Good Fortunes (A Claire Rollins Mystery Book 1)

by J A Whiting

  Good Fortunes

  A Claire Rollins Mystery Book 1

  J. A. Whiting

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Thank you for reading!

  Books By J. A. Whiting

  About the Author

  Copyright 2016 J.A. Whiting

  Cover copyright 2016 Signifer Book Design

  Formatting by Signifer Book Design

  Proofreading by Donna Rich

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from J. A. Whiting.

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  Created with Vellum

  For all the brave people who stand up to evil

  1

  The summer sun rose over the Atlantic Ocean promising to add another day of high temperature and humidity to the week-long heatwave that held Boston in its grip. Walking down the brick walkways to her job at the small chocolate shop and café at the edge of the North End, Claire Rollins could feel the sweat gathering on her back as she looked out at the boats docked in the harbor. The morning sun sparkled over the bright blue ocean and Claire had a powerful urge to dive into the cool sea for a refreshing swim.

  Nicole, the owner of the store, was already bustling around behind the counter when Claire opened the door and stepped into the lovely air-conditioned coolness of the chocolate shop. The thirty-year-old, petite brunette smiled brightly at her employee. The two young women had hit it off immediately and had become fast friends.

  “Another hot one.” Claire pulled her shoulder-length blond curls up into a high bun, went to wash her hands, and then slipped the navy blue apron over her head and set to work.

  “No way you’re going to be able to run outside today.” Nicole checked the thermostat on the wall to be sure the café would be comfortable when the first customers began to arrive.

  “I know.” Claire groaned. She was training to compete in a mini-triathlon in the fall and the hot summer was interfering with the goals she’d hoped to accomplish. “I’ll be on the treadmill again this evening.”

  “When it’s this hot, I bet you wish you were back on Nantucket.” Nicole chuckled. “And I wish I was there with you, resting on the white sand, floating in the ocean … aahhh.”

  Claire smiled. She’d spent a lot of time on the beautiful island of Nantucket, Massachusetts, but left to make a change and start over after her husband passed away. Claire’s husband had been an important and well-known businessman and they’d split their time between their homes in New York City and Nantucket. After Teddy passed away, Claire sold their houses and decided to move to Boston, a place she’d loved while attending law school in the area over ten years ago. Change was in order, including a different career, but Claire didn’t yet know what that would be, so as an accomplished amateur baker, she answered the ad to work at the chocolate shop until she decided on which path to the future she would place her feet.

  The women chatted as they went through the morning tasks and routines preparing the coffee machines, heating hot water, carrying platters of pastries and chocolates to the glass cases, and placing trays of muffins into the commercial ovens in the back room. The chocolate shop had started out offering chocolate items in every shape and form, cookies, truffles, muffins, slices of cakes, and candies and Nicole still concentrated her business on those items, but she’d recently started carrying different flavors of pastries and candies in order to serve the customers who didn’t care for or had allergies or other issues related to chocolate.

  Nicole’s café had been open for almost two years and it had shining wood floors, cream-colored walls, and a red-brick accent wall on one side. The place had high ceilings and huge glass windows that looked out over the neighborhood’s bustling brick sidewalks, and artwork done by area artists hung on the side walls. The lighting was soft and inviting and encouraged people to gather at the wooden tables to chat, work at laptops, and enjoy refreshments.

  “Are we still on for tonight?” Nicole called from the back work room.

  “You bet. I’m looking forward to not having to cook tonight.” Claire and Nicole planned to have dinner by the waterfront and then meet some friends for a drink at a popular bar in Boston’s Back Bay. A funny sensation that Claire couldn’t name ran though her body when she thought of going out that evening with Nicole. Was it a feeling of worry? Why? Claire pushed the idea of out her head and took a marble cheesecake from the cooler to slice into sections.

  “Those cheesecakes you made came out great.” Nicole nodded at the one Claire was slicing as she walked by carrying a stack of small white plates. Nicole had been teaching Claire some baking techniques and sharing recipes with her and was impressed at the way her new employee and friend was picking up everything so fast and so well. “You’re a natural-born baker.”

  Claire smiled at the compliment. The truth was that Claire had always loved working with her hands to create things. Her mother had taught her to bake, cook, and garden, and to sew and crochet, partially because they were so poor and couldn’t go out to eat or buy new clothes very often, but it was also because Claire’s mom loved being self-sufficient. Claire’s mother even knew some things about car engines and home electrical and plumbing systems and could manage minor and some not-so-minor repairs on her own.

  The shop began to fill with the early morning regular customers and just as the line in front of the counter was growing, a third employee came in and set to work. Some customers got take-out drinks and pastries, but more people than usual chose to sit at the tables and counters to sip their morning coffees and Claire suspected that they wanted to stay inside a little longer to enjoy the cool air.

