Murder Go Round

by Carol J. Perry

  I decided that River was my best option. She knew all about the gazing thing, and she was so into the paranormal world that she didn’t even think I was weird at all. I grabbed my phone and texted her.

  Call me. Even better, come over.

  And I waited. More coffee. More peanut butter. By the spoonful. Right out of the jar. I flipped through the pages of the latest issue of W. Outfits I liked, but wouldn’t buy. Outfits I wouldn’t be caught dead in anyway. Gossip about the beautiful people. Cuckoo cycled past two and two-thirty. Maybe Pete was right. She was starting to sound a little bit screechy.

  My phone vibrated. Text from River. She was on her way. O’Ryan and I headed down the two flights of stairs to the back door. I didn’t unlock it right away. We sat together on the bottom step and waited for her knock. I’d learned the hard way not too long ago that it isn’t a good idea to open that door in the middle of the night without knowing for sure who’s standing outside.

  O’Ryan hopped down from the step and put his paws against the door frame, signaling that River was close. Within a few minutes I heard the crunch of tires on the driveway, the click-click of high heels and the long-awaited knock.

  “River?”

  “It’s me.”

  I hurried to admit my friend. O’Ryan erupted in purrs and mews and promptly entwined himself around her ankles. He loves River. She picked him up, cuddling him against a red-satin-clad shoulder. “Hello, gorgeous cat,” she said. “Hi, Lee. What’s going on? I didn’t even stop to change. It’s always something important when you call me late like this. A vision? I brought the cards.”

  “Come on upstairs,” I whispered, being careful not to wake my aunt. “I’ll tell you all about it. Thanks for coming.”

  As soon as the door to my living room closed behind us, River reached into the pocket of the full-skirted dress and pulled out a fat deck of cards. “I know you’ve had a vision. What was it?”

  “I hope you can help me figure out what I saw. Let’s sit in the kitchen.” She followed me down the short hall and sat in one of the Lucite chairs, placing the deck facedown on the glass top of the table.

  “I’ll prepare your cards while you tell me what’s going on,” she said, her expression serious. She removed one card from the deck and handed me the rest. “Here. Shuffle.”

  I took the chair opposite hers and did as she asked, watching as she placed the card she always uses to depict me—the Queen of Wands—faceup in the center of the table. The queen holds a sunflower in her hand, and lions form the arms of her throne. In front of her is a black cat.

  River has read the tarot for me many times. Enough so that I’ve learned the routine, though certainly not often enough for me to understand how it all works. I placed the deck facedown on the table, then, with my left hand, cut them into three piles. River bowed her head. She was silent for a moment and I knew that she was asking that the higher spiritual forces be present with us. She looked up.

  “Okay, Lee. What’s going on?” As she spoke, watching my face, she picked up the first pile of cards, then the second, then the third.

  Where to begin? So much had happened in one short day. I gave a quick rundown of the storage locker episode, and how we’d wound up keeping the carousel horse and the samovar and getting rid of almost everything else. I told her how Pete and I had gone to see Paul Carbone about restoring the horse, and about my glimpse of a dead man on the surface of the samovar, and of the same man alive and driving a Toyota reflected in the mirror in my room.

  “Pete thought a Toyota was following us when we were on the way to Peabody,” I said, “and I’m sure the same car followed Aunt Ibby when we left the auction.”

  River nodded and placed the first card faceup on top of the Queen of Wands. Another card went above the first two, closer to my side of the table. Another, below the first two on River’s side of the table. “Then what?” she asked.

  “Pete called. It was before I saw the second vision. He says there was a 911 call. Someone broke into Paul Carbone’s shop. They did something to my horse—took it apart somehow. And, River, there was a body outside the shop. A man.” I thought about those dead eyes, the narrow ribbon of blood on his throat. “I’m sure it was the man in the visions.”

  She placed two more cards on the table, one to each side of the ones in the center, forming a cross. “Does Pete know? About you seeing DG in the samovar and the mirror?”

