Every Trick in the Book (21 page)

I turned onto a tawny-colored pebbled driveway in front of a pretty white house and
parked the truck. This was a lovely treed neighborhood with beautiful houses and well-maintained
gardens bursting with blossoms of chrysanthemums, zinnias, ageratum, and roses. Autumn-colored
leaves added vibrancy to the green manicured lawns. The large homes had varied façades,
some with red brick, others with colored siding; all were affluent. As I stepped out
of Althea’s rusty pickup, I felt a little conspicuous.

The path that led to Tilly’s house was pebbled like her driveway, and it ended at
steps leading up to a welcoming porch. One end was screened in, with windows half
open and white wicker furniture with puffy floral cushions arranged around a small
table. I could imagine how delightful it would be to sit there and read. Large windows
framed by forest green shutters looked out onto the veranda, and as I glanced in one,
I noticed Tilly sitting at a desk typing away on a computer.

Wanting to avoid appearing as if I were eavesdropping, I quickly approached the door
and rang the bell.

“Hello!” Tilly exclaimed when she’d opened the door. “Flora told me you’d stop by.
Thank you so much for bringing my notebook. I don’t know how I could have left it
behind.”

“No problem. I had other errands in Dunston,” I said,
handing her the pink-covered book, which she accepted and immediately hugged tightly
to her chest.

“Would you like to come in? I was just about to have some hot cocoa, and I baked oatmeal
cookies this morning.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to keep you from your work…”

“Please, I was ready for a break anyway. Besides, the kids will be home from school
soon and I try not to write when they’re here.” She held the door open wide and gestured
inside.

As I didn’t need to pick Althea up for another half hour, I decided to accept Tilly’s
offer. “Well, those cookies do sound tempting,” I said as I stepped across the threshold.
Tilly peered anxiously down the street before shutting the door.

Inside, light poured in from the windows, reflecting off glistening wood floors laid
with intricately woven rugs. I followed her to the kitchen, where the scent of baked
cookies hung in the air. I immediately felt at home. The cream-colored walls were
covered in framed children’s artwork, which coordinated very well with the beautifully
grained cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and coffee-colored granite countertops.
A vase with a brilliant bouquet of gerbera daisies sat in the center of the table.

“How many kids do you have?” I asked, inspecting a vibrant painting of fish in the
sea.

“Two. Peter and Emma are twins; they’re nine. They’ve been the joy of my life,” she
said as she placed two milk-filled mugs in the microwave. “Would you like some whipped
cream on your hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” I nodded. “I know what you mean. I have one son who’s almost eighteen,
and he has enriched my life in innumerable ways.” I smiled ruefully. “Of course, there
were the teenage years…” I let my sentence hang in the air.

Tilly laughed. “Oh, I’m not saying there aren’t challenges. But my kids fulfill me.”
Having arranged a tray with two mugs and a plate of cookies, she picked it up and
asked, “Shall we sit in the screened porch? It’s warm enough now that the sun’s out.
Then we can see the school bus coming.”

I held the door for her, and we nestled into the wicker chairs as we sipped our hot
chocolate. I inhaled the fresh air and listened to the sparrows twittering in the
tree behind me.

“It’s lovely out here,” I said.

She nodded. “I know. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I have a wonderful husband, two
fantastic kids, an amazing home. And now, to top it off, a successful writing career.
I don’t know what I did to deserve all this.”

“You must be a good person,” I suggested, gazing at her. Her dark eyes filled me with
the same disquiet I’d felt when I first met her at the pub. What was it about her
that unsettled me?

A shadow crossed her face. “I used to be different.” She glanced over her shoulder,
her features pinched. “Remember yesterday when I said I felt like I was being watched?
I still feel like that. Did you see anybody on your way here? Other than that group
of moms waiting for the school bus?”

I scanned the street, paying particular attention to the clusters of trees and shady
bushes. At the corner three women stood chatting. A black cat walked up the brick
driveway across the street. “No.”

