by Patrice Lyle
Of course, he didn't think that would lead to naturopathic medical school.
Tattoo Tex gave me a tender smile. "Is that how you got interested in being a natural doctor?"
"That experience changed my life," I said as tears stung my eyes. How embarrassing.
But he didn't seem to mind. He handed me a tissue from a box on the nightstand and stared at me. "Your skin looks beautiful. Like it's always been perfect."
His surprise was a normal reaction to my story.
"You should have seen how bad it was," I said. "The only reason my skin isn't scarred is because I used Sparkle O's sensitive skin serum. It contains frankincense, which does wonders for the skin."
"Sounds like you went through an amazing transformation."
"I did, and that's why I'm so passionate about changing the image of health nuts. One small change, going from milk chocolate to dark chocolate, cleared up my skin and changed my life."
"You're on a real mission, doc."
"I've never looked back. Aunt Alfa gave me an incredible gift that day. After my skin healed, I started wearing sparkly makeup and getting blonde highlights because I felt confident enough to stand out. I didn't have to hide in the shadows eating milk chocolate anymore."
He gave me a heart-filled smile. "Self-expression's a powerful thing."
I glanced at the tattoos adorning his sculpted arms and realized how dumb I'd been to despise tattoos. He was only expressing himself the way I was with highlights and make up. I looked at the handsome angles of his face, and our gazes locked. My pulse raced as his eyes glistened with longing. I hoped my eyes reflected the same because this was the most intimate moment I'd ever experienced with a man.
And there weren't even any six-hundred-count cotton sheets involved.
We stared at each other, and our spirits wordlessly intertwined. Tattoo Tex understood me on a deep level. A soul level. And he appreciated who I was and all the sparkliness that went with it. I could barely breathe when he leaned closer and tilted my chin.
His lips danced across mine, and my heart strobed into a dazzle-fest.
Tattoo Tex had ignited an inferno inside me. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
He slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me closer. His hard chest pressed against me, and I thought I'd died and gone to decadent-dark-chocolate-heaven. Our kiss intensified, and I wrapped my arms around him, letting him engulf me. His body heat merged with mine, and he traced his fingers down my arm, sending shivers of desire through every cell of my body.
Holy dark chocolate mousse. I've been seriously missing out in the sexual chemistry department.
We reveled in the delight of holding each other until my cell phone dinged and vibrated violently on the particleboard nightstand. I ignored it, but the darn thing dinged again.
Tattoo Tex edged his face away from mine. "Think you should get that?"
"If you promise we can resume what we're doing."
"Don't worry." He gave me a smile that brightened his eyes. "There's a lot more where this came from."
Oh, wow. I could only imagine what he meant, and hopefully it would be my reality soon.
I picked up the phone, read the message, and laughed. I showed it to Tattoo Tex. It said, Tacky to make out in murder victim's room.
The second message said, I mean it.
And the third message said, Stop frenching in Mystic Ming's room.
Tattoo Tex looked mortified. "I guess he has a point. My grandma would probably tell me it was wrong."
I tossed a hand. "Aunt Alfa wouldn't care." She'd egg me on.
He smoothed my hair and kissed my forehead, his warm lips lingering for several seconds. But the moment was gone. Stupid Mystic Ming.
He broke our embrace and pointed at the red numbers blaring on the alarm clock. "It's almost séance time. Think we should go?"
I was shocked. "Time flies when you're having fun."
A smile crept across his face. "That was the most fun I've had a while, and I hope we do it again. Real soon."
Good enough for me.
He moved in for one more soulful kiss, and my body melted against his. When my cell phone buzzed again, thank goodness he didn't stop.
Instead he whispered into my ear, "Someone needs to shut off that dead psychic's cell service."
I laughed. "I couldn't agree more." I snuggled against him, content to stay there indefinitely until my nose tickled. I wriggled it back and forth, hoping to avoid a sneeze. But no such luck. Aacchoo.
I pulled back. "Sorry." How unsexy was that?
"No worries." He grabbed another tissue and gave it to me. "Here you go, doc."
