Trouble in the Tarot (26 page)

He checked his books. “That’s right. Just a few months ago, but legal just the same.”

I gave him my most charming smile. “Any chance you could divulge the name of her partner?”

He leaned forward as he said, “I would if I could, but I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I put on a pout, but I wasn’t about to flutter my lashes. That was pushing it.

“Can’t,” he assured me. “The partner was a silent partner and chose to remain anonymous.”

I sat there stunned, my lips parting in my shock. If Sam wasn’t Bernadette’s partner, then who the heck was? Or was Sam lying? And how did they feel about Bernadette giving all the money away to buy Quincy’s silence? Mad enough to kill her and become the sole owner? And when, if ever, did they plan to reopen?

“Are you okay? You look like you might faint,” the bank manager broke into my thoughts. “I know you must be disappointed, but I have other properties that
would be suitable for a business. What kind of business did you say it was?”

I pulled off my hat and looked him square in the eye as I said with relish, “Fortune-telling.”

He choked and gaped at me. “But I thought—”

“I know exactly what you thought. Toodles, Vlad. My friends call me Sunny. In your case, don’t bother calling me at all.”

I kicked off my shoes and walked out the door in my bare feet with my head held high.

18

At the end of the week, I had just about given up on trying to figure out who Bernadette’s silent partner could be. I’d even gone for a walk on the trails behind Mini Central Park to try to clear my mind, but it hadn’t done any good.

The day was gorgeous, not a cloud in sight.

I had to face facts. I needed help. Time to call Mitch and my parents and have a family meeting. I pulled into my driveway to find half the town there again. What on earth was the Dynamic Duo doing this time? I parked my bug and made my way through the crowd of people only to stop short and gape.

Half of Vicky’s contents were strewn about across the lawn with a huge sign posted in the front that read, YARD SALE! Figured. It was the weekend, and the
Dynamic Duo was bored. Still, none of this stuff was theirs to sell.

Granny stood behind a table, serving fresh-squeezed lemonade while Fiona stood by a money box, ready to handle the sales. You couldn’t even read half the prices because they kept crossing each other’s out and remarking them.

“I came as soon as I could,” Mitch said from behind me.

I whirled around. He stood there, slightly out of breath since he’d just come from his weekend jog in his NYPD shorts and T-shirt. The scar from breaking his leg was barely visible beneath the hair that had grown back and the tan he now sported.

My parents were close behind him as they power walked in their matching tracksuits. “What are they up to now?” Mom asked, sipping daintily at a bottle of water.

“They’ve put us off schedule. I have a tennis match with Harry before lunch,” Dad thundered.

“Wait, what?” My brain fogged with confusion. “Who called you?” I asked Mitch.

“You texted me a 911 text,” he said, eying me as though I’d stayed out in the sun too long.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Darling, you texted us the same message,” Mom said. “Really, Sylvia. Texting is so impersonal. You should have called.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Dad asked, putting the back of his hand to my forehead. “Experiencing any memory loss?”

“I feel fine.” I moved my head away. “Look, I don’t even have my phone on me. I forgot it in the house when I left to go hiking through the trails at the park.”

“Well, if you didn’t text us, then who did?” Mitch asked.

“Yes, our first sale!” Fiona squealed.

Before she could exchange money with Ida Ray, who had her eye on an antique chest of drawers, dark clouds rolled in and thunder boomed. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and streaked to the ground not ten feet away. Big fat raindrops pummeled the ground and everything standing on it.

Ida shrieked and ran for her car, as did everyone else. Meanwhile, we all bolted inside, soaking wet and dripping on my hardwood floors. No sooner had everyone left, and I was positive all of Vicky’s things were ruined out on the lawn, than the clouds blew away as quickly as they had come.

I ran back outside to bright sunny skies, and even though my clothes were still wet, all of the yard-sale items were completely dry. The others followed close behind me. Mitch walked up beside me and looked around, his lips parting but no words emerging.

Morty dropped my cell phone at my feet, glared at Granny and Fiona, scowled at Mitch, hissed at my parents, and then disappeared.

I picked up my phone and looked at my parents and Mitch, but no one would voice what we were all thinking. It was pretty clear who had sent them the text from
my phone. And with the look he’d just given Granny and Fiona, you didn’t need a set of cards to read his message.

Don’t mess with his stuff!

“Tea anyone?” I asked, leading the way back inside.

They followed me quickly, with Fiona mumbling something about cars not being the only thing haunted around this place. Once we were all sipping our iced tea on the front porch—after that display, no one wanted to go anywhere near Morty—I told them about what I’d discovered and asked them what they thought.

“That widow Ida Ray has plenty of money,” Mitch said. “She lets everyone know it, too.”

“Yes, but she’s no spring chicken. I doubt she’d want to work,” Mom said.

“No, but if her husband is gone, she might be bored and want to start a new adventure,” Fiona said. “A new investment could have been exciting for her. And she was a regular at BB’s Baked Goods. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to see it close down.”

“And she wouldn’t want anyone to know she was a partner in case the adventure didn’t work out. Some people make rash decisions and then regret them later,” Granny chimed in, pointing her finger at Fiona behind her back.

“I think at least talking to Ida would be worth it,” I said, and Mitch made a note in his notebook. “She might
not have liked the way Bernadette handled her money and killed her so she could be the sole owner.”

“Since we’re sharing,” Fiona said, “Harry invested a large sum of money into something hush-hush a couple months before I left for my trip.”

“Now, how do you know that?” Granny asked. “You were already divorced. I think you’re just being spiteful.” She tsked.

