by Lena Gregory
Bee stacked the menus together, then sat back while the busboy filled their water glasses. “How’s everything going, Frankie?”
“Oh, not bad, Mr. Bee. You know how it is.” Frankie, the owner’s teenage son who’d just started bussing tables this season, leaned a hip against the side of Bee’s seat. “Almost out of school for the year, and I can’t wait to get out to the beach.”
“I remember that feeling well,” Bee agreed. “Do you have any plans for the summer, other than going to the beach?”
“Well, just between us . . .” He leaned closer. “I’m hoping to get Jess to go out with me, maybe take a tour of the lighthouse or something. If they ever open it again, that is.”
“Hey, Frankie,” his father yelled from behind the counter as he shook his head. “Let’s keep it moving.”
“Sorry, guys, gotta run.” He started away, then turned back to Bee. “Maybe, if you run into Jess, you could, you know, put in a good word for me or something?”
Bee grinned. “You bet, Frankie.”
He waited for Frankie to hurry off, then leaned across the table toward Cass. “See, even Frankie knows who to turn to when he needs help.”
Cass sighed. So much for being forgiven. But the fact that he didn’t dwell on it told her he didn’t still harbor any hard feelings, but he also wasn’t likely to let her forget too easily. Maybe he just wanted to make sure she didn’t repeat the same mistake again.
Piper’s group laughed out loud, really loud, drowning out anything else Bee might have said.
“Well . . .” Piper said, her tone somewhat more hushed but still loud enough for Cass to hear. “We’re supposed to meet up tonight at the lighthouse, but I guess we’ll see what happens. Can’t very well take a chance of running into one of the cops crawling around all over the place up there.”
“What about Amelia?” one of her companions asked.
“What about her? Do you really think—”
“Hi, guys.” Their waitress, Elaina Stevens, stood at the side of their table. She winked at Bee. “Somehow, I expected to see you three tonight.”
Bee shrugged. “You know how it is. Gotta keep up.”
She laughed. Since she was born and raised on Bay Island, and also worked as a maid at the Bay Side Hotel, she knew exactly how it was. Big news brought busy nights. And any unexplained death topped the list of big news. “Aside from gossip, what can I get you tonight?”
While Bee placed their orders, adding a loaded bacon cheeseburger, fries, and coleslaw for himself, Cass tried to focus her attention back on Piper and her friends. No use. Bee’s banter with Elaina drowned out anything more they might have had to say.
“I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute.” Elaina headed off, all smiles as she stopped at a few tables to see if anyone needed anything.
Bee leaned forward and folded his arms on the table, pitching his voice low. “Okay, so I made the rounds today.”
Stephanie leaned in too. “And?”
“And it seems the rumors that Cass spoke to Fred after he was killed have slowed to a trickle,” he grudgingly admitted. “Most of the people still discussing it are those who heard it late last night and early this morning.”
“That’s good, anyway.” A little more tension seeped out of Cass’s muscles, allowing her to relax a bit more. She tilted her head from side to side, trying to ease the stiffness that had settled in her neck, probably while she’d leaned back at an awkward angle trying to eavesdrop on Piper’s conversation. How did Bee do that all the time?
“But . . .” Bee held up a finger and leaned even closer. “Rumors of Fred’s infidelity are apparently running rampant.”
“Oh, yeah?” Stephanie sat back to allow Elaina to place her diet soda on the table.
She put Cass’s iced tea and Bee’s cola down as well. “Can I get you anything else while you’re waiting?”
“No, thanks.” Bee waggled his eyebrows. “Unless you have any good dirt to pass on.”
“Let’s see. Obviously, you’ve heard about Fred’s untimely death, since Cass tried to revive him, but have you heard he was supposedly cheating on Amelia?”
“Oh, yes.” Bee pressed a hand against his chest. “That poor dear, as if it’s not enough her husband’s gone.”
“I heard she’s taking it pretty hard,” Elaina said.
