Corpse in the Crystal Ball (2 page)

“Oh, yeah, I heard about him. Honey brown hair, hazel eyes, and a body that was made to wear a uniform.”

“All that and he’s sweet, too. You don’t find too many men like that these days. Now that my life is finally in order and my business is thriving, I think you’re right. Maybe it’s time I put myself out there and start dating someone I actually have hope of a future with.”

“Well, here’s your chance,” Jo said as I turned on Shadow Lane and approached my enormous Victorian house with the wraparound porch and peeling antique white paint. I used my trust fund to buy this house, and I got her for a steal since everyone thought she was haunted. “Wait, who’s that old lady he’s wrestling with? Damn. She might be tiny, but she’s obviously got spirit. Look at the fight she’s putting up. Kind of reminds me of you.”

I pulled in my driveway and parked my bug, staring through my windshield in disbelief. “Granny Gert?” I said, trying to wrap my brain around the image before me.

“Who?”

“My grandmother, Gertrude.”

“Oh.” Jo squinted out the windshield. “She’s so stinking cute.”

“She’s something,” I mumbled.

The petite woman with snow-white hair artfully styled and curled wore a faded floral, old-fashioned apron made out of flour sacks from years ago. Having lived through tough times, Granny reused everything. Ruffles adorned the neck, and a long wooden spoon stuck out of the front pocket by her hip. An angelic smile graced her face as she played
tug-of-war over my mail with the handsome mailman I had hoped to date.

“Were you expecting her?” Jo asked curiously.

“No.”

“Hmmm. I wonder what she’s doing here.”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” I said, but part of me had a strong suspicion I already did. My parents, Donald and Vivian Meadows, had promised not to interfere in my life until Easter at the earliest. They hadn’t even lasted two months.

“What are you going to do?”

“Go rescue the mailman before Granny ruins my chances of him ever asking me out.”

I stepped out of my bug with Jo hot on my heels. She wasn’t about to miss this one. When I reached my old-fashioned black mailbox, Granny’s pale face lit up while Kevin’s slightly flushed olive one looked vastly relieved.

“Miss Meadows, you have no idea how great it is to see you,” Kevin said as he tugged my mail the rest of the way out of Granny’s death grip as gently as he could and then handed it to me. He smoothed back his brown hair and took a deep breath.

“It’s Sunny, Mr. Brown.” I smiled slowly, fully, attempting to throw in a bit of sparkle with a little nose wrinkle and head shake like Jo always did, although I probably looked more like I was about to sneeze. “Um, it’s great to see you, too,” I added desperately, feeling ridiculous. I was not good at flirting one bit. Hence my lack of a recent social life.

He appeared amused, but then he smiled back, looking so much sexier than I even remembered, with his straight white teeth and full lips. “Call me Kevin,” he said, and then
turned to my grandmother and winced apologetically. “Sorry, ma’am. I can’t legally give you someone else’s mail, no matter who you claim to be.”

“Well, that’s silly. I’m Granny Gert.”

“So you’ve said.” He sounded weary.

She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand and his clipped buffed fingernails stood out. The man sure knew how to take care of himself, unlike one rugged, rough-around-the-edges detective with calloused palms. I shook the image out of my mind and focused on what Kevin was saying.

“No, Miss, er, Gert. I still don’t have time for cookies, but I appreciate the offer.” Granny started to protest, but he backed away as he tipped his head to her, then to Jo, and finally he saluted me with two fingers.

I melted. That man really was built to wear a uniform, I concluded, even if he did look more like a cover model than a mailman. I watched the play of his muscles beneath the crisp, gray cotton fabric as he climbed back in his mail truck and drove away.

Drool session officially over.

“Wasn’t he the nicest boy?” Granny said, snapping me back to reality. “A little stingy with the mail, but he was very kind, and he made my day when he said I smelled like vanilla.” Her snappy brown eyes twinkled, looking devilish. “Speaking of cookies, why don’t you introduce me to your little friend, and we can all go inside and have some. I baked a fresh batch.”

“Wait, how did you get inside my house?” I asked, suddenly realizing she’d been here for a while.

“Your door was wide open when the nice taxi man
dropped me off, and this lovely big white cat was waiting for me when I walked inside. I didn’t know you had a pet. He has the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen, but he’s the sweetest thing. It’s a wonder he didn’t run off on you, dear. You really should lock your doors when you leave.”

