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“I sort of liked your shaggy hair.”
He ran a hand over his scalp. “Good disguise, though, right?”
“It makes you look...different for sure, kind of lethal.” She stuffed her hair beneath her hat. “Do I look different enough?”
“It’s hard to tell what you look like since you’re all covered up, but then so is everyone else in this cold spell we’re having.”
She directed him to Madam Rosalee’s and he laughed every time she said the psychic’s name.
“Stop.” She smacked his thigh. “It’s as good a name as any for a psychic.”
“Do you believe in that stuff?”
“No, but that doesn’t matter. Fiona does, and I know she’ll jump at the chance to see Madam Rosalee, especially now that she’s on the outs with Spencer.”
She pointed out the psychic’s small blue, clapboard house between two office buildings. The sign on the house sported a yellow hand with the words Psychic Readings in squiggly blue script in the middle of it.
Mike dropped her off in front and went looking for parking.
Claire cupped her hand over her eyes as she peeked in the window. She saw no one, so she opened the door and a bell tinkled her arrival.
The smell of sandalwood incense permeated the air, and a few shelves contained decks of tarot cards, more incense, candles and other psychic accoutrements.
Claire called out, “Hello? Madam Rosalee?”
A beaded curtain clicked and clacked and an enormous woman bedecked in flowing scarves and a green peasant skirt threaded with gold emerged into the room.
Claire pressed her lips together to vanquish her smile. Mike would’ve gotten a kick out of the cliché that was Madam Rosalee.
Madam Rosalee stopped and spread her arms, closing her eyes. “I sense an aura of danger. Are you safe?”
The smile on Claire’s lips died and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, I’m safe. I didn’t come here for myself.”
“They never do.” Madam Rosalee’s heavily lined eyes flew open. “What can I help you with?”
“I need to talk with one of your clients, on the sly, and I thought this might be a good place to do it.”
“Why would I lure one of my clients here on a false premise?”
“I’ll give you m-money.” Claire faltered at the look from Madam Rosalee’s dark, slitted eyes.
“You think you can come into my establishment and give me money to get one of my clients here so you can ambush him or her?”
“I’m sorry.” Claire blew out a breath. Would Mike have been able to handle this any better? “It’s really very important. It’s crucial that I talk with her. I can’t go to her office and I’m afraid to meet her in public.”
Afraid? Where had that come from?
Madam Rosalee held up one pudgy finger with an extremely long red nail on the end and a ring that snaked over her first knuckle.
“You’re afraid to meet her in public?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” Claire held her breath.
“Then this is related to the danger and fear that are coming off of you in waves.”
“It must be. I guess it is.” Who said Madam Rosalee was a fake?
“I don’t want your money.”
“Is that a refusal? I’m begging you, really, to contact Fiona Levesque. I need to talk to her. Sh-she may be in danger, too.”
“I don’t want money, but you’ll give me something else.”
“Anything, just ask and I’ll get it for you.”
Madam Rosalee approached her slowly and circled her, waving her silky scarves around Claire’s body. Claire felt as if she’d landed in the middle of someone’s magic show.
“What? What do you want?”
Madame Rosalee trailed a scented scarf over Claire’s head. “I want to do a reading for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Claire’s shoulders sagged. She’d almost expected Rosalee to ask for her firstborn child. “Of course, if that’s all you want. But can we hurry so we can get Fiona here on her lunch hour?”
“I’ll take care of that right now.” She picked up her cell phone and gestured to the small table covered with a black velvet cloth. “Sit.”
