Read Online Caught Dead Handed by Carol J. Perry - Free Book Online Page B

room and several guest rooms to the door leading to the attic. Aunt Ibby unlocked it, and I felt in the dark for the smooth glass pull that would light the bare bulb at the head of the stairs.
    â€œWhat are we looking for? Aren’t you going to tell me?”
    â€œI think I’d better show you. It may help you to remember.”
    We ducked our heads, avoiding the low slanted beams. Aunt Ibby knelt in front of the small bureau where I’d selected jewelry for Crystal Moon’s debut.
    â€œWe went through these drawers, except for the one that was stuck,” I protested. “There’s not room for anything as big as a crystal ball.” I looked around.
    â€œNo crystal ball. But you’ve seen the books. I think you are what they call a ‘scryer.’ Some call people who can do . . . what you do . . . ‘gazers.’ And gazers throughout history, all the way back to Nostradamus, even the ancient Aztecs, have used mirrors, bowls of water, sword handles, whatever was handy to do . . . what they did.” Aunt Ibby opened the top drawer and removed a small key on a striped ribbon. “Apparently, a smooth polished surface is all it takes for some. Like you, I’m afraid.”
    â€œBut I’m sure that over the years I’ve looked at a zillion shiny surfaces. Nothing weird happened. Why now?”
    She inserted the little key into the brass keyhole of the second drawer and sighed. “I don’t know, Maralee. I don’t know. And I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”
    I knelt beside my aunt and looked into the open drawer. There was a small shoe box inside.
    A shoe box?
    I reached down and carefully lifted the oblong cardboard box. There were cartoon animals in bright colors on the lid. I sat back on my heels. “Should I open it?”
    â€œYou must.” Aunt Ibby put a protective arm around my shoulders. “I think you need to remember some things if you’re ever going to make sense of what’s happening to you now.”
    I removed the lid and pushed aside blue tissue paper.
    The tiny black patent-leather shoes were still shiny.
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    Little Maralee Kowolski loved Sundays. She and Daddy and Mommy and Aunt Ibby would get all dressed up and go to church. Sometimes it was Daddy’s church, with the pretty colored windows and the man who said funny-sounding words. Sometimes it was Aunt Ibby’s church, with the plain windows and the man in the black suit. It didn’t matter to Maralee. She liked both churches. The music was nice, and, anyway, if she didn’t want to listen to the man talk, she could watch the pictures in the toes of her Sunday shoes.
    Then one day Mommy and Daddy went on vacation. Maralee stayed at Aunt Ibby’s house. On Sunday morning
    Aunt Ibby helped her get dressed in her prettiest dress. Maralee wore ankle socks with lace on them and her shiny patent-leather shoes.
    â€œYou may sit on the front steps, Maralee,” said Aunt Ibby, “while I bring the car around. Don’t get dirty, will you?”
    The little girl sat quietly and, to pass the time, looked to see what pictures might be in her shoes. First, she saw the little cloud. That always came first. Then the swirling colors and twinkling lights. Then the pictures. The child clapped her hands together in delight when she saw the image of a yellow airplane.
    â€œDaddy! Mommy!” she whispered happily.
    She saw the cliff. “Watch out, Daddy!” she cried.
    She saw the flames.
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    I screamed, just as little Maralee had screamed all those years ago. Aunt Ibby held me close, whispering comforting words. She had done the same thing back then, not comprehending the horror I had witnessed in the shiny surface of my shoes.
    They say that when you’re drowning, your whole life flashes before you. That moment in the attic was like that for me, as soon as I looked at those shoes. Long-forgotten scenes rolled by, along with