by Mark Stone
“It’ll be our little secret,” Roman said, chuckling. “Come on. How can you go to the low country without having a low country boil? It’s right there in the name.”
“Fine,” Jessie said, a reluctant smile settling on her face. “I can’t fight that logic.”
“I do consider myself a very logical person,” he said, his grin widening.
“All the lambs think they’re lions,” Jessie said, repeating something her father used to say to her whenever kids were mean to her at school.
“I’m not sure what that means, so I'm deciding to take it as a compliment.”
“I think that’s a smart move,” Jessie said, shaking her head. “I think this is the place.” Jessie pointed to the building ahead, which purported to house a tarot card reader who could ‘see all the things that are troubling you’. It took all Jessie could do not to groan with disgust.
“Madame Roosevelt’s,” Roman said, reading the name on the sign. “You sure this is it?”
“It’s where Delores said,” Jessie replied. “Apparently, Lara’s best friend is a tarot card reader.”
“Who also runs a tanning salon in the back of the shop,” Roman added, reading the bottom of the sign. “That can’t be sanitary.”
“We’ll call the health inspector later,” Jessie said, ringing the doorbell as she stepped onto a welcome mat stamped with a picture of a giant eye. “Until then, we have bigger causes for concern.”
The door flung open quickly and a woman with dark hair and purple eyeshadow stood on the other side. Smacking on gum, she looked to be the age of Lara, even if her stance and the look on her face seemed to belong to a much younger person.
“You don’t have to knock on the door. This is a business,” the woman said, looking at the pair. “Are you here for a reading or for tanning?”
“No offense, but shouldn’t you know that?” Roman asked, his signature cocky slyness coating his words heavily.
“Oh, you’re one of those,” the woman said, sighing and rolling her eyes as she stepped away from the door to allow them to enter.
“One of what?” Roman asked as he followed Jessie inside.
“One of the people who thinks they’re funnier and more charming than they actually are,” the woman said. “One of the people I’m somehow sick of before I’ve even met them.”
“Maybe she really is psychic, after all.” Jessie snorted as they moved into the living room of what Jessie now saw was more of a house than a proper place of business.
“Very funny,” Roman said.
The house was quaint and held the sort of old-fashioned decor that you’d expect to see from someone’s grandmother and not an obviously emo fortune teller. But hey, this woman was obviously very unique. Maybe this was just another facet of that.
“That’s not how the psychic thing works, actually,” the woman said. “At least, not for me. I don’t get visions or feel feelings. I don’t see the dead or get shivers when there are spirits around me. I’m a tarot card reader, plain and simple. You want to know what your life looks like, you want to know what your future holds? Come to me. I’ll lay the cards out and I’ll tell you what they mean.” She shrugged. “Also, a reading gets you half off on a fifteen-minute tanning session. So there’s that. Now, what can I do for you lovebirds?”
“Oh, we’re not lovebirds,” Jessie answered, shaking her head quickly. “We’re not any sort of birds at all.”
“Really?” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes. “I drew the Lovers and the Two of Cups right before you came in. Usually, that represents soulmates. I naturally assumed they were directed at you.”
“Well, they’re not!” Jessie answered loudly. “So you can just direct those somewhere else.”
“Wow, someone needs some chamomile tea. Stat,” the woman muttered.
“You’re Rachel Roosevelt, right?” Jessie asked, pulling her badge from her front pocket. “My name is Jessie St. James. This is Roman Parks. We’re detectives from Sanibel Island, Florida, and we need to speak to you about—”
“Lara,” Rachel said, swallowing hard and sitting on the arm of a nearby floral print couch. “It’s Lara, isn’t it?”
“I thought you said you weren’t that sort of psychic,” Roman said.
“I’m not,” Rachel spat. “Delores called me and told me you were coming. I knew about what happened to Lara. She was my best friend. We didn’t go more than a few hours without talking, so as soon as I didn’t hear from her, I knew something was up.”