Cass’s heart ached for her. She knew all too well what it was like to be the latest gossip fodder for Bay Island’s rumor mill. Maybe she’d swing by her house and check in on her, see if she needed anything.
Bee’s gasp pulled her attention back to the conversation.
“Seriously? Personally, I find it hard to believe he’d find one willing partner, never mind several.” Bee seemed to agree with something Elaina had said that Cass must have missed.
“No kidding, but have you heard who his most recent conquest is supposed to have been?” Elaina looked around then leaned against the side of Cass’s seat and discreetly hooked a thumb toward Piper’s table and nodded knowingly. She leaned over under the guise of checking if the salt and pepper shakers were empty. “Supposedly, they were together last season while she was seeing Quincy Yates, and Quince was none too happy when he found out.”
“Thanks, Elaina.” Bee sipped his cola.
“Yup, gotta run, though, full house tonight.” She hurried off before she got caught lingering too long in one spot.
“You said you were going to talk to Quince when you left the shop before. Did you ever find him?”
“Nope. I went to the Bay Island Tours office, but it was locked up tight, not a soul around. So I stopped in and hung around the hotel lobby for a bit, but none of the tour guides came in or went out while I was there.” Bee swirled his straw in his drink.
“Are they staying at the hotel this year?” Usually, the tour guides grouped up and rented a house in town for the season.
“Nah, but I figured it was worth a try.” His ice clinked against the sides of the glass in a steady rhythm. “I even walked down the beach and the boardwalk, figured maybe he headed out there since they couldn’t work, but I didn’t see him. I did run into Levi at the lighthouse, though. He was wandering the grounds.”
“Did he have anything to say?” Levi would have his ear to the ground at the lighthouse, and he’d share whatever he learned with Bee in hopes of getting some juicy tidbits in return.
“Not really. I talked to him a little about the treasure and the journal documenting its supposed location, but he didn’t really have anything new to offer.”
“How did he seem?”
“Kind of lost really, like without going to work he didn’t know what else to do with himself.”
“Do you know when they’re planning to open the lighthouse again?”
“No. Luke didn’t mention it?”
Cass shook her head. She’d only spoken to Luke for a few minutes the night before, while she’d been getting ready for bed. “I haven’t heard from him today.”
“How about Tank?” Bee asked Stephanie. “Did he say anything?”
“Nothing. He came home last night after I’d gone to bed, and he was up and gone by the time I woke this morning.” She shifted her attention to Cass. “What about you, Cass? Did you have any luck?”
“Luck with what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, don’t even tell me you didn’t try to reach out to Fred when you had a few free minutes.”
That was the thing about close friends, they often knew exactly what you’d do, sometimes before you’d even figured it out yourself. “I tried. But aside from a jumble of chattering voices, I didn’t get anywhere.”
“So, what now?” Bee sat back.
“What makes you think there’s anything now? Maybe we just wait and see what the police investigation shows.” Though the chances of that were slim.
Bee laughed, a little too loudly, drawing stares from more than one person. “Oh, please. I can see it in your eyes, Cass. And you said it yourself before. Ther
e’s something about Fred’s death that’s calling to you, maybe not in the form of a voice you can hear, but also not something you can let go and walk away from.”
How could she argue when he was right?
Chapter Eight
Cass overslept the next morning and ran out the door with one arm through her sweater sleeve and still hopping into one shoe, leaving Beast home with a promise to come back for him as soon as she was done. When she reached the shop at five after six, she found Simone Carlson sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch.
Cass locked her car, looked down to be sure she’d remembered to put on leggings, and ran up the steps. Great first impression she was making on a woman she hoped to do business with. “I am so sorry I’m late, Ms. Carlson.”
“Simone, please.” She stood and leisurely stretched her back. “And no problem. I assume you don’t usually open at this time of the morning, and I appreciate you coming in so early to accommodate me.”
