Foods, Fools and a Dead Psychic by Maria Swan (read a book .TXT) 📗

Jill. There was a brief exchange among the three women, but it was obvious that Brenda didn’t really know either of them. Then Miss Fortune stepped away and called my number.”

“You can actually see her dialing your number?”

“Huh, I didn’t think about that. The tech said they never did find her phone or her bag but they have the list of numbers called from her service provider. They compared them with my phone and the times correspond. Isn’t that weird? She called my number, standing a few feet from Brenda.”

I could hear her munching. I had to admit, that detail gave me goose bumps, and I didn’t even know the poor woman.

“Then a man caught up to Miss Fortune. I could only see the back of his head, but he looked somewhat familiar. Reminded me of that creep, you know, the homeowner where we had the séance?”

“Oh, no. The one who assaulted you? You left your bra in his house. That’s it. He’s the one, right? What’s his name?” Why was I getting all worked up over this? Nothing could change the outcome. Miss Fortune was gone. How sad.

“Bill Smith.” Sadness muffled Kassandra’s voice. “That was the name on his Facebook page. I had the directions to his house on my phone, so I hope that helps. I wish I’d seen his face on the footage, just to be sure. Poor Miss Fortune. I feel so bad about it. The good thing is that both Brenda and I are pretty much in the clear and out of the picture. Oh, talking about being out of the picture. Are you sitting down?”

“Umm, yeah. Why? What else happened?”

“We were getting up from our chairs to leave, the camera was still rolling and you could see Jill’s booth with all the pretty crystals and a few wind chimes when... pay attention... Celine enters the picture.”

“Wait... what? Celine as in Sunny’s daughter? Nooo. Was she with Brenda?”

“No, I told you to pay attention. This is more fun than musical chairs. Brenda had left, Miss Fortune and the man were chatting in the background when Celine appeared. Looked like she had some papers rolled up. Maybe a picture of her aura? I don’t know. She put her purse on the counter to check out a crystal on a chain and she had a little bag sticking out of her purse. I know I’ve seen those cute paper bags before but can’t remember where. I couldn’t help myself, I called out her name. Brenda turned around and recognized Celine, too. She was a lot more surprised than I was.”

I gulped down my Prosecco and declared, “Apparently everyone I know was at the fair, except me.”

“Hey, miss poor me,” Kassandra scolded, “I wasn’t there in person, either. Stop whining.”

That didn’t help my mood but I let it go. “What’s the name of the creep again? Bill Smith? How original. I’m going to look him up online and see what he looks like.”

“Too late,” she said. “I already checked, first thing I did when I got home. His Facebook page is gone. Poof. Oh, there are plenty of Bill Smiths. I bet they are all phony names, as his probably was. But the detectives have all the information I could think of and I’m sure Mr. Zuckerberg will gladly let them search through old files if it helps to catch a murderer. Right?” Now she sounded as snarky as I did.

“Right.” I said, returning the snark. I got off the bed to double-check the locks on all my doors and windows.

SEVEN

DIDN’T KNOW WHEN when Bob Clarke went home. If he went home. I fell asleep watching some boring rerun. The television was still on when I woke up. Or to be precise, when a loud knocking at my door woke me up. The light filtering from the mini blinds provided a sense of safety when I opened the door without even asking who it was. And I was still wearing my sweats from walking Dior the day before. Great.

“Hey, good morning.” Brenda, fully dressed and even sporting a hint of lipstick, handed me a mug of steaming coffee. “And you’re already dressed.” She sounded sincere, not mocking me in the least. “I slept with my clothes on,” I confessed.

“Are you working today?” There we stood, like two polite strangers, exchanging meaningless niceties... so wrong. I shook my head no. “No more open houses until after Christmas. Kay says buyers and sellers have other priorities right now. I tend to agree.”

Brenda kept nodding. The mug felt hot against my fingers, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I could hear Dior barking by the back door. And I was dying to ask about Officer Clarke but a little voice in my head told me not to. I heeded the voice.

Did Brenda sense my edginess? She reached out and patted my arm. A feeling of serenity and acceptance exuded from her touch. I’m ashamed to say my first reaction was, “Oh, she got some last night.” I immediately regretted it and hoped with all my might she couldn’t read my mind.

“Monica, relax. Bob isn’t here.” Ouch. Mind reader? “He’s my friend, not my boyfriend.” Her eyes searched mine; I nodded. Well at this point I couldn’t care if she had sex or if the Energy Therapist was a wizard; something about Aunt Brenda was different, in a major way, in a wonderful way. I followed her back to her house. Her pack of smokes sat at the usual spot, but I couldn’t see any forbidden junk foods. The place smelled of scrambled eggs and bacon, and I had to assume the bacon was real and she’d already cooked it because Dior circled the kitchen with fierce determination. Happy days are here again.

We ate breakfast together. Brenda was ripping ads from the Sunday’s paper insert. “I need a dress, something black, simple, that I can wear to both my work Christmas dinner and a party at Bob’s office.”

“Wow, you have