Veronica gave her a nod and a smile and walked briskly through.
She entered a medium-sized office, closing the door behind her. A man in his late fifties or early sixties, wearing a light blue shirt with an orange tie, his gray hair receding from his forehead, stood up as she did. He walked around the metal desk he’d been behind. There were two plain, gray upholstered chairs on the other side of the desk, and he indicated one with his left hand even as he offered her his right to shake.
“Did I hear correctly,” he said, “your name is Veronica Barry?”
“That’s right,” Veronica said, giving him a smile. She shook his hand and then sat in the chair, but he remained standing.
“So tell me,” he said. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about—something to do with the wine convention in Carson City…?”
Veronica shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t actually know anything about that.”
He blinked.
“It’s just what Cooper told me to say so I’d get in to see you,” she continued.
Dietrich’s shoulders relaxed and he sat down in the other chair. “Well. It was effective.”
Veronica cocked her head to the side.
“Let’s just say I’d rather what happened there to remain between me and Cooper,” Dietrich said. His face took on a sad cast. “And two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, as they say.”
Veronica frowned. “Well, most of the time, anyway,” she murmured.
Dietrich gave her a puzzled look.
“Anyway, I have to get straight to the point because I have an obligation in about an hour and half and it’s in Sacramento,” Veronica said.
“By all means.”
“Cooper sent me to speak with you. He needs to tell you that he had—has? a safe at his ski lodge in…” she paused and listened. “Where was it?”
Lake Tahoe.
“Lake Tahoe,” Veronica said.
“A safe? When did he tell you this?”
The Furlong papers are in it.
“He says the Furlong papers are in it.”
“What?”
The combination is 4-1-5-2-2-A.
“You might want to write this down. He says the combination is 4-1-5-2-2-A.”
Dietrich was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. Veronica supposed she was going to have to get used to this sort of reaction if she intended to continue to approach people with messages from the spirit world, but it didn’t make this any less awkward.
The house is near the lake. My wife has the address.
“He says to ask his wife for the address of the house.”
Dietrich shook his head. “When did you speak to him? How could he have known I needed those papers?”
Veronica sighed. “Look, it’s just better if I don’t explain. I’ve given you his message, so that’s what matters, okay?”
“But it isn’t possible,” Dietrich argued. He stood up and walked to the right wall, his hand on his mouth. He turned abruptly to face Veronica again. “Who are you? When did you speak to him?”
Veronica took a deep breath. She considered just leaving but something told her he’d grab her arm or something, and she didn’t want to have to physically extricate herself. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to tell the truth.
With a swallow, she dove in. “I’m a medium,” she said. “I speak to the dead. Cooper helped me with something, so I agreed to deliver this message. I don’t want anything from you, so you don’t have to worry I’m a con or something.”
“What?”
Tell him Nancy always said he was a doubting Thomas.
“Cooper says to tell you that Nancy always called you a doubting Thomas.”
Dietrich’s face slackened.
Remember that day we all went to Santa Cruz? He threw in the token.
Veronica grimaced. “He remembers when you went to Santa Cruz? He said ‘all’ so I assume there were several of you. And you ‘threw in the token’? I don’t know what he means.”
“We were kids,” Dietrich breathed. “It was my birthday. I was ten. I—on the merry-go-round you can try to throw a token into this little hole—I made it in.”
“Oh.”
“You couldn’t know that. How could you know that? It happened fifty-eight years ago.”
“He’s here now. He told me to tell you he remembered that.”
There was the dog. He wanted to rescue it. Then the owner showed up at our door. The dog was white with a black spot on its head. He called it Pete like in the Little Rascals. I told him it didn’t look like a Pete, especially since it was female.
“He’s talking about a dog,” Veronica said, and relayed the details. Dietrich sat down in the chair beside her again, his face pale, his hands gripping his knees.
“We were in college,” he said. “The dog belonged to—well, you ask him who.”
His eyes gleamed as if he’d caught her.
