Message of Murder Trilogy Complete Collection, page 34
"When I was fourteen, I was hit in the head," I start my spiel, touching the scar on my eyebrow. "I was in a coma for three days. I woke up with the ability to sense things." I pause here, letting the information sink in. "I'm not psychic the way you probably understand the word. I can't see the future or guess lottery numbers." Normally this line draws a nervous chuckle from clients. Victor and Charlene just stare at me. “What I can do is sense the history of items or people when I touch them. I don’t know how it works or why I can do it. Sometimes I can’t sense anything. I don’t control the gift, but I try to use it to help people.”
My explanation is meant to calm clients, but Charlene just grows more nervous. If I told her about the rest of my abilities, she’d really freak out. I don’t tell clients about my cross tattoo and the messages it gives me. Only Grandma Dot and one other person know about that special talent. Only Grandma Dot still cares about me.
“I read all that on your website,” Victor says. “Can we just do this?”
“Uh, sure.” I pull off my left glove and approach the piano. Sensing things takes all my attention and leaves me vulnerable, and I'm always a little nervous. This crowded living room and the odd couple don’t help. “Can you two stand over there while I do this?”
They move across the room as I sit on the piano bench. Sweat trickles down my chest, but the ivory keys are cool under my fingers. I close my eyes and open my mind. "Lord, let me see what I need to see," I pray so quietly the Moonys can't hear.
It takes a few moments for my nerves to settle enough to let the message in.
Passion, intimacy, sweat-slick skin.
I snap my hand off the keys in shock. “Crap on a cracker,” I mutter. “What was that?”
I look to Victor and Charlene in surprise. “What did you see?” Victor asks eagerly.
Charlene seems to shrink.
“I’m not sure,” I say, but the guilty look on Charlene’s face tells me all I need to know. “Let me try again.”
The vision hits instantly.
Lovers in embrace, lust, desire, betrayal.
I slide my hand off the keys slowly this time. I came here to give my clients a lovely history of a treasured piano, not to destroy a marriage.
“You saw them together, didn’t you?” Victor asks.
I nod, keeping my head turned away from the couple.
"I didn't do anything," Charlene tries to defend herself but gives her guilt away. She already knows, she was there.
And Victor suspected. “I paid for those lessons!” This time Victor bellows. “I knew you were sleeping with him. All those lessons and you never got any better at playing.”
I slide from the piano bench, more than ready to leave. “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I told you I can’t control what I see.”
“You’re lying,” Charlene howls. My tattoo sends a sharp sting up my arm.
Duck.
I obey instantly and a ceramic statue zings past my ear and smashes against the front door. “Get out, you freak!” Charlene screams and a plate meets the same fate as the statue.
“You’re the one who cheated,” Victor shouts.
I pull the door open and dash into the cold night. The lovely glassware collection continues to shatter inside the house.
My cell phone is in my hand and Detective Lucas Hartley answers before I even step off the porch.
“You might want to send a unit over to Sycamore St.,” I say by way of greeting. “I just exposed a cheating wife and the husband’s not too happy.”
“Good Lord, Gabby. You sure can cause trouble, can’t you?" Lucas chuckles good-naturedly. As my brother, Dustin's, partner and lately my close friend, Lucas is familiar with my many run-ins.
“I don’t cause the trouble,” I protest. “It just finds me.” Another loud crash carries across the front yard. “You might want to hurry on that patrol car. They’re throwing things and I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”
"Are you okay?" Lucas' always-ready concern for me settles my nerves.
“I’m fine,” I say as I climb into my old Charger and start the engine. “Do I have to wait here or can this just be an anonymous tip?”
“You can leave. I’m only a few blocks away, I’ll just check on them myself.”
“I hate to make you go out in this cold.”
“Happy for something to do. Olivia went back to her mom's last night, so the house feels empty."
“You’re still coming to the party tomorrow night, right?” Just thinking about the party brings a wave of nerves.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
I give Lucas the address to the Moony’s and end the call. I snap my seat belt and pull it tight across my hips and chest. This consultation was a far cry from the kiddy ride I'd hoped for. On the roller coaster my life has become, all I can do is buckle up, hold on, and go along for the ride.
Chapter 2
Gabby
Icy air blasts against the floor-to-ceiling display windows at the front of my new shop, but sunlight pours into the room. The words stenciled on the window leave shadows on the polished but battered wood floor.
MESSAGES in large block letters with Psychic Investigations in smaller letters below and Gabby McAllister below that. Grandma Dot paid to have the windows lettered in shiny gold a few days ago. The bright display of my abilities and my name for anyone in town to see still makes my stomach quake.
With my gloves still on, I sit my coffee on the counter near the front windows and look around the room, making a plan for tonight. The counter, a remnant from when Grandma Dot had a beauty shop here years ago, is the only furniture besides a deep red couch and two yellow chairs that form a sitting area.
Before tonight, I need to get this space ready for a grand opening party. I gulp coffee to calm the nerves rolling in my belly at the thought of a crowd of people with their prying eyes and curious questions.
“Why did I let Grandma talk me into this?” I moan and lay my head on the counter. “I can’t do this.”
