Better Read Than Dead (11 page)

“This is how it went,” I said, taking a breath to gather my thoughts. “I laid down a couple of cards—”

“Which ones?” Kendal asked, interrupting me.

I sighed impatiently. “The death card, the tower, and judgment.”

Kendal’s eyes got large. “All together?”

“Yep. Bam, bam, bam,” I said, slapping my palm with the back of my other hand. “In a row, one, two, three. So I get that he’s killed someone, and before I can stop myself I’m saying this out loud—”

“You told him what you
saw
?” Kendal asked, his eyes growing even bigger.

“I told you, I couldn’t stop myself, and he says, ‘Yeah, I’ve killed someone,’ like it’s no big deal.”

“He
admitted
it?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Kendal! Will you catch up?” I squealed, not bothering to whisper.

“Sorry, sorry, please continue,” he said.

“So then I looked back at the cards, and it dawns on me that he’s killed more than one person; in fact, he’s killed a
lot
of people, and again before I can stop myself I tell him what I’m getting.” Kendal’s hand abruptly moved to his brow, where lines of sweat were forming, as I continued, “And he admits that too! So next I start telling him that this is a family business, and there’s some kind of feud, and he who lives by the sword dies by the sword. . . .”

“Wait, wait, wait!” he said, holding up his palm in a stopping motion. “How do you know that this guy isn’t just some guest? I mean, maybe he’s just here as a wedding guest, like a friend of the family . . . a
distant
friend of the family?”

“Well,” I said, shaking my head, “I mean I
don’t
know . . . but I
know
. . . you know? He’s related, and this
is
a mob wedding!”

Kendal’s brow furrowed in thought as I waited for him to do something. Exactly what I expected him to do, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted him to do
something
—anything. “Let me ask you this,” he said after some thought. “Would you recognize this man if you saw him across the room?”

“No,” I said, exasperated. “He was wearing a mask.”

“I know, I know, but maybe you’d recall his tuxedo or something.”

“He was wearing a tux with a rose cummerbund.”

Kendal’s face fell. “He was wearing a tux with a rose cummerbund?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, the first person I read tonight was one of the guests, who owns a tailor shop, and he said that he supplied all the tuxes for the bride’s family. Her side are all wearing tuxes with the rose-colored cummerbunds. This guy must be a relation.”

“Mob wedding, Kendal.”

There was a beat as we both looked at each other, then said simultaneously, “We’re outta here!”

Together we ran back down the hallway, and stopped abruptly in front of the double doors. I looked at Kendal and asked in a panic, “Wait! What’s our story? What’s the reason we give for leaving early?”

“I’ll tell the wedding planner that you have some sort of food poisoning or something, and that I have to get you to a doctor right away. You look pale enough to fit that bill anyway. We’ll both go in, and you just do your best to lean on me and look sick, okay?”

“Got it,” I said, taking his arm and leaning on him.

We pushed through the doors together and spotted the wedding planner immediately. Kendal waved his hands frantically to get her attention, and, spotting us she came quickly over. The look on her face was not friendly. “Where have you two been? We’ve got a whole line of people waiting for you!”

“Constance, I’m so sorry; however, my partner here has fallen very ill,” Kendal explained. I groaned convincingly, and let my head bob onto Kendal’s shoulder, playing it up for all I was worth. “I’ve got to get her to a doctor right away!”

The wedding planner backed up a few paces, probably afraid I would spew at any moment. “But what about the guests?” she demanded.

“I know, I know,” Kendal said soothingly. “They’ll be disappointed, but I really must get her to a doctor. Tell the bride that I will mail her a full refund tomorrow, first thing. . . .” At that moment I groaned again, this time more loudly, and grabbed my stomach. The wedding planner backed away a little farther and said, “Fine, Mr. Adams, go then. I’ll explain it to the guests, but be sure to mail that check in.”

“Of course, of course,” Kendal said with a wave of his hand. Sitting me in a nearby chair close to the door, where I continued to bob my head and moan for effect, he dashed behind the curtain, grabbed our belongings and rushed back to me. I got up as quickly as a “sick” person would and leaned on him as we exited.

