Mystery Writer's Mysteries Box Set 1-3

by Becky Clark

  “Oh, hello, dear,” she said. “You’re just in time, if you want to go with us.”

  “Where?”

  “To meet a psychic at Espresso Yourself. She says she wants to help find Peter.” Barb saw Don and I share a skeptical look. “Oh, stop that, you two. I know it’s far-fetched, but we haven’t had any luck with anything else. What have we got to lose?”

  “Fifty bucks?” I suggested.

  “Nope. She said no charge.” She looked at me. “So are you coming?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  I shoved the map in the back pocket of my jean skirt and we walked over to the coffee shop. Don held the door and Barb stepped in first with me right behind her. I was highly skeptical of this outing and scanned the room. There weren’t many people, so it didn’t take long for me to spot a woman wearing enormous sunglasses and swaddled in a leopard print head scarf also wrapped around her neck. She was rummaging in her purse and hadn’t seen us yet.

  I yanked Don and Barb back out the door and marched them around the corner, away from the windows.

  “Don, that lady was there when Peter got snatched. You said hello to her. She had on a different scarf.” They both started around the corner but I held them back.

  “She was there? Are you sure?” Barb asked, eyes darting.

  “Almost positive. She looks just like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard.”

  “She does!”

  “She must know something about Peter,” Don said.

  “What should we do?” Barb said. “I want to go punch her in the nose!”

  “I have a better idea. But you’ll have to wait here while I run back and get something.”

  “Hurry. We said we’d meet her five minutes ago.”

  “I don’t think she’s going anywhere. But if she comes out, walk up like you just got here and stall her until I get back. When you see me, Barb, meet me in the restroom.”

  “Ooh!” Barb bounced on her toes. “We’re hatching a plan!”

  I raced back to Ozzi’s apartment and let myself in quietly so I wouldn’t wake him up. I scribbled a note that said, I have your phone over at Espressos. If you wake up before I get back, come over there. Then I grabbed his phone and ran back to the coffee shop.

  Barb and Don were still outside when I got there. I handed Barb Ozzi’s phone. “Do you know how to text?”

  “Don’t be silly. Who would I text? Don when he’s sitting right next to me on the couch?”

  I thought about last night when I texted Ozzi while he was in the bathroom to ask if he wanted beer or wine with dinner. “You’d be surprised how often that happens.”

  “People,” Barb said, shaking her head.

  “I’m going to give you a quick lesson because she saw me with Peter.”

  “She saw me with Peter too. That’s why she called,” Don said.

  “No, I think she has ulterior motives of some kind. But I’m going to sit at a different table where she can’t see me, but hopefully I’ll be able to hear your conversation. If I think of any questions I want you to ask, I’m going to type them on my phone and send them to Ozzi’s phone. All you have to do is read them when they pop up on the screen. The ringer is already off, so you won’t accidentally get any of his phone calls. Just leave the phone in your lap with the screen where you can glance down at it. You don’t want her to see it, though. Just in case.”

  “You’re very smart, dear.” Barb patted my hand.

  “Thank you, but so are you guys. I’m not expecting to have to weigh in with anything, but if she says something I want to explore further, I just want to be ready.” I was hoping she could be tricked into giving specifics about the Braid, or Lapaglia, or anything that was going on.

  “Okay? You guys ready?”

  Barb got serious. “I hope she really is psychic or at least is here to tell us where Peter is.”

  Don nodded and put his arm around her while they entered Espresso Yourself. I waited a couple of beats then made my way behind the Gloria Swanson lookalike while Don and Barb walked up to her table.

  “I’m Don and this is Barb. I’m sorry we’re late.”

  “Not a problem at all,” she said.

  “And you are ...?”

  “I am your psychic. Please, sit. Would you like coffee?”

  If she were psychic wouldn’t she already know that? I thought with irritation. It’s like she’s not even trying.

  “That would be nice, thanks.” Don pulled out the chair directly across from the psychic and Barb sat in it. Don sat between them. I scooted my chair over so I could see Barb better. I caught her eye and she nodded slightly. All systems go.

