Trouble in the Tarot (10 page)

“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle, since you’re my age. You’ve been all over the captain since first laying eyes on him. Besides, we’re not
that
much older than him.” Granny’s stark white eyebrows drew together, and she spoke as though thinking aloud. “I wonder who will show up if an alarm
does
go off?”

They were both suddenly quiet, and I could see Granny pondering that thought. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Fiona doing the same.

“Oh, no. If either one of you even so much as thinks about setting the ankle bracelet alarm off on purpose, I’ll haul you back to jail myself and throw away the key. Prison uniforms are so bland. Try accessorizing
that
, ladies!”

They didn’t speak for the rest of the way home.

“We’re here,” I said, pulling into my empty driveway.

Granny’s car had been impounded as evidence, not to mention the front grill needed some major bodywork after smashing into a streetlamp. The captain had said there were no skid marks. It was as though the person
driving had never even attempted to touch the brakes. Just one more reason why the case hadn’t been ruled an accident.

“Oh, joy,” Fiona said as she climbed out of Buggy. “Lead the way to my cell, Sunny. I’ve got nothing against you, but being cooped up with Gertie is going to be a prison sentence.”

“Having you stay under the same roof is no picnic for me, either, but you heard the judge. We don’t have a choice,” Granny said, climbing out as well and untying her rain cap along the way. “Just wait until Morty gets a load of you.”

I opened the front door and headed straight for the medicine cabinet in my kitchen. After taking something for my whopping headache, I asked, “Would you care to call your children, Fiona?”

She looked horrified. “Absolutely not. Let them think I’m on some grand adventure. I don’t want them to worry or be embarrassed.”

“Your idea of a grand adventure has given us plenty to worry about,” Granny butted in, donning her apron and already looking more relaxed from that simple motion. “If it wasn’t for you—”

“Me? Oh, that’s rich. It wasn’t my beast of a car that ran over Bernadette. I’d say we’re in this mess because of you.” Fiona stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot rapidly. “If you hadn’t—”

From out of nowhere, Morty leapt on top of the kitchen table and hissed at both of them.

Fiona yelped, stumbling back a few steps and
clutching at her heart. While Granny fluttered her hands and grabbed onto the nearest chair for support, her face paler than her hair for once.

“It appears Morty has had enough of your squabbling as well,” I said, smiling at Morty and giving him a grateful look.

Granny patted her hair and headed upstairs without another word. Her door clicked closed louder than normal. Fiona gave Morty a wary look and then pursed her lips, looking helpless.

“Your room is at the top of the stairs to the right, Fiona. Your Knitting Nanas dropped your suitcase off earlier, and there’s a bathroom in the hallway two doors down from your room. The linen closet is inside the bathroom, with everything you might need.”

“Thank you,” she said and marched up the stairs, firmly shutting her own door.

I sighed. So much for finishing out the week with no more drama. Guess Mitch and I wouldn’t be getting back to normal anytime soon. Speaking of Mitch, there was something I had to do.

I gave Morty a rub behind his ears and said, “Keep an eye on them, boy.” I winked.

He just blinked at me, yawned, and then leapt off the table to disappear as quickly as he’d arrived. Whether he would watch them or not was anyone’s guess, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I needed answers, and no matter how frustrated I was with Mitch, he was right about one thing. He was a great detective.

And I needed a plan.

*    *    *

It was late afternoon on Sunday, and the days were getting longer. The temperature had reached eighty-one today, and the warm balmy breeze felt relaxing against my skin. I took a moment to enjoy the sounds of summer as I stood outside of Mitch’s apartment building.

Somewhere off in the distance, a dog barked and children squealed in delight. Someone was mowing a lawn, and the smell of barbecue drifted past my nose. This was my favorite time of year, and I couldn’t even enjoy it because of all that had happened.

Slowly climbing the cast-iron stairs of Mitch’s redbrick apartment building, I reached the top, took a breath, and knocked. A minute later, he opened the door. His eyes widened in surprise and then filled with wariness.