I dabbed my nose and sneezed again. Must be that blasted patchouli. This time Tattoo Tex handed me the box of tissues. I reached for another tissue, and my fingers brushed against something stiff in the box. I peered in and saw a small piece of paper. I retrieved it.
Holy cocoa beans! It was a check decorated with tiny pizzas and Norman's signature.
"Two hundred dollars?" I said. "What kind of psychic accepts money for a fake reading?"
"A psychic with fake hair and an even faker accent." Tattoo Tex's deadpan expression cracked me up.
I elbowed him. "You noticed too?"
He laughed. "Hard not to notice a tough Jersey accent coming from a little dude with pink hair pretending to be from China and doing a bad job of it."
"You're mighty observant."
He eyed me up and down. "You got that right, ma'am."
I blushed and peered at the date on the check. "Norman postdated it for Monday, which explains why Mystic Ming hadn't cashed it. Now I have proof that Norman bribed him into a fake psychic reading."
"We have to show the detective."
"Absolutely." No way could Fifi deny the significance of this or the weird voodoo doll.
Tattoo Tex handed me the check, and I noticed a smudge in the corner. Oh, no. Had we mishandled the evidence? I retrieved my PI flashcards from my purse and flipped through to one that detailed evidence collection.
Take great care not to taint or alter the evidence in any way. Always secure any evidence collected while wearing gloves.
"Oh, for the love of chocolate schnitzel."
"What's wrong?" Tattoo Tex peered at the flashcard.
"We weren't supposed to touch the evidence." I angled the card toward him.
He crooked his head toward the door. "I've probably got some work gloves in my truck."
"Thanks, but I think it's too late now." I only hoped Fifi wouldn't discount our discovery over a few fingerprints.
I slipped the check, flashcards, and my cell phone into my purse alongside the voodoo doll (that we'd also touched). Then I hung Mystic Ming's purple jacket back in the closet. We walked out of the deceased's room, arm in arm, with the unspoken knowledge that we were going somewhere—aside from a séance, that was—together.
Tattoo Tex pulled open the door to the stairwell. "Think you should look at those last texts?"
My eyebrows catapulted. Aunt Alfa. I'd finally emerged from my Tattoo Tex haze long enough to remember having texted her about Babette's séance. "Could be my auntie."
I grabbed my phone and read the message.
You know I hate séances, Pipe, so count me out. Besides, Merv and me are going to the all night Dolphin Jump Putt Putt.
How could Mervyn putt-putt on a walker? I pounded out a quick text asking just that.
Tattoo Tex read the correspondence over my shoulder, and his cologne made my heart flutter. Sexy.
"I don't reckon he could swing a golf club in his condition."
"Me neither."
Aunt Alfa fired back, No worries, hon. It's all in his head. I've given him oils for mental fatigue. His stability is already getting better. Give Brownie a kiss. XOXO.
Tattoo Tex rubbed his chin. "Natural medicine really works, doesn't it, doc?"
I beamed. "Absolutely. The mind's often a bigger challenge to heal than any physical condition.
" However, it worried me that Mervyn hadn't signed a release for Aunt Alfa's holistic health services. I hoped the poor guy wouldn't encounter any difficulty on the miniature golf course.
And I prayed Aunt Alfa would keep herself out of any further legal trouble.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A Shocking Break in the Case
The hallway outside the exhibit hall was abuzz with activity. Journalists with notepads and media guys hoisting cameras on their shoulders eagerly waited. Spectators flowed into the space, talking excitedly amongst themselves.
Tattoo Tex elbowed me in the side and gestured across the hall. "Look thar. That guy's jacket says National Enquirer."
What? I followed his direction and sure enough a reporter from Aunt Alfa's favorite newspaper hovered nearby. "I didn't realize Mystic Ming was this big of a deal."
The vibration of my cell phone blasted through the sequins on my purse. I rolled my eyes because I knew who it was. To be sure, I opened my purse and retrieved my phone.
Mystic Ming a huge freaking deal in psychic world.
Only he didn't say freaking. He said another word that starts with an f and ends with ing.
I showed Tattoo Tex the message, dropped my phone back into my purse, and laughed. "What a character."
