Psychic for Hire Series Box Set

by Hermione Stark

  It seems so sad that the murdered woman Lynesse had lived among such beauty only to have it snatched away. I wonder if she misses her things. If the man who bought her all these things did this to her.

  This thought makes me frown. Where was he when all this was happening? Why was some other man with his fiancée?

  Remi’s body language tells me that she is waiting for me to say something even though she is trying her hardest to give me time. Finally she turns to me with a raised brow.

  I shrug my shoulders, not knowing what to say to her. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “You must have some thoughts,” she says. “Let’s just start with your general impressions of the house.”

  “The guy who lived here was super-rich,” I mutter.

  She doesn’t laugh at me. “Do you think it’s a guy because you read it in the paper or for some other reason?”

  I roll my eyes. “If I hadn’t read it in the paper I would still know.” I gesture at the canvass on the wall.

  “Could be a woman who had a liking for the female form,” says Remi.

  I smile. It feels nice to banter with her like this. It doesn’t feel like she is testing me to see how stupid or not I am.

  “No, they’re his.” I point to some other paintings hung up near the entryway. They depict brightly colored objects and people from Otherworld. The colors are brilliant and jarring, the style almost confrontational. “Those are hers. She was keen on rediscovering her heritage. She was trying to put her stamp on the house and he was pushing back. He didn’t like them. I think it was a point of contention between them.”

  I don’t know how I know this. I feel like it comes from a combination of all of the details I am seeing and the feelings from them all melting together in my mind somehow to tell me I could bet my life that her fiancé is a controlling man who always has to have what he likes the way he likes it.

  “I bet he spends his money as fast as he makes it,” I mutter. “I bet he’s used to getting everything he wants.”

  “Now tell me something only a psychic sees,” she says.

  “It doesn’t work like that. What was the male victim’s name?”

  “Why? Do you sense anything about him?”

  I shake my head.

  But Remi is not one to give up so easily. “Do you think they were having an affair?”

  I think about it, then shake my head. “No. Their body language wasn’t like that in the dream. I’m sure they were just friends.”

  “What’s your theory of the crime?” Remi says. “What do you think the sequence of events was?”

  “I saw a bit in my dream. The killer was watching them through the window.” I point to it.

  Remi looks interested. She goes over to it and places a little sticker there. She makes a note on her notepad.

  I tell her the rest of what I saw. She nods and writes it all down. I don’t feel like I have told her anything she doesn’t already know. I feel like a complete amateur.

  “Who was he then? The dead guy?”

  “Who was she, is the question you should be asking,” says Leo behind me.

  I turn around startled, not having heard him come in. I smile at him, but golden Leo who was always sunny and friendly to me doesn’t smile back.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “You tell us.” He advances towards us. His phone is in his hand. He hands it to Remi, who reads something off the screen.

  She whistles. “I knew Monroe would be good,” she says to Leo. “You gotta admit that was fast.” She gives me a sympathetic look.

  “Well?” Leo says to me. His muscular arms are crossed over his chest.

  “I really don’t know what you mean. She was that actor Jared Everett’s fiancée. Was there something else?”

  “So you’re claiming you never knew Lynesse Jones?” says Leo. “Never met her?”

  I look from him to Remi, trying to figure out what is going on and why they are looking at me like that.

  “Am I a suspect?” I ask in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. When I’m not serving canapes, I’m dishing out fry-ups and washing dirty dishes. How on Earth would I know a woman like Lynesse Jones?”

  Leo thumbs his phone. He holds it out to me, showing me a picture of Lynesse. Just her face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen her in the newspapers. I know what she looks like.”

  “You’ve never seen her with Dr Carrington?”

  That name is a slap in the face. I feel like a ghost from my past has risen from its grave and walloped me.

  I look from Leo to Remi and back again. “With Dr Carrington?” I ask faintly. “My psychiatrist? Are you saying she knew him?”

  Suddenly I get a queasy feeling in my stomach. If she knew him this looks bad for me. Really bad.

  “We can’t tell you that.” Leo takes a firm grip of my upper arm. “You’ll have to come with me now.”

  Chapter 9

  DIANA

  I expected Leo to drive us to Agency Headquarters to face my reckoning, but he has not. He has brought me to the morgue. Because Storm is here.

  Once we are inside, Leo leaves me in a waiting area while he goes into the autopsy room to speak to Storm. I am aware the bodies of both murder victims are currently inside the autopsy rooms and that the coroner will be telling Storm any information of interest.

  Storm has more interesting things to think about before he comes to dole out my punishment. No doubt my interrupting his focus on this case will doubly displease him. He is all about his work. Our last encounter proved that. I had thought he was in Paris. I thought I would have at least a day or two before he found out what I was up to. I pace the waiting room, wondering how bad his reaction will be.