  After two hours of non-stop customers, a lull descended and the women hurried around cleaning off tables and restocking the cases. Claire carried an iced coffee drink to an older woman who sat at a table in front of the sunny window watching people hurry past clutching briefcases and tourists strolling along holding guidebooks and maps.

  “Here you are.” Claire placed a napkin on the table and set the woman’s beverage down with the ice clinking against the side of the tall glass.

  The fifty-something, dark-haired woman, dressed in a long, colorful sleeveless dress, smiled up at Claire and thanked her.

  Every now and then over the next hour, Claire would catch the woman sitting by the window staring at her and when Claire made eye contact, she would immediately shift her gaze to her laptop screen.

  “Do you know that woman over there?” Claire whisp
ered to Nicole.

  “I’ve never seen her.” Nicole poured iced tea into a take-out cup and snapped on the lid.

  When Claire carried a tray with drinks and slices of cake to one of the tables in the corner, the woman near the windows caught Claire’s eye and requested a piece of cheesecake.

  “Have you lived in Boston long?” the woman asked when Claire returned with the cake.

  “Just over a year.” Claire wiped her fingers on the cloth she’d folded over her apron strap. “But I lived in Cambridge when I went to graduate school a number of years ago.”

  “I live in Cambridge.” The woman smiled. “I often work from home. I have a meeting nearby in an hour so I decided to come into town early. I’ve never tried this café and was intrigued.” After taking another bite of the dessert, the woman looked up with warm eyes. “You made this? It’s delicious. You have a knack.”

  Claire and the woman discussed baking, Boston and Cambridge, the weather, and local news. Nicole walked by and stopped to join in the conversation and ended up telling the woman how she got involved in opening the business, her love of baking and all things chocolate, and how well the café was doing.

  Nicole noticed some cards tucked under a few of the folders that the woman had placed on the table. “Oh, are those Tarot cards?”

  “I dabble in using the cards.” The woman moved a folder to the side and slipped some of the colorful cards out to the middle of her small table.

  Claire’s eyes went wide. “Tarot cards? Can the cards tell the future?”

  An easy smile spread over the woman’s lips. “No. Lots of people think such things about the cards, but they can’t predict the future. The cards are used to help a person connect with his or her higher self. The cards came into existence around the middle of the 1400s and were originally used for playing games. Around the middle of the 1500s, the cards began to be used for divination.”

  “Do you do readings?” Nicole’s brown eyes looked hopeful.

  “I do.” The woman nodded. “Of course, here isn’t the place for a proper reading, but if you’d like to come to my office in Cambridge, I can give you my business card.”

  “I’d love that.” Nicole eagerly took the card and put it in the pocket of her apron.

  The woman looked at Claire, picked up the stack of cards, and shuffled. “I’ll give you a little demonstration.” Spreading them over the table top, she gestured for Claire to pick up some of them. “Choose five and turn them over.”

  Claire didn’t know why, but her heart was pounding and a strong sense of nervousness washed over her. She hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know….”

  “Go ahead.” Nicole nudged her friend. “The cards won’t tell you anything bad.” She glanced at the woman for confirmation. “Will they?”

  The woman smiled. “No need to worry.”

  Claire’s forehead creased as she gingerly reached down to slide five cards from deck.

  “Turn them over.” The woman waited.

  With shaking fingers, Claire slowly turned each of the cards to show the front pictures.

  “Ah.” The woman looked at the card with an image of a tower on it. “You might be searching for an easy solution to a problem you feel you have. What you sense as upheaval in your life can bring about positive change and a chance for a new beginning.”

  Claire’s eyes widened in surprise at the accuracy of what the woman told her. The next card showed a picture of a chariot. “You are worried that things in your life are more frustrating and more of a struggle than you expected. You have the strength to manage this time of movement and change and you will emerge victorious.”

  Nicole smiled and nodded at Claire.

  The woman glanced down to the next card, The Lovers. “You are going through a period of profound loneliness and you are suffering in silence.”

  Claire swallowed hard as her eyes misted over thinking of Teddy and how strongly she felt his loss.

  The woman lifted her eyes to Claire and her face showed an expression of concern. “You have difficult decisions ahead, but you have the courage to handle what comes your way. It may not be easy, but you will discover happiness.”

  Claire knew that she had to make many decisions about her life, but she just wasn’t ready to make any choices right now. She hoped that the woman was right and that her future would hold happiness and purpose.

