The tempting smells of a bakery and a coffee shop wafted through the air. There were souvenir shops, a bookshop, a gift store, and a row of gaily-painted Victorian houses, with swinging wooden signs advertising the names and businesses of the owners. Psychic-mediums, handwriting experts, spiritualist healers, spiritual counselors. Each house was unique. Most had wind chimes, tinkling in the ocean breeze. One had orange trees full of ripe, fragrant fruit. Many had Chinese ornamentation—a pond, a spiritual garden, benches, private sanctuaries.
For a moment, Katherine pretended she and Jack were really a couple. She breathed in the sweet smell of orange blossoms and felt true contentment. She imagined this was what it would feel like if she belonged to Jack, if they were on their honeymoon—starting a new life—exploring the unknown together.
A well-fed gray cat sauntered over and sidled up to Katherine.
Jack grinned. “A kindred spirit?”
“No, just a friendly feline.”
“At least it’s not a black cat,” Jack observed.
“Jack, you’re seriously misinformed. Black magic is not part of spiritualism.”
Jack threw his hands in the air. “Excuse me if I don’t know the rules of witchcraft.”
Katherine punched Jack’s arm and reached down to stroke the cat.
Jack shook his head. “I feel like I’m in Oz. Maybe this cat was Toto in another life. I know one thing, Dorothy, we’re not in Georgia anymore.” As they continued their walk, they watched a white-haired gentleman in an old-fashioned suit and tie greet a client before ushering her into his house for a reading. “And there’s the wizard.”
Katherine sighed.
The cat trailed behind her and Jack glanced back at it, as though debating whether to try shooing it away, before he gave Katherine a quizzical look. “Hey, Miss Pied Piper, you seem to have picked up a follower.”
“Jack, you’re a nut.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
As they passed another cemetery, two giant black ravens perched on a Celtic cross grave marker took flight.
“I think those big-ass crows are following us,” Jack remarked.
“They’re not crows. They’re ravens.”
“Isn’t that a bad omen or something?”
“The raven is a symbol of magic.”
“Black magic,” Jack joked. “Maybe they’re just fat homing pigeons.”
They stopped at the entrance to the Casa Spirito Bookstore and Welcome Center in the scenic town square, and Jack took her hand. It was a casual gesture for him, but his hand felt warm and right in hers.
Overwhelmed with sensory possibilities as they entered the store, she dropped Jack’s hand and ran around the shop touching the crystals, colored stones, and quartzes—pink, white, purple, and green, in all shapes and sizes. Then she browsed through the chakra charts and the books about healing. There were tarot cards, and T-shirts with the messages such as “Lift Your Spirits” and “Don’t Touch My Spirit” emblazoned across the chest in an array of colors. She wanted one of everything.
“If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them,” said a middle-aged sales clerk in a flowered muumuu, her glasses dangling from a gold chain around her neck.
Some style of electronic, mood-lifting music played, hopefully not designed to put someone in a buying trance.
“I feel like I’m on an acid trip,” Jack whispered. “Maybe I’d better check my chakra at the door.”
Katherine elbowed him. “Be quiet. She can hear you.”
“Where are you from?” the woman asked, unruffled.
“You’re a psychic. You should know the answer to that question,” Jack said.
Katherine turned to Jack. “Don’t be an idiot.” Then she looked apologetically at the sales clerk. “My boyfriend thinks he’s being funny.”
Jack grinned. “If she can read my mind, then she knows I’m just kidding. I’m sure she gets that all the time. Actually, we’re here for a reading,” Jack announced. “What’s the procedure?”
Katherine laughed. Jack was going to give himself away with his no-nonsense cop talk about procedures.
The clerk led them up some wooden steps into a separate room, decorated with two comfortable flowered couches and a display of flyers. There were flyers about auras, spirit activities, mini readings, healing services, spiritual teachings, the science of spiritualism, and historic tours. There were announcements about mediumship development, encouraging students to “step into their power,” and lectures on a variety of topics, including the basics of spiritual development and balancing out your energies.