The cross tattoo on my left forearm sends the slightest tingle along my skin. “Oh, be quiet,” I tell the tattoo.
A knock intrudes on my private misery. Please don’t be a client already.
A familiar form fills the glass of the front door, and a different kind of tingle shivers through me. I open the door and Detective Lucas Hartley breezes into the room. His smile calms my nerves and he says the three words every woman longs to hear.
“I’ve got donuts.” He sets the bag on the counter where my head lay just a moment ago.
"My hero," I exclaim, digging into the bag for my favorite cream-filled long john.
“Fresh from the bakery on the corner. Figured you’d be here this morning and could use a little encouragement,” Lucas says.
“You figured right,” I say, licking frosting from my upper lip. “I’m not sure I can go through with this whole thing.”
My honesty surprises us both. “But you were excited about the grand opening before.”
I swallow hard to clear my mouth of donut. “I know, it’s just…”
“Now everyone will know about you?” He supplies.
I nod, feeling foolish.
“Everyone already knows, Gabby. At least this way you can control the message.” He chuckles suddenly. “No pun intended.” He points to the huge letters on the display window.
I roll my eyes, “Cute.”
“Seriously, everything’s going to work out. I have a good feeling about it.”
“I don’t.” He focuses his dark eyes on my face.
“Did you…?”
I catch his meaning, "I'm just whining. I didn't have a vision or anything." I fill my mouth with donut to keep from saying more.
“The place looks great, by the way. I love the exposed brick and wood floor. Very like you.”
“Dustin was afraid there’d be crystal balls and beaded curtains with incense burning. You should have heard him going on about it at Thanksgiving. My brother’s such a tool.”
This brings another smile from Lucas. “You’ve been through this with him before. He’ll come around, he always does. He’s coming to your party tonight right?”
I nod. “Dustin and Alexis. Grandma Dot and Mrs. Mott. My friend Haley from my old job. You.”
“No Preston?” he asks, too casually.
I shake my head. “Pretty sure I scared him away. But half the town will be here.” I roll my eyes. “Grandma Dot really got the word out about it. Might as well have put an ad in the paper ‘Come see the freak in person. Tonight at 7:00’.”
“It won’t be that bad. It’s only one night and you’ll probably get a bunch of clients,” he soothes.
“Hopefully better ones than last night. Using me to prove your wife’s a cheater isn’t what I do this for. I want to help people.” I look at Lucas pointedly. “I’m sorry I haven’t started looking for your sister, Crystal, yet. I know it’s not professional to say, but I have no idea where to start. I’m not very good at this investigation thing.”
Lucas touches my gloved hand. “I’m a detective and haven’t found a lead in almost ten years. You’ll find something, I have faith in you.”
“You won’t hate me if I can’t find out what happened to her?”
The heat from his hand penetrates the glove and warms my skin. “I could never hate you,” he says seriously. The moment stretches and the air sizzles between us. This tension’s become familiar in the last weeks. The confusion that follows is familiar as well.
I’ve known Lucas nearly all my life. First as the older brother of my grade school friend, Crystal, later as my brother’s partner and friend on the police force. In the last several weeks, something in our relationship has shifted, indefinable. I pull my hand out from under his and sip my coffee.
I guide the conversation onto safer ground. “The rental company will be here in a bit with the tables and chairs and the caterer’s coming this afternoon.”
With his usual ease, he lets me change the subject. “I need to get to the station, but is there anything I can help with before I go?”
I look around my shop for anything I can't handle alone. "Not really. I'm just going to straighten up, clean the bathrooms, that kind of thing. I think I can handle it."
“There’s not much you can’t handle,” he says. “Guess I’ll leave you to it.” He pats my hand again, and it lingers a moment longer than necessary. “See you tonight.”
The bell on the front door jingles as it closes. The musical notes fade away, leaving a void behind.
“Grandma Dot, this dress only has three-quarter length sleeves,” I exclaim.
Grandma smiles slyly and hands me the dark blue sweater dress. “It’s going to look great with your blue eyes,” she skirts my objection. “I’m not upset about the color,” I point out. “My tattoo’s going to show.”
Grandma raises one shoulder, “So? Let everyone see it.”
“I should have picked out my own dress,” I grumble and pull the soft fabric over my head. We're getting dressed for my party in the apartment above my shop that I use as a break room. I trusted Grandma to pick out my dress, and I have nothing else here to wear.
“Too late now,” Grandma says gaily, obviously proud of herself.
I look at my reflection and have to admit the dress fits perfectly and suits my eyes and dark curls. I tug self-consciously at the sleeve skimming just above my tattoo.
“Stop fidgeting. You look wonderful,” Grandma soothes.
I pull the sleeve again, but the tattoo still shows stark black on my pale skin. “I feel exposed.”
“Not exposed, revealed.” She manages to make the words sound magical as she meets my eyes in the mirror.
“I don’t want to be revealed,” I grumble.
Grandma wraps her wiry arm around my waist the way she’s done a million times before. “I know,” she says simply and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “You look more like your mom every day,” she says wistfully.
“I wish she could be here,” I breathe.
“Me too,” Grandma says sadly. “How did she seem at your last visit?”