He looked mouthwatering, as usual. His thick black hair was still damp and curling up slightly at the ends as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. He’d thrown on a pair of silky basketball shorts and a muscle shirt as though he’d been in a hurry to answer the door.

“Can I come in?” I asked, smoothing down the front of my own T-shirt and shorts.

He stepped back and opened the door wide. I headed inside and sat in his living room on a big black leather sofa. Scanning the walls, I took in the white painted bookshelves, fabulous paintings of New York City, and marble sculptures atop tile and glass end tables. I’d missed his modern, elegant, and classy sense of style these past two months.

I’d missed him.

He shut the door and followed me over to the couch to sit down beside me.

“Mitch, I—”

“Sunny, I—”

We both started speaking at the same time.

“Normally, I’d say ladies first, but I need to get this out,” he said, taking my hand and threading his fingers between mine. His gaze finally lifted to my eyes and stayed there. “Sunny, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings. It’s not that I think you’re not an asset to the department. I just don’t like you helping, period.”

I gave him a frustrated look. “Why?”

“Ah, hell, you know I’m no good with words.” He ran his thumb over the back of my hand as his fingers tightened around mine. “If anything happened to you, I’d never get over it, okay?”

I melted inside. “Okay,” I said softly and squeezed his hand back.

He blinked. “So, you’re not still mad at me?”

“I didn’t say that.” I lightly punched him on the arm. “But we’ve been through too much together to let something like a difference of opinion keep us apart.”

“Does that mean you’re still willing to go out with me?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“If the drama would ever quit and we get a moment of peace and quiet alone, then yes. I still want to go out with you. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been on a real date?”

“Longer than the two months I’ve been gone I hope,” he said.

I reached out my hand and cupped his cheek. “Did you miss me, Detective?”

“You have no idea,” he said in husky voice and then pulled me onto his lap.

His gaze searched mine as he cradled me in his strong arms, and then he lowered his head. He pressed his wide firm lips to mine, and a feeling of warmth spread throughout every cell of my body. I slipped my arms around his neck and plunged my hands into his hair. He groaned and then deepened the kiss, laying me back on the sofa and stretching out beside me all in one movement with our lips still locked.

I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone, but I wanted
us
to be about more than this. I wanted us to be different and special and meaningful. I wanted to see if we stood a real shot at being a couple.

I wanted to be courted.

I tore my lips away from his, though it killed me to do so, and said, “I think it’s time.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyelids lowering slightly.

“Yeah,” I said and slid out from beneath him. “It’s time to we put our heads together to solve this case.”

“You’re killing me,” he said with a groan and scrubbed his hands over his face as he sat up.

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked with a devilish grin on my face. “What did you think I meant? Dessert?”

“Something like that.”

“Silly man, don’t you know anything? Dessert comes after dinner, which we still haven’t had.”

“Point taken. When are you available?”

“Just as soon as we solve this case.”

“Sunny, you know what the captain said. There
is
no we on this one.”

“No, he said I couldn’t investigate with you. That doesn’t mean I can’t brainstorm with you. You know the saying, two heads are always better than one. Besides, the quicker we solve this case, the quicker we can move on with our date…and dessert.”

He sighed. “Fine, no dessert until the case is solved,” he grumbled, sounding like the grump-butt I adored. “I need a shower.”

“I thought you just took one,” I said to his retreating back.

“Not a cold one. Help yourself to the fridge, and when I get back, do me a favor, Tink.”

“What’s that?”

“Keep your cute little fanny far away from me, or I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

“Deal,” I said and then pressed my lips together to keep from changing my mind.

I’d never been
much of a dessert person. Dessert was rich and fulfilling and satisfying, but it wasn’t the healthiest thing for you. And I wanted our relationship to be long lasting and healthy. Not to mention, Mitch needed a clear head with no distractions. My granny’s future depended on it. Nope, I really wasn’t much of a dessert person, but suddenly I wanted nothing more.

Yes, indeedy, this was going to be one very long summer.