“Of course.” Cass unlocked the door and held it open for Simone to precede her. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“No, thank you. I’m actually in a bit of a hurry today, so I won’t take up much of your time.”
Cass flipped on the lights but didn’t bother to open the register. She’d do that after she went home for Beast and returned for the day. Gesturing toward the back corner, Cass stuffed her bag beneath the counter. “Have a seat at the table, and I’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you.” Simone sat gracefully on the edge of a velvet-covered chair and crossed her legs, then smoothed her long skirt and folded her hands over her knee.
How could anyone in the world be that put together at six in the morning?
Cass ignored the flowing robe and coin belt she often wore for readings and reached for her crystal ball. At the last minute, she changed her mind and grabbed a stack of paper and the basket of colored pencils. While she’d originally thought to give Simone a more traditional reading, maybe put on a bit of a show with her gown and her crystal ball, something told her this woman might be more inclined toward a color reading. And, as much as Cass wanted to impress her enough to earn a spot on her tour, it was always more important to put her client’s needs ahead of her own. Now if the spirits would just cooperate.
Cass lit a white candle and slid it to the edge of the table. She sat and straightened her small stack of white paper, took out a handful of colored pencils, confident she’d pull out the colors she needed and set them beside the paper. Once she had everything in order, she rolled the line of pencils back and forth.
Simone tilted her head and arched a perfectly sculpted brow as she studied the paper and pencils, but she remained silent.
“Okay . . .” With one deep, calming breath, Cass let her defenses fall and opened herself to whatever messages would come through.
The bombardment came immediately. Voices. All different accents, inflections, pitches, tones, all vying for her attention. Insistent. Demanding. Louder and louder, words and phrases tumbling over one another, surrounding her, sucking her into the abyss.
“Are you okay?”
Cass’s eyes shot open, and she gasped. When had she closed her eyes?
The sun peeked over the horizon and shone through the back window, blinding her.
Simone sat forward, a scowl firmly etched onto her angular features. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh, uh . . . yes. I’m sorry, just trying to orient myself.” She offered a small laugh, the best she could do under the circumstances, then got up and closed the blinds. “Are you ready to start?”
“Of course, thank you.”
Okay. At least one of them was good to go. That was a step in the right direction.
Simone settled back in her seat, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair and steepling her fingers in front of her, her gaze on Cass intense. Silver flecks radiated from the depths of one dark green eye and one half-green, half-blue eye. Those tilted feline eyes, combined with her graceful, unhurried movements, reminded Cass of a cat lazing in a ray of sunshine.
A sense of peace flowed over Cass, unsettling under the circumstances.
She rolled the pencils back and forth. Maybe the color reading had been a bad idea. Perhaps losing herself in the depths of the crystal ball would have proven more soothing. Oh, well. Too late now. If she changed what she was doing, she might lose Simone’s interest.
Bracing herself for the assault, Cass opened her mind.
The illusion of peace remained. No voices battled for her attention.
Cass lifted a pencil without bothering to look at the color and began scribbling back and forth, taking comfort in the familiarity of the repetitive motion, allowing the sound of pencil scratching against paper to ground her. When she finally looked down at the patch of color on the paper, she wasn’t the least bit surprised at the color she’d chosen.
“Purple. A color often connected to power, nobility, spirituality.” But which meaning pertained to Simone? All of them. “You are a powerful woman. Noble and strong, but not arrogant, as purple can sometimes indicate.”
Simone smiled.
Cass opened herself further, searching for the truth about this woman. She found herself pressing the pencil harder against the paper, deepening the shade. “Your sense of spirituality is strong, as is your compassion and empathy.”
Cass frowned and studied the blob she’d drawn. “Unless presented with chaos or disturbance. Trouble ruffles you, leaves you frustrated.”
“True enough.” Simone nodded once in agreement.
“. . . there . . .” The softest whisper of sound intruded.