  You could just walk in, suggests the little voice. And if you overhear anything useful then that’s a score for us.

  No, I tell her.

  Leo will be telling Storm that I trespassed on the crime scene. What if, like Leo, he thinks I am connected with the dead woman through Dr Carrington? How can Lynesse have known Dr Carrington? Is he the reason she is dead? There is no connection between me and Lynesse. If I run off now, it will make me look even guiltier.

  Realizing that my agitated pacing is disturbing the two other people sitting quietly in the waiting room, I abruptly stop. One is a fragile looking woman who keeps glancing at me intermittently, and quickly away. She looks distressed. My pacing is clearly upsetting her but she is too polite to say anything. Her tendrils of soft shiny red hair remind me strongly of a succubus from my past who worked for Dr Carrington and betrayed me.

  When the woman sees me looking at her, she offers me a small wavering smile and glances down at her lap. She must be here to see a deceased loved one. It is not her fault that she reminds me so much of someone who hurt me. Feeling guilty for my lack of consideration, I go to sit in a chair and try not to fidget.

  The other occupant of the room is a dazed looking man who is staring into space. He is sitting hunched forwards in his chair, wringing his fingers. He looks familiar. My sudden realization of who he is makes me sit up abruptly in my chair, causing its legs to clatter loudly. The woman shoots me a startled look. She is jumpy as a fawn.

  I murmur an apology to her, but my attention is already back on the man. He is the same man from my dream. The one who had his head bashed in by the murderer. Except it seems he is very much alive.

  If he’s not dead, who is?

  Feeling a bit perturbed by this, I go to sit on a chair not too far from him and clear my throat. The sound makes him look enquiringly at me. He sees me clearly wanting to talk to him, and he seems a little confused at this.

  He points to his chest. “Did you… Did you want me?” he says.

  The quavering uncertainty in his voice breaks my heart a little bit. Gone is the happy carefree man who had enjoyed a drink and much laughter with Lynesse in my dream. Her death has crushed him.

  “Sorry,’ I say quietly, aware the redheaded woman can
hear every word. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m Diana.

  “I’m…” He pauses, grief stricken and unable to focus. He seems uncomfortable with his own grief. He rubs his face. “I’m… Raif.”

  I hesitate, knowing what I am about to say might come off insensitive, or worse downright rude. “Are you a friend of Lynesse Jones?”

  I half expect him to be angry and ask me if I am a journalist. Instead he leans forwards in his chair, looking at me intensely. “Are you with them?” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the autopsy room. “Can you help me?”

  I am relieved. “Yes. I do want to help. Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Can you tell her I have the key?” he says intensely.

  I frown. “Tell who?”

  “They won’t listen to me,” he says. “I’ve tried to tell them I need to speak to her, but they won’t help.”

  I bite my lip. He must not know that Lynesse is dead. He must be hoping that she is still alive.

  “Please,” he says. “I can’t wait long. I got the key for her just like I promised. She mustn’t wait any longer. She has to leave. Will you help her?”

  The desperation in his voice speaks of love, which takes me a little by surprise as I was so sure they were just friends. I nod my head. I can’t help Lynesse the way that he wants, but I can damn well help her by catching the man who murdered her.

  I don’t know how to break it to him that she is dead. I don’t even know if I am allowed to tell him that. Perhaps Storm would want to tell him himself. Particularly if this guy is a witness.

  “Do you know anyone who might have had a reason for hurting her?” I ask him.

  “It’s my fault,” he says his voice cracking. He looks down at his hands distractedly. They are trembling violently. He shakes his head as if in denial. “I should never have bought her here. Who is going to look after her now?” He stands up abruptly, looking towards the doorway as if he has heard someone coming.

  “How is it your fault?” I ask him hastily. I don’t want him to leave before finding out what he knows.

  “I belong to one of the Great Families,” he says. “I’m not allowed to mix my blood. They warned me, but I did it anyway, and now my Zarina is the one who is going to pay for it.”

  I frown. Zarina? I had assumed he was talking about Lynesse. I open my mouth to cajole an explanation but then there is a sharp clacking noise and the redheaded woman gives a cry of dismay. She is at the water dispenser machine and water is sloshing out of the little tap and all over the floor.

  “Goodness me!” she says in dismay. “Oh dear!”

  I go over to see what the problem is, and find that the little plastic valve at the top of the tap has snapped off. Water continues to flow out, forming an ever larger puddle on the floor. The woman fusses, fidgeting with the broken nozzle, trying to stop the water and all the while growing increasingly distressed that her pretty suede kitten heels are getting thoroughly drenched.

  I tell her I can handle it, and then fiddle with the remnants of the plastic valve until I am able to grasp it with my nails and twist it. The water stops flowing. The woman fervently thanks me.