“I don’t know if I’m becoming paranoid or if my suspicions are rational. Either way,
I can’t shake this creepy feeling.”

I was uncertain how to respond. I didn’t know her well enough to determine if her
paranoia was unfounded. Instead of speaking, I took a bite of my cookie.

Tilly put her mug down and continued. “I keep seeing the same man wherever I go. I
don’t know who he is, but I saw him at the book festival, too. He looks nice enough,
I guess. He has short hair, glasses, and dresses neatly.” She shrugged. “It’s probably
a coincidence. I see lots of the same people around here. Dunston isn’t that big.”

At that moment, a yellow school bus pulled up at the corner, and a group of children
poured down the steps, dispersing with their mothers. A boy and a girl, both wearing
backpacks, ran toward us. The boy was waving a sheet of paper as he bounded up the
steps.

“Mom, look at my math test!” He handed her the page on which a big, red “100%” had
been written. He bounced from one foot to the other.

“Wow, Peter, that’s awesome!” She gave it back to him. “Want to put it on the fridge?”

He nodded vigorously and ran inside, slamming the door behind him. The girl stepped
close to her mother’s chair.

“Who’s this lady, Mom?” she asked. Wearing embroidered jeans and a pink flowered T-shirt,
the girl’s brown chin-length hair was pulled away from her face with a pink barrette.
The resemblance to her mother was uncanny. She had the same dark eyes that seemed
inexplicably familiar to me.

“This is Miss Lila, Emma. She’s a friend of Miss Flora. You remember Miss Flora? She
helps sell my books.”

Emma nodded and extended her arm toward me. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Lila.”

“And I’m happy to meet you, too,” I said, shaking her warm little hand.

She shrugged off her backpack, dropping it to the floor, and reached for a cookie.
“Can I?” she asked, directing her gaze to her mother.

“Of course.” Tilly put her arm around Emma’s shoulders and hugged her.

I stood. “I should go. I know what after-school time is like. Thanks for the hot chocolate
and cookies. They were delicious.”

“It was my pleasure.” Tilly walked me down the steps to the truck with Emma trailing
behind her. “Thanks for bringing my notebook to me.”

The driver’s door creaked as I opened it. “This is my mother’s truck,” I said, feeling
the need to explain why I was driving a bright turquoise vehicle bearing magnetic
signs proclaiming the Amazing Althea. I climbed in, and Tilly and Emma headed back
to the house.

Pulling the seat belt across my chest, I waved at them as they went inside. Tilly
had an idyllic life. Not only were her books taking off, but she had a beautiful home,
a successful marriage, and adorable children. Why was her contentment being marred
by a sudden case of paranoia?
Was
someone watching her? Or did she have deeper psychological issues?

Unable to answer these questions, I backed the truck out of the driveway. Pushing
the gear stick to drive, my peripheral vision caught a flash of black from behind
a thick oak tree near where the school bus had stopped. I glanced over, but saw nothing.
Slowly, I drove in the direction of the tree, keeping a sharp eye out for any sign
of movement.

I pulled up at the curb in the spot where the school bus had dropped off the children
and opened the driver’s door. “Who’s there?” I called. No one answered. I jumped out
of the truck and approached the tree. The sky darkened as a cloud drifted over the
sun, and the large oak loomed ominously overhead. I scrutinized the tall laurel hedge
beside it.

A door slammed, making me jump, and I quickly turned
in the direction of the sound. Two boys walked out of a nearby house carrying skateboards.
A rustling in the shrubbery behind me caught my attention, and I whipped back around
in time to catch a glimpse of a shadow disappearing around the corner of the street.
My heart pumping wildly, I ran to the intersection.

Scanning the sidewalks, I saw only children playing, a woman walking a poodle, and
a large tabby cat sauntering on the curb, its tail twitching. There was no sinister
presence. Yet someone had been hiding in the bushes. I felt it in my bones. Tilly
wasn’t just being paranoid. She
was
being watched.