“She told Delores she was going to Colorado,” Jessie said, moving closer to the woman. “Did she tell you that as well?”
“No,” Rachel admitted. “I knew she wasn’t going to see Ginger in Colorado. She told me she was headed to Florida, to that Island, whatever you said the name of it was.”
“Sanibel,” Jessie replied. “What did she say she was going to Sanibel Island for?”
“To scout a job opportunity,” Rachel said, scoffing like it was the most ridiculous prospect in the world. “But I knew better. I knew she was lying to me, and I knew why.”
“Lying?” Roman asked, settling beside Jessie.
“There was no job interview,” Rachel said. “She wasn’t interested in that. Delores got her a damn job interview and she almost bit her head off for it. Poor woman. All she was trying to do was help, and Lara screamed at her like she was scolding a child. The worst part was that Delores didn’t even know what a miracle she’d pulled off by getting Lara that interview, a miracle she walked away from. After what Lara did, I’m surprised anyone on the East Coast would ever even consider her. That’s how I knew there was no job in Sanibel. Well, that and the fact that he was there on vacation.” Tears started to pour from Rachel’s eyes. “I’ve never judged her, you know. I’ve never looked at her and tried to make her feel bad for the stuff she’s done. All I ever did was try to talk her out of destroying her entire life, but what could I do? All I have are words. All I can do is beg.” She shook her head. “I guess it wasn’t enough.”
“Stop!” Jessie said, shaking her head and throwing her hands out in front of her. “You’re talking in riddles, and that has to end. If you want justice for your friend, if you ever want to find out what actually happened to her, then you’re going to have to be a lot clearer on what you’re talking about. You’re going to have to tell me what the hell is going on.”
Rachel took a deep breath. Looking from Roman to Jessie, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I think I need some chamomile tea now, because what I’ve got to tell you, it’s a lot.”
14
A few minutes later, Jessie and Roman sat at a table in the kitchen. The tiny white square in the center of the blue tiled room was more like a foldable card table than anything someone could eat or have coffee on. Still, the detectives sat there as Rachel brought them a few cups and a pot of tea.
“Thank you,” Roman said as the woman with the purple eyeshadow poured steaming tea into the cup in front of him. “That smells . . . lovely.”
“It smells like medicine,” the woman shot back. “But it’s supposed to. It’s my own special blend. It’s meant to soothe the nerves and calm the mind.”
Jessie covered the mouth of the cup in front of her with her palm as Rachel moved over to it.
“None for me,” she said. “I find that in this line of business, a calm mind can get you killed.” She looked over to find Roman already gulping his tea down.
Rachel looked at her for a long moment before finally setting the coffee down and taking a seat in the chair across from them.
“Are you worried about being killed, Jessie?” she asked.
“When the possibility presents itself,” Jessie answered. “But that seems like a healthy worry to me.”
“I’m not sure there are any healthy worries,” Rachel said.
“You seemed worried,” Jessie countered. “When you said you knew Lara was making a mistake by going to Florida, that sounded a lot
like a worry.”
“And look where it got me,” Rachel said, running a hand through her dark hair. As she moved it, Jessie noticed a small black star tattoo on the woman’s earlobe. “My best friend is dead, and I’m about to tell her most closely guarded secrets to strangers. I just don’t see why any of it matters.”
Jessie leaned forward. “It matters because the person or people who did this to Lara need to pay for what they’ve done. It’s not safe for people who are capable of heinous evil to be walking free out in the world. What you tell us can help us put them away.”
“But it won’t bring her back, will it?” Rachel asked pointedly.
Jessie paused, honestly taken aback by the question. “Well . . . no, it won’t.”
“Right,” Rachel said. “I know you’re talking to me about helping others and bringing justice to this situation, but to be completely blunt and honest with you, I don't have any loyalty to ‘others’ and I couldn’t give a damn about justice. I want my friend back, and since I can’t have her, I’m really leaning toward not putting her memory through the wringer anymore.”
