A Corpse in a Teacup (16 page)

“You’re stepping on Heaven’s Lust.”

Tuesday jumped back, leery of harming anything else this day. “Watch it,” Tessa added. “Now your heel is on the Devil’s Midnight Cocktail!”

Tuesday
looked down at Holley’s carpet, a mosaic of brilliant colors, soft pastels and iridescent cakes of eye shadow worthy of a prize peacock. She felt like a player in a game of Twister going through contortions to get across the living room without crushing any of the cosmetics. She walked into the arms of her mother, outstretched in an outdated designer outfit Marci and Darci would love to get their hands on.

Her mother may have her flaws, Tuesday knew, but she never starved her for affection.
“Heard from Roger?” she asked Holley over Tessa’s shoulder. She returned the squeeze and Tessa released her. She stepped carefully back through the combined cosmetic bounty and embraced Holley.

“Nothing
,” Holley said, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t understand it. Harry gave me an idea, though. We called a session of our spiritual circle and visualized positive manifestations for him. Your mother joined us. It made me feel better, but I’m still worried. What do you think could have happened to him?”

“
I don’t know, Holley. But that’s all you can do.”

Tuesday
had finished her shift at the Café without anybody coming forth with information about the sculpture. Now Roger was missing, two people dead, possibly a third. What was going on?

She left
Holley and Tessa together, banking on the two discovering they were in some sense sisters under the skin. Friends who cleanse together or something like that? At any rate, apparently they’d had no additional crises.

Mission accomplished!

“Miss Tuesday, why didn’t you tell me your mother was so, so,” Holley’s eyes fluttered as she searched for the right word. She lowered her lids in a beatific half smile when she found it. “Evolved.”

Tuesday
knew that in many ways Holley and Tessa were two peas in a pod. On the way from the bus station that morning Tessa had convinced Tuesday that she had quit smoking and been on the wagon for the longest stretch in a long while. On that basis, Tuesday agreed to introduce them, never expecting them to become new BFFs.

She might have overstepped some boundaries in putting her mother and a client together, but these were
dangerous times. A murderer was on the loose and he might be after Holley. But if anyone could frighten an evildoer away, it was Tessa. She’d talk them to death with new age philosophy even Tuesday recognized as twaddle.

But e
volved? Her mother? This was more than she had anticipated. She suspected that even gullible Holley would see through her mother’s blather after a while. “Never underestimate . . .” she murmured to herself.

Tessa confirmed the festive day.
“We have been having a time.” She turned to Holley, motioned her to come over. “Come on, let’s hug it out. This is an auspicious day, us meeting and bonding. Her nice neighbor coming over with these beautiful flowers.”

She pointed to an arrangement that looked like weeds to Tuesday, in a rather ordinary glass bowl. “
Neighbor? And who would that be,” she asked, knowing full well Holley was going to name the old guy next door.

“You remember, Mr. Gregory.”

Tuesday gritted her teeth. “I do remember.”

Her mother was gushing. “SUCH a nice man.
And now my girl is here to share with us. Holley, don’t you have another glass so we can pour some elixir for Tuesday?”

Tuesday gave her mother a stern look.

“Now take back that evil eye, girl child. What we have here,” she held her wine glass up to the light to show off the dregs, “is essence of musk ox, wheat germ, wheat grass, prune, garlic, turmeric, chia seeds, guarana extract, moringa and brewers yeast. Oh, and beet juice. That’s what gives it this lovely carmine color.”

Normally, that was just the kind of thing Tuesday loved. In fact, she had all of those ingredients in her cupboard, having just received a shipment of moringa that she was dying to try for its acclaimed energy popping powers. But her mother had just crossed a line
, stepping into her territory. Health remedies. Clean living. Tessa was into vodka and herbal remedies of a different kind ,while Tuesday was not just the goddess of health food, but a devotee of every cockamamie claim by every health guru that showed up on late night infomercials. That’s what growing up with a whiskey toting mother who believed chili sauce was a vegetable would do to a girl.