*    *    *

Monday morning I decided to take matters into my own hands. I had promised Mitch that I wouldn’t interfere with his investigation. Now that I knew he didn’t want me involved because he was worried about me, I found it sweet and endearing. I had no intention of getting in his way, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t ask around town and see if I could find anything out.

Mitch hadn’t been much help yet, because the police didn’t have a lot to go on. Bernadette had a strong personality, but she had been closemouthed when it came to her personal life. The captain
had
been out on a date with her that night at Smokey Jo’s, but that was it, and he had assured everyone it wouldn’t have affected his judging the bakeoff. He was, after all, an honorable man. He just couldn’t resist Bernadette’s turnovers. We knew Sam’s and Bernadette’s stores competed with each other, but that didn’t mean they were enemies. She rubbed half the town the wrong way, but we weren’t sure who her actual enemies might be, other than Granny Gert and Fiona.

I still believed that someone was trying to set them up, and I was convinced it was the same person who was sabotaging the carnival, so I decided to look into the people who knew them best. The Knitting Nanas
and Sewing Sisters. I didn’t really know the Nanas, so I started with the head of the Sewing Sisters, Trixie Irving.

Trixie was a retired schoolteacher but still worked as the local seamstress. When someone needed a pair of pants hemmed or a zipper on a coat fixed, they went to Trixie. That’s why she’d been the perfect choice as president of the sewing circle. In fact, she held the meetings at her house every Saturday.

I didn’t want to wait until Saturday to talk to her and meet the other sisters. Besides, I thought it best to meet with her one-on-one the first time and see if I could learn any inside scoop. Not to mention her house was where all the trouble had started the night the candidates had dropped off their baked goods for the bakeoff.

I’d cancelled my readings for the day and left the house under the pretense of picking up more cleaning supplies, since today was Monday, after all. That way I was covered in case Mitch called. And I really would pick up more cleaning supplies, but I would also make a slight pit stop along the way.

It felt strange passing the crime scene at the bottom of the hill. The streetlight was still bent in half, but the captain was right—no skid marks. Whoever had been behind the wheel hadn’t even attempted to stop at all. Other than the bent light post, nothing looked out of the ordinary. There hadn’t even been any blood spilled. Bernadette had died almost immediately of internal injuries.

I kept driving up the hill and came to a stop outside of
Trixie’s house. Pulling up to the curb, I put my car in park and then decided to put on the parking brake for good measure. She only had a one-lane driveway with her car already parked in it, and she lived on quite a steep hill.

I stepped out of the car, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I turned around in a full circle but didn’t see anyone. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear someone was watching me. Locking my bug, I hurried to Trixie’s door and knocked.

Trixie was a thin, short woman with black hair streaked with gray she kept in a low bun at the base of her neck. She slipped on her glasses and squinted up at me. “Sunny Meadows, what a pleasant surprise. Please, come in.”

She stepped back, and I entered her small but cozy house. Handmade pillows, blankets, afghans, doilies, and curtains in all sorts of styles and fabrics displayed her work throughout her house.

“I’ve just started some tea. Would you care for some?” she asked.

“Tea sounds wonderful,” I said, sitting at her kitchen table and setting my knapsack in front of me.

“To what do I owe this lovely surprise this fine morning?” she asked.

“Well, I have a skirt with a tattered hem I need to have repaired.” I pulled my long skirt out of my knapsack. I’d ripped it intentionally this morning so I’d have a reason to stop by Trixie’s.

A puckered frown crossed Trixie’s face. “Your
grandmother is a better cook than she is a seamstress, but this is a simple hem job. Why on earth would you pay someone to fix that for you when you have her at your disposal?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that both Granny and Fiona are under house arrest and staying with me.”

“Yes. I’m afraid news does travel fast in small towns.” Trixie poured our tea into lovely quilt-patterned china cups and sat down across from me.

“I admit I brought my skirt to you so I could escape the madness of my house at the moment and to avoid World War Three. If I left the skirt for Granny, Fiona would find a way to try to outdo her, and who knows what I’d end up with. Probably a miniskirt by the time they were both done
fixing
each other’s work.”