  Lavar came over carrying mugs and a coffeepot. He saw me and started to say something, but I put my finger to my lips. He winked and ignored me, just like I wanted.

  Nova did not, however. She came up next to me and sat. When I didn’t respond quickly enough, she dropped her chin to my thigh. I rubbed her face then bent down and whispered in her velvety ear. “I’m working right now. Go keep an eye on this lady for me.”

  Nova padded over and sat just behind Barb’s chair, facing the psychic. She stared unblinking until the woman said to Lavar, “I am uncomfortable with this ... creature here.”

  Lavar showed great restraint and simply finished pouring their coffee while saying, “Nova, sweets, go lay down.” Nova stood and curled up on her rug in the corner, but kept her eye on the psychic.

  After they were settled with their coffee, the psychic spoke. “You probably want to know why I called you.”

  “You must be psychic.” Coming from anyone but Don that would sound sarcastic, but he said it with a twinkle in his eye and good humor in his voice. He was mounting a charm offensive.

  “Ah, yes, well.”

  I couldn’t see her face, but I bet she gave him one of those tight, condescending smiles devoid of all warmth.

  She continued. “I wanted to meet with you today because I saw your Lost Dog posters”—she held one finger in the air and interrupted herself with an indelicate sneeze—“and wanted to offer my help. I’ve had ... great success in the past finding lost things and hope to do so again. So, let’s begin, shall we?” Don and Barb both nodded. She stretched out her hands to them both. They grabbed hers and each other’s. She tilted her head so far back I thought she’d be looking at me upside down.

  Behind the counter I saw Lavar nudge Tuttle and tip his chin toward her. I shook my head and again, put my finger to my lips. They continued to stare, but tried to be inconspicuous.

  Finally, the psychic brought her head down. I wondered if her eyes were open or closed, but who could tell with those sunglasses on.

  “I see the letter L. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “I like a nice limoncello now and again.” Don said. “Oh, and we went to the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo and saw a lemur a few months ago.”

  “We had leftovers for dinner yesterday,” Barb added.

  I closed my lips against the smile that formed.

  The psychic took a deep breath and looked heavenward again. “I’m getting a map ... it looks like ... West Virginia ... no, it’s New Jersey. Definitely New Jersey.”

  “Peter is in New Jersey?” Barb leaned forward while one hand fluttered to her throat.

  Don took back Barb's hand and squeezed it a bit.

  “Do either of you have ties to New Jersey?”

  “No,” Don said flatly.

  I texted Barb. She’s fake. She doesn’t know where Peter is. I saw her glance down at her lap. She looked straight at me, then frowned at the psychic.

  The psychic again looked up and remained quiet for a few moments before lowering her head. “Books. I’m in a room surrounded by lots and lots of books...They look like thrillers, maybe suspense...Does that mean anything to you?”

  Don pointedly looked to the bookstore side of Espresso Yourself and tilted his head at the psychic. She either didn’t see or she ignored him.

  It was clear to m
e she was pumping them for information about Lapaglia. But why? If she saw the Braid steal Peter O’Drool, why wasn’t she interested in him right now? I hoped neither of them would take the bait.

  I began a text to Barb, but before I got a few words in, Don said, “Books? Hm. We used to read quite a bit, the both of us, but you know how it is. The eyes go. We watch more movies than we read books, nowadays. Wait, are you seeing Peter surrounded by books? He never reads thrillers, though. He’s more a non-fiction fan.”

  I clamped a hand over my mouth. To the psychic’s credit, though, she remained nonplussed.

  I thought of something and texted Barb. Ask her if she sees a man with a silver braid. Tell her he came to you in a dream last night.

  Barb glanced down at her lap and frowned. She said, “Any opinion about the integration problems?”

  I checked the message I sent.

  Barb cleared her throat but didn’t take her eyes off the phone in her lap. “Do you see a man with a silver braid? He came to me in a dream last night.”

  The psychic did not raise her head this time. “No, nothing like that.”