USUALLY MY MOTHER SMILED FROM EAR TO EAR WHEN
presented with the country fried steak platter from Bill’s Bar and Grill, but she
quietly thanked our server and then sat staring at her food with indifference.

“Not hungry?” I asked, eyeing the gravy-smothered mass on her plate with mild distaste.
I’d never cared for the dish that had put this place on the map and always opted for
the spicy catfish po’boy, which came with a side of slaw and a mound of sweet potato
fries.

Picking up her fork, my mother pressed the metal tines against the pads of her fingertips.
I could tell that her mind was on other things besides her food. “I’m afraid I’ve
brought a dark cloud to supper, hon.”

Noting that she had ordered a mixture of lemonade and iced tea in lieu of whiskey,
my concern grew. I’d planned on telling her about my visit to Tilly’s and that I thought
I might have seen a figure lurking near the writer’s home, but
seeing that my mother was not herself, I decided not to mention the worrisome subject.

She was gazing blankly at some point in the middle distance, and I gently waved my
hand in front of her face to bring her back to the present. “Did something happen
during your reading?”

“Only at the end,” she said after blinking a few times. “I laid out the cards and
asked Miz Margaret to think of a question she’d like answered. Most of the time, she’s
frettin’ over one of her kids. I think havin’ them live so far away is tough on her.
She’s awfully lonely, and if you ask me, they don’t call her near enough.”

I pictured the elderly, housebound woman sitting expectantly by the phone and shook
my head in sympathy. “That’s sad. She has a caregiver though, right?”

My mother nodded. “Sure. The kids send money and hire plenty of help for her. They’re
right good about that, but there are other ways of carin’ for folks. The most important
ways.” She put her palm over her heart. “If one of those kids doesn’t step up, that
old gal is gonna keep fadin’. She’s gettin’ real depressed.” After sprinkling some
pepper on her fried steak, she continued. “But there were good signs in her cards
today. Her son, I think, is gonna get her trained to use a computer so they can email.
He’s always on his BlackBerry and he’ll reach out to her a couple of times a day once
this happens.”

“That sounds like a great solution for both of them,” I said, hoping my mother would
perk up. “Go on and take a bite. Your food is getting cold.”

Absently, she did so. “The problem came at the end of the readin’. Once I knew good
news was on the way for Miz
Margaret, I’m ashamed to admit that my thoughts wandered. I started thinkin’ about
Trey and about that woman who got killed. The one who looked so much like you that
my blood practically turned to ice when I saw her picture in the paper. She—”

“Her name was Melissa Plume,” I interjected. I didn’t want her to be referred to as
“that woman” or “the victim.” My mother hadn’t meant any harm, but it was important
to me that Melissa be remembered as an individual and not just a cold and impersonal
noun.

“Melissa.” She spoke her name with respect. “I was layin’ cards down into the Future
position, but they weren’t meant to speak to Miz Margaret’s future because I was focusin’
on you and Trey.”

I hated to ask, but it was clear that my mother needed to tell me about those cards.
“What were they? Our Future cards?”

“The immediate Future was the Tower. It’s a card of ill omen,” she explained heavily.
“Shows a tall tower that’s been hit by lightning. People are runnin’ for their lives
or fallin’ from the heights. It’s a warnin’, Lila, probably to both you and Trey.
And it’s serious.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. The shadow I’d seen near Tilly’s house seemed to
fill the room. Despite the din of the other diners and the innocuous setting, I felt
vulnerable.

“The Emperor came next. It’s not a scary card. He influences folks. Can be a benevolent
father figure or a mentor. But this Emperor was in reverse. He’s manipulating his
authority and that made me think of Jasper. And he can be dangerous, like the man
who took Melissa’s life. I reckon both of those men have discovered a new and dark
power
in themselves. It’s twisted them, made them wicked—each in their own way.” She put
down her fork and grabbed my hand. “They’ve got to be stopped before the Tower’s omen
comes to pass.”