“Tired and thin. That prison is slowly killing her. If I could just find Dad.”
“We don’t have time for that now,” Grandma releases my waist and strides across the small apartment to another plastic shopping bag she brought with her.
"I bought you shoes, too." She hands me the bag with a grin.
“No heels, I hope. I don’t want to fall down all night,” I tease.
"Sensible flats for you. But did you check out my shoes?" Grandma shows off her sparkling strap-heels and short skirt. Grandma has two modes of dress. Comfy clothes are for working in her beauty shop or on the farm. When she dresses up, it's over the top with glittering accessories and too much skin showing. I envy her self-confidence.
“You look great, as usual,” I say as I slip my feet into my sensible shoes. Below my flat-clad feet, voices fill the shop.
My belly swims. People, in general, make me nervous and crowds terrify me. My psychic gifts make me extra sensitive to the energy people give off, and I am easily overwhelmed by it. This crowd is in my personal space making it even more intrusive.
And they all came to gawk at me.
My belly clenches and I run to the bathroom, ready to vomit. I lean over the toilet, but nothing comes out.
“Just nerves, Gabriella. You’re going to be fine, I promise.” Grandma says, not unkindly.
I flush the unused toilet out of habit and watch the water swirl away, wishing I could swirl away myself. “I can’t do this.”
Grandma Dot pulls me from the bathroom. “You can do this. Now stand up straight and get your game face on. It’s just a few people interested in what you do. That room down there is filled with friends and people who want to be your friend. Stop acting like you’re headed to the gallows.”
I do as she says, straighten my back and lift my chin.
“You’ve faced down psycho killers,” Grandma goes on. “A room of nice people should be a breeze.”
Should be, but isn’t.
“You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.” I pull at the sleeve of my dress again, then run a finger along my tattoo. My fingertip tingles in response to the touch. The sudden surge calms me more than Grandma’s words.
“Ready?” she asks.
“One more thing.” I slide white dress gloves on. The fabric is thin, but provides some protection to my left hand from unwanted visions.
Grandma looks at the gloves and screws her mouth shut.
"Not negotiable."
Grandma gives me a quick hug and says, “Let’s go meet your new life.”
Chapter 3
Gabby
Slowly lowering myself down the stairs, I'm amazed at the transformation to my shop. The bare brick walls and sparse furnishings have changed into a softly lit wonderland. Strings of white lights drape along the walls, casting a soft glow. Several narrow pub tables with matching stools dot the room. The old counter is now a chic wine bar. A buffet table laden with hors d’oeuvres sits near the door.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I whisper to Grandma Dot as we reach the bottom of the stairs.
She beams with pride, “Mrs. Mott set it up. Her nephew owns a catering business.”
“It’s lovely,” I say in awe.
The packed room teems with people. Some I recognize, many I don’t. I hesitate on the steps, looking for Lucas. He catches my eye from near the wine bar and nods.
My friend, Haley, joins me as I enter the pressing crowd. "What a turnout," she exclaims.
“Why are they all here?” I ask honestly. “Nothing else going on in River Bend tonight?”
“Right now, you’re the hottest thing to ever happen in River Bend,” Haley says. “Enjoy it. You deserve this.”
Lucas appears at my side with a glass of wine.
“Almost as good as donuts.” I take the glass eagerly. Haley taps my toe with hers and raises one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “Oh, yeah. Lucas this is my friend, Haley. We used to work at the catalog center before I got myself fired.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Detective Lucas,” Haley purrs, her already pretty face flushing as Lucas shakes her hand.
“Hey, Haley,” I cut in. “Can you go make sure Grandma Dot has a glass of wine?”
Haley drops Lucas’ hand reluctantly. “Sure thing. Hopefully, we can talk later," she adds with a toss of her long blond hair and a coy smile.
Lucas smirks, seeing through my ploy. “Is that the friend who calls me ‘hot detective?’”
“Of course, you’d remember about that. You're so full of yourself,” I tease. “Haley’s my friend.”
The press of the crowd forces us together and Lucas says near my ear, “Your friend that you just sent away from me.” His breath dances across my ear and the nape of my neck tingles.
“Don’t read too much into it,” I reply, his body mere inches from mine.
The crowd presses around us, but their presence fades to a dull din. Lucas’ eyes cling to mine and I swim in the scent of him.
A hand clasps onto Lucas’ shoulder and the moment shatters. “Hey, Hartley, can I steal you away from my sister for a minute?" Dustin shouts above the noise of the crowd and steers Lucas away.
Although surrounded by people, I feel alone and wish I hadn’t sent Haley away. Tugging at the too-short sleeve of my dress, I wander through the crush towards the bar. This party just started, but I wish it was over already.
In the far corner, Grandma Dot chats with a few ladies I recognize as clients of the beauty shop. I envy her easy manner, sure her belly isn’t dancing with nerves the way mine is.
No one actually stares, but I catch a few side glances in my direction. Like an animal on display, I lean against the front counter and smile at the pretty red-head serving drinks.
“Nice party,” the bartender says kindly. “Are you having a good time?”
“I feel like everyone’s staring at me,” I tell her honestly and take a sip of my wine.
