Read Online Nine Lives: A Lily Dale Mystery by Wendy Corsi Staub - Free Book Online
Authors: Wendy Corsi Staub
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morning beverage station.
For the first time, she isn’t worried about where they’ll wind up. Less than twenty-four hours into the unknown, she’s already found a soft landing spot—albeit a temporary one. There will be others.
We’ve made new friends, Sam. Odelia is a hoot, and the cat just loves Max, and even Doctor Bailey turned out to be one of the good guys.
Not that we’ll ever see any of them again after today, but . . .
For a few hours, the world seemed a lot less lonely.
With a sigh, she crosses the threshold into the dining room, where fine china and crystal stemware fill the built-in cabinetry. She recognizes many distinctive iridescent Carnival glass pieces among them. They’re similar to the much smaller collection Aunt Sophie had left to her, but these are red and thus rare and far more valuable.
Walking into the elegant parlor, she hesitates before a closed French door off to one side. The glass panels are veiled in opaque maroon curtains. Turning the knob, she finds it locked.
Curiosity aroused, she pulls the key ring from her pocket. All but one of the skeleton-style keys has a stickered number on it. She inserts that one into the lock on the French door and sure enough, it turns.
Behind the door is a small study. Its lone window, with a cushioned built-in bench beneath, is covered by drawn blinds. A trio of blue-and-white floral pillows with ruffled hems form a backrest. The walls, painted a buttery golden shade that reminds Bella of corn on the cob, are unadorned. A couple of framed prints lean in one corner as if waiting to be hung.
The only furnishings in the room are a pair of easy chairs facing each other and a round table covered in a blue tablecloth. It holds a telephone, a large candle with a burned wick, a box of tissues, a notepad and pen, and a spiral-bound appointment book.
This, she presumes, is where Leona gave her psychic readings. There’s an almost identical room next door in Odelia’s house, similarly devoid of decorative touches like the fringed tablecloths, velvet draperies, Ouija boards, and crystal balls Bella had envisioned.
She idly picks up the appointment book. It’s laid out week by week and appears to be a log of client readings. The first half of thebook contains many of the same names week after week, most in the same time slot on the same day of the week, with a smattering of aberrations. Some are preceded by an asterisk, she notices: a woman named Mary Brightman on January 1 (New Year’s Day) and another named Helen Adabner on February 14 (Valentine’s Day). She wonders if the asterisks denote holidays, but the theory is quickly blown when sees asterisks on random dates as well.
As she flips through the pages, she notices that Leona’s schedule shows plenty of prescheduled appointments and very few open slots during the summer months but that the final quarter of the book is nearly blank. That makes sense, given Odelia’s mention that the season ends on Labor Day.
Giving in to morbid curiosity, she finds herself flipping back to June, looking for the week Leona died. Did she have some inkling? Is there some clue that she saw it coming?
Like what? An appointment to meet her maker?
Disgusted with herself, she starts to close the book when she notices something odd.
When the page is open to the first half of the first week in June on the left, the opposite side shows the second half of the second week in June.
There’s a page missing between the two.
Someone must have ripped it out. Usually, when you tear a sheet from a spiral notebook, at least a partial scallop-edged strip is left behind inside the wire coil, but not here. If she hadn’t noticed the jump in dates, she never would have realized a page is missing.
That bothers her for some reason.
Probably because you’re being nosy.
Guiltily aware that she’s violated Leona’s private sanctuary, she closes the appointment book, returns it to the table, closes the door, and locks it
For the first time, she isn’t worried about where they’ll wind up. Less than twenty-four hours into the unknown, she’s already found a soft landing spot—albeit a temporary one. There will be others.
We’ve made new friends, Sam. Odelia is a hoot, and the cat just loves Max, and even Doctor Bailey turned out to be one of the good guys.
Not that we’ll ever see any of them again after today, but . . .
For a few hours, the world seemed a lot less lonely.
With a sigh, she crosses the threshold into the dining room, where fine china and crystal stemware fill the built-in cabinetry. She recognizes many distinctive iridescent Carnival glass pieces among them. They’re similar to the much smaller collection Aunt Sophie had left to her, but these are red and thus rare and far more valuable.
Walking into the elegant parlor, she hesitates before a closed French door off to one side. The glass panels are veiled in opaque maroon curtains. Turning the knob, she finds it locked.
Curiosity aroused, she pulls the key ring from her pocket. All but one of the skeleton-style keys has a stickered number on it. She inserts that one into the lock on the French door and sure enough, it turns.
Behind the door is a small study. Its lone window, with a cushioned built-in bench beneath, is covered by drawn blinds. A trio of blue-and-white floral pillows with ruffled hems form a backrest. The walls, painted a buttery golden shade that reminds Bella of corn on the cob, are unadorned. A couple of framed prints lean in one corner as if waiting to be hung.
The only furnishings in the room are a pair of easy chairs facing each other and a round table covered in a blue tablecloth. It holds a telephone, a large candle with a burned wick, a box of tissues, a notepad and pen, and a spiral-bound appointment book.
This, she presumes, is where Leona gave her psychic readings. There’s an almost identical room next door in Odelia’s house, similarly devoid of decorative touches like the fringed tablecloths, velvet draperies, Ouija boards, and crystal balls Bella had envisioned.
She idly picks up the appointment book. It’s laid out week by week and appears to be a log of client readings. The first half of thebook contains many of the same names week after week, most in the same time slot on the same day of the week, with a smattering of aberrations. Some are preceded by an asterisk, she notices: a woman named Mary Brightman on January 1 (New Year’s Day) and another named Helen Adabner on February 14 (Valentine’s Day). She wonders if the asterisks denote holidays, but the theory is quickly blown when sees asterisks on random dates as well.
As she flips through the pages, she notices that Leona’s schedule shows plenty of prescheduled appointments and very few open slots during the summer months but that the final quarter of the book is nearly blank. That makes sense, given Odelia’s mention that the season ends on Labor Day.
Giving in to morbid curiosity, she finds herself flipping back to June, looking for the week Leona died. Did she have some inkling? Is there some clue that she saw it coming?
Like what? An appointment to meet her maker?
Disgusted with herself, she starts to close the book when she notices something odd.
When the page is open to the first half of the first week in June on the left, the opposite side shows the second half of the second week in June.
There’s a page missing between the two.
Someone must have ripped it out. Usually, when you tear a sheet from a spiral notebook, at least a partial scallop-edged strip is left behind inside the wire coil, but not here. If she hadn’t noticed the jump in dates, she never would have realized a page is missing.
That bothers her for some reason.
Probably because you’re being nosy.
Guiltily aware that she’s violated Leona’s private sanctuary, she closes the appointment book, returns it to the table, closes the door, and locks it
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