Death of a Crafty Knitter (5 page)

She tentatively applied some of my moisturizer to one dark-streaked cheek to loosen up the makeup, then stroked it off with a clean, soft tissue. The darkness came off—not perfectly, but at least she wasn't scrubbing her cheek raw.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice had an accent to it, maybe Eastern European, but it could have been an affectation—all part of her branding or image, like driving a hearse around town.

What next? I couldn't leave without using the washroom in some way. I'm not usually the superstitious type, but I worried she would put a curse on me for being rude if I did. So, I carefully removed my glittering masquerade mask, lifting my cone-shaped party hat so I didn't tangle the elastics. I set the mask on the counter and started fixing my eye makeup. My eyeliner was a little smudged from the mask, but not bad. Unlike the specter next to me, at least I didn't look like a ghoul from a horror movie.

"You have pretty eyes," Voula commented with her exotic, yet non-specific accent. "Why are you not married?"

I laughed at her direct approach. "Beats me. I was engaged once, but it didn't work out."

She arched one thick eyebrow, urging me to continue. "Why did it not work out, this engagement? It was because of you, your temper, no?"

"Long story short, he was afraid of a little spider."

She clucked her tongue. "If this is true, that is not the man for you. A woman like you, a woman with courage and fire, you need a real man. Like a horse and a tiger, but in a man."

"That's a good idea. I should put up an internet dating profile.
Courageous woman seeks horse-tiger-man.
"

Voula held up one manicured finger, catching my attention with her black-lacquered nail, which tapered at the tip like a claw.

"Be careful what you dream of," she said. "The fates enjoy twisting your desires into your nightmares. Do not ask for anything in jest, or you will not like what happens."

I powdered my nose and cheeks, keeping an eye on her and those black claws via the mirror. "I'll keep that in mind."

She kept wiping at her face until the tissue packet was empty, and then she pouted at her reflection. "I look like what the cat spits up."

"No, you don't," I said with a smirk. "I've seen what my cat Jeffrey hacks up, usually into one of my shoes if he can make it there in time, and you look much nicer than what I had to rinse out of my penny loafers yesterday."

"I will go home," she announced with a sadness that tore at my heart. The scrubbed-red streaks around her eyes made her look like she'd been crying.

I picked up my masquerade mask and held it out to her. "You can't go home before midnight. Not on New Year's Eve. I'm not really a mask person, so I'm actually done with this for the night."

She held her hands to her chest, hesitant to accept my gift.

"This practically belongs on you," I said. "The purple and green match your outfit perfectly, and look at me—I'm dressed like a zebra. Take it. I insist."

She fixed her golden eyes on mine. "We will trade. I take your gift, and you take mine."

"Sure," I said, because it was easier to accept whatever trinket she had than continue to stand in the washroom of the Fox and Hound arguing with her.

She accepted my mask and slipped it on. It fit her perfectly and made her whole multilayered purple and green outfit come to life.

I started backing away, toward the door. It struck me as strange that, on the busiest night of the year, not another soul had come in to use the washroom. Had Voula cast some witchy spell to give us this moment? Just as I was puzzling over the idea, the door banged open and a cluster of women came in all at once, laughing as they made beelines for the stalls.

Voula was suddenly in front of me, pressing something into my hand—a business card.

"You will come see me tomorrow at noon," she said. "I will return your beautiful favor."

"No, you don't need to do that. The mask was only a few dollars, and I was done with it anyway. You don't need to give me a free… um… whatever it is you do."

"Tomorrow is New Year's Day. All the stores are closed. You have no plans for noon. Don't argue with Voula Varga. You will come see me, and I will help your heart."

"My heart?"

She leaned in close, filling my nostrils with her spicy perfume, and whispered in my ear, "I will help your heart, yes. To take away your anger, for you to get over Christopher."

My breath caught in my throat.

Voula pulled away, and with a swirl of her layered skirts and shawls, she was gone, leaving me standing in the washroom of the Fox and Hound with my mouth open, wondering how the heck she knew that my spider-phobic ex-fiancé was named Christopher.

Chapter 5

The first morning
of the new year, I awoke with a weight on my chest. It wasn't anxiety, though. Just a gray cat, lightly touching his wet nose to my chin and mouth.

"Good morning," I said with a crackly voice.

He pulled his head back in reaction to my morning breath and quickly retreated, flicking his long gray tail as he jumped off the bed.

"Let that be a lesson to you," I called after him. "Stick your nose where it doesn't belong and you might get something you don't want, like halitosis."

He slipped out the partly open bedroom door just as Jessica appeared. She had her long red hair plaited into a single braid resting on one shoulder, and she looked crisp and casual in dark jeans and a blue turtleneck that matched her eyes.

"Want your breakfast in here?" she asked. "Maybe on a tray?"

I sniffed the air, detecting cinnamon and fresh coffee.

"Breakfast in bed? Jessica, you should sleep over more often." I sniffed again, detecting something else—bacon. "Is that bacon?" She nodded. "Forget sleeping over. You should move in."

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm an early riser during the winter months, and that's when I bake. I drive roommates crazy. I won't live with someone again unless we're already married, so they can't back out when they realize what I'm all about."

I climbed out of bed, pulled my housecoat on over my nightie, then got down on one knee in front of Jessica. "Marry me."