On principle,
Tuesday passed on the drink. She would not give her mother the satisfaction of coming over to her side, surrendering her nutritional territory. This invitation to intimacy had a sour smell. She’d been taken in by her mother before. Many times before, though now her mother was solving a problem she had with Holley. Tuesday didn’t have the time to babysit her client, but babysitting is what that girl needed. Holley could be in real danger as Tuesday was convinced someone was targeting the cast and crew of Vitale’s new movie project.

And her mot
her needed babysitting of a different sort, to be kept away from the liquor cabinet. Holley had promised not to offer her mother a drink. From the trail of cosmetics leading from Holley’s bathroom, down the hall and into the living room, the two were bonding over blusher and bronzer. How long could this love affair last? She hoped until the killer was caught and Tuesday could figure out a new life path for Tessa, preferably one on the opposite coast.

But for now, Holley and Tessa seemed a match made in heaven. Holley began prancing around the living room, posing under the floor lamp by her club chair. “What do you think, Miss Tuesday, I’m wearing cool colors on my eyes with Magician’s Magenta on my lips. And Fruite Loups on my cheeks. For freshness.”

“The key is volumizing the color,” informed Tessa. “This look digs deep down into Holley’s chakras and makes them come alive. I’ve focused on the Third Eye. It will help her spirituality and ability to communicate.”

H
olley fluttered colorful eyelids that mimicked a South American parrot. “So important in my profession. Let me show you the fragrance she recommends. It increases focus. It’s in the bedroom. I’ll get it.”

While Holley pranced off down the hallway,
Tuesday made no attempt to hide her annoyance from her mother.

“Tessa
, spirituality is in the crown chakra, the top of the head. Communication is in the throat chakra. The third chakra. If you’re going to do this, don’t fill her head with garbage. She’s very impressionable.”

She was surprised at how protective she felt about Holley. Or, w
as she trying to protect herself from her mother? How many times had she been pulled into her mother’s schemes to start a new life, only to end up disappointed, and living once again with her grandmother? Tuesday loved her grandmother, who convinced her she had powers of divination. But she needed a mother, too. And, at best, Tessa had been there for her only on a part time basis. She didn’t want Holley disappointed, but she was in a bind. How could she babysit both of them while she worked at the Café?

Holley returned with a fragrance that, Tuesday had to admit, did smell fragrant and fresh. Holley said she would share it, then said she had an announcement.

“Miss Tuesday?
Miss Tessa,” she bowed her head at her new cosmetics guru, “told me that you don’t have enough room in your apartment. I’ve invited her to stay with me until she gets settled. Then we can cross-pollinate.”

Tuesday did a double take. “Cross-pollinate?”

“Yes, dear. I explained to Holley that I can do a Cosmetic Rejuvenation for her and she will teach me yoga. I need to work on my core.”

Tessa dramatically doubled over and placed her palms on
knees. “See? That’s as far as I can go.”

Tuesday
said, “I thought it was Cosmetic Reinvention?”

Tessa brushed her away
. Tuesday said, “Yeah, well, everybody needs to work on their core, I guess.”

“Yes,
Holley dear said she can get me to crown.”

Tessa swooped up and assumed
something between a ballet position and a stripper’s grind. “Didn’t you, dear?”

“Oh, yes, I did Miss Tessa. If you dedicate yourself, you can get your head to touch the floor. And then all the blood will flow to your face and,” she snapped her fingers, “your wrinkles will disappear just like that.”

Tuesday looked at her mother’s sun and cigarette ravaged face, the dark circles and blotchy complexion from too many years of too many cocktails. “Holley, if you can do that for my mother, all your tea readings will be free for the rest of your life.”

Holley jumped up and down like a little girl with a new doll. “Oh, Miss Tuesday, do you mean it? Because my end of this is going to be easy peasy.”