Professor Hitchens. He taught history. The worst bore in the school.
“Boring old Professor Hitchens, apparently,” Veronica said.
Dietrich frowned. “Ask him what happened to my fishing pole, the one my father gave me.”
Veronica felt Cooper’s laughter at that. “He’s laughing,” she said.
Tell him he never had any proof I took it, and I’m not going to take the blame now. It was Nancy, just like I always said. He ought to ask her, next time he sees her.
“Who is Nancy?” Veronica asked.
Dietrich’s eyes widened. “My sister.”
“Well, he says it was Nancy who took it, though you always tried to say it was him.”
“Incredible,” Dietrich murmured. He sat back in his chair, slumping. “Incredible.”
Veronica smiled and reached over, patting his hand. “It is,” she agreed. “Well, now that I’ve delivered the message, I should really get on the road.”
Dietrich blinked at her and sat up. “Wait. You can’t just—just go.”
Veronica let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is all very strange and disconcerting. But I have a lot on my plate right now. Cooper just really needed to tell you where to find those papers.”
“There’s a lawsuit and I needed proof…” his voice trailed off. “What did you say the combination of the safe was, again?”
~~~
After clarifying every detail Veronica finally got on the road back to Sacramento at two-fifty. She drove as fast as she dared, but the traffic kept her speed down. In the end she parked outside of Penny Coffee at four-ten.
“Sorry!” she exclaimed as she hurried to the table where Khalilah was sitting with a cup in her hands.
“No problem,” Khalilah replied. “Go and order something and you can tell me what trials and tribulations delayed you when you have something hot to drink. It’s gotten even colder out than the last time we met.”
Veronica had hardly noticed, but she nodded and went to the counter, returning a few minutes later with a mocha. She settled herself and began eating the whipped cream off the top with a spoon.
“You always look like you’re really enjoying yourself when you do that,” Khalilah observed.
Veronica grinned. “It is one of my great pleasures in life.”
“So, do tell. What made you late? Was it something psychic-related?”
Veronica gave a short nod. “Actually, it was.”
Khalilah smiled. “How wonderful. I want to hear all about it.”
Veronica explained about Cooper without going into why she’d gone to Holy Cross Cemetery to begin with. She described the meeting with Dietrich, enjoying Khalilah’s reactions to the story.
“I can’t imagine what he must have been thinking!” Khalilah exclaimed. “I’m sure he thought you were mad. Or perhaps that he was.”
“It was very satisfying when Cooper gave me the answer to the question about the fishing pole.”
“It must have been! I wish I could have seen his face.”
He glanced at Khalilah with a quizzical look, and Veronica set down her cup on the table between her and Khalilah. “Eric, how nice to see you,” she said, imbuing her voice with a subtle note of surprise. “Please, let me introduce you to Khalilah. She’s a French teacher, like me.” Veronica beamed at Khalilah, who sat up and offered Eric her hand. “Khalilah, Eric is a friend of mine from Paris.”
“C’est vrai? Quelle chance. �a fait trop longtemps que je ne me suis pas rendu � Paris. Trop longtemps!” Khalilah exclaimed, saying how it had been too long since the last time she visited Paris.
“Et vous, d’o� venez-vous ? Pas une question indiscr�te, je l’esp�re.” Eric asked Khalilah where she was from, but Veronica frowned as he added a little comment about how he hoped the question wasn’t indiscreet. What did he mean by that?
“Ma patrie est la Tunisie,” Khalilah said, her voice cool.
“Ah, la belle Tunisie,” Eric complimented Tunisia, but one of Khalilah’s eyebrows went up as though she doubted his sincerity.
Veronica collected herself. This wasn’t going as well as she hoped but there was still time to redirect it. “Please, Eric, join us. Did you want to get a coffee?”
Eric gave her his charming grin. “But of course. I will return in just a moment.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Veronica leaned in to Khalilah. “Did he say something offensive?” she asked.