  “DG?”

  “Dead guy.”

  “Oh, no. He was in a hurry to get to work and I didn’t know then that the man in the samovar had anything to do with . . . anything. The mirror . . . that happened after Pete’s call about the break-in. I haven’t told anyone except you. And O’Ryan.”

  The cat, hearing his name, jumped up onto the chair to my right, putting his front paws on the edge of the table. River placed four cards in a row sideways, facing the cat. She put the rest of the deck aside.

  “Ten cards,” she said. “That’s enough. Look.” She pointed to one showing a knight on horseback, sword upraised. “Pete’s card. The Knight of Swords. He shows up almost every time I read you.”

  “I remember. That’s one of the few cards I recognize.” The room was quiet except for the ticking of the cuckoo clock. “What’s that one?” I tapped one of the cards facing O’Ryan. “Who’s the person in the funny hat with the bubble floating in front of his face?”

  “Hey, I have to do this in a certain order.” She smiled. “That’s the Page of Pentacles. Why? Does it mean anything to you?”

  “Maybe the bubble.”

  “What about it?”

  “There was a woman at the auction. She was blowing big pink bubbles. Bubble gum, you know? Then I think I saw her again. She was riding a pink motor scooter over by the warehouse where Paul Carbone has his shop. Before the break-in happened.”

  “Big woman? Dyed orange hair?”

  “Right. Do you know her?”

  “Not really. That’s Stasia. She’s kind of a character around town. Claims she’s the lost Grand Duchess Anastasia of Russia.”

  “That’s crazy. She’d be over a hundred years old. Anyway, didn’t they find the body?”

  She shrugged, moving her hands across the table. “So they say.”

  CHAPTER 6

  River looked from me to the cat and back. “You ready for a reading?”

  “I’m ready,” I said. O’Ryan didn’t comment one way or the other. The golden eyes were focused on River, his ears straight up, alert.

  “Okay then.” She reached for the card in the center of the table, the one she’d placed across the Queen of Wands. It was numbered 19, a happy-looking card. A big, round sun was shining on a naked child riding on a horse. “A horse,” I said. “Cool.”

  “Not really. See? The card is reversed. Have you lost anything lately? Something valuable maybe?”

  I shrugged, puzzled. “Nope. I don’t think so. What does it mean?”

  “Maybe the rest of the reading will tell us. Something’s definitely missing though.”

  “There could have been something inside my carousel horse. Pete said it was hollow.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “No kidding? That could be it.” She moved on to the card closest to me. It was marked with X, the Roman numeral 10. An old man was seated in front of a castle, surrounded by pleasant-looking people and a couple of dogs. “The grandfather,” she said. “This is good. It’s all about family and tradition, maybe wealth and property. No worries here.”

  Next came a card showing a sculptor carving in a church. “This card is about a successful artist. Could be your Mr. Carbone. Looks like your horse is going to be okay.” She reached for the card facing her. “Look, Lee. Here’s the Moon card. She turns up in your readings almost as much as Pete does.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Not so much in this position. It’s the card of the psychic, and this time it can mean bad luck for someone you know. And, Lee, you may find that your powers are increasing
. Pay attention to warnings. Promise?” She reached across the table and touched my hand. “Promise?” she said again.

  “Of course.” I tried to smile. “No worries.”

  She smiled too. “Good.” She reached for the card beside mine. “And here’s Pete. The Knight of Swords. Strong. Brave. Clever. Close beside the queen. That’s you.”

  “I know. And look, he’s on horseback too.”

  “Rushing headlong into battle, as usual. You have a good protector there, Lee, warn him to be especially careful around somebody new in town. You’ll see this person too.” She picked up the card, looking at it closely. “Maybe somebody from far away.”

  I don’t always understand River’s readings and sometimes she’s dead wrong. But I do pay attention to her warnings. I promised I’d tell Pete about the new person. With her left hand, River touched the bottom card of the row facing O’Ryan. “Whew. I don’t like the looks of that one,” I said. “She creeps me out.” The card, marked the 8 of Swords, showed a blindfolded woman, bound with ropes, a fence of swords surrounding her.