  I turn back towards Raif, and to my dismay I find that his chair is empty. He has slipped out of the room while my back was turned.

  “Damn it!” I murmur, going to the waiting room door to check if he is outside in the corridor.

  He is not there. I walk into the corridor and over to the double doors leading to the autopsy room. Perhaps he went inside to demand for Storm to listen to him. There is a glass panel on each door. I peer inside.

  The autopsy room seems to be mainly made of steel and ceramic tiles. It is a cold clean place. The most disturbing aspect is a gurney with a body on it. Storm and Leo and a woman who must be the coroner are looking at it, all talking.

  I cannot hear what they are saying. I cannot see Raif. He must have left. I sigh. I wish I’d asked for his surname. It is going to be hard to track him down without it.

  Meanwhile, whatever the coroner is telling Storm seems to have his full attention. I am too intrigued to resist pushing at the door slightly with my toe. When it moves without squeaking, I push it open a couple more inches. Just enough to be able to hear the conversation.

  “…succubus,” the coroner is saying. “It appears she was immobilized, possibly with the aid of magical intervention. She was subsequently bound with ligatures before being savaged with what appears on initial inspection to be a sharp instrument with a short chopping blade, possibly a hatchet or small axe. There are shallower cuts in parallel groupings, as if some effort was made to simulate a set of large claws.”

  “Bound with ligatures?” says Storm, frowning.

  The coroner nods. “Here and here.” She points with a gloved hand to the ankles and the wrists.

  “And Dr Silverstone, the male victim?” says Storm, still frowning.

  “No ligatures for him,” says the coroner. “No need. He was attacked first, and from behind. Bashed over the head with a heavy blunt instrument.”

  She wheels a second gurney a few feet closer. The body lying on it comes into my field of vision. The head is turned slightly my way. I recognize him.

  With a cry of shock, I step into the room. The occupants all turn to look at me. Storm comes towards me, clearly intent on escorting me out of the room.

  “Diana, you shouldn’t be here,” he says. He is undeniably jarred by my presence.

  I neatly sidestep him. “That’s Raif!” I cry out, unable to stop myself.

  Storm’s eyebrows draw together. “You knew him?” he says.

  I shake my head. “I saw him in my dream,” I say.

  I can’t believe it. He had just been in the waiting room. Alive. I was just speaking with him. And yet here he is, lying on a gurney, his eyes blankly staring at nothing, his skin tinged with grey. I know if I touched it, he would be cold.

  It was his spirit, his remnant that I’d spoken to, and I’d not suspected a thing. He’d asked me for my help, but he was already dead.

  I only realize I am shaking when Storm places his hands on my shoulders as if to steady me. “Are you alright?” he asks.

  I nod my head even though I feel nauseous. There is a horrible smell in here. It must be coming from Lynesse. One glance at her body shows me the red ruin of her torso. It has been savaged, the cuts deep enough to reach into her internal organs. I look away quickly, gasping for breath to steady my heaving stomach. I cannot barf. I cannot embarrass myself like that.

  “Diana, we should to talk in the waiting room.” Storm has a firm grip on my upper arm now.

  “No. I promised to help Raif.” Pretending that I am perfectly fine, I take a shaky step towards Raif’s body.

  “When?” Storm says. “In your dream?”

  I shake my head. “Out there in the waiting room. He was there. He spoke to me.”

  “He was there?” says the coroner skeptically.

  I nod. “Part of him was still there.”

  The coroner’s eyebrows rise almost into her hairline. “And here I was thinking I had all of him,” she says.

  But Storm seems to have no such doubts. “What did he say to you?” he demands.

  I open my mouth to tell him everything but the little voice inside my head snaps it shut. She gives me the moment I need to think. Storm already has more information than me. If I give him what he has asked for, there is no way I will solve the case before him.

  “Nothing much,” I murmur. “He was… He wasn’t himself, wasn’t making sense. He was already mostly gone.”

  I take another step closer to Raif. It is bad enough to be looking at his dead face, but I can also see the edges of the red gaping wound at the back of his head where his skull has been bashed in.

  I want to look away but I can’t. I had seen that damage happen in my dream, but it had been different. The wound had been blue. The blood had been blue. One particular species of otherkind has blue blood.

&n
bsp; “He was an incubus,” I say almost to myself.

  The coroner consults her clipboard and then shakes her head. “No record of him being an incubus,” she says.

  “He was,” I insist. “I saw it in my dream.” When Storm looks like he is about to demand every detail, I say, “That’s pretty much all I saw. I didn’t see the killer. If I had, I would have told you by now.”

  “Any chance of confirming it?” Storm asks the coroner.

  She shrugs. “It’s difficult. Their blue blood turns red on exposure to air and following death, and this victim has been dead for days.”