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

back and forth from the front door to the desk, and then I got it. Celine was a no show. Poor Sunny, trying to keep the charade going until her daughter arrived.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you would mind taking Kassandra’s place for about fifteen minutes, while...”

“Yes... sure, absolutely,” I said in a gentle tone. Couldn’t wait to get the hell away from that crowded group. Just then the door cop dropped a folder on my old desk too close to the edge and it slid right off, landing on the floor. A few large black and white photos fell out. Both Kassandra and I bent to help pick them up.

The strangest thing happened. We accidentally picked up the same photo, “Shit, that’s him,” Kassandra cried out.

“Oh, I know him,” I said. “That’s the guy who chased me the other day.” We were both looking at the same face: the face of J.S.’s dad.

After that there was no way Sunny was going to send me to mind the front desk. The three detectives were more excited than three blind mice sitting on top of a wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano. Of course I had to tell the whole story about my borrowing Kassandra’s Kia and my not so good driving habits. Well, that didn’t go over well with Kassandra, who wanted to know why I didn’t tell her. Duh! Seems pretty self-explanatory judging by the way she looked at me. I could swear at some point she foamed a little at the mouth.

It quickly became apparent that the man in the photo followed the Kia, not the driver; he was trying to find Kassandra.

“I may have saved your life,” I proclaimed. All I got was an eye roll. What an ingrate friend. So J.S.’s dad was the perp who hosted the séance, attacked Kassandra, and probably stole the money collected to pay for the psychic. At that point I related how the man was trying to steal from the R.E. Assist’s van and his daughter caught him.

“Do you know where this J.S. lives?” Detective Eve asked me.

“No idea, but she works for R.E Assist as a photographer, and a very good one at that.”

Sunny moved her hand by her lips to tell me to zip it. My mouth, she meant. So I did.

Meanwhile, Detective Adam was already on the phone with R.E. Assist, but got a recording. He didn’t look too happy. That’s when, in spite of Sunny’s warning. I shouted, “By George, I think I’ve got it.”

When all heads turned my way I explained, “My Fair Lady... the scene...”

If looks could kill, I would have died a quick and lasting death thanks to the five pair of eyes.

“Sorry.” I toned it down a notch. “I like old movies. But I meant, Kassandra said the man from the séance went by Bill Smith? Well J.S.’s last name is Smith, so you see, she may well have been telling the truth.”

More eye rolls and heads shaking. No one took me seriously, too concerned about Kassandra.

Detective Adam furrowed his brow and said, “It’s obvious the man is after you, so you must know something. We need to have someone keep you safe 24/7.”

Detectives Adam and Eve exchanged glances. Then Eve said, “We’ll follow you home. Park in your usual spot and we’ll have surveillance set up.”

“Does she get to pick?” I asked.

“Pick? Pick what Miss Baker?” Detective Eve mocked me.

“Not what, whom? The officer spending time with her I mean.”

“Oh, brother,” Kassandra puffed and turned her back on me. How rude.

“No, Miss Baker the surveillance is done from an unmarked car.”

Apparently no one was concerned about my well being, because everyone was busy talking a mile a minute to Kassandra and Sunny. Why Sunny? She didn’t even go to the fair. Well, neither did I. After a bit, I picked up my stuff, sneaked out of the office and headed home.

SEVENTEEN

BITE THE BULLET, Monica, bite the bullet. I had been sitting in my parked car, watching the entrance to the Walgreen’s closest to my house for the last fifteen minutes. Waiting for my Catholic upbringing to give me a break so I could buy the pregnancy test kit and find out just how much trouble I was in. How hard could it be? Go in, grab the kit from the shelf, go to the cashier, pay cash, and voilà. Untraceable. Untraceable? Seriously, I was losing it. Like buying a pregnancy test was illegal or something. I was well over twenty-one, in case there was an age restriction. I could always say it was for a friend. Who’s going to ask? Besides, if I kept sitting there and staring at the entrance someone was bound to assume I was casing the joint. Oh, to steal a pregnancy test kit? Sheeesh.

I got out of the car and walked to the drug store with the same ease as Sean Penn’s last stroll in the movie Dead Man Walking. I could use Susan Sarandon’s words of encouragement.

A side glance to the cashier’s counter – an unknown older woman. Perfect. I kept on moving trying to read the signs describing the products on the aisles. Ah, there it was. Feminine products. Few people in the store. A man in the greeting cards aisle; a young woman looking at garden products. I quickened my pace, turned to Aisle 5... and bumped into the forever over-perfumed widow from across the street. NO!

“Oh, hi Monica, I think I’m confused. I’m looking for shampoo. This one.” She flashed a discount coupon under my nose.

“Aw, shucks. Can you believe it? So am I, but I forgot my coupon. Anyway, I think it’s on the next aisle, under Hair Products. Well, better run home and get my coupon. See you.”

And like the coward I am, I rushed past the distracted cashier, back to my car and home.

My mood improved when I realized Brenda was home alone. I didn’t take the time to run by my place to change, I let myself in through the