Liver Let Die (13 page)

Pushing the unexpected memory out of his mind, he glanced around the small, dimly lit room. He breathed in the unmistakable scent of flowers, noticing the dozen or so candles of varying sizes and colors, all lit in strategic places around the room.

A sudden rattle caught his attention, restarting the Joan Crawford movie in his brain again. His eyes darted to an entryway where a rotund elderly woman wearing a long flowing caftan was coming through the doorway, which was covered by a hippielike cascade of vertical beads.

Again, his hand slid under his jacket to the holster.

“May I help you?”

She didn’t look like a killer, but then again neither did Jordan.

“Alex Montgomery,” he said, crossing the room with his hand extended. Up close, he noticed her perfectly shaped, ruby red lips that seemed a little large for her face.

The woman accepted his hand with a firm grip of her own. Alex made a mental note not to make the mistake of treating her like a helpless old lady.

“Are you interested in a reading, Mr. Montgomery?”

“What? No . . .” he started, before catching himself. It would serve no purpose if he made this woman suspicious of why he was there and have her call the cops. “It’s probably too late today, right?”

She glanced at the clock above the door. “I have time for one more.” She pointed to a small table in the middle of the room. “Have a seat.”

“I can come back tomorrow,” Alex protested, suddenly wishing he had stayed in the car.

The woman smiled. “No need to. If you walked into my place, there must be a reason. Something is troubling you. Let’s find out what it is.”

She walked around the table and sat in the chair opposite the one she indicated for him.

Alex hesitated briefly before easing into the seat. The table was covered with a dark purple scarf embellished with a variety of gold squiggles bordering the material and forming an intricate design in the middle. A shiver slid up his spine as the woman reached behind her and picked up a white candle, which she placed in the center of the linen, facing him.

He debated whether to get up and run like hell or stay and tough it out.

Something about this stuff had always freaked him out. His sister, Janie, used to make him play the Ouija board with her. He still remembered some of the responses, particularly the one that said he would die before he ever fathered a child.

He knew it was bunk, that it was just Janie guiding the Ouija piece across the letters on the board to scare him, but still . . .

“Have you ever had a reading before, Mr. Montgomery?” the woman asked, striking a match and lighting the white candle.

“Call me Alex.”

“I’m Lola.” She reached for his hand before closing her eyes. “We need to get in touch with your spiritual guides.” She spoke almost in a whisper.

“I light the white candle to entice the spirits around me,” she began. “Mr. Montgom—Alex—close your eyes and feel the energy in the room.”

He pressed his eyes shut, wondering how she knew they’d been open in the first place.

“Come, Divine Spirits, and form a protective circle around this man who is looking for answers in his life. Stave off evil spirits, keep them out of this space and burn off any obstacle that might interfere with his journey.”

Alex could have sworn the room grew suddenly colder. It took him a moment to realize Lola had stopped speaking and was humming some sort of chant. Visions of the Ouija board, coupled with the swirling vanilla-smelling smoke from the candle supposedly circling him with good spirits dueling with evil ones, fueled his desire to bolt without looking back.

Sheesh! Who believes this stuff?
He tensed when another chill skittered down his spine.

“You can open your eyes now, Alex.”

When he looked up, the woman was smiling. “Let yourself believe,” she said, making him think she’d read his mind.

She reached under the table again and produced a potted lily, a windmill, and a purple candle that matched the silk scarf spread on the table. She placed each one in a corner of the cloth and pushed the white candle to the fourth corner.

“These signify earth, wind, and fire,” she explained, reaching under the table for a deck of cards which reminded him of the large Old Maid ones he used with his nieces.

After placing them facedown in the center, she fanned the deck before glancing toward Alex. “Take your time and pick the one that seems to be drawing you to it.”

This is getting a little ridiculous
.

But unless he played along, he probably wouldn’t find out why Jordan had stopped by. Slowly, he reached in, prepared to grab the card at the far end, when an impulse sent him to the middle of the pile for a card concealed at the bottom. After retrieving it, he handed it to the psychic.

“This is your Relationship card,” she explained, placing it directly in the center of the cloth, facing him.

After several more picks, there was a total of six cards which Lola placed in a circle around the first one. Then she moved the white candle back to the center, vacated when she picked up the card there.

“We’ll start with the Relationship Guidance.” She turned the card over to reveal a picture of a man staring sadly at three cups of spilled wine without seeing the other two still upright. “You’ve chosen the Five of Cups.”

Alex smirked, not sure he wanted to know what that meant. He glanced nervously at his watch, wondering how he could extricate himself from this séance before she went any further. He’d had a long day and hadn’t stopped for lunch. Any hope of getting her to discuss Jordan was dwindling by the second, and a nice quiet night at home with a tray of pizza and cable TV sounded inviting.

Not to mention, this whole spirit thing was freaking him out.

“You’ve waited a long time for that special person to come into your life. You’ve had several ‘almost’ opportunities that haven’t panned out, and you’ve given up hope of ever finding that one woman to complete you.” She paused and met his gaze. “You obsess over what is lost rather than looking forward to what might be right in front of you.”

Alex thought of Jordan. How ironic that he’d finally met a girl who looked like she did and made him laugh, about the same time an old woman told him he would meet a special person in his life. More ironic was it looked like his dream girl probably knew her way around a knife.

“Open your eyes and quit looking for what is wrong in the world. Get past your own blindness and see the good in your life.”

He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. The woman had to be reading his mail.

“Your next card is the Moon.” Lola closed her eyes again. “There are important facts hidden from your view right now. When you discover them, you’ll have choices to make about your career and other personal matters in your life. By the next full moon, it will all be clear to you.”

