The bells over the door sounded and I jumped, whipping around to see who had entered the shop.
Distracted by Cash's text, I had forgotten to lock the door.
“Theodore,” I said, swallowing against the sudden dryness in my mouth. I didn't even need to drop my mental shields to feel the rush of anger that pulsed from his mind. A cheerful smile across his face belied his inner rage and I straightened, casting my eyes around for a weapon.
“Althea! Good to see you again,” he called across the room, beginning to walk towards me.
“Theodore, cut the crap. I'm not happy with you after that little stunt you pulled when I was having dinner with Cash the other night. We're not open today so I'll have to ask you to leave,” I said, cocking one hand on my hip and tossing my hair with all the sass I could muster.
“But your website says that you accept walk-in appointments on Mondays,” Theodore said, running one hand under his mustard yellow suspenders, his eyes narrowed.
“Extenuating circumstances today. Sorry, you have to leave,” I said again, edging around the long counter to put some space between Theodore and myself. My hand trailed over a stack of mail on the counter and I almost whimpered in joy when I felt the cool steel of a metal letter opener pass under my hand. Sliding it closer to my body, I waited to see what Theodore would do.
“I really must insist on a reading. Only one question, really. I promise I won't take much of your time.” Theodore threw his hands up, smiling easily, everyone's best friend here.
“I don't think so, Theodore, you're up to something. Get out,” I said, dropping any pretense of civility.
“Fine, maybe I'll just ask my question right here then,” Theodore said, coming to stand on the other side of the counter, his pudgy hands gripping the side so intensely that his pink flesh turned to white. He leaned over until his warm breath wafted over my face.
“Should I leave my wife?”
“Excuse me?” I said, my mouth dropping open as I took several steps back from the counter, keeping the mail opener in my hand, but tucked behind my satchel.
“Should. I. Leave. MY. WIFE!” Theodore shouted, spittle flying from his lips onto the counter, rage flashing across his face.
This was the real Theodore, I thought, my hand instinctively tightening around the mail opener.
“I can't answer that for you,” I said, honestly.
“Well you certainly had no problem telling her that she should leave me!” Theodore slammed his hands down on the counter, swiping a basket of pens to the floor. My heart hammered in my chest and the only sounds in the room were the pens rolling across the wood floor and Theodore's shaky breath.
“I didn't tell her that,” I said softly, searching his eyes.
“You did! Don't you lie to me, Althea. We had a big fight after she saw you the other day. She told me that you said she should leave me. Now she's talking about getting a divorce. How could you?” Theodore's voice cracked on the last word and I swear to God, a sheen of tears sprung into his eyes.
What was going on here?
“Theodore, first of all, I never betray client confidentiality. But, I can most assuredly tell you that I never told her to leave you. In fact, against my better judgment, since I don't like you the slightest bit, I told her she would be happier if she stayed with you, lord knows why,” I said, glaring at him across the counter.
“Really?” Theodore swiped his hand across his eyes and straightened, throwing his shoulders back and puffing out his chest.
“Really,” I muttered, trying to figure out what his game was. A quick read of his thoughts showed that his rage had vanished and a quiet relief had slipped in.
Well, shoot, color me surprised.
The man really did love his wife.
“Erm, well, I'm sorry about all this then. I guess I'll have to pick up some diamonds or something on the way home. Maybe there's still hope after all,” Theodore said, a smile lighting his face as he nodded at me and made his way towards the door.
“Don't mind me! I'll just pick up these pens!” I called, racing to slam the door and lock it after him. Turning, I leaned back against the door for the second time today, forcing myself to calm my breathing. My mind was racing.
If Theodore only hated me because of the reading with his wife – then that only left Cash as an option.
And it wasn't an option I was willing to consider.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Moments later, I found myself driving down Main Street towards Luca's Deli, mulling over what had just happened at the shop. I wondered if my reading on Theodore had been totally off and if he was really just a self-important man who was clinging to his beauty queen of a wife. I was more confused now than I had ever been.
Much like any other Monday in Tequila Key, the street had a few moms pushing strollers, and the occasional group of locals chatting on the stoops of various businesses. Mr. Roberts swept the front porch of Fins, and waved casually at me as I drove past. I couldn't help but look at each person and wonder if somehow they were connected to Renaldo's death.
Anyone but Cash would pretty much work for me.
Luca's Deli was tucked at the end of the street in a whitewashed stucco building with little pots of flowers out front that Luca watered religiously. Knowing I would be just missing the lunch rush, I snagged the last spot on the street and kept my head down as I ducked into the deli.
Cool air washed over me, carrying the scents of meatballs and fresh-baked bread. Small tables with cheerful blue tablecloths were clustered together in front of two long glass cases full of mounds of meat, deli-salads, and a jar of the finest pickles you'll taste in all of the Keys.
“Althea!” Luca called to me as he worked from a butcher's block behind the counter. Clad in a screaming-red velour tracksuit and sporting a comb-over to finish off his New Jersey appearance, Luca was all tan skin, white smile, and dancing eyes.
“Hey, Luca,” I said, turning to greet Mrs. Evanston at the counter, done up in a resplendent pale pink dress suit and pearls today.