A number of the workshops and seminars looked appealing. She would love to get a chance to learn more about developing some mediumistic skills. Imagine a place where everyone was enlightened. Where she wouldn’t be an object of curiosity. The people who lived in this community were kindred spirits.
Jack picked up a green flyer. “Hey, Kate, I like the sound of this class. “Self-Exploration. Get in touch with your body, emotions, and spirit. Be sure to bring a pillow and a blanket.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I wouldn’t mind getting in touch with your body.”
Katherine shook her head. “You’re acting like a horny sixteen-year-old.”
Jack smiled and reached out to grab Kate, but she maneuvered her way toward a club chair next to a wooden table with a white telephone. Next to the chair was a large white-board with names and phone numbers of certified mediums who were available for readings that day, along with racks of business cards. The names were written in cursive in different handwriting styles and in blue, purple, and hot pink magic marker, obviously by the individual mediums.
The clerk pointed to the names. “We don’t recommend which one you should call,” she explained. “See which name speaks to you. Use your intuition to see if you’re drawn to someone, if you’re in tune with them. Then use the phone on the table by the white-board to call the medium and set up an appointment.”
“How much is this going to cost me?” Jack asked gruffly.
“The readings range from fifty to seventy-five dollars for the standard thirty-five-to-forty-minute session,” reported the clerk. “More if you get a CD. You can go longer.”
“I see you accept credit cards,” Jack noted, reading the sign on the table.
“Yes,” said the clerk, “And all of our mediums are SCSCMA-certified.”
“Did you say Scammers Certified?” Jack repeated, feigning innocence.
Katherine kicked Jack and whispered, “Behave yourself.”
The long-suffering clerk just smiled wearily and walked away as if she were used to non-believers.
“Couldn’t help myself,” said Jack, breaking out in a wide grin.
“These people are serious,” Katherine said. “Please don’t insult them.”
“I hope this Psychic Juliette woman is working today, or we came all this way for nothing.”
“Jack, you are giving off some negative vibes. I wish you would try to be open to the possibilities.”
Jack feigned a wounded look. “I’m an open book.”
Katherine rolled her eyes and looked up at the white-board. There were about ten names listed in various colors of magic marker.
Jack scanned the board and threw up his hands. “Wait. I’m getting a message. One of these names is speaking to me. Bingo, Psychic Juliette. This is our lucky day. All we do is pick up that bat phone over there and make an appointment.” Jack walked over to the wooden table, picked up the receiver and dialed.
Katherine’s heart fluttered. Was she ready to meet Juliette Spencer? The plan had sounded good when she and Jack discussed it on the drive to Florida, but the prospect of finding out she might be adopted and coming face-to-face with a woman who might be her birth mother was unsettling. She leaned into Jack and held her hand over his so she could hear the voice at the other end.
“Is this Psychic Juliette?” Jack asked.
“This is Juliette Spencer.”
“Yes, um
, Psychic Juliette, my fiancée and I would like to get a reading as soon as possible this afternoon. Do you have any openings?”
“How did you hear about me?” the voice asked.
“I saw your ad on the Internet. It um, spoke to me. We were in the area and thought we’d stop by. We’re at the Welcome Center.”
“I have some time now, if you’d like to come for a reading. I’m right on the main street, the fourth house on the right, past the post office. How much time do you need?”
“About an hour. We’re on our way.”
“Fiancée?” Katherine asked.
“Just play along. We can’t just barge in there and ask her about a baby she may or may not have given up for adoption thirty years ago. That would freak her out. We’ll see what we can learn, get to know her a little first.”
Katherine’s stomach was doing flip-flops.
Jack squeezed Kate’s hand as they walked toward the house number listed on the board for Psychic Juliette.
Kate frowned and looked down at their joined hands.
Jack followed her glance. “Look, we need to practice. We’re supposed to be engaged. Make it look real. Play along, like we’re in love.”
Katherine pursed her lips. “You don’t even believe in love.”