She patted me on the head. "Come have some breakfast."

"I'll be there in a sec." I headed down to the washroom to freshen up before eating. The room was quiet, with no sounds coming from Logan's side. My cat followed me in and supervised, as usual, looking curious about my toothpaste, then disgusted that I would willingly splash water onto my face.

Out in the kitchen, the setup on the table looked as wonderful as it smelled. I took a moment to dish out Jeffrey's breakfast on his kitty plate, then sat down to enjoy the spread.

My phone, which was in its usual charging spot by the front door, began to ring.

Jessica jumped up and grabbed it for me. "I gave Marcy your number," she said, wincing as she handed the phone to me. "She wants to apologize for last night, and she wants to ask you something."

"Ask me what?" I looked down at the phone in Jessica's hand like it was a ticking bomb, or a coffee cake made with broccoli.

"She wouldn't tell me. It's probably something crazy. Marcy has been so paranoid lately."

"Drama," I said with a groan as I reluctantly accepted the phone. As soon as it touched my hand, the phone stopped ringing. It didn't beep with a new message, though. Marcy hadn't wanted to talk bad enough to wait for voicemail.

"She hung up? Probably for the best," Jessica said as she filled my coffee cup. "Who needs more drama in the new year? Not me. I slept great last night. How about you? Got any resolutions?"

"Not really. How about you? Maybe we'll both get some ideas after this afternoon's meeting with…" I grabbed the card from my purse and read off the business card she'd given me the night before: "
Vibrant and Vivacious, Voula Varga, Psychic Extraordinare."

"What do you mean,
we
? I'd love to meet with Voula again, but I've got a date with a half-frozen lake. I'm doing the Polar Bear Dip, same as I do every year."

"Sounds fun," I lied.

"So much fun," she said with a smile, oblivious to my sarcasm. "The cold water is amazing for your circulation and pores. My mother swears the Polar Bear Dip is basically a fountain of youth."

Jessica's mother did have perfect skin, but I wasn't so easily swayed. I pulled my warm bathrobe tighter against the mere idea of plunging into the chilly waters at the foot of Misty Falls.

The waterfall the town was named for had a rocky outcropping midway down that served as a perfect jumping-off point for locals. The drop from the ledge was about fifteen feet, and I'd jumped off plenty of times, both clothed and unclothed, but never in the middle of winter. It was the perfect location for the town's annual Polar Bear Dip because the moving waters kept ice from forming, unless the weather was extraordinarily cold.

"It's my tenth year," Jessica said proudly. "I get my ten-time pin."

"If I go and jump in ten times in a row, do I get a pin?"

She pursed her lips in mock outrage and handed me a hot-from-the-oven cinnamon bun to go with my scrambled eggs and bacon.

We ate our breakfast and gossiped about the previous evening's events. Marvin and Marcy had gotten drunk enough to stop bickering around the third bottle of wine, and the mood lightened once our friend Harper arrived with some other young twenty-something friends in tow, straight from another party.

Marvin had heroically saved me from a hangover by drinking most of the wine, so the new year was off to a good start. I hoped my noon appointment with the psychic would bring more positive things into my life.

I'd puzzled over what Voula Varga had said to me about my ex-fiancé, and had come up with a reasonable explanation. If she was a con artist, as Logan had suggested, she would have researched local residents with money. A quick internet search would reveal plenty of information on me, including the name of my former business partner and spider-phobic fiancé.

You're just a con artist
, I thought as I tapped the edge of her business card on the table.
Voula Varga, I'm onto your so-called magic tricks. You may have sold my gullible friend Jessica a voodoo love doll, but you'd better not try to pull one over on me, or you'll be in for trouble.

Chapter 6

As I drove
to Voula Varga's house, I rehearsed what I would say to get out of any mumbo jumbo she might try to pull on me.

First, I would casually mention that my father was a retired police officer, and that I'd inherited his skepticism about all things mystical.

Secondly, if the cop thing alone didn't kill her interest in scamming me, I would cut the visit short by claiming I had something else scheduled—like getting started on counting the inventory at my gift shop while it was closed for the day.

Voula's house was just outside of town, perched high on its own hill. The house itself was famous, by Misty Falls standards. It had been used for a horror movie filming location back when I was in high school. The Hollywood people had modified the windows on the front to look even more like eyes on a face.

I'd seen the glowing eyes of the house countless times, but I'd never been to the house before today—the day I'd been
summoned
there by Voula the Psychic Extraordinaire.

I didn't spot the turnoff for the road leading up the hill the first time I passed by it, so I pulled a U-turn and drove back slower. The weather that day was overcast, so between the blanket of snow on everything, plus the lack of shadows, everything looked flat and featureless. It was the kind of murky day where things can hide in plain sight, right in front of you.

Finally, I spotted the turnoff for the road—which wasn't much more than a goat trail—and steered my car onto it. As I bumped over the snowy ruts, hoping the scraping sound coming from the undercarriage wasn't anything to worry about, the idea of trading my fancy car for something more practical, like a Jeep, became more appealing.

As I rounded what was a blind corner due to a thick stand of evergreen trees, another vehicle sprang up in front of me, bright headlights gleaming through the murky daylight as it came right at me.