  River put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. I’d seen her do that on her show. I’d always thought that perhaps it was an affectation . . . a made-for-TV move to impress viewers. She had no need to impress me.

  Maybe the bound woman creeps her out too.

  River’s eyes flew open. “Is anyone you know in prison?”

  I had to laugh. “No, I don’t think so. No jailbird friends at all.”

  “Don’t be too sure. It could happen. If it does, your friend probably isn’t guilty. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I promised. “Could we move on to something more pleasant?”

  Cuckoo announced three-thirty. River looked in the direction of the clock. “Where did that come from? Something new?”

  “Got it this morning at the storage locker sale. Pete doesn’t like it.”

  “Not sure I do either. I’ll check its position, bagua-wise, some other time. You might have to move it.” River is my only feng shui consultant. I reminded myself to tell her about my plan to put the carousel horse in front of the bay window in the living room—if I ever got him back.

  The next card in the sequence was the Page of Pentacles, he of the floating bubble. “Does this one mean the bubblegum lady is important?”

  “I don’t think so. No, it has more to do with money, possessions. You’ll have some important news, probably from somebody in a high position. That’s not Stasia.”

  “That’s good then, isn’t it?”

  “This is all about choices, Lee. Anytime you choose wisely, it’s good.” She touched the card directly in front of O’Ryan. I recognized that one. A happy-looking guy, about to step off a cliff. The Fool. “Speaking of choices . . . a brand-new one is in your future. This is a promise of a happy adventure for you.” She smiled, and reached for the last of the ten cards.

  A yellow-striped paw snaked out and touched the Fool card. Claws out, O’Ryan flipped the card so that the picture faced in the opposite direction. River frowned. “Uh-oh.”

  I frowned too. “‘Uh-oh’ what?”

  “O’Ryan says I’m wrong. That adventure might not be so happy, after all. Someone could make a mistake that could put you in danger.”

  “I like your reading better than his,” I said. I reached across the table and returned the card to its original position. “He’s just a cat. You’re the professional. I’m sticking with the happy-adventure scenario.”

  “Me too,” she said. With her left hand she picked up the last card, holding it so that I could see it clearly—and at the same time keeping it out of reach of meddling paws. It was numbered 21 and showed a dancing girl draped in a narrow scarf. “This card is called The World. Some readers call it the best card in the deck, especially when it turns up as the final card in a spread.” She reached across the table with her right hand and offered a high five. “I’ve never had this one turn up for you before. Be happy. You’ll get your wish.” Her look was questioning. “You thought of a wish before we started the reading, didn’t you?”

  “Not a wish, exactly,” I said. “It was more like a question.”

  Who is that dead guy and what does he have to do with me?

  “That’s okay. You’ll get your answer.” She picked up the cards, stacking them neatly, then leaned back in her chair. O’Ryan returned his attention to the window, where he sprawled out, stretching his full length along the sill. “All in all, things look pretty good for you,” she said. “Just the usual advice about being careful, making good choices, paying attention to warnings. I think the visions will become clearer, giving you the answers you need. Moon Mother will take care of that.” River stood, smoothing her satin skirt and putting the cards into her pocket. “Almost my bedtime,” she said. “Do you feel any better? Did this help at all?”

  “Of course it did,” I said, meaning it. “Thanks so much for coming over here in the middle of the night. You’re such a good friend.”

  “Hey, I was up anyway,” she joked. “You know all about that. You used to work the same hours.”

  I knew exactly what she meant. I’d done a brief stint at WICH-TV, pretending to be a phone-in psychic. That gig hadn’t turned out well. I was glad it was over and pleased that River’s show in the same time slot was such a success.

  “You’re right. But I do appreciate you so much. Come on. I’ll walk you downstairs.” As we passed through the living room, I mentioned my plans for the placement of the horse, presuming that River was right about Paul being able to restore him.