  Placing her finger on the last card, the woman slid a picture of an angry moon closer to Claire. “You are confused and fearful. Your anxieties will try to hold you back. Do not allow them to do that. You are on the right path. Things will turn out well in the end.”

  The woman glanced at her watch. “Oh, I must be going.” She reached to gather up her cards and when Claire moved to help her, their hands briefly brushed against each other. Claire felt a spark against her skin almost like the shock from static electricity and she instinctively moved her hand back. To cover the surprise of the odd sensation, Claire reached to remove the plate and glass that were on the table.

  “That was great.” With a wide smile, Nicole thanked the woman for the tarot card demonstration. “I’ll email you to set up a time for a reading.” She headed back to the counter to wait on a customer who had just walked in.

  Feeling a strange combination of unease and interest in what the woman had just done, Claire forced a smile. “Thank you. I’ve never seen anyone do something like that.”

  The woman stood up and started for the door of the café, but then stopped, turned around, and spoke in almost a whisper. “You have very strong intuition.” Her face looked serious. “Do not ignore it, that intuition of yours. Be aware. Do what it tells you to do. My name is Tessa Wilcox. Contact me if you ever feel the need.” She hurried out of the door with her colorful dress billowing about her ankles as she walked.

  With the words of advice not to ignore her intuition ringing in her head, Claire looked through the shop window with a hard, cold fist of anxiety gripping her stomach as she watched the woman hurry away down the sidewalk.

  2

  After work, Claire worked out in the gym just a few blocks from her apartment. She ran five miles on the treadmill and then used the stationary bike and rode fifteen miles. Even though the gym had the air conditioning on, Claire was drenched with sweat by the time she finished her workout and headed home for a shower.

  Tucked at the edge of Beacon Hill was a small neighborhood of historic brownstone townhouses known as Adamsburg Square that had cobblestone streets and brick walkways that were lit up in the evenings by old-fashioned streetlamps. Some of the buildings were single-family homes while others had been renovated into two or three condo apartments and whenever one of them came on the market, the place was snatched up immediately. By a stroke of good fortune, Claire was the first to see one of the condo apartments when it became available and she swooped in and signed the lease within twenty minutes of stepping though the door.

  Unlocking the glossy black door with the bronze knocker, Claire entered her apartment and dropped her gym bag on the entryway floor. The hallway led to a large living room with three enormous windows and a sliding glass door that opened to a small garden and an area of grass and shade trees that were enclosed by a high white fence.

  An arched opening on the right of the living room led to a good-sized dining room with sliding glass doors to the garden. Off of the entry hall, there was a beautiful kitchen with granite countertops, high-end cabinetry, and stainless steel appliances. A door in the hall led to a small private basement with a storage area and a laundry room and a door that led out to the side alley. Two bedrooms on the left of the hallway completed the space.

  When Nicole heard where Claire lived and saw the apartment for the first time, her jaw dropped. “How on earth can you afford to live here?”

  Claire told Nicole that she had saved diligently when she’d worked as a lawyer, that Teddy had a good life insurance policy, and that she’d made a nice amount of money on the sale of their Nantucket home. Even t
hough all of that was true, Claire couldn’t be one-hundred percent honest about her financial situation because she was well-aware that if people knew her net worth, she could never be sure if a person liked her for her, or for her money.

  After marrying Teddy, Claire was flung into the social whirl of the super-rich. The expectations and demands of being married to one of the wealthiest men in the country took a toll on her as she tried to navigate the unfamiliar waters of her new life, unsure of who could be trusted, wondering who was a real friend, and having to handle the criticisms and accusations that she was only a conniving gold-digger.

  The scratch of small feet on the wood floor could be heard as two happy-faced Corgis dashed from one of the bedrooms into the living room to greet Claire. Chuckling, she bent to scratch the wiggling dogs behind their ears. “Were you asleep, Bear? How about you, Lady? What if I was a robber? You two are supposed to be guarding the apartment.”

  The dogs let out woofs as they followed Claire into the master bedroom. She changed out of her soaking wet gym clothes, showered, went to the kitchen and ate a snack, and then took an hour nap with the Corgis snuggled next to her on the bed. Before falling asleep, a nagging sense of unease picked at her.

  Choosing a pale blue summer dress, beige sandals, and a blue headband to keep her soft wavy curls off her face, Claire grabbed her wallet and the small canister of pepper spray from the kitchen island drawer. Ever since she was in college, she tried to remember to carry the spray whenever she went out at night or went for a jog alone. Before heading out to meet Nicole for dinner down by the waterfront, Claire checked to be sure that the doggy door was unlocked so Bear and Lady could come and go from the house to the yard as they pleased and then she bent to pat her sweet animals. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the park and you can play with the other dogs for as long as you want.”