“Althea, I'm so glad to see you. I've just been over the moon ever since you gave me such a good reading,” Mrs. Evanston said, pressing her papery lips to my cheek as I bent over to give her a quick hug.
“Althea gave you a reading? Tell you anything interesting?” Luca asked over his shoulder.
“Well, you know she can talk to ghosts, right? So I had her channel my dearly departed cat. You knew Bitsy, right, Luca? She was a show cat – one of the best,” Mrs. Evanston said, her blue curls bouncing as she warmed up to her favorite topic.
“Sure I do. Crying shame you lost her,” Luca said, winking at me over the counter.
“Well, I certainly do miss her. But now that I know Althea can talk to her, well, I'll just be stopping by every once in a while to check in and make sure my Bitsy's doing okay,” Mrs. Evanston said, twinkling up at me.
Oh great.
“I look forward to seeing you, Mrs. Evanston.” I smiled down at her.
“Now, you tell your friend Luna that none of us think a sweet girl like her would murder anyone. Why! Just the thought of it makes me so mad. That Dupree better get his head on straight,” she said, clucking her tongue in disgust as she took the paper bag Luca offered her.
“Can I get something going for you?” Luca cut in.
“Um, sure, turkey on rye and a chicken on wheat with avocado mayo.” Wondering briefly if Trace would be joining us again today as he hadn't bothered to take the time to text me at all, I held up two fingers.
“Make that two turkey on rye. And probably like six pickles,” I said with a smile, turning back to Mrs. Evanston.
“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Evanston. I'll be giving Dupree a piece of my mind after lunch. One way or the other, I'm going to get Luna out as soon as I can.”
“You let me know if I can help, dear,” she said, patting my arm softly before moving past me to leave.
“That's tough about your friend,” Luca
said over his shoulder as he slathered mayonnaise on some bread. I bit my tongue just as I was about to make a snide remark about the bets he was taking. Beau was right. Nothing should come between us and one of Luca's decadent sandwiches.
“Well, it's obviously not true, so we need to get her out of there,” I said, pulling napkins from the napkin holder and grabbing some of the small packs of mustard that Luca had in a tin basket on the counter.
“Why do you think it's not true?” Luca asked, wrapping our sandwiches in white wax paper and sliding them into the bag. I waited until he had wrapped our pickles before replying.
“Because I know she's innocent,” I said.
Luca brought the sandwiches over to me and pulled out a brown paper bag from underneath the counter. Shaking it open, he smiled kindly at me.
“Knowing isn't enough to prove it in court. You need evidence.”
“Well, I'll get evidence then.”
“How? You going to hunt the killer down? Or just walk around town reading people's minds?” Luca scoffed and then straightened. “Hey, maybe you could do that?”
“Maybe I will,” I said, my nose in the air, reluctant to admit that that might have been one of the plans that I had concocted the night before. “And you need to stop running bets on her being the killer. What's wrong with you, Luca?” I reached across the counter to smack him on the arm.
“Hey, hey, hey now…business is business, you know.” Luca shrugged, looking appropriately chastised.
“You've known Luna a long time. You know as well as I do that she’s not the killer,” I said, glaring at him.
“Here, I'll throw some cookies in to make up for it,” Luca said, reaching for his chocolate chunk cookies, but avoiding answering me. I almost said no.
But nobody says no to Luca's cookies.
“You'd better stop this betting. I mean it, Luca. This isn't funny,” I said, nose in the air.
“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up. “It was just an easy pool to run.”
“How could it be easy?” I demanded. “It could be anyone. Literally anyone!”
Luca nodded gravely.
“Long shots make the most money.”
“But don't you have to offer odds on certain suspects? People can't just come in and throw money down on anyone, can they?”
Luca blushed a little beneath his tan and I leaned in.
“Luca, who are the top odds?”
“Now, Thea, I can't be telling you that. Books are closed.”
“Like hell they are.”
The bells over the door jangled and a group of students came in. I huffed out a breath and glared at Luca, knowing this conversation was over. Pointing my finger at him, I gave him my dirtiest look but Luca just shrugged his shoulders with a smile.
People will try to make money off of anything.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My cell phone rang on the way back to the house and I kept one hand on the wheel as I scrounged in my purse, hitting the button without looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
“It's me.”
“Luna!” I shrieked and pulled the car over to the side of the road, startling a woman on a beach cruiser who shot me a dirty look as she passed. I flipped her my middle finger with a smile, not caring what she would think as I focused on my phone.
“Oh my God, Luna, are you okay?” I gushed.
“I'm okay. Just listen. Dupree's in on something. I don't know what. I hear him whispering all the time on the phone. My sense is that he's involved in something and he already knows who the killer is. He's not letting me go anytime soon.”
“But doesn't the judge decide that?” I protested.
“I don't know if the judge is involved too,” she whispered into the phone and I felt tears swim into my eyes.
“I swear I'm going to fix this for you,” I said, clutching the phone against my ear.
“You have to learn the breaking spell. By heart. Tonight. Promise me?” Luna whispered urgently.
