Page 26 of Choosing Stella

“Here?”

“No. I don’t bring clients into my home.”

That answer came fast.

“I rent an appointment room at The Silver Thread in the Victorian Quarter. It’s a metaphysical shop.”

“Tarot, crystals, candles.”

“Books, jewelry, oracle decks. But yes.”

“And you need another deck because the police have one card from the first?”

“Exactly.”

She walked into the den.

I followed only as far as the doorway.

The room held a desk, computer setup, bookshelves, more decks than I’d expected, and several crystals arranged beside a brass lamp. Nothing resembled the theatrical fortune-teller nonsense I’d seen at tourist fairs.

Stella opened a drawer and took out a deck wrapped in cloth.

“You don’t believe in it.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I believe you can read cards.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No.”

She tucked the deck into an overnight bag.

“Do you think it’s all fake?”

“I think people are good at seeing patterns.”

“And I’m guessing you like patterns you can verify.”

“I like most things I can verify.”

Stella zipped the bag.

“Then we’ll probably irritate each other.”

“You’re probably right.”

Her phone rang from the kitchen.

Stella stopped.

I turned toward her.

“You said nobody had contacted you.”

“They hadn’t.”