Cass returned the purple pencil to the line and chose another. She’d expected red to come next, a color of power and strength, passion even. Instead, she picked a turquoise pencil, a rare choice. “Turquoise. Not so surprising, really. A color whose blue undertones indicate peace, calm, and tranquility, combined with the balance and encouraging aspects of its green and the uplifting energy of yellow. A color that soothes the nerves. An interesting contrast and a good balance to the purple that leaves you ruffled in the face of disorder.”
“. . . killed me.”
Cass jumped, startled.
One voice only. A man.
She ignored him and returned her attention to Simone, then frowned as certainty flowed through her. “A choice, I think. The turquoise. A color that came from years of discipline in the face of crisis, despite that discipline being contrary to your nature.”
Simone shifted forward, rested her forearms on the table, and clasped her hands.
Cass had obviously piqued her interest, but where to go from there?
“. . . was push . . . pu . . . pushed . . .”
Fred? Cass didn’t dare say the name out loud, not under Simone’s intense scrutiny. Is that you?
The woman sat perfectly still, didn’t offer any of the tells her customers sometimes shared without realizing it, the twisting of a wedding ring that would tell her their problems lay with their spouses, fidgeting as if they’d lost something, smoothing hair or clothing in a gesture of self-consciousness, or, as in Luke’s case, folding their arms across their chests in an effort to hold her off, to hide the truth from her. That hadn’t worked out so well for Luke, since she’d obviously wormed her way past his defenses.
She shook off the distraction Luke always brought and focused instead on her pencils. Eventually, Cass would strike a chord with this woman, and she’d give some tidbit away. People always did.
“Have to help me . . . have to find . . .”
Trying to hear what the voice was saying, she grabbed another pencil, her hands shaking. Blue. “A color that soothes and relaxes, prevents chaos. It offers peace and tranquility. Inspires trust.”
Was that the message she was supposed to be receiving? The urge to trust Simone washed over her. But why? Did it have something to do with her buying Fred’s tour company? Maybe that her intentions were honest?
Did y
ou know, Fred? Did you know Amelia was selling the company?
“Pushed.” Still only one voice. Strange. But maybe the others had figured out she couldn’t help them and had given up.
Cass frowned and shook her head. Something . . . she could sense some knowledge hovering just out of her reach. She could almost grab it. But not quite. Did he mean he was pushed out the window? Pushed into selling his business? Was it even Fred she had connected with?
Eager to learn more, Cass grabbed another random color and began to scribble faster, with more urgency than before.
“Black. Hmm . . .” She tried to study Simone discreetly, tried to gage her reactions to put together a better picture of this woman. Black was a color of mystery, could indicate a shroud of secrecy. “An intimidating color, black. Strong, and yet . . .”
Simone tilted her head, her gaze fully focused on Cass, as if waiting for something. Her eyes narrowed.
“Protective. Instilling a sense of security. A shield, if you will.” Cass’s gaze clashed with Simone’s. The black pencil clattered to the table. “It’s you!”
She lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Excuse me?”
“The voices. The chaos . . .” Cass’s heart skipped. “You’re shielding me from them somehow, while allowing only one to enter.”
“I am indeed.” She grinned, the proverbial Cheshire cat. “And I have to say, I’m quite impressed you were able to figure it out.”
“What?” Cass tried to shake off her confusion. “Why?”
“I am extremely adept at masking my abilities, even though most people are acutely unaware of any reality outside of their own.”
The voices returned in full force, and Cass winced as she tried to ignore them and pick out Fred’s once again.
“I was shielding not only you, but myself as well. I am surprised and delighted that you realized it.”
“But I don’t understand. How are you able to do that?” Because Cass needed to master that ability. In a hurry, if she hoped to be able to continue doing readings without being accosted by desperate spirits. “I’m able to block all of the voices or open myself to all of them. There doesn’t seem to be an in-between, and I can’t selectively allow some in while blocking others.”