Once we were safely out of the hallway and back into the foyer we bolted out of the casino and ran to Kendal’s car. Ten yards away he popped the locks, and we jumped in, breathing hard. He started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, adjusting his rearview mirror to see if anyone was following.

Within moments we were back on the highway and blazing a path toward home, both of us continually checking over our shoulders.

“I cannot believe you conned me into doing a mob wedding!” I said moodily.

“Oh, please. Like I knew the family was
family
!” Kendal snapped defensively.

“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do now?” I asked, fear gripping my insides like a vise.

“We could go to the police,” Kendal said, looking confident that he’d found the solution.

“And tell them what? ‘Hi, Mr. Policeman?”’ I said in my Little Bo Peep voice. “Yeah, I’m a psychic and I just read a hit man for the mob. Oh, what’s that you say? What’s he look like? Well, I have no idea; he was masked, you know. . . .’ Great idea, there, Sherlock.”

“Don’t take this out on me!” Kendal snapped. “Just because you had a tough day is no reason to get snippy.”

I crossed my arms and sank low in my seat. Kendal was right—it wasn’t his fault. After a moment I asked again, “Okay, so what do we do?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we go back to my house and talk to Rick? He’s pretty levelheaded. Maybe he’ll have a good idea.”

I nodded and said nothing more until we reached Kendal’s house. We pulled up in the driveway and noticed that all the lights were out and a strange car was parked out front. “He’s not home?” I asked about his partner.

“Hmm. No, his car’s here. Maybe he’s taking a nap. Come on; we’ll wake him up.” We got out of the car and walked up to the house. He fumbled with his keys for a moment in the dark, then unlocked the door, and we stepped inside. The scent of musk oil hit my nostrils something fierce. I also noticed muffled music coming from the bedroom. “Rick?” Kendal called. “Rick, honey?”

Kendal stepped past me as I waited in the living room, switching on a light as he went to find his partner. I heard him call to Rick one more time as he opened the bedroom door; then the muffled sounds of something a little more primal caught my ears, followed quickly by Kendal’s scream.

I rushed forward to Kendal’s aid, certain he was being attacked, when he bolted past me, his hands over his eyes and shrieks coming out of his mouth. Following quickly behind him was a naked and very greasy Rick, slipping on the wood floors chasing after Kendal, trying to talk above the noise. “Kendal! I’m sorry! It was just an experiment, I swear!”

As I stood back and watched the scene unfold I wondered if tonight could get any worse.

“Rick?” came a female voice from the bedroom. “Rick, what’s going on?”

Hmm, apparently it could.

A moment later the owner of the voice appeared when a naked and equally greasy woman came running out of the bedroom past me. “Rick? Who is this guy?”

“How
could
you?!” Kendal screeched in a voice so shrill my mother would have envied it.

“It was just an experiment! A onetime thing, I swear! It doesn’t mean anything! I still love you!” Rick pleaded.

“Hold on here!” the naked woman yelled stepping between the two men and pointing an accusing finger at Rick. “You mean you’re
gay
?”

Oh, boy.
Time for me to leave. As unobtrusively as possible I edged out of the room and through the door. I walked to my car as the argument continued from inside the small house, and without a backward glance I got in and pulled out of the driveway.

As I drove home I felt numb from head to toe. The past two days had been horrible, and I wondered when the pattern was going to break. I felt melancholy and sad, and without realizing it I pointed my car toward Dutch’s house. Suddenly I didn’t want to break up with him. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for being so jealous and petty. I wanted to curl up next to him and hold on for a long, long time. And I figured I could tell him about the mob hit man while I was at it, and he would have the perfect solution. I stepped on the gas and hurried my pace.

When I got to his house, however, the place was completely dark, and Dutch’s car was gone. I parked in the street and walked up his driveway anyway, needing to double-check. I rang his doorbell twice, but no one answered. He must have left early for his assignment. “Crap,” I said, summing up the night.

With a tired sigh I got back into my car and went home. After I let myself in I scooped up Eggy and climbed the stairs two at a time. I got ready for bed, exhausted and spent, deciding to worry about the hit man in the morning. With another heavy sigh I turned out the light and went quickly to sleep.