Tuesday was about to suggest that Holley have her eyesight checked, then decided to leave the BFFs to their new toys.

“Well, if you are okay with my mother staying with you, I’ll leave you two
for an hour or so. I have to meet a friend. We’ll have take out when I come back and watch a movie. Holley, have you told my mother about what’s been going on this week? On Goren’s movie?”

“Oh, I have. That’s why she chose the Magician’s Magenta lipstick. It will change my energy field and danger won’t be able to get past my aura.”

Tuesday rolled her eyes and said, “That’s great. Just make sure you lock all the doors and windows and don’t let ANYONE in the house unless you absolutely know who they are.”

“Oh, we won’t, Miss Tuesday.”

Tessa gathered Tuesday and Holley in her arms.

“
Another huggy-hug before you go, Tuesday.”

She wagged her finger at her daughter.
“I’m going to do something about that blush you wear. It defeats your karmic flow.”

“Mommy, just concentrate on Roger’s karmic flow. Get him flowing back here.”

“Are you in the mood for Crushed Grapes?”

Tuesday heard country music and a blast of air in the background. “You’re in a wind tunnel.”

“Sixty-four silver dollars to the little lady in the back row
, folks. Now what about Crushed Grapes?”

“I like mine
filtered and in a glass.” She had a rush of her own contemplating a quick drink with Mr. G. before babysitting Holley and Tessa over dinner.

“They have a special tonight. I think I can get you a glass of actual wine.”

“In that case, I’ll be there by six,” she said, “if the traffic on the 405 cooperates.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

She was ten minutes late,
then he rushed in five minutes behind her. She was sitting at the bar studying the wine list. He pulled it out of her hand and called to the bartender, “Veuve Clicot if it’s chilled.”

He leaned in for a
quick kiss and, after happily complying, she said, “How did you know it’s my favorite?”

“You just look like a VC kind of gal,” he said. He leaned back to get an eyeful. “You know, classy.”

She sucked in her cheeks and struck a model pose. They both laughed, but in truth she was a little uncomfortable. To make it to Crushed Grapes on time, she’d had to forego racing home to change. She hoped her duct tape skirt wasn’t too casual.

He
said, “Wow,” approvingly when he pulled her off her stool and made her twirl to get the full effect.

M
en will say anything to get to first base, she knew that, but the champagne was welcome, regardless of the motivation. As for his attire, third meeting, third soft leather jacket. Well, fourth meeting, if you counted setting eyes on him for the first time in the police department when he’d worn a set of motorcycle leathers. He must have some really good investments. He wouldn’t be a trust fund baby, would he? She dismissed that idea. Not if he’d had a career in LAPD.

“So how are you?” he said, after ordering his own drink. “Tell me all about your day.”

Her pulse was racing a bit
from the nerve wracking crawl through late day traffic, the anxiety of leaving Tessa and Holley to their own devices and worry about Roger’s whereabouts. “Well, I feel as though I’m torn in two. I have a few mysteries on my hands.”

Whoops. Bad start.
She’d promised herself not to let their evening bog down in murder speak again. And here she was, right off the bat talking about her troubles.

But
he seemed eager to hear. “Let me have it. What’s up with the murder case?”

“
Cases, it seems.”

“Yeah, I heard that on the news.”

“I can’t get much information that isn’t already out there. I don’t have a need to know as far as the investigation is concerned. I don’t work on the movie set so I’m not even getting any gossip. But I’m worried sick about Holley. My mother is with her tonight, but as far as fending off bad guys, that’s like the family guard dog that leads the burglars to the safe.”

He interrupted. “Has
your friend asked for police protection?”

“Hmm.
Never thought about that. Good idea.”

“Send a text to your friend now and have her put in a request. It has to come from her.”

Tuesday pulled out her phone and gave the instruction to Holley. Then she said, “That’s done. Now this evening is not going to be about me. I want to know about your day. What have you been up to?”