Tattoo Tex adjusted his cowboy hat and eyed my purse like it might eat him. "I'm new to psychic stuff and natural health." His gaze swept across the frenzied commotion surrounding us. "My family refers to all of this as voodoo."
Oh no. Instinct kicked in, and I wagged a finger at him. "Please don't confuse psychic phenomena with what I do. I believe in the possibility of supernatural stuff, but my profession's based in science." I hated to be lumped under the label of voodoo, the way the skeptics loved to do. Didn't do a thing to help my cause of educating people about natural health.
Poor guy must have noticed my annoyance because his cheeks reddened. "Sorry, doc."
"No, I'm sorry." I'd overreacted. "I hate that word. I just get worked—"
But before I could finish my apology, a whistle screeched, and bubbly Babette burst through the double doors leading to the Manatee Conference room. Bedazzled with sequins from head to toe, including a blue-and-purple-feathered headpiece and matching sequined gown, she anchored her hands onto her ample waist.
"Welcome to what promises to be the most incredible séance of all time." Her tone reminded me of a circus commercial. Step up right up, folks, and meet the ghost of Mystic Ming. "Ya'll are in for the night of your life. Tonight we're going to make contact with the spirit of a legendary psychic, Mystic Ming. Without further ado, I invite everyone into the sacred space."
She shoved the doors open, and the crowd of thrill seekers, journalists, and psychics hustled inside. The newly minted PI in me hoped to unearth a few clues, so Tattoo Tex and I followed the throng of people into the room. The overhead lights were dimmed, and the soft glow of flickering candles along the edge of the room lit the space, along with the haze of salt lamps.
"Everyone please find a space to sit on the floor." Babette flung her arms out. "And I'll need six volunteers to join me inside the sacred circle."
Said sacred circle included a round table and chairs, surrounded by river rocks and anchored with the picture of Mystic Ming from the outdoor shrine. The angry notes hadn't been removed.
How crass.
"Hey," Tattoo Tex said as he slid his arm around my waist. "Isn't that Babette's husband? I saw him in her booth earlier today."
I followed his finger toward the man I'd seen outside at the shrine. Stormy Normy was headed our way, carrying a bale of purple fabric.
"Hi, Norm." I stepped in front of him, expertly blocking his escape. "I need to ask you something."
"Sure." He stopped and adjusted the mound of purple velvet. "And you are?"
"Dr. Piper Meadows." I flashed him my most professional ND smile. Didn't want him to know I was trying to solve the killer-kung-pao case. "I'm a naturopathic doctor, and I spoke to your wife, Babette, earlier."
"Oh, yeah." He eyed me warily. "She told me about you. I'm just not into health. I have no interest in going gluten-free and eating kale. I'll never give up dairy either. Or pizza."
"One step at a time."
He gave me a frown that told me he wasn't interested in taking any steps. "What do you need? If you want to know what Babette's going to ask Mystic Ming, the answer is I don't know."
Up close he looked unhealthier than I'd first noticed. Dark circles hung like half moons beneath his eyes—which could be allergy shine, classic sign of food allergies—and a grayish hue colored his face. This guy needs my wellness program, but I have to be a PI first and a naturopathic doctor second.
"I'm not asking about Babette," I said. "I understand you gave Mystic Ming a check to urge your wife to take a pizza cruise?"
He shifted, and his gaze dipped to his feet. "I don't know anything about that."
I glanced at Tattoo Tex. Jock Cowboy's scrunched face showed his surprise about Norman's obvious lie. Had Norman found out about Mystic Ming's plan to keep the money without fulfilling his end of the agreement?
"Mystic Ming stated in his journal about the receipt of a check from you." My tone was all business as I considered waving the check in Norm's face. But I didn't want him to know I'd gone into the deceased's room. "Does Babette know you bribed him to make a false reading?"
"Look, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I didn't give anything to Mystic Ming." A deep cranberry-color appeared on his neck and rose onto his cheeks. He glanced at his wife, and cleared his throat. "I have to go. Babette needs me to shake this out before she starts the séance."
He shot me a dirty look and ambled toward the doorway. It didn't take twenty years of PI experience to know the man was lying. But why? Was he embarrassed I knew about his desire to pig out on pizza at sea?