My alarm went off at seven, but I’d already been up for a couple of hours. I’d had a rough night’s sleep. I kept waking up and picturing a masked man shooting me with a gun, and where the bullet hit me a rose cummerbund appeared to squeeze me until I couldn’t breathe. With a heavy hand I shut off the alarm, but continued to lie there. I didn’t need to be at work until after lunch, because weeks ago I’d anticipated that this morning would involve lounging in bed with Dutch, munching on croissants and coffee, and I’d rearranged several of my appointments to accommodate the expected postcoital breakfast.

As I lay there in a well of self-pity, feeling extremely sorry for the fact that I’d bungled yet another relationship, my phone rang.

I almost let it go to voice mail, but the idea that someone was calling so early made me rethink that decision. Nothing mundane ever happens before nine a.m. “Hello?” I asked tiredly.

“Abby?” came a voice I didn’t recognize.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m really sorry to call you so early, but have you by any chance seen Kendal?”

I shook my head, trying very hard to place the voice, wondering who could be asking me about Kendal. “Uh, no. I’m sorry; who’s this?”

There was an embarrassed laugh, then: “My apologies; this is Rick . . . uh . . . Kendal’s partner. I’m really sorry that you had to witness our little spat last night. I had no idea you guys were coming home so early.”

“Obviously,” I said flatly, annoyed that Rick was trying to butter me up.

“Yeah, well, Kendal and I talked most of the night, and I thought we were going to try to work things out this morning. He slept in the other bedroom, but when I got up this morning to make breakfast he was gone.”

I sat up in bed and scratched my head. “Gone?”

“Yeah. His car’s missing too. I’m not sure if he just went somewhere to cool down, or if he’s taken off somewhere. . . .”

I didn’t know what Rick was fishing for, so I remained silent, waiting him out.

“Anyway, I was just wondering if maybe you could tune in for me and possibly tell me where he’s gone?”

One of my eyebrows lifted as my mouth thinned into a flat line. There was no way in hell I was going to help this guy. The arrogance of the question! Assuming I would betray my friend’s confidence by giving Rick an indication where Kendal had gone was absurd. I remembered the night before, when he had been tutoring me, that I’d mentioned he would be traveling down south, to Florida, but there was no way I was going to tell Rick that. “Sorry, Rick, can’t help you.”

There was a pause, then: “Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t,” I said, my voice hard.

“Okay, sorry to have disturbed you. Good-bye,” he said, then hung up the phone.

I replaced the receiver and went back to staring at the ceiling. My feeling was that Kendal had left town to get some distance from Rick and think about their relationship before committing to working things out. From what I knew of Rick, that was a very wise move. I’d met him a total of three times, including last night’s streak fest, and I’d never really liked him much.

Kendal made a good living, working longer hours than I did. In fact, he’d worked six days a week steadily for years, building up his clientele, traveling long distances to perform at psychic parties, sacrificing sleep, personal time, and much of his social life to build a career.

On the other hand, from what I knew about Rick, he didn’t do much of anything. He’d had stints as a golf caddy, a waiter and a shampoo tech for a hair salon, but mostly he sponged off of Kendal.

Also puzzling was that, compared to Kendal, Rick wasn’t all that much to look at. He was overweight, stocky and going bald. Kendal was a definite “shazam!” so personally I couldn’t understand the attraction. I reminded myself that this was Kendal’s relationship, not mine, so he’d have to figure it out. If he wanted to get away and think about things for a while, then more power to him.

I lay back down and scooted further under my down comforter. My room was freezing now that most of the insulation had been pulled out of the attic. I was just closing my eyes when my phone rang again. Now what?

“Hello?” I asked, letting annoyance creep into my greeting.

“Abby?”

“Milo?” I asked, recognizing the voice and sitting up again.

“Yes. Listen, there’s been a development in the rape case. Can you come down to the station this morning?”

“Sure. Give me half an hour,” I said, already swinging my legs off the bed. The thing I realized I needed most right now was a distraction, and Milo’s case was perfect for that. I also figured I could ask his advice about the hit man I’d read the night before. I’d have to be subtle; I didn’t want him to grill me for details and then force me into some kind of witness protection program or anything.