He threw up his hands in a
not much
gesture. “Clipping coupons. That’s it. Your turn again.”

“Seriously.”

“I am serious. I’m going to try out for one of those coupon queen shows. If they don’t take me, I’ll sue them for discrimination. What’s wrong with having a coupon king?”

Was he serious
? Tuesday couldn’t tell. Like any good comedian, his delivery was flawless. But she had so much going on with the case, her mother showing up, her problems with Natasha that she decided to take him at his word and unburden herself.

“Okay. Let me ask you just one question. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that there are now two confirmed and
a possible third deaths?”

She described Gray Star’s freaking out about another murder.

He threw up his hands. “So what? People die. You see clusters like that. Police investigate and it’s coincidence. We hated coincidences when I was in the department. Cops always do. But, hey, stranger things have happened. The second woman was older from what I heard. Do we know her health history? And the third? I don’t even know who that is. That could just be a rumor. People get nervous and imagine the worst.”

“But . . . .”

He stopped her by ordering some peanuts from the bartender. “Now give me a real problem.”

“I give up. Okay, here’s a real mystery.”
She’d give him the cat story, since it was clear he was dodging the murders. Which surprised her, given his past career.

She tried to describe the Mulberry Cat to him
. She stretched out her hands to show the height, about two feet. “Imagine a cross between a hairless cat with fangs and a cross-eyed flying bat, tie dye it orange and turquoise and squat it over a . . . “

He
raised his hand to stop her. “Enough. I get the picture. And she wants it back?”

He
had leaned in to make sure she heard him over the noise at the bar. She liked the scent of his aftershave, his breath caressing her cheek.

“I can’t understand how customers can have it facing them while they eat, but go figure.”

The
champagne arrived, and she took a sip. Cold and crisp, the way she liked it. He stirred the ice in his scotch with his finger, then licked it. Sexy, she thought.

“Why is it your job to find it? You know,” he
whispered into her ear as though he were revealing a closely guarded secret, “the police are very good at finding stolen goods.”

“
Yeah, well. Natasha called them. Beyoncé even showed up.”

“Oh, I thought she was on tour? Her last single not doing too well and she has to moonlight?”

Tuesday giggled into her drink, choking a bit. “No, there’s this detective. She just looks like Beyoncé. With a badge. Gorgeous. Legs and hair that should be outlawed. It’s just that I have a client every Monday morning, and I open the Café early just for her.”

“
A client? Are you a therapist?”

“I’m a tasseomancer.
”

“Sure you are.
And you’re a dying breed.”

“I’m not kidding. And a
ctually, we are. A dying breed. I read tea leaves. Didn’t you read my card?”

“
It was for a restaurant. I thought you were a waitress. Seriously? You mean if I ordered a cup of tea here you could tell me the winning lottery numbers?”

“If that’s what you
r higher self wants you to know.

“Well, I don’t know about my high
er self, but it would cheer up my bank account.”

Was he poormouthing it now? She couldn’t tell when he was telling the truth or teasing her.

“You mean you looked at my card and didn’t recognize The Mulberry Cat?”

“
I only looked at your e-mail and phone number. But I’ve heard of that place. It’s a bit glitzy for an out of work inventor, though.”

There it was again, his reference to having to watch
his pennies. Yet he had picked an upscale bar, unless he was going to stick Tuesday with the bill. If that was the case, she wouldn’t have ordered VC. Why was he so vague about what he did for a living?

“
No, really,” he said. “What do you do there? I’m interested.”

Tuesday could expound for hours on the power of Tarot cards, pendulums, tea leaves and the lines in a person’s palm o
r the numbers in a birth date, as long as it was to a willing listener. But she froze when she detected a skeptic or someone willing to make jokes at her expense. She wasn’t sure about Mr. Gorgeous, where he stood on the supernatural, but she had blurted out that she was a tea leaf reader and couldn’t take it back.