Khalilah shrugged. “No. Perhaps I’m just being a bit sensitive.”
“But what did he mean about his question being indiscreet?”
“Probably nothing at all. But for a moment—well, I just thought maybe he was implying I might not be proud to admit where I’m from.”
Veronica shook her head. “No, he couldn’t have meant that. He said Tunisia was beautiful.”
“He did,” Khalilah agreed with a nod.
“I’m sure he meant it,” Veronica said.
Khalilah nodded again, though her eyebrows were raised. “Yes, I don’t doubt it.”
“But…?”
“But I wonder what he would have said if I had replied ‘Libya’ or ‘Syria,’ perhaps. Or ‘Iraq.’”
Veronica frowned. She wasn’t sure what Khalilah meant, but it was too late to ask her to clarify as Eric was approaching again. He sat in the armchair between Veronica and Khalilah.
“So how do you know each other?” he asked pleasantly.
“We’re both French teachers,” Veronica said, aware it was the second time she had done so. “Also, my friend Melanie’s daughter used to attend the school where Khalilah teaches.”
“Ah, yes, Melanie. How is she? I understand she is expecting a baby?” Eric said.
Veronica nodded, glancing at Khalilah’s face, which was neutral. “Uh, yes. She’s due in February. Just after she has her own birthday, actually.”
“Well, she shall have quite a birthday present this year,” Eric said, taking a sip of his espresso.
“Yeah,” Veronica said with a weak chuckle. She wanted Khalilah and Eric to start talking to each other again. They were supposed to hit it off. After all, Khalilah was as much of a Francophile as Veronica was. And Khalilah was a beautiful, elegant woman—just the sort of woman Eric liked. “Uh, so Eric, have you ever been to Tunisia?”
“Yes, I have,” Eric said. “I have been to Tunisia and Egypt in North Africa. I liked them both very much. They are very different, of course, although many of the things I liked were similar. The climate. The food. The people.” He gave Khalilah a smile.
Khalilah nodded. “Have you been to Tunis?”
“No,” Eric said. “I was in a resort on the beach.”
Khalilah smiled, but it wasn’t a warm expression. “And I imagine you got to see all the best sights in Egypt when you were there.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Eric agreed. He didn’t seem to notice the frosty edge to Khalilah’s tone, but he also wasn’t leaning toward her, or giving her his twinkle-eyed charm. “The pyramids, la Vall�e des Rois, Abu Simbel… that one was my favorite.”
Khalilah nodded. “You didn’t see the Siwa Oasis? Or the Mosque of Ibn Tulun?”
Eric shook his head.
“What a pity,” Khalilah said. “They are such impressive sights.”
Eric shrugged. “I’m sure, but they are not what one thinks of when one thinks of Egypt, n’est pas?”
Khalilah’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t they?”
Eric shrugged and shook his head, a half-smile playing on his face. “Of course not,” he said confidently. “One thinks of the pharaohs and their monuments.”
“No doubt,” Khalilah said, her voice passing from cool to cold.
Gee, this is going well, thought Veronica, who watched the exchange, unable to think of anything to say.
“Veronica, it was very nice to see you,” Khalilah said, standing and collecting her purse and coat. “We really must do it again soon.”
“Uh, yes, we should,” Veronica agreed, startled that Khalilah was leaving.
“Eric, I hope you enjoy your stay in Sacramento,” Khalilah said politely.
“Well, I do, too,” he laughed, “since I live here now.”
Khalilah paused and glanced at Veronica. “I see. Well, I’ll talk to you soon, Veronica.”
Veronica had a feeling that conversation was going to be interesting. She watched Khalilah’s back as she headed for the door.
Eric sighed and stretched like a cat. “A charming woman,” he said with a note of irony.
Veronica turned to him. “I thought you two would hit it off.”
Eric shook his head. “I know her kind. She hasn’t forgiven the French for colonizing Tunisia.”