I did
, I thought, but said, “I’ll be sure to remember that next time.” Obviously Morty had decided Granny could stay. Sweetest thing? She couldn’t be talking about
my
cat—if I could even call him mine. It was more like he’d decided to keep me.

Morty was here when I moved in, and he pretty much took care of himself. I’d never seen him eat or sleep. My house was rumored to be haunted, but I had a strong suspicion he was the one doing the haunting. I wasn’t afraid of him. I knew what it was like to be different. Not many people understood my psychic abilities. We’d bonded, but he ruled the roost and we both knew it. He was finicky beyond belief and didn’t warm up to many people.

Granny must have made some impression on him.

I introduced Jo to my grandmother, but Jo couldn’t stay. She jumped into her big honking Suburban and peeled out of my driveway. Jo liked her cars as big as her men and knew how to handle both expertly. She had to leave to open Smokey Jo’s for the lunch crowd, which left me all alone with Granny.

The wind picked up, and the sky looked as though it might burst open at any moment. I ushered Granny inside before she caught a cold. All the snow had melted, but spring in upstate New York could still be a damp, soggy, chilly mess until the flowers bloomed.

Granny Gert is my mom’s mother, but they are total
opposites. Mom is uptight, stubborn, determined, and even ruthless at times, while Granny is generous, carefree, sweet, and kind—if a bit naive. I had to admit I was a mix of the two, but I’d always been closer to Granny. My mother has never quite forgiven either of us for that.

We headed to the main part of the kitchen where I sat at the long wooden harvest table. Granny had lit the small fireplace in the corner and a teakettle sat atop the gas stove that had replaced the old coal burning one from years ago. The fancier large, round dark wood table with pedestals sat out in the formal parlor, surrounded by overstuffed leather chairs. I preferred the coziness of this part of the kitchen where the servants once ate.

“I can’t believe this old house has a genuine root cellar with dirt floors and all, and no one has remodeled it,” Granny said as she emerged from the scullery where dish washing and vegetable washing were once done, and donned a clean apron. I didn’t have a separate laundry room, so my washer and dryer were also housed in the scullery.

“I know. Pretty neat, but I really don’t use it.”

“I can see that.” She tsked as she ducked into the pantry and snagged some silver and table linens, then made a pit stop by the kitchen counter and brought her well-worn orange pumpkin cookie jar over to set it before me. “That’s about to change, sweet pea.” She winked.

The top to her cookie jar had broken years ago, so she covered the opening with a piece of foil and set a plate on top of that. Over the years people had tried to buy her a new cookie jar, but she never accepted a replacement, saying there were some things that simply weren’t replaceable. She’d received that cookie jar when she’d first gotten
married, and my grandfather had loved the way her cookies tasted after being stored in it.

So had I.

I reached my hand inside and pulled out a fat oatmeal raisin cookie, took a huge bite, closed my eyes, and sighed in rapture. Her cookies still tasted great. After taking a sip of hot cocoa and swallowing my mouthful of bliss, I finally said, “I love that you came to visit, Granny. So, um, how long are you staying?”

“Didn’t your mother tell you? With all the snow we had this winter, my basement flooded. Everything is such a mess. I was going to stay in a hotel in the city, but your mother suggested I pay you a visit. She said you had such a darling little place out here, and you’d really been missing me. She said she would call you and let you know I was coming while she made arrangements to have my basement fixed.”

Granny puckered her brow, looking pensive. “Funny, it usually doesn’t take very long to have repairs done, but according to your mother, the repairmen were backed way up. She said it could be a while.”

“Oh good,” I responded a little too cheerfully. “And, um, how long is a while?”

“I’m not really certain.” Granny folded her hands. “Oh, well, I’m not complaining. I love spending time with my favorite granddaughter. I guess your mother will call me when it’s time for me to come home.”

“I’m sure she will.” I loved Granny. Mom, not so much at the moment. I ground my teeth, knowing it wouldn’t be time for Granny to go home until Mom got the full scoop on my life.

So much for letting me make it on my own this time.

“Can you believe they are up to their old tricks again?” I said to Jo as I sat at the bar in Smokey Jo’s Tavern later that afternoon.

