Trouble in the Tarot (20 page)

“Maybe you should do a reading for Bernadette, Sunny.” Granny interrupted my thoughts.

“And she thinks
I’m
no Sherlock.” Fiona snorted. “Kind of hard to do a reading on a dead person, there, spanky.”

“Not necessarily,” I said, warming to the idea. “I think you’re onto something, Granny. Cover for me.”

“Where are you going?” Granny asked, looking alarmed.

“To find something of Bernadette’s. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. If I can find something that was near and dear to her that she used often, then I just might be able to get a read on her.”

“Well, that’s easy,” Fiona said. “She lived for those darn turnovers. I bet her kitchen has some stories to tell.” She let out a bawdy laugh.

“Exactly,” I said, wagging my eyebrows at her as I added, “Watson.”

She beamed. “I’ll take that. I always thought Watson had more fun, anyway.”

Granny rolled her eyes. “Isn’t breaking and entering illegal?”

“I’m not going to break or take anything. I just need five minutes to hold her kitchen gadgets, ask what happened, and then read the cards.” I stepped into
my sanctuary, grabbed my tarot cards, and fanned them up in front of them both like a magician as I said, “Simple as that.”

*    *    *

Why couldn’t anything be simple these days?

I had parked down the street, waiting for the crowd to leave Sam’s Bakery so no one would see me sneak into BB’s Baked Goods. It was Friday afternoon. People kept coming and going at a steady pace, picking up bread for dinner, desserts for after, pastries for breakfast…you name it, they bought it. With BB’s closed for the time being, Sam was the only bakery business in town.

One dark four-door sedan with tinted windows had been parked out front the entire time. What in the world were they waiting for? I couldn’t wait all day. Mitch and I were supposed to meet at his place later tonight, and he was supposed to fill me in about the lead he was chasing on Ozzie.

Sneaking around back, I gave the Dumpster a wide berth. I’d rather die than inhale that stench or feel those creepy crawlies ever again. Slipping on my hospital gloves, I tested the back door, but it was locked. I tried one window that was also locked. Finally, I found one window she must have left unlocked the night of her murder before she left to carry her turnovers up the hill to Trixie’s. Somehow it had been overlooked and never relocked.

Thank goodness for small miracles.

The sun was hot and bright in the sky so there was
no need to turn on any lights.
Although, I’d love to turn on the air conditioner,
I thought, as I pulled the neck of my T-shirt away from my skin. It was hotter than a firecracker in there. The place had been closed up since Bernadette’s death. But turning on the AC or opening a window would draw attention to the fact that someone was inside the bakery.

So I crouched down low and searched her kitchen the best I could. The air was stale and suffocating, but I pressed on, taking in everything around me. I saw utensils and dishes and ingredients that might work. But then I spotted a rolling pin that looked like it had been used a lot. Hopefully to roll out the dough for her turnovers.

I swiped the rolling pin and made my way to the back of the kitchen and set my tarot cards and the rolling pin on a counter away from the front windows. I didn’t have time to prepare my space like I usually did. Carefully taking off my gloves, I picked up the rolling pin and closed my eyes, breathing deeply and relaxing my body. I emptied my mind of all thoughts and focused on the object I held in my hands.

This was definitely Bernadette’s special rolling pin. I could feel her energy vibrate through it, almost as if it was a living extension of her. In a way it was, since her bakeshop was her baby. It had been used a lot. I frowned. A strong negative vibe rolled off the pin as though the results were anything but positive. Something wasn’t right here, but I couldn’t quite place what.

I supposed the point was moot since BB’s was closed
now. I had to wonder what would become of the place since she didn’t have any family. I made a mental note to check with the bank and see what I could find out. Maybe it would shed some light on what was off. In the meantime, I had to focus on trying to find out what had happened to Bernadette.

Tuning in to my Higher Self, I asked the universe to guide me through my reading. To allow me to connect to Bernadette’s spirit. Opening my eyes, I set the rolling pin down. Deciding on a one-card spread, I picked up my tarot cards and shuffled them one time.

I’d already heard how she had died and what had happened right after her death. But no one knew what exactly had happened in the moments before, the moments leading up to her death.

“What happened right before Bernadette Baldwin was murdered?” I asked out loud.

I drew one card and turned it over, laying it down on the table before me. XV The Devil card stared back at me. The Devil card meant Bernadette had made a choice, completed an action, or was involved in a situation that was contrary to her best interest. It often involved being bound by something or addicted to something. Being bound to or controlled by anything holds one back, and they cannot make any forward progress on their quest in life.

I looked off in the distance as I thought about what the card might mean. Suddenly, my gaze filtered into tunnel vision—the same thing that always happened when my psychic abilities took over. I was in Bernadette’s
body, looking out through her eyes and feeling what she felt at the time.

She carried her box of turnovers as she left her shop and headed down the street toward the hill that would take her to Trixie’s house. She was running late, but I could feel the confidence she had in those particular turnovers, like she knew for a fact they were the best around. I could also feel her desperation to succeed.

Her determination to win.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as hers must have when she heard the sound of a car’s engine rumbling along behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a dark sedan. The same one that I saw parked out front of Sam’s only moments ago.

Staying focused, I concentrated on what Bernadette had felt. A fear more powerful than anything I’d ever felt slammed through me. She hurried her pace, almost reaching the bottom of the hill now. Looking behind her, she saw the car stop. Two large men climbed out and took a step toward her.

I’d seen them around town at the carnival, at Papas, and even at the fireworks. I had taken them for tourists in town for the Summer Solstice Carnival and the Fourth of July holiday week. Divinity had a lot of tourists pass through in the summertime because of its quaint atmosphere, its great fishing, and its numerous antique shops.