Tuesday lifted her frosty flute and toasted his scotch on the rocks.
“I told you. I read tea leaves.” She took a sip, but he returned his glass to the table.

She cocked an eye at him. “You like to nurse your drinks?”

“It’s my way of keeping alcohol in check. It was an occupational hazard when I was a detective. I always order scotch on the rocks so I look like the man. But I hate scotch, so I don’t drink it. I found when I refused a drink, I got a lot of grief. People assume you’re an alcoholic. This way, I put in my order and then nobody pays attention to whether I drink it or not. Less hassle.”

“So you don’t drink at all? You’ll make me self conscious because I like my champs”

“And I like my Drambuie after dinner. But that’s usually my limit. So drink up.”

He
signaled the server for a glass of ice water. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were off the tea leaf subject. She thought.

“So, like, did you go to school to study tea leaves?”

He had a twinkle in his eye but not a sarcastic tone in his voice.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I studied with a woman in England who has celebrity clients. She is amazing. She
even helped me write a book.”

He
nodded approvingly. “So you’re an author.”

“I am. I’ve sold a total of 123 books.”
She cocked her head, proud.

“You have that many friends?”

“I do. Actually 125. I gave away two books as gifts.”

“Well, can’t you ask the tea leaves how to market your book?”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

She didn’t want to talk about tea leaves any more. She wanted to talk about the
cat. She felt adrift for a moment so she turned the attention on him. “What about you? What do you do besides clip coupons?”

He
reached over and put his hand on hers. “Listen, I believe life is too short not to laugh a lot. But that doesn’t mean I don’t take you seriously.”

He
looked directly into her eyes and her stomach started doing back flips, even as she realized he was still avoiding answering her question. Before she could bring the conversation back to him, he said, “So are you like a psychic?”

This time there was no joking in his tone, making her more comfortable.
“Technically, no. I’m sensitive and I pick up on vibes, but that’s not what I do when I give a reading.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.
You mean you’re not going to come up with the winning lottery numbers this week.”

Tuesday had
heard that bad joke so often she couldn’t even force a laugh anymore. But he had such good nature in his voice, it caught her off guard. “Only if you split it with me,” she mocked.

“You got a deal.
I’m only teasing, you know. This is LA, remember? Anything goes. My sister invited me to a placenta planting party last month. So whatever floats your boat. Telling people they have good luck coming their way seems like a good way to spend your time. Who am I to judge? Besides, I can get my own freak on.”

Oh no. Here it comes
. Something that’s too good to be true is usually too good to be true. She fingered the pocket flap on his leather jacket. “A man in motorcycle leathers usually can.”

“
Motorcycle? Oh, you mean the other night? I’m not a motorcycle dude. Those things will kill you. I like my bones intact, thank you. I get respect when I wear them. And scuffed up leather chaps will get the bad guys to bow down every time.”

Tuesday narrowed her eyes. “You still hang out with bad guys?”

“The world is full of them. You always have to be ready for the bad guys.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that. Maybe being on your guard was a hangover from his police days. She
said, “So break it to me gently. What’s your gig?”

“You should see my ride.”

“A Honda civic?”
she joked.

“Oh, give me some credit for a little class. A Chevy Malibu.”

Tuesday laughed. “You call that freaky? My grandmother has one. What’s your guilty secret? Or, are you just teasing me?”

“Oh I definitely have a secret. But there’s no way to describe it. I’ll have to show it to you.”

“Ha. I’ve heard that line before. Seriously. I believe you can tell a lot about a person when you know what makes them happy. So what’s your thing?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You sure you want to know?”

“I can live dangerously. Let me have it.”

He leaned over the table and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, promise?”

Now he was looking serious. Tuesday hoped she hadn’t stumbled into dangerous territory. Was he going to reveal something she couldn’t abide? Kinky sex, a taste for banned substances? Well, she asked for it.