I turned to Tattoo Tex to ask his opinion and spotted the psychic surgeon. After his argument with the Sparkle O sandals girl in the parking lot, I had a few questions for him too.
I grasped Tattoo Tex's arm. "Follow me."
I made a beeline for the psychic surgeon. He stood at the edge of the room with his gaze fixed on Babette. The look on his face grossed me out, because I'd seen that expression before. Usually from creepy tourist guys wearing shorts and Hawaiian print shirts while strutting along the boardwalk in Sea Spray. Creepy guys whose gaze told me what perverts they were.
Ick.
"Excuse me," I said loudly, interrupting his ogle-fest. "You're Charles, right? The psychic surgeon?"
He turned his beady eyes on me. His black hair was unevenly cut, yet clean and shiny. "You were spying on me in the parking lot."
"No, I was only looking at your friend's shoes." Like he was anything to spy on. "I'm Dr. Piper Meadows, a vendor at the show."
Charles's gaze trailed down toward my feet and back up, lingering on my chest. Weird creepy-guy vibes emanated from him. I shuddered. Gross. Tattoo Tex stiffened and tightened his arm around me.
"She's with me." Tattoo Tex's tone made Charles lift his gaze.
I smiled at the Jock Cowboy's protective nature and was glad for his presence. "I need to ask you something."
"Better make it quick because Babette's about to get started."
No problem, creepo. "I understand you and Mystic Ming grew up together?"
His eyes squinted into snake-like slits. "So?"
"You two had a competitive relationship?"
"Why's that your business?" He shoved a lock of glossy black hair behind his ear.
Tattoo Tex stepped forward. "A lady asks you a question, you answer it."
Charles frowned at Tattoo Tex but stepped back. "Fine." Then he looked at me. "We grew up in the same hood in Jersey and got on each other's nerves sometimes. Okay, a lot of the times. It that a crime?"
No, but murder sure was. I was surprised, however, that he admitted having known Mystic Ming. Another angle was needed.
"What were you arguing about
with that woman in the yellow sundress in the hotel parking lot earlier tonight?"
He stiffened and glared at me. "You were spying on me."
"It was her shoes that caught my eye." I still wish I'd gotten a pair. "But I saw you get into a car with her and drive off. Then I saw her pounding on Babette's door, asking for money."
"Sounds suspicious to me," Tattoo Tex said, "in light of the murder."
"She seemed really upset with you," I added. "What was going on?"
Charles shrugged. "I don't know who she is. Just some woman who needed a ride, so I nicely obliged her. That's all." He slipped his hands into the pockets of his white scrubs, but I didn't buy his cool stance. Not with the hint of panic glittering in his rodent-like eyes.
First Babette didn't recall the mystery woman, and now Charles claimed he didn't know her. Just gave her a ride. Yeah, right. Something was up, but how was I going to find out? I thought back to an interrogation card.
Ask direct questions, but try to misdirect to catch suspect in a lie.
"Where'd you take her?" I asked.
Charles blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You said she needed a ride. So I'm assuming that means you drove her somewhere?" I looked to Tattoo Tex for reinforcement.
He caught on fast. "Good point, doc." Then he turned his don't-mess-with-me gaze toward Charles. "Where'd you take the lady?"
Charles burst out laughing. "Don't know if I'd call her that, but I dropped her off downtown."
What an odd reaction. And his vagueness certainly was convenient. "Do you have any idea why that woman would be asking Babette for money?"
He turned a cold gaze on me and crammed his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. "No. I don't even know Babette."
I was about to ask him about dating Vesta, but Babette cut me off.
"Everyone please be seated for the séance," she commanded. "I have two important announcements to share before we begin."
The room hushed, and Tattoo Tex loosened his arm around me. Most people were sitting cross-legged but a few lay flat on the floor. Charles took the opportunity to skedaddle and found a last seat inside the circle.
Funny that spot wasn't taken.
Babette fanned her arms out like a magician about to perform a complicated act. "My husband's friend works for the Manatee Police Department, and I just found out the expo will go on tomorrow. That's the good news." Her gaze swept the audience as the anticipation built. "The bad news is Mystic Ming's death has been ruled a homicide."