Veronica sucked in her upper lip and bit it. She was going to have to apologize to Khalilah, she realized. The sooner, the better.
Eric laughed lightly. “Did you hope I would forget Lara when I met your friend, Vero?”
Veronica closed her eyes and pressed a finger to the inside of her nose where it met her eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Ma cherie, you must forgive me. I know that you and Lara are not intimate friends. But you have to admit, Lara is a beautiful woman. And I’m attracted by her malicious side.”
Veronica’s eyebrows arched. “You’re right, Eric. She and I certainly aren’t ‘intimate friends.’ That is, in fact, because of her ‘malicious side,’ if you recall.”
Eric rocked his head to the side with a grimace. “Oh, Vero, you know that ‘malicious’ doesn’t mean something so bad in French. I meant, what is the word… ‘mischief-ous.’”
“Mischievous.”
“Yes, that is it.”
“Eric, Lara is way more than mischievous. She was ready to send me to jail for something I didn’t do, and it’s because of something worse that she did, that I know about. I bet she didn’t tell you that.”
A muscle jumped in Eric’s cheek and he gave Veronica a pained look. “Vero, there are two sides to every story. Perhaps it is best if we leave it there.”
But Veronica was not ready to let it go. “What did she say to you? That it was an honest mistake or something?”
Eric looked away. “Vero, you are a friend from before. I will always remember our adventures in Paris—it is a fond memory, and I am grateful for the welcome you gave me when I came here—”
Veronica’s eyes widened as realization sank in. “Wait a minute. Wait. Are you trying to pretend like you didn’t totally try to get with me when you got here? Like you didn’t take me out, and romance me, and buy me a freaking ten thousand dollar dress?”
Her voice was getting louder with each sentence, but somehow, she couldn’t stop herself.
Eric watched her, his eyebrows raised. He put up a palm in defense. “Vero, please, there is no need to get angry.”
“What did she say to you?” Veronica demanded.
; He sighed. “It is not as much what she say, as what I saw,” he said at last.
Veronica’s eyebrows drew together. “You mean, at the Fourth of July celebration?”
Eric made a moue of displeasure. “Yes. Vero, you behaved quite strangely.”
She opened her mouth, her jaw working. Finally, she said, “And you talked to Felsen about this?”
Eric shrugged and cast his eyes to the side with a little shake of his head. “I did, yes. She said you often do so, and that you try to claim it is because you…”
Veronica’s jaw jutted forward as she braced herself for the end of the statement.
“…you—you say it is because you speak with ghosts.”
A sigh billowed from her chest. Very well. She should have foreseen this. After all, she was psychic. She really should have known this was coming. If only it worked that way, she thought bitterly. But they just never tell me the stuff that might prevent me from embarrassing scenes like this one.
“Felsen likes to make people think she doesn’t believe me,” Veronica contented herself with saying, though without some ghostly insider information to use as proof, she didn’t hope to convince Eric she was the real deal. And of course, the spirits were silent as the grave on this one. “But the fact is, she does. She knows better than most that I’m for real. That’s why she wants to discredit me so badly, actually. Because I saw what she did. I know what kind of person she is.”
Eric was looking at her with that expression. That Veronica-just-grew-a-second-head expression. God, she hated that expression.
She stood and gathered her things, feeling like she was imitating Khalilah from a few moments before. She wondered if Eric would realize he’d made two women flee that afternoon. Probably not.
“Vero, please, sit back down,” he pleaded. “We must not part like this. We are old friends, are we not?”
When she had her coat on and her purse clasped tightly in her hands, she rounded on him. “Not anymore, Eric. You chose to give up our friendship when you chose to listen to her about me. You could have asked me what happened at the Fourth of July. Maybe I could have explained it to you. Instead, you started dating my worst enemy and you let her explain it to you, and you choose to believe her version of who I am.” She narrowed her eyes as she glared at him. “So have fun with Felsen, Eric. You deserve her.”
The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4) Page 16