The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (best ereader for comics .txt) 📗

“Linda isn’t unreliable. She’s just picky about when she runs.” Tessa batted her eyes and blinked slowly in an attempt to look innocent when her mother shot her a scornful look.

“You need to do better if you want to keep this job.” Cheryl leaned forward, her expression suddenly probing with a hint of something else. Insecurity? “Do you want to keep this job?”

There it was.

Tessa thought of Ellen and her husband, reuniting in the next life. She thought of Chet, needing some time to make sure his son knew he was sorry for his less than stellar parenting before he moved on. And finally of Mark Sanborn, who would have the gift of spending the rest of his life knowing he’d meant something to his dad.

“I do,” she said firmly. Tessa knew it was true. She did want to be a reaper.

Maybe she could even come to terms with what her dad had done for her—and with the hand her mother and the agency had in it.

Cheryl’s face returned to its usual cool smoothness. “Fine. Then I suggest you start focusing on ways to improve your performance. You can start by giving up on the detective routine. That isn’t what we do here.”

“I’m not—"

“Your missing soul is safely across the veil now, so you can move on. Even this new guy—if it’s connected—he’s no concern of yours. Leave the murder mystery to the real detectives. The ones who get paid to solve it.”

She focused on her computer screen, clearly dismissing her daughter.

Tessa started to head to her micro-office, but her mother’s use of the word detective rang in her ears. She wasn’t a detective, and she didn’t get paid to be one, but the idea that a killer was loose in the community, still killing, was unsettling. Not only that, but Tessa also couldn’t help but wonder if she may be next on the killer’s hit list. After all, Maddox and Horner had come to her apartment. She wondered what her mother would think if she knew the whole story. But she was smarter than to tell her.

“You’re right, Mom,” she said when she was out the door. But she was thinking the opposite. Maybe she should act like a detective.

But what should her next step be? She spun around and made for her car instead, wracking her brain as she went. What next?

She knew Chet was a gambler. Not a great one, but he managed to get it right sometimes, like when he won the blackjack tournament. Except that had earned him suspicion of being a cheater.

Tessa got in the car and sat drumming her fingers on the wheel. Would Melinda have suspected any tournament winner of cheating? Probably not. Chet must have had a history of acting less than a hundred percent honestly.

Of course, Mark Sanborn already knew that about his father.

Tessa’s brow furrowed. Why had Chet stolen the valuable baseball card from his son and then returned it? He’d told Tessa he never intended for Mark to find out the card was gone—which meant he’d needed the money for something but fully expected to be able to buy the card back in short order.

Maybe Chet had needed it for entry money for the tournament? Who could turn a baseball card into cash?

Outside almost every casino in the world sits a pawn shop. Mist River’s was no different. She’d seen a pawn shop as she stared out the Silverado’s window while Silas drove her to the casino. That would seem like an obvious choice of places for Chet to sell the baseball card.

She pulled out of the spot and pointed the car that way. When she got there, she frowned. The place was pretty run-down, with all the requisite neon signs in the big front windows declaring there to be jewelry, video games, sports paraphernalia, gold, and silver handled in the establishment. But the window itself didn’t look like it had been cleaned in months.

Tessa took a deep breath before getting out of Linda to head into the shop. The bells over the door jangled, and an elderly man looked up from where he sat behind a long glass display case. He was perched on a stool, thumbing through a magazine that Tessa knew wasn’t for the articles.

“What can I do you for?” His voice was higher than she’d expected.

“Hi,” Tessa said, her voice sounding a little higher too. “I’m wondering if you can tell me anything about a specific transaction.”

She approached the desk and peered inside. It was filled with engagement rings, watches, cuff links, and fancy coins. There were even some small metal statues and old-fashioned small appliances. Tessa spotted an open binder with baseball cards inserted in laminated sheets. “It was a Hank Aaron rookie card. Probably came in a week or two ago.”

The man nodded, wispy gray hair floating around his face. “Yes, yes. I remember it. A man came in and pawned that card. Then he came back a few days later and paid me the money back.” His face scrunched. “It was an odd thing, that. Another man came in a few days later with what looked like the same card. He said he bought it off another guy. But it was a fake.”

Tessa’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? How could you tell?”

He shrugged but puffed up self-importantly. “I’ve been doing this for a while, young lady. The ink on the second card wasn’t right. Some of it even came off on my fingers.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. It was quite obvious to me, but I had to prove it to the second man. He made me pull up a website on his newfangled phone and show him what it was supposed to look like.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve never seen someone so angry before. Why, he swore up a blue streak, and I had to ask him to leave.”

“What did this second guy look like?”

He pursed his lips as though thinking hard. “Well, let’s see. He had on