“Don’t have to,” Jack said. “We’re undercover. This is just another assignment.”
“Right,” Katherine said, thinking how good it felt to have Jack’s hand in hers. But it was all a pretense on his part. Katherine bit her bottom lip.
“Don’t be nervous,” Jack said. “I’ll do the talking. Just follow my lead and improvise.”
A moment later, Jack’s bravado seemed to have evaporated.
“What exactly do you think will happen in this so-called reading?” Jack asked.
Katherine shook her head. So much for Jack taking the lead. “Well, I picked up this sheet at the Welcome Center that gives suggestions for a good reading.” She reviewed the flyer as they walked toward Psychic Juliette’s house.
“First,” Katherine began, “it says you have to put your mind at ease and relax. It creates a better atmosphere for the reading. Then let the medium proceed at her own pace and in her own way. Don’t expect her to discuss your most pressing problems at once. Let the medium know when she is correct. Don’t try to confuse her. And this one is tailor-made for you, Beauregard. ‘Don’t argue with the medium.’ ”
Jack threw up his hands, letting Katherine’s hand drop. “Me, argue? What other sage advice does that flyer offer?”
“It says some things may make more sense by the end of the reading and that you may not understand the message until after you’ve had a chance to think about it,” Katherine read.
“That sounds vague, like fortune-telling.”
“Mediumship is not fortune-telling,” Katherine corrected. “She’s going to provide guidance. She may or may not make a prediction, but even if she does, you have the power to change future events.”
Jack looked doubtful. “How exactly do you think this thing will work? Do we just start asking her questions?”
Katherine glanced down at the sheet and read as she walked beside Jack. “It says here if you want to ask a question, meditate on it in advance of the meeting. Give the spirit ample time to give an answer. Spirits don’t claim to have answers on the spur of the moment.”
“Do you know how silly that sounds?”
“Maybe to you, Jack. That’s how it works for me. I can’t just predict things at will either. A vision has to come to me. When the forces aren’t there, they’re not there.”
“The forces?” Jack scoffed. “You mean like in Star Wars?”
“Spirits are mysterious,” Katherine stated, refusing to take the bait. “These mediums are supposed to be able to communicate with angels, spirit guides, and the collective consciousness.”
Jack snorted. “Just so you know, I think this whole idea is wacko and that this Juliette person is a fake. I hope you’re not going to believe anything she tells us.”
“I appreciate your offering to drive down here with me,” said Katherine. “I know you don’t think anything positive is going to come of this, but I want you to at least keep an open mind.”
They walked a few blocks—past a health food store, an ice cream shop, an Indian restaurant, the Casa Spirito, Florida, U.S. Post Office, and another row of brightly painted wooden houses with cars parked along the road and American flags at the entrances.
“Patriotic bunch,” Jack noted, as they stopped by an old-fashioned lamp post and the sign and house number they were looking for. “The corner of Psychic Street and Aura Avenue?” Jack read the street sign and snorted. “Really?”
“Stop it, Jack. I’m warning you,” Katherine groused. “I’ve had it up to here with your lame psychic humor. It’s not very funny.”
Jack apologized. “Sorry. I’ll try to behave.” His barely smothered smile communicated that he had no intention of behaving.
Katherine looked up at the two-story Victorian—the largest and nicest house on the block. She smelled fresh paint—cheery yellow and powder blue—and the scent of the roses climbing up the white lattice work on the front and sides of the house.
She noticed the neat boxes of violets, a patch of sunflowers, and the antique woven rockers on the wide, inviting front porch that virtually shouted, “Relax and stay awhile.” Attached to the house was a gift shop called “KARMA,” sporting a green and white sign emblazoned with yellow moon and star designs. The church bells chimed the start of a new hour. Water flowed from a fountain decorated with a bronze statue of a fairy with a wand, in a tiny meditation garden at the side of the house. The scene was something out of a storybook, and it looked somehow familiar.