“Hey, Lola, it’s after five. Why are you still here? Did you forget about tonight?”

Both Lola and Alex looked up as a man rattled the beaded door.

“Oh, sorry,” the guy said. “I didn’t know you had a client.” A sheepish grin covered his face. “There are no cars parked out front.”

Alex sized up the newcomer, trying to decide if he’d need his weapon. The guy was Hispanic, about five eight with dark hair, wearing a red vest over a red and gray plaid shirt that matched his gray Dockers. Either he had just left an Ivy League frat party or he’d walked away from the nineteenth hole at a country club somewhere.

Alex relaxed. No way this guy was a threat. “It’s getting late, Lola.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you for the session?”

“I never charge unless I do a full reading. Do you want to continue?”

Not in this lifetime!

She was hitting too close to home, and although he didn’t know how she did it, he still wasn’t buying into this mumbo-jumbo. “He said you have plans tonight, and I don’t want to hold you up. Besides, I need to head home, anyway.”

“I’m Victor Rodriguez,” the Ivy Leaguer said. “I own the antiques store next door, and I’m a friend of Lola’s.”

Alex squirmed, sure the guy was checking him out. “Alex Montgomery,” he responded, accepting Victor’s handshake. “I’m new to Ranchero and saw Lola’s place. Decided to give it a whirl.”

“Lola’s a master at giving you a new perspective on life.” Victor paused. “You said you were new in town?”

Alex nodded, again feeing uncomfortable under Victor’s gaze.

“Married?”

“No, why?”

“Attached?”

When Alex shook his head, Victor smiled. “Can you carry a tune?”

“I’ve been known to hold my own with my sisters and an Everly Brothers song or two. Why do you ask?”

“A bunch of us are heading to Connor tonight to a little bar on the corner of Ames and Loy Lake Road. It’s karaoke night.”

“I couldn’t barge in on your party,” Alex protested.

“Nonsense!” Lola exclaimed. “It’s just a small group of friends getting together to blow off steam. We’d love for you to join us.” She turned to Victor. “Before I forget, Jordan stopped by. Said she had something to do and would meet up with us later at Cowboys.”

At the mention of Jordan’s name, Alex perked up. So, these were Jordan’s friends. Suddenly the prospect of drinking margaritas and getting an up-close and personal view of Jordan when her guard was down escalated on his checklist of things to do.

“Sounds good,” Victor said, before turning back to Alex. “So, are you coming?”

“If you’re sure it will be okay with the others.” He felt the heat spread across his face. This man was definitely checking him out.

“Of course it will. See you at seven.”

Back in his car, Alex let the smile he’d held back finally spread across his face. This might be the break he needed. He’d be able to observe Jordan in her own backyard as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Pulling into traffic on Main Street, he drove toward the Pizza Palace to grab a slice or two before heading home. A niggling thought found its way into his head as he remembered Lola’s words when she’d held the Relationship card.

You won’t have long to wait for that special person.

He hoped she was wrong.

CHAPTER 10

Jordan pulled into the parking lot at Cowboys Bar and Grill, grumbling silently for being so late. Karaoke night always packed them in, and tonight was no exception. She drove around the lot twice before finally parking down the street.

She hoped the others had arrived early enough to snag a good table. She was so in the mood to sit down with her friends and forget about her week with a pitcher of margaritas and a microphone. While her singing ability was something best left for the shower, the same could be said for most of the people who showed up on karaoke night, especially after they’d consumed a few beers.

What sounded like Carrie Underwood to her own ears came out more like Willie Nelson on estrogen to everyone else. But tonight she didn’t care. Although the gang didn’t come here often, they always had a blast when they did, and she definitely needed to get her mind off J. T. and his killer.

Usually everyone crammed into Ray’s vehicle for the excursion. He’d given up drinking in his early twenties, the summer before he went off to the police academy, and was the official designated driver. After hearing stories of his pre–Alcoholics Anonymous days, Jordan understood why. His forty-year clean and sober record, along with his ninepassenger Suburban, made him the perfect chauffeur.

That was no help tonight. Her spur-of-the-moment trip to Grayson County College after work meant she’d have to go easy on the margaritas or leave her car in Connor, which was something she’d prefer not to do.

And the kicker? It had been a totally wasted trip. She’d gone there hoping to talk with Derrick Young again, praying he’d blurt out something in the heat of anger. Although he made her blood run cold, she’d looked forward to getting him off to the side without the coach hovering when she had another go at him.

None of which happened. Because of an away game on Saturday night, the coach had cut practice short, and according to the groundskeeper, she’d missed them by about thirty minutes.

Quickening her step when she heard the sounds of a good time a half block away from the bar, Jordan wondered if the people who lived nearby ever complained. If they did, it had obviously fallen on deaf ears.

After pushing through the door, she spotted the gang immediately. They’d commandeered a huge table two rows back from the stage where a girl resembling Dolly Parton held the mic. Unfortunately, that’s where the resemblance ended. Her rendition of “I Will Always Love You,” reminded Jordan of a cat in heat on the high notes.

Weaving her way through the standing-room-only crowd hugging the bar, Jordan waved when Rosie noticed her, swinging her arms like a cheerleader. Jordan’s exuberance quickly faded when she recognized Quincy Dozerly sitting beside Rosie. Spending more time with that man was not her idea of a good time and letting her hair down.

And what was up with his hat that read WOOF ARTED?

This was the guy who was supposed to keep her out of jail if the police discovered the missing knife and dragged her down to the station for more questions?