“You’re not serious,” Roman said, setting his cup down hard. “You’re really going to let the person who murdered your best friend, who shot her in cold blood while she was scared to death, get away because you don't want to gossip about her?” He looked disgusted as he continued. “Remind me not to make any friends like you.”
“That’s not fair,” Rachel said.
“Letting pieces of trash victimize other people because you’re too afraid of what this town might think of your friend isn’t fair, either,” Roman replied.
Jessie moved her hand, letting it rest on Roman’s and squeezing his knuckles to let him know to shut up.
“What happened to Lara wasn’t fair,” Jessie said. “Maybe this isn’t about fair. Maybe it’s not about getting her back or even justice. Maybe this is about giving her some peace.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.
With her free hand, Jessie pulled the necklace from under her shirt. A golden cross fell against her chest as she spoke. “You obviously believe in an afterlife. So do I. I’m guessing they’re not exactly the same, but I’m sure that in both of them, Lara can see what we’re doing. I saw what she went through before she died. I was the last person to see her alive, and I heard the pain and the fear in her voice. But those things weren’t what struck me. Do you know what came through in her voice more than anything else before she died, Rachel?”
Rachel took a few short, shallow breaths, as thought preparing to hear this answer was causing her real, physical pain. “What?” she finally asked.
“It was powerlessness,” Jessie said. “Your best friend had no control over the situation she’d found herself in and she knew it. She was resigned, not because she wanted to die but because she knew she was powerless to stop it. I think, wherever she is, she deserves to get some of that power back. I think she deserves to see the people who did this to her pay for their crimes. I think it’s only fitting.”
Rachel nodded. “You might be right,” she said. “I guess we’ll see.”
“See?” Jessie asked. “See how?”
“The only way I see anything,” Rachel said, pulling a deck of cards from her pocket. “With these.”
“Tarot cards?” Roman asked. “You’re going to decide whether or not to tell us facts prudent to an open murder investigation based on what cards you randomly pull from a deck?” He sat back in his chair. “I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure you can be arrested for that.”
“They’re only random if you don’t believe,” Rachel said, shuffling the cards like a blackjack dealer in the casino of a cruise ship.
“And what if you do believe?” Jessie asked. “What are they then?”
A smile crept across Rachel’s face. “Why, Jessie St. James, that makes them destined.”
Jessie leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “Then, by all means, let’s do this.”
“You’re not serious,” Roman argued. “You don’t actually believe in this stuff.”
“What I believe in doesn’t matter,” Jessie replied, never taking her eyes off Rachel. “We need the info, and this is the only way she’s giving it to us.”
“Yeah, if the cards fall the right way,” Roman said.
“I guess we’ll see,” Jessie muttered. “Never let it be said that the Sanibel Island Police Department runs from destiny.” She nodded at Rachel. “Now deal the damn cards.”
Rachel glared at the pair of them, taking a deep breath and letting her body settle into a looser form. She closed her eyes as she ran her fingertips over the cards, biting her lower lip as though she was concentrating on something no one else could see.
She did this for at least thirty seconds before Roman spoke up.
“Seriously?” he asked, looking over at Jessie with arched eyebrows and a pained look on his face.
“You have to respect the energy,” Rachel said, her eyes still closed, her fingers still moving lightly over the top card. “Otherwise, you’ll sully the reading.”
“God forbid we sully the reading,” Roman muttered. “How else will our heads get filled with nonsense?”
Rachel’s eyes opened, cutting over to Jessie. “Whatever they pay you, it’s not enough.”
“Tell me about it,” Jessie said.
Nodding, Rachel flipped the first card over and laid it flat on the table. It didn’t look like much to Jessie—a dark card with gold etching shaped in the form of little pictures. The woman couldn’t believe that there was anyone in the world who would put enough stock in this little card to actually pay someone good, hard-earned money to do this for them. She certainly couldn’t believe that there were enough people to make an establishment like Rachel’s a success. Of course, maybe that came from the tanning.