  I texted again, but Barb spoke before I pressed Send. “Are you joining us for load testing tonight?” Barb paused then added, “There was also a woman named Tiffany in my dream.”

  I leaned back and caught Don’s eye to see if he knew what Barb was talking about. Integration? Load testing? I gasped and clamped a hand over my mouth, just as quickly removing it to text Barb. You’re getting Ozzi’s texts from work too! There must be a problem at his office!

  Barb said, “You’re getting .... Oh.” She looked up and smiled brightly at the psychic. “Sorry. I’m having a senior moment. Will you excuse me a moment?” She let go of both the psychic’s hand and Don’s and headed toward the restroom. I followed her.

  When we closed the door behind us she laughed. “Oh, good grief. That was ridiculous.”

  “You recovered nicely,” I said. “So proud of my little nerd.”

  “I’m old, not stupid.” She handed Ozzi’s phone to me and I saw a dozen messages scrolling past. “So what do you think that was all about? It sounded like she was pumping us for information about that author.”

  “That’s what I think too. But I’m not sure why.” The messages kept scrolling. “I gotta get this phone back to Ozzi. Looks like his project is blowing up.” I held the door for her. “Unless you really have to ...?”

  “No, just had to leave the table before I started laughing. Let’s go.”

  I sent her off ahead of me so I could get a photo of the psychic. But when I turned the corner she was gone. Barb was standing by Don’s side as he threw a few bills from his wallet on the table.

  Lavar and Tuttle hurried over. “Landsakes, who was that?” Lavar asked.

  “A psychic,” Barb said.

  “A psychic, my a...unt Sally!”

  “Your Aunt Sally is a psychic?” Barb cocked her head at him and he blushed. I never actually knew black men could blush until I met Lavar.

  “No ... I just ... I meant ...” Lavar looked at me for help.

  “She’s old, Lavar. Not stupid. She knew what you meant.”

  Barb laughed and placed her tiny hand on his bulging forearm. “Some people say cursing is the sign of a small vocabulary. But I think it’s a sign of a creative thinker. You keep doing you.”

  “Be that as it may, what was all that?” Tuttle asked.

  Don shrugged and looked at me. “As soon as we figure it out, we’ll let you know.”

  I didn’t want to drag Lavar and Tuttle into this, whatever this was. “Just somebody trying to scam a couple of worried pet owners.”

  “Pete not back yet?” Lavar’s brow wrinkled and he drew Barb into a bear hug. I always worried he’d crush someone with his exuberant love.

  “He’ll be back,” I said, more confident than I felt. “I’ve gotta get Ozzi’s phone back to him. See you guys later.”

  I hurried back to Ozzi’s apartment, debating with every step whether I should wake him up or not. By the time I got there, I decided it wasn’t my call to make, no pun intended. I woke him, explained briefly what happened and brewed some coffee. Before I left I scrambled him some eggs and buttered two pieces of toast, making him promise to eat before he rushed to his office.

  Back at my apartment I checked the clock. Still plenty of time to get to Union Station. I remembered the map of the city in my pocket and took it with me upstairs to Don and Barb’s.

  “I meant to show you this earlier.” I unfolded the map on their dining table and smoothed it. “I’ve been getting some calls about Pete and have been marking them on here. I’m going to start checking them out.”

  “We’ve had some too.” Don rewound then played back the ancient answering machine next to their landline. As we listened, if any locations were mentioned, I marked them on my map. I was disheartened to hear most of their callers wanted to know the amount of the reward too. I was also disheartened to hear how many calls they got asking them to buy pet insurance, contribute to mega-churches, and support the NRA.

  When the messages were finished, Don handed me a piece of paper. “We quit answering the phone for fear we’d be on it when something important came in about Pete. But these are some of the things people told me.”

  I added those locations to my map and assured them I’d check them out. I could do many of them on my way to Union Station. Deep down, I knew Peter wouldn’t be in any of them because I was convinced not one of these callers ever saw him—or any other dog, for that matter—before they called, asking about the reward. Maybe it was a mistake to have put that on the flyers. But maybe, just maybe, someone saw the Braid with him, or could give us the license plate of his matte black El Camino, or had actually scooped him up when the Braid wasn’t looking, in some miraculous moment of psychic phenomenon.