Amber lighting, brass fixtures, and creamy swirled granite countertops in various shades of brown gleamed to perfection. Jo had always said a cozy atmosphere was half the battle in establishing a successful business. I couldn’t agree more, I thought, as soft seventies folk music played through the sound system. But even the atmosphere wasn’t enough to calm my nerves.

“I even tried calling them, but they conveniently aren’t answering their phones,” I scoffed, still furious with my mom and dad.

“Hey, at least your parents take the time to annoy you. Mine don’t even remember my birthday half the time. Being one of eight kids is no picnic.” Jo slid a beer in a frosty mug in front of me and then wiped down the counter.

“Yeah, well, being an only child is even worse.” I took a sip of the icy brew and closed my eyes on a sigh. “Thanks, Jo. That hits the spot after the day I’ve had so far.”

“Speaking of your day, how’d things go after I left this morning?”

“I had four readings, and do you know Granny interrupted every single one with cookie offers? It was insane. And poor Mayor Cromwell. I admit he reminds me of a troll doll with his wild orange-red hair and big head, but he’s an important man and one of my regulars. He left early after she called him ‘carrottop’ one too many times. Carrottop! Ugh. I wanted to crawl under my table and die.”

“How’d you escape?”

“Easy. I have no food in the house, and Granny refuses to eat out. She actually sent me on my way with a long grocery list, but I made a little pit stop here first. I love spending time with Granny, I really do, but I finally have a nice system going. Let’s just say Granny has her own unique way of doing things that takes a bit of getting used to.” I lifted my mug and took another sip.

“You’re not the only one who’s having a hard time getting used to someone new in town, lass,” Sean O’Malley said as he carried out a case of liquor to restock the bar, his tight black T-shirt with the emerald green four-leaf clover revealing the body that would make some girl very lucky one day.

His words registered, and I gave him a questioning look. He jerked his head to a table in the far corner, his blond locks of hair flipping across his forehead in a boyish way. I glanced over and did a double take, stifling my gasp.

Detective Mitch Stone.

There was nothing boyish about that man. The sight of him never failed to take my breath away. He wasn’t the most handsome man, but there was a vulnerability beneath his surface that called out to me to heal him, even though he didn’t deserve it and would surely never allow it.

He was big and rugged and intimidating. Dark hair, dark eyes, chiseled features, and a jagged scar along his whiskered jawline. But his looks weren’t what made me gasp. He was sitting across from one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen: his ex-girlfriend, aka the very person who’d given him that scar on his face.

Thick, wavy dark brown hair fell past her shoulders in
gleaming silky strands. Big almond-shaped honey eyes with ridiculous lashes stared up at him in a sultry way. And a perfectly toned body with the longest legs and nicest booty I’d ever seen sat perkily at the table.

Damn her and her non-jiggly parts!

“What is he doing with her?” I grumbled.

“Why?” Jo’s simple question snapped me back to sanity.

“N-No reason. I thought he hated her. You know, after she messed up his face and all.”

Jo chuckled. “Honey, I’d hardly call the scar along his jawline messed up. If anything it adds to his rugged sex appeal.”

I tore my eyes away from them. “If you say so. I still don’t see how he could be so chummy with someone who did that to him. Not that I care. I mean, it’s his life.”

“Look at her. She’s gorgeous,” Sean said, gazing over with obvious appreciation at the patrons sitting at the cozy corner table. “Although I have to say that just because he’s sitting with her doesn’t mean he’s being chummy. If you ask me, he looks damned uncomfortable.” Sean cocked his head to the side and studied Mitch. “Angry even.” Then Sean nailed me with a knowing look. “Not that you care or anything.” He winked, and his dimples sank deeper.

“Whatever.” I finished my beer on an exaggerated eye roll but couldn’t help peeking over at the detective’s table once more, surprised to see that Sean was right. Mitch did appear frustrated as the woman looked to be trying every trick in the book, which seemed to only make him angrier. What I couldn’t understand was why he’d met with her in the first place.

Mitch pushed his seat back, pulled some money out of
his sport coat, and threw the bills down on the table. I could see his jaw bulge and the stiff set of his broad shoulders even from my distant vantage point as he left without another word to the woman. She stomped her stiletto heel and crossed her arms over her formfitting silk coral dress, obviously sulking big-time. Whatever she’d wanted, he wasn’t giving it to her, which really seemed to tick her off.