

  Uh, oh.

  2

  It was late afternoon when Claire and Ian walked the dogs along the Charles River in the fading October light of the day. The Corgis, Bear and Lady, sniffed the ground and wagged their tails at the other dogs they met on the path, and at the joggers and walkers.

  When Ian arrived at the chocolate shop that morning to see Claire, she knew something was on his mind by the set of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes.

  “I’ve been approached by someone I used to know in elementary school about a cold case,” he told her.

  Claire’s heart sank at the words cold case. She and Nicole had just finished up assisting Ian on a long, involved cold case and Claire had no interest in being dragged into another one. They made arrangements to meet when her shift at the shop was over and all day, she was distracted and antsy.

  “Wait and see what Ian has to say,” Nicole told her. “If he asks for help, I don’t think we can say no to him.”

  Claire would never refuse to help. She just hoped that wasn’t what he wanted to discuss.

  “Someone I knew in school contacted me,” Ian said as they walked. The reds, oranges, and yellows of the leaves reflected in the river. “Her name is Kelly Carter Cox. We went to school together until grade two when she moved away. She heard I was a detective. I have to say I barely remembered her.”

  “She has a connection to a cold case?” Claire waited for Bear to finish sniffing at the base of a tree.

  “Her mother,” Ian said. “My parents must have shielded me pretty well from bad things because I can only recall hearing that Kelly’s mother had died when we were in kindergarten.”

  “I’m going to guess the mother didn’t die from natural causes?” Claire looked at Ian out of the corner of her eye.

  “She did not. Kelly knocked on my office door this morning, early. She asked if I remembered her. I didn’t until she told me her name and how she knew me. Her mother was murdered. After the murder, Kelly went to live with her grandmother, but before second grade, she left town to join her aunt’s family. Turns out, the grandmother couldn’t function after her daughter was killed. Kelly needed a healthy family so the aunt took her in.

  “Why has she come to see you now?”

  “It’s been thirty years since her mother died,” Ian said. “The anniversary is coming up. She said it’s been eating at her that the killer was never found. She asked me if I could help.”

  “What did you tell her?” Claire asked as she zipped up her light jacket.

  “I told her I didn’t know how much time I could devote to it. I work for the city of Boston. The crime took place twenty minutes from here in Chatham Village. I know a couple of guys who work there and we get along well, but I don’t think I could give much time to the case. It would have to be done in my spare time, and really, that isn’t anywhere near the amount of time that would be necessary.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “She said she’d already spoken with the detective in Chatham Village and he would look into the case, but he’d like any help and input I could give.” Ian took Claire’s hand. “I know you aren’t crazy about getting involved in another cold case.”

  Claire said, “You’re right. These cases are upsetting. I have a hard time compartmentalizing. Once I’m involved, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “I understand. But I have to ask you if you’d consider looking at the case notes. Would you talk to Kelly about what happened to her mother? You see things that everyone else misses. You and Nicole have a knack for uncovering details, for noticing things that the rest of us miss.”

  Claire sighed. Ian did not know that she had a heightened ability to sense things. Tessa called it paranormal skills, but she didn’t like the term. It made her feel odd, like people would shun her and think she was strange or a kook or some such thing. Tessa did her best to convince Claire that her skills shouldn’t be thought of in that way. She told Claire that some people are natural athletes or scientists or mathematicians … and other people had the natural ability to see and feel things that others were blind to.

  Although Claire knew she had to tell Ian about this side of her, and soon, she dreaded the idea. “I guess I could look at the notes.”

  “Would you be willing to m
eet with Kelly?”

  “Sure. I can do that.” Claire seemed to be trying to convince herself that getting involved would be a good idea.

  Ian apologized. “If it’s too much, I understand. It’s okay if you say no. Don’t feel pressured.”

  Claire’s shoulders slumped a little. “I can’t say no. If someone needs help, I can’t just tell them no.”

  “Yes, you can. If it’s too upsetting, you can absolutely say no.”

  “Nope. I can’t.” Claire gave him a half-smile and squeezed Ian’s hand. “I’d like Nicole to be with me when I meet with Kelly.”

  “I agree,” Ian said. “Nicole is great at sorting through information. Thanks for doing this. It’s a huge favor to me and I appreciate it.”

  A little smile moved over Claire’s lips. “I’m sure I’ll think of a way for you to repay me.”

  Ian put his arm around his girlfriend and pulled her closer.

  “I know that case,” Robby’s blue eyes flashed with interest as he frosted the cupcakes. He, Claire, and Nicole were working late to prepare bakery items for an event the next day that Nicole had contracted for.

  “How do you know it?” Claire slid a cake pan from one of the ovens and set it on the counter to cool.

  “I read those internet sites about unsolved cases,” Robby said. “It’s a hobby of mine.”

  “How do you have time to go to college, practice your music, perform, and work here?” Nicole asked. “And then spend time reading over cold case sites?”