Read Online Herculeah Jones Tarot Says Beware by Betsy Byars - Free Book Online

been meaning to ask you. What does your mom do when she wants to find a missing person?”
    â€œWell, right now, she’s looking for a missing dog—” She broke off, turned abruptly, and faced him. “You know what you could do? I read about this in ‘Dear Abby’. When you want to locate a missing parent—you can’t do it for a missing boyfriend or something like that, it has to be a parent or a child. Anyway, you write to—I think it’s the Salvation Army, give them the information, and they help you.” She turned the key again.
    â€œBut that’s wonderful news. You should have told me sooner.”
    â€œAh, more good news.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe door’s open. We can go inside now.”

16
    FOOTSTEPS
    â€œI’m going to make sure the curtains are closed all the way, because the other night I saw a sliver of light in the window—at least I think I did,” Herculeah said. “I wouldn’t want that to happen to us.”
    Herculeah crossed the living room and gave the draperies a tug. “There,” she said.
    From the doorway Meat said weakly, “I could never be a burglar.”
    â€œWhat brought that on?”
    â€œBeing in strange houses makes me feel faint.”
    â€œWell, this will only take a minute. Sit out in the hall, why don’t you? There’s a straight-backed chair right by the door.”
    â€œI probably should sit down. Then if I do faint, I won’t have far to fall.”
    Meat sank down into the chair. Moonlight came in through the hall windows, and Meat could see Madame Rosa’s cloak hanging on the coatrack.
    â€œHurry up,” he said in the empty hallway.
    â€œAnyway, we’re not burglars. We’re not stealing anything.”
    As Herculeah spoke, she moved to the old buffet and clicked on the flashlight. She shone the beam over the dusty surface, then on the pictures, one by one.
    â€œThe picture of Madame Rosa and the boy isn’t here,” she called triumphantly. “I knew it wouldn’t be.”
    â€œWhy does that make you happy?”
    â€œBecause it proves my suspicion that there’s something important about that missing picture—some connection with Madame Rosa’s murder. That boy in the photograph was probably her last remaining relative, though he would be a man by now.”
    â€œSo, can we go?” Meat asked from the hallway, glancing uneasily at the empty cloak.
    â€œI just want to check one more thing.”
    Meat thought she sounded like his dentist. He slumped forward in misery.
    â€œSo what is this one thing?” he asked. “I bet it’s going to be one thing, then one more thing. We’ll probably be here till dawn.” His voice cracked with despair.
    â€œI want to have a look at that book on Madame Rosa’s table.”
    Herculeah’s voice grew fainter as she moved into the parlor. “The book was open when I first got here, and then somebody closed it. I want to know why.”
    â€œI don’t really care,” Meat admitted.
    â€œMaybe there was something on that page that would give us a clue to the murderer.”
    Meat could hear the sound of the heavy book being opened, then the rustling of pages being turned.
    This was the one thing he didn’t like about Herculeah: that she was completely unaware of the fact that other people—perfectly normal people like himself—had perfectly normal fears. Here they were in a house where a woman had been murdered—brutally murdered, the TV newscaster had said. The stains were probably still on the floor and—
    At that moment he heard something. The sound of a footstep on the stairs above.
    Meat couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His heart began to thud unhealthily in his chest.
    His head had been slumped forward over his knees, and he now found he was unable to lift it. He was frozen with fear. The best he could do was to