Read Online A Corpse in a Teacup by Cassie Page - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cassie Page
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a kitchen drawer for a while. The meatball crack touched a sore nerve. She almost never had a falling out with Olivia, and she hadn’t wanted to start one over something so silly, so she never said anything. The comment bothered her, though, because it suggested that Olivia, the most important person in her life, didn’t take Tuesday’s preoccupations with the occult seriously.
But one day she couldn’t decide if she should have the air condition repaired in her car or spring for the 1940’s Dior New Look suit with a peplum jacket and long, swinging skirt at the Designer Consider shop owned by the twins, Marci and Darci. It was probably a knockoff. Dior of any vintage was only found in private collections or museum shows these days, but it looked good enough to Tuesday.
To help her with the go/no go decision on the Dior, she manufactured a pendulum by hanging her keys from a long piece of string. The makeshift device gave her practical advice that day, so, with great reluctance she brought her car into the shop. A week later she kicked herself when she saw an academy award nominee on the red carpet in the very suit she had craved. The next time she visited the twins’ shop they gloated about their clothes appearing in People Magazine. Tuesday never trusted the key arrangement again, though she knew that was silly. Any pendulum should work. It merely reflected what your higher self knew to be true.
T he pendulum returned to its place of honor on Tuesday’s night table a few weeks later when Olivia agreed to use it to find a pair of opal earrings she had lost, which Tuesday had warned were bad luck anyway and she should let them go. However, after consulting the meatball, Olivia found the earrings and Tuesday’s pendulum was back in business. But a week later Olivia met Brooks and Tuesday had the last laugh about bad luck, though she never seriously laughed at the disaster that broke her friend’s heart and sent her relocating to Darling Valley.
Right now s he opened one eye a tiny slit to make sure the pendulum was absolutely motionless before she asked her question. The wind chime on her balcony tinkled in a sudden breeze, but inside her apartment all was quiet. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes again and repeated, Will I see him again? Will I see him again? Will I see him again?
She had no intention of telling anyone she’d consulted the pendulum about this guy. How silly could she be? She had seen him for maybe fifteen seconds all told. Yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
She’d made a joke of it to the three friends she met for a drink after the interview with Detective Jameson. They’d clowned around, coming up with schemes that would get Tuesday arrested so she could bump into the guy, either in a holding cell, or, better luck, if he was a detective who would interrogate her.
No body asked her about the real interrogation, which didn’t amount to much. Jameson queried her from every angle about why she came up with symbols for murder in the teacup of a person who turned out to be connected to an actual, possible murder. Jameson was closed mouthed about why they were pushing the murder scenario, but it made sense to Tuesday since Holley had received the phone threats. News outlets had picked it up by now because Ariel had a minor reputation as an actress. Reports were noncommittal other than saying that Ariel’s death was suspicious and under investigation. The calls Holley received had not yet made it to the airwaves, though Tuesday had warned her that she could put good money on someone coming up with that scoop pretty soon. Tuesday advised that if she wanted to keep a low profile and paparazzi off her lawn, she should keep those calls to herself.
Tuesday had explained to Jameson and Butel, who was waiting in the interrogating room, that she had merely seen symbols in Holley’s cup when she’d examined the dregs, the scattering of leaves and stems. Jameson dismissed Tuesday’s
But one day she couldn’t decide if she should have the air condition repaired in her car or spring for the 1940’s Dior New Look suit with a peplum jacket and long, swinging skirt at the Designer Consider shop owned by the twins, Marci and Darci. It was probably a knockoff. Dior of any vintage was only found in private collections or museum shows these days, but it looked good enough to Tuesday.
To help her with the go/no go decision on the Dior, she manufactured a pendulum by hanging her keys from a long piece of string. The makeshift device gave her practical advice that day, so, with great reluctance she brought her car into the shop. A week later she kicked herself when she saw an academy award nominee on the red carpet in the very suit she had craved. The next time she visited the twins’ shop they gloated about their clothes appearing in People Magazine. Tuesday never trusted the key arrangement again, though she knew that was silly. Any pendulum should work. It merely reflected what your higher self knew to be true.
T he pendulum returned to its place of honor on Tuesday’s night table a few weeks later when Olivia agreed to use it to find a pair of opal earrings she had lost, which Tuesday had warned were bad luck anyway and she should let them go. However, after consulting the meatball, Olivia found the earrings and Tuesday’s pendulum was back in business. But a week later Olivia met Brooks and Tuesday had the last laugh about bad luck, though she never seriously laughed at the disaster that broke her friend’s heart and sent her relocating to Darling Valley.
Right now s he opened one eye a tiny slit to make sure the pendulum was absolutely motionless before she asked her question. The wind chime on her balcony tinkled in a sudden breeze, but inside her apartment all was quiet. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes again and repeated, Will I see him again? Will I see him again? Will I see him again?
She had no intention of telling anyone she’d consulted the pendulum about this guy. How silly could she be? She had seen him for maybe fifteen seconds all told. Yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
She’d made a joke of it to the three friends she met for a drink after the interview with Detective Jameson. They’d clowned around, coming up with schemes that would get Tuesday arrested so she could bump into the guy, either in a holding cell, or, better luck, if he was a detective who would interrogate her.
No body asked her about the real interrogation, which didn’t amount to much. Jameson queried her from every angle about why she came up with symbols for murder in the teacup of a person who turned out to be connected to an actual, possible murder. Jameson was closed mouthed about why they were pushing the murder scenario, but it made sense to Tuesday since Holley had received the phone threats. News outlets had picked it up by now because Ariel had a minor reputation as an actress. Reports were noncommittal other than saying that Ariel’s death was suspicious and under investigation. The calls Holley received had not yet made it to the airwaves, though Tuesday had warned her that she could put good money on someone coming up with that scoop pretty soon. Tuesday advised that if she wanted to keep a low profile and paparazzi off her lawn, she should keep those calls to herself.
Tuesday had explained to Jameson and Butel, who was waiting in the interrogating room, that she had merely seen symbols in Holley’s cup when she’d examined the dregs, the scattering of leaves and stems. Jameson dismissed Tuesday’s
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