  “Maybe,” she said. “When you get the thing back, we’ll check it out. And we’ll see about the noisy clock at the same time.”

  With O’Ryan leading the way, River and I tiptoed down the two flights of stairs. I unlocked the door, watching my friend from the back doorstep, with the cat at my side, until she’d waved good-bye and climbed into her car. I put all the bolts, chains and locks in place and returned to my apartment. As I entered, the cuckoo announced four o’clock and, simultaneously, my phone chimed.

  “Hello, Pete,” I said. “Is Paul okay? What’s going on?”

  “Paul’s okay,” he said. “We have an ID on the dead man. Guy from out of town. Strange thing about that though. He had your old boyfriend’s business card in his pocket.”

  CHAPTER 7

  My old boyfriend?

  Puzzled, I was silent for a long moment as thoughts of a couple of old flames from Salem High School years flashed through my head. Neil? Ray?

  “Lee? You there?”

  “I’m here. Just confused.”

  “Scott Palmer. That field reporter from WICH-TV. The deceased had Palmer’s card in his wallet.”

  I’d dated Scott a couple of times when I worked at the TV station, but he’d never been in the “boyfriend” category. Far from it. Scott was smart and good-looking, but I’d learned pretty quickly that he was the kind of man who used people. Not my type at all. It didn’t seem necessary to explain all that to Pete.

  “Have you talked to Scott yet?” I asked.

  “No. We’ll check with him in the morning.”

  “Cuckoo says it’s morning already. You’ve had a long night.”

  “You’ve got that right. But I’m wide-awake. You still up for an early breakfast?”

  “Can I go in sweats and no makeup?”

  “Absolutely. That’s one of your best looks. I’m on my way. Be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in the downstairs front hall, on the Winter Street side. Easier than undoing all those locks on the back door,” I said. “Just did that when River left.”

  “River was there tonight?”

  “This morning. After her show. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”

  And you’ll tell me all about my ruined horse and the dead guy in the bushes and what Scott Palmer has to do with anything.

  I wasn’t exactly honest about the no makeup thing. A tiny bit of mascara and some pale pink
lip gloss improved on nature without being too obvious. O’Ryan and I crept down the two flights past Aunt Ibby’s room, me with sneakers in hand, O’Ryan on little cat feet, being careful to walk on the outer edges of the treads. (A trick I learned in college sneaking in after curfew. The edges of an old stairway don’t creak like the centers do.)

  Within minutes, O’Ryan said “mmrup,” put his front paws against the bottom of the long window beside the front door, signaling that Pete’s car had turned the corner onto Winter Street. How does he do it? I don’t know, but he’s always right.

  The unmarked Crown Vic rolled to a quiet stop. Disabling the alarm system, I opened the door, gave the cat a good-bye pat, hooked up the alarm again and hurried to the curb.

  “Good morning,” I said, leaning across the center console for the expected kiss.

  “That’s strange,” he said, looking past me toward the house. No kiss. No “good morning.” Just his cop face. Cop voice too.

  I followed his gaze and saw . . . nothing. “What’s strange? I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s it. Nothing. Where’s all the trash we put out there yesterday? There are barrels and bags in front of almost every house on the street. That means the collection truck hasn’t been here yet.”

  He was right. Somebody had grabbed all that nasty, old junk we’d thrown away. “Why would anyone want it? Anything remotely useful went into the house or to Goodwill. The stuff in those bags was totally worthless.”

  “Somebody doesn’t think it’s worthless,” he said. “Somebody thinks there was something valuable in your storage locker. Maybe they thought it was inside that hollow horse. Maybe even something worth killing over.”

  “The DG?”

  Pete frowned. “DG?”

  “Dead Guy. River made it up.”

  “Looks as though there might be a connection. I’ll run it by the chief.”

  “You said that the man had Scott Palmer’s card. Do you think that Scott’s connected to . . . to whatever this is all about?”