“It’s the Moon card,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “And it’s inverted.”
“Inverted?” Jessie asked.
“Reversed,” Rachel said. “It means that the original intention of the card is flipped.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Jessie asked.
“Or a fake thing?” Roman added, smiling widely.
Rachel glared at him as she continued. “Depends on the card,” she said. “In this case, it’s not great. Normally, the Moon card stands for intuition and illusions. It’s the idea of peace and good dreams.”
“And inverted, it means the opposite, I assume?” Jessie asked.
“Misdirection and confusion,” Rachel said. “It means that, at least in the direct future, the two of you are very likely going to be thrust into things that aren’t as they seem.”
“Well, isn’t that just what you want to hear at the start of an investigation,” Roman muttered.
“I don’t choose the cards. I simply draw and explain them,” Rachel replied, pulling another card from the deck and laying it beside the Moon card. It had a golden lighthouse etched across it. “The Tower,” Rachel said. “It means broken pride and upheaval. That makes a lot of sense.”
“Does it?” Jessie asked.
Without answering, Rachel pulled a third card from the deck and laid it down.
“Look at that,” the woman said, tracing the two figures on the card with her finger. “It’s the Lovers again. This time, it’s inverted.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Roman asked, his tone noticeably less jolly.
“It means be careful,” Rachel said. “Otherwise, this journey will tear the two of you apart.”
Without another word, Roman looked over at Jessie. For her part, her gaze stayed plastered on Rachel.
“We’re not the Lovers,” Jessie answered. “And I’m getting tired of this. I let you do what you needed to. Now, what do you say?”
“I don’t say anything,” she said, pulling another card from the deck and looking at it without showing it to the others. Her eyes went wide and her face dropped.
“What is it?
What the hell are you looking at?” Jessie said, her jaw tightening.
“This energy is turning. It’s dark. It’s all too dark.” She put the cards back into the deck and picked them up quickly. “I need to fix it. I need to cleanse this area.”
She jumped up and Jessie followed suit. “You’re not cleansing anything until you tell us what you know.”
“What I know won't help you like this, not with this dark energy surrounding everything,” Rachel replied.
“That’s enough!” Jessie shouted. “I have played along with this garbage for long enough! Now, you are going to tell me what you know about Lara!”
“Or what?” Rachel asked. “You don’t know that I know anything.”
“You said you knew her deepest secrets,” Jessie reminded her.
“For all you know, that could be the fact that she hates eggplant,” Rachel answered.
“No one hates eggplant,” Roman added, standing himself.
“Look, the point is that this might be garbage to you, but it’s important to me. More than that, it was important to Lara. I believe she’s contacting me through these cards, and because of that, I believe she wants this energy cleansed. If you don’t believe that, fine, but you don’t have the right to stop me from doing it.” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise. You just have to let me do this first.”
“How long is it going to take?” Jessie asked, folding her arms over her chest. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this, but Rachel had a point. She had no idea what information the woman might give her about Lara. If she wanted it to be true and worth something, the best chance she had was going along with this.
“A couple of hours if I’m quick,” she said. “I can meet you for dinner if you want. I’ll tell you everything there. Have you guys ever heard of a place called The Shell House?”
“You know,” Roman said, grinning, “there might be something to this whole ‘psychic’ thing, after all.”
15
Roman and Jessie walked into The Shell House and felt right at home. Back on Sanibel Island, fresh catch was all anybody cared about. In fact, until she moved up to Chicago, Jessie couldn’t ever remember eating seafood that had been out of the water for more than a few hours. There was something different about it. You could taste the authenticity. You could feel the history of this creature right in front of you. You felt a connection to the world, to the water, to yourself. It had always meant something to Jessie, even when she wasn’t around it. And diving back into that feeling now made her feel grounded for the first time in days.