I took another look at the men. There was nothing simple about the way they had made Bernadette feel, or me for that matter. Utterly and completely terrified.

She started to run and—

Sucking in a sharp breath, I jerked out of my trance and ducked. There was a noise in the front of the store, like someone was picking the lock. Quickly snatching my tarot cards, I left the rolling pin on the counter and slipped into a food pantry, closing the door in the nick of time. The air was even more stifling inside the pantry, and the smell of stale food nearly gagged me.

“You search out here. I’ll take her office in the back. She had to have hid it somewhere,” said a male voice I didn’t recognize.

Hid what? I wondered.

“Hurry. Everyone else has cleared out, but that chick’s car is still down the road. She has to be close by.”

That chick? I swallowed hard.

“Don’t worry about her. We’ll take care of her later. Boss will kill us if we don’t do what he asked first. Now move.”

I held my breath as they made short work of tossing Bernadette’s store. She was being bound and controlled by the devil, all right. What in the world had she gotten herself into? Who was their boss? And even scarier…who was the chick they were talking about?

The man in the main part of the store where I was searched cupboard after cupboard, getting closer and closer to where I hid. Something bumped the door to the pantry I hid in. I shook all over and held my breath, terrified I was going to die.

Good Lord, I was having a breakdown.

“Hey, I think I found something,” said the voice from the office. “Come see.”

I nearly collapsed with relief as I heard heavy footsteps thump away. I waited a beat, cracked the door open, and then slipped out of the pantry. The door to the office was open, but two pairs of very broad shoulders and wide backs faced me.

I tiptoed on wobbly legs and finally reached the back door. Not giving a hoot at the moment that I’d left my hospital gloves by the rolling pin, I unlocked the back door and ran all the way to my car, not looking over my shoulder even once.

When I unlocked the door to my bug, I threw myself inside and slammed it shut. I waited a beat to see if they followed, and then realized the stupidity in that. My tires screeched as I stomped on the gas and peeled away from the curb.

Looking in my rearview mirror, I realized no other cars were on the street other than the dark sedan and my bug. My throat went bone dry. Guess the
chick
they’d been referring to was me. One question screeched through my brain even louder than my tires had.

How exactly did they plan to take care of me?

14

I parked down a side street and waited. It didn’t take long until the dark sedan drove by. As discreetly as I could, I tailed them. I had been halfway home when I realized they wouldn’t stop until they found me. It certainly wouldn’t be hard. No one looked quite like me, and no one had a car like mine.

I refused to live in terror.

Evening was fast approaching, and I was supposed to meet Mitch later. I glanced at my watch. I still had time. I needed to find out who they were and what Meathead 1 and Meathead 2 were up to. So I stayed far enough away and tried not to lose them. They headed out to the outskirts of town, and worry tried to wiggle its way into my brain. I thought about what was out this way, and the only thing that came to mind was the
big monster truck rally at the fairgrounds called Monster Jam.

Sure enough that’s where the sedan pulled into.

I followed them into the packed parking lot. They didn’t strike me as the kind of people who were interested in watching monster trucks jamming to loud music as they thrilled the crowd by driving over other cars and smashing into each other. When they pulled around in back, my suspicions were proven right. They weren’t here to watch. They were meeting someone.

But who?

I parked and kept to the shadows, weaving my way in and out of cars. They entered a back door. After a minute, I followed suit. We were in the back where the trucks were being readied and the drivers were awaiting their turn.

I stopped short. Ozzie Zuckerman was talking to a driver in a humongous truck with wheels that were taller than my head. I saw him slip the man something and then they shook. After a minute, the man climbed down from the truck and headed off to the men’s room. Meanwhile, Ozzie headed for the stands.

He didn’t get far.

The two men from the dark sedan blocked his way. The look on his face and his body language were identical to what Bernadette’s had been in my vision. One of the men pulled a gun, and Ozzie held up his hands, looking like he was pleading with them about something. He pointed to the truck and talked rapidly. Meathead 1 lowered his gun, and Meathead 2 led the way to the stands.

I saw a chance, and I took it.

Jogging over to the truck, I glanced up and read the name. Thunder Thighs. Of course. I shook my head and climbed inside. More like huffed and puffed and struggled my way up the humongous wheels into the cab. No wonder they’d named her Thunder Thighs. She, by far, had the biggest wheels of any of the trucks.

I only had minutes before the driver returned. I started searching the interior, looking for anything that would tell me who the driver was.

No luck.

I was just about to climb down when I spotted a piece of paper on the floor. I bent down and snatched the paper off the floor and then read it.

Throw the rally. Let Destructo last longer than Thunder Thighs. I’ll split my winnings with you 50/50.

So Meathead 1 and Meathead 2 obviously wanted something from Ozzie, and they had wanted something from Bernadette as well. Quincy was right. Ozzie was definitely shady and not someone I should interfere with.
Too late
. I gulped, my throat going dry.

This was a very bad idea.

A horn blared, and everything happened at once. The driver came out of the bathroom, Meathead 1 and Meathead 2 spotted me in the driver’s seat, and all the trucks started their engines. Having no choice and fearing for my life, I ducked behind the driver’s seat just in time. He slipped inside and slapped on the helmet in the seat beside him then turned the key in the ignition.

The truck roared to life, and the two men started
running toward the truck. Thank God they were too late. The driver slammed the gearshift into drive, punching the pedal with his foot. I’d never ridden in a monster truck before. In fact, I’d never even been to a rally before. I wedged myself behind his seat as best I could and wrapped my arms and legs around anything secure as I held on for my life. It was so loud, and with his helmet on, the driver couldn’t hear me bouncing around as we flew out the doors into the arena. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as my body went into sensory overload.