“Luna, I can't do a spell without you!” I hissed.
“You can. You just have to mean the words you say. Intent is everything in magic. You've done it with me, you can do it without. Memorize it,” Luna said.
“Time's up!” I heard a voice call over her shoulder.
“I'll come to the station today,” I promised.
“Don't waste your time. Find the killer,” Luna insisted before the call was disconnected. I stared down at my phone, vowing to talk to Miss Elva about the worst curse we could find to ruin Dupree's life.
Hour's up. Where are you?
Two minutes, I texted Beau, pulling back onto the road, my thoughts racing.
I biked to your house. Meet me there.
Reading the text, I whipped a U-turn in the middle of the street, trying not to beat myself up for not accomplishing more. Maybe if I could just calm down, I'd be able to work on getting a clear picture of what direction we needed to go in.
Hank's ears poked over the windowsill when I pulled up. Grabbing the bag of food, I made my way to the porch, bending automatically to accept Hank's licks on my face before straightening.
“Oh. Hey,” I said, coming up short as my eyes fell on Cash sitting at my breakfast bar. He looked way too good cozied up to the counter and I entertained a brief fantasy of serving him coffee after a long night of…
“Althea,” Beau snapped and I shook my head.
“Yes? Did I miss something?”
“I asked you if you were okay. You look like you've been crying,” Beau said, shaking his head at me as he came forward to take the bag of food from my hands.
“I don't even know where to start,” I said stiffly, shifting my eyes to Cash, unsure of how much I could say in front of him.
“Start with why you are crying,” Beau decided and I went to stand with him on the other side of the counter, turning to pull plates out of one of my cabinets.
“Luna called.” I shrugged.
“She did! How is she? Can we see her?”
“She said not to waste our time. That we needed to stay focused,” I said instead, again looking over my shoulder at Cash, trying not to act suspicious.
“I get the feeling I'm not wanted here,” Cash said, pushing back from the counter and standing up.
“It's not that…” I protested, but then stopped, unsure of what to say. That I thought he could be the killer? Not caring if it was rude, I dipped into his mind.
And all I got was genuine concern for my welfare.
What if he was smart enough to know that I was a psychic and decided to just think good thoughts while around me? My eyebrows shot up at the thought and Cash tilted his head at me in question.
“It's just…look, there's a lot going on right now. Luna's our best friend. If you wouldn't mind giving us a little space?” I asked gently, surprised to see a small flash of hurt on Cash's face before he nodded.
“Of course, I understand. Let me know if I can help with anything,” Cash said, turning to go.
“Actually, you can,” Beau said and I whipped my head around to glare at him.
“What? I have questions,” Beau said simply, widening his eyes innocently at me.
“So you make me look like the mean one?” I asked, putting my hands on my waist and glaring at Beau.
“It's not making you look mean. It's just a confusing time. He may have answers,” Beau said, turning to smile at Cash.
“I'm happy to help,” Cash said again, his gaze meeting mine.
“Okay, well, I have an extra sandwich,” I said, praying that Trace didn't come by and want to eat.
“I'm good, I ate before I stopped by,” Cash said, clearly knowing whom the third sandwich was for.
I glared at Beau again before shoving Trace's sandwich into the fridge.
“Something to drink then?”
“Got a beer?”
“This early?” I asked and then stopped. Shoot, we could all use a drink for what we were dealing wit
h. “Never mind, we'll all have beers,” I mumbled, and grabbed a bucket to fill with ice.
“We'll be on the patio?” Beau asked.
I shooed him away and filled the bucket, plopping some Coronas amongst the ice, then sliced up some limes before I joined them on the patio. Hank raced in circles around the yard, ecstatic that Mom was home on a Monday.
“He's got a lot of energy,” Cash commented.
“Boston terriers are spunky,” I agreed, before choosing a seat opposite Cash instead of sitting next to him on the couch. So what if I was giving him mixed signals? I had a murder to solve.
“So, Beau. Questions?” Cash said, taking a long pull of his beer.
“Yes, Beau. Questions?” I said, turning to smile brightly at Beau.
“You worked with Renaldo before, yes?” Beau asked and I finally realized where he was going with his questions.
“I wouldn't say worked with. We've been on the other side of the table in a few negotiations, though,” Cash said.
“What was he like?” I blurted out.
“As a businessman? He seemed fair. Steady to do business with. I never got the sense that he was trying to be underhanded or anything.”
“Why was he in town?” I countered.
“He was looking at a few different properties for development,” Cash said.
“Can you be more specific?” Beau asked.
“I wish. He represented a competing investment group. Though I was kind of surprised to see him here. Last I had heard, he was planning to retire,” Cash mused.
“Well, that's weird, isn't it?” I said, turning to Beau.
“So as a consultant…he did what exactly?”
“The dealings that I had with him in Miami, he'd represent a group of investors. For example, we worked on a nightclub together. That kind of thing,” Cash said.
“And nothing ever popped as weird to you?”
“No, not that I can think of. Granted, I didn't like how the guy dressed, but that isn't enough to murder him for,” Cash said easily and I stiffened, wondering if he thought we suspected him.
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