Jack looked at the house and then at Katherine. “This looks like a gingerbread house, and I feel like we’re Hansel and Gretel about to have a close encounter with the wicked witch.”
Katherine rolled her eyes, but she was too nervous to spar with him.
“Looks like we’re at the right place,” said Jack, stopping to read the sign at the entrance. “Psychic Juliette’s, Certified Medium, Spiritual Counselor and Healer. Readings. Unique Gifts. Walk-Ins Welcome. Her rates are pretty steep. I signed us up for a one-hour session. She’s probably some kind of a quack—an expensive quack.”
“Jack, not all psychics are quacks. At least give her a chance.”
Jack shook his head. “Well, what could it hurt? We’re only out a hundred bucks. Money means nothing to you.”
Katherine scowled. “That’s unfair. If we find a lead about my birth, then it’s worth all the money in the world to me.”
At the entrance to the shop, which displayed some large and beautiful pink, green, and blue quartz stones in the window, Katherine stopped and grabbed Jack’s hand.
“What is it?” Jack asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know. I feel some kind of strong pull.”
“A bad vibe?” Jack wondered, patting the .40-caliber Glock 27 in its leather Galco Miami Classic holster tucked away under his jacket.
“No, actually, it’s not menacing. I have a feeling that things are going to change for me, maybe forever,” Katherine whispered, biting her bottom lip.
“Well, we’ll never know if we don’t go in.” Jack opened the front door, and they entered a tiny reception area, which opened onto a gift store.
Katherine and Jack walked around the shop. She noticed shelves of beautiful stones and small black-and-white labels advertising that they were from China. Farther into the store, Katherine saw a very finely crafted collection of silver and gold handmade jewelry—featuring colorful stones set in rings, bracelets, and necklaces—enclosed in a glass case near the register.
Jack picked up a large white crystal with a pointed edge. “Very New Age,” he pronounced, wielding the crystal like a sword.
Katherine peeked behind a deep blue velvet curtain into a small anteroom with a plush loveseat and some matching chairs
. She motioned Jack over.
She and Jack were about to walk into the room, when they heard a noise behind them.
“I’m out here in the shop,” said a very attractive woman who came out to greet them. Jack had a feeling he’d seen her somewhere before. “You must be…”
When she saw Katherine, she hesitated, staring at her visitor open-mouthed.
Katherine was used to stares. By now she was a household name on TV. It wasn’t unusual for strangers to stop her on the street and point, saying, “You’re Crystal Ball Kate. You’re that psychic on TV.” She’d smile, wouldn’t deny it, but never acknowledged it. She was still uncomfortable in the spotlight.
Jack stepped toward the woman. “I’m Jack Hale, and this is my fiancée Katherine Crystal.” Jack hugged her to his side possessively. “Are you Psychic Juliette?”
“I’m Juliette Spencer. Just call me Juliette. Come in, please,” she said, directing them to the room behind the curtain. She addressed a girl behind the counter. “Jasmine, would you please take over in the shop while I’m in session?” Jasmine nodded. As they followed Juliette, the psychic’s shoe caught on the oval sisal rug, but she kept her balance and pointed to two identical chairs. “Have a seat, please.”
Evidently the psychic was as nervous as they were. Katherine and Jack sat down across from Juliette. “You have a lovely shop,” Katherine said sincerely, offering a bright smile. “Some beautiful things. Do you also live here?”
“Yes, I live upstairs above the shop.”
Katherine clasped her hands in her lap. “We’re new at this. We’re not sure exactly what to do or say. Do you ask us questions? Do we ask you questions? What kind of things can we find out?”
“Well, I do séance circles by appointment, communications with deceased loved ones on the ‘other side,’ private psychic readings, numerology, psychometry, energy and spiritual healing, and regressions.”
“Regressions?” Katherine asked.
“Yes, death is just a transition. We don’t typically condone hypnotism. But I can take you back through your past lives and do a Past Lives Reading.”
“Past lives?” Jack asked skeptically. “You mean like reincarnation?”
Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) Page 11