“I am not. The kids told me.” Fiona hoisted her chin a notch. “Harry tried to talk to me a couple times before I left, but I wouldn’t listen. They said he got wind I was setting off on a grand adventure. Maybe he decided to have an adventure of his own. He certainly had enough money to do so. That would be a more believable reason for him to be in town than some ridiculous notion about him trying to win me back.”

“You really don’t have any faith in me whatsoever, do you?” asked a male voice from the other side of the porch.

We all startled because no one had heard him approach. Harry stood with his hands in his shorts pockets, shaking his head at Fiona.

“Then tell me. What did you invest that money in?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you yet,” he said. “Can’t you just trust me?”

“Been there. Done that. It didn’t work out so well,” Fiona replied. “I think I’ll pass this time around.”

“Hi, Harry,” Granny said with sly smile. “I trust you’ll stay for lunch.”

He tipped his hat to Granny. “I’ll take a rain check, Gertie.”

Fiona gasped. “You will not.”

“He will, too,” Granny countered. “Last I checked this was my house, not yours. Besides, you already had your five minutes. Now, it’s time for mine.” She twittered at Harry. “And if you’re really nice, I might even give you ten.” She let out a trilling giggle.

“It’s a date,” he said, ignoring a fuming red-faced Fiona. “Right now I have to beat your son-in-law in tennis.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard,” Granny muttered.

“Mother,” Mom snapped.

“It’s the truth.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “I tried to tell him there’s a cookie that will make him better, but he doesn’t believe in that any more than he does Sunny’s gifts.”

“Now I know where Sunny gets her foolishness from,” Dad boomed. “Thank goodness it missed a generation. Come on, Vivian. You have work to do, and I have a match to win.” Mom had to walk quickly to keep up with an irate Dad.

Harry tipped his hat and left as well.

“On that note, I have a case to solve, and you have a mess to clean up. See you when I see you, Tink.” Mitch leaned in as though to kiss me, noticed the ladies staring, and cleared his throat instead. He glanced at the yard and scratched his head. “Have fun with that.”

“Oh, I’ll have fun, all right.” Granny and Fiona could
clean up their own mess and apologize to Morty. I, on the other hand, had work to do of my own.

Let the games begin.

*    *    *

“I really hate games. I’m no good at them,” I said as I sat on a barstool Saturday night in Smokey Jo’s, sipping a beer. Mitch was working late, and I was on my own…dateless…listening to seventies folk music and feeling sorry for myself.

“Then why play them?” Jo asked as she wiped down the counter.

The bar wasn’t that busy for a Saturday night. Just a few regulars like Abby and Chuck. Mimi and Ida had joined them for dinner and cocktails at one table. Harry sat at another by himself, no Hazel in sight.

Smart man.

And even Quincy Turner sat alone, nursing a mixed drink over his dinner. A few others were scattered about, and the rest were probably at a restaurant with an outdoor patio since the nights were getting longer and the weather was gorgeous.

“I have to be sly because no one will talk to me since I’m not
officially
on the case,” I grumbled, not even trying to hide my frustration. “I stopped by Sam’s earlier today, and sure enough, Ida was there.” I had filled Jo in on the yard sale, the freak thunderstorm, and our latest silent partner theory. “Ida is a crotchety old woman.”

“She and Mimi make a great pair.” Jo laughed. “At
least they have each other now. Maybe it will soften them up a bit.”

“No kidding.” I grunted. “Anyway, Ida might brag about how much money she has, but word around town is she’s tighter than the skin on my mother’s face. Yet there are also rumors going around that she opened up her purse strings wide lately. I tried to steer the conversation in that direction, but she told me in no uncertain terms to mind my own damn business. Then she accused me of souring her stomach, and she left.”

“What about Sam? Do you really think he could be the silent partner?” Jo asked.

“He says no, but something seems off with him,” I responded.

“How so?” Jo shook back her thick auburn curls and tightened her apron, looking at me with genuine interest. She had such a way of making people feel like she was really interested in what they were saying, even when she had so much going on in her own life.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “He just seems uncomfortable when talking about Bernadette, and he rarely makes eye contact. I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading into it.” I took another drink of my beer. “How are the wedding plans going?”

“Your mother has been amazing. She has such a sense of style and class. She’s given me some great advice.”

I frowned. “
My
mother? I mean, I get the style and class part, but you actually enjoy her company?”

“You’ve been really busy lately.” Jo shrugged,
hesitated, and then said in a quiet voice, “Don’t you think you can be a bit hard on her sometimes?”

“Seriously?” I scoffed. “Weren’t you listening all the times I’ve talked to you about her?”

“Yes, and I understand she can be controlling and demanding and a pain in the butt at times. But sometimes I think you’re the one who’s not listening,” Jo said gently. “She’s proud of you, you know.”

“Excuse me?” I choked on a sip of beer. “I repeat…
my
mother?”

“You’d be surprised. I have a sister like her. Some people just have a hard time expressing their feelings. That doesn’t mean they don’t feel them.”

A certain cynical, grumpy detective came to mind. Why was it I could forgive and forget and read between the lines when it came to him, but I couldn’t do that with my parents? “Touché,” I said grudgingly, then asked, “How are the rest of your plans coming along?”

Jo’s face clouded over. “Zoe is a godsend, but nothing that I want is working out. Maybe Cole and I should have had a longer engagement. At this rate, we’re going to have to get married in a barn because that’s all that’s available.”

“I’m sure it will all work out just fine. Like you said, why wait? You and Cole both love each other and are ready now. That’s all that matters.”

Jo twisted the dishrag in her hands, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”

“Are you having cold feet?”

“God no,” she stated emphatically. “But I’m afraid he’ll change his mind.”

“No way,” I responded just as emphatically. “You haven’t seen the way he looks at you.” I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I have.”