  Yeah, right. That could happen.

  “If you talk to anyone who calls, be sure and ask if they saw a car. I want to know about any black El Caminos with matte finish. There can’t be too many of them around. But don’t describe the car to anyone. Make them describe it to you.”

  I planned my route between home and Union Station, noting with a scowl that nobody had given their actual home address in their messages. Just “at the corner of this and that” or “outside the gym on 5th.”

  Oh, Pete. Please be okay.

  As I expected, none of the marks on my map showed me Pete or the El Camino. The few people I spoke with confirmed my suspicions, that none of the callers had any real connection to the locations they gave. I was more sure than ever the callers were opportunistic scammers.

  Arriving at Union Station, I exchanged the map for my I heart Denver baseball cap and threaded my hair through the opening in the back.

  I sat outside with one leg crossed on an out-of-the-way bench under the canopy and watched to see who, if anyone, would show up: Martina, Lakshmi, or Cecilia. I didn’t even know if a train would be coming through. Would they look it up and see through my ruse? My foot bounced so much I had to place it flat on the ground so as not to knock me off the bench. It kept bouncing so I walked inside to the timetable on the wall and studied it to see if there was an estimated time for any arrival. It showed a passenger train coming from Memphis on its way to Seattle. I returned to my inconspicuous bench and tried to be equally inconspicuous as I scanned the crowd.

  The train pulled in about ten minutes early and began disgorging passengers. The area became crowded with happy reunions and beleaguered tourists so I stood on the bench, balancing against a concrete pillar I could also peek around.

  The third car of the train was directly in front of me, about twenty yards away. The station was behind me. The outdoor plaza was busy with more than just the train passengers, exactly like when Ozzi and I were here on Saturday. People walked through the plaza from all directions because Union Station was also the hub for the bus terminal and the light rail trains around Denver. Everyone was busy getting to or from so
me place. Except me. I stood hugging the concrete pillar, hoping to see whichever of Lapaglia’s girlfriends were going to show up.

  The arriving passengers were beginning to thin out and they let the departing passengers waiting in the snaking line begin to board.

  I prepared myself for the eventuality that none of the girlfriends would show up when I heard voices I recognized behind me.

  “I wonder why she wanted us down here,” Cecilia said.

  “You can’t imagine the song and dance I had to do to get the afternoon off work,” Lakshmi said in her pixie voice.

  “I know. Me too. She better have a good reason for this stupid field trip.”

  I assumed they were talking about me. I kept my back to them and watched as they rounded the corner to my right, strolling toward the train. No sign of Lapaglia and it didn’t sound like they expected him here. They sounded more curious as to why I texted them, which, admittedly, made more sense. I watched them as they stopped close to the train, scanning the area, probably searching for me rather than Lapaglia.

  The departing passengers had mostly wound through the snaking queue and had climbed on to the train.

  Still no Martina, though, which made me believe my theory about her hiding Lapaglia might be confirmed. I climbed down from the bench, brushing the concrete dust from my hands, and headed toward Lakshmi and Cecilia. Before I finished mentally composing my apology for getting them down here on a workday, I saw Martina stalk up to them, chest ricocheting between chin and belly. They spoke quietly, but by Martina’s twisted face, I knew she was angry. I wanted to get closer to hear, but I also wanted to see how it would play out. I stepped behind a concrete pillar closer to them and peeked around it. Still couldn’t hear. I searched the area but there was nowhere closer to them where I wouldn’t be fully exposed. Maybe I could lean against those trash bins or bend down to tie my shoe over there—

  The Braid was taking long strides in my direction, his eyes trained on me like lasers.

  Sixteen

  I didn’t want to draw his attention to the three women I had tricked to get down here. He had been violent with me and maybe with all of them too. Perhaps he’d been stalking me this whole time and didn’t even know they were here. I wanted to keep it that way.