GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense) (41 page)

“
W
e still have to be careful. These people think they’re above the law.”

“In their world, they are the la
w.”

“I
’ve planned
a few things
of my own
.” He put something in her hand
the size of a
dime
.

“What’s this?”

“A GPS tracking device.
Tuck
it in your purse. I
put
one in my wallet and
another
on the car.
My people will know where we are at all times.
”

She shrugged and dropped it in her evening bag. “I feel like Mata
Hari
on some kind of spy mission.”

He kissed her. “You’re my Mata
Hari
. Come on.”

They left in Lucier’s car and
arrived at
Compton’s French Quarter
residence
five minutes after seven.
Since o
nly the men
asked
reading
s
,
Diana wasn’t sure the women would be there
, b
ut they were, minus Anastasia Easley, each in slinky dresses. So slinky and close to the skin Diana could tell none of them wore underwear.
A quick exchange with
Lucier
told her he
noticed too. She scanned the room.
No sign of
Edward Slater
. She
wasn’t surprise
d but
thought he
’d
be curious enough to show up.

Dione Compton wasn’t there either.

Everyone greeted them like old friends. Both Diana and Lucier decided earlier not to accept drinks before dinner, and a series of knowing glances passed among the group. Diana thought the
Easleys
might be late, but when they didn’t show after ten minutes, she said, “I thought I was going to read Mr. Easley. I
s he not coming?
”

“
Ah, um
, unfortunately, Martin and Anastasia had another engagement,” Compton
said,
stumbl
ing
over the
answer
. “
They
send
their
regrets.”

Strange, Diana thought.
“
Some
other time.”

“
Definitely
.”

“Well, this is
exciting,” Fernando Reyes said.

H
e’d
draped
his
hand over his wife’s shoulder and was tickling the side of her breast. “Tell me, Diana,” Reyes said. “How do you do this? Do we all get to listen while you read us, like in your performances, or do we l
ock ourselves in another room?”

“I’m sure everyone wants his reading in private, Fernando,” Compton said. “I
certainly
don’t want anyone to hear what Diana has to say about me this time. She
’s
already told me things no one could
possibly
know.
” He chuckled.
“
I hope you don’t blackmail me.” Compton leaned close to her, pretending his words were out of earshot. “No telling what other
dark secrets you might unearth.”

“
Y
our decision,” Diana said, knowing in her heart there wasn’t a past reading
unveiling Compton’s secrets
. Her gaze wandered back to Reyes, who had finger-walked all the way to Sophia’s nipple
,
pinching
and tweaking
as if daring Diana to react.
A
taunting smile played across Sophia’s lips.
Diana
glanced at Lucier, who
’d been trapped again by
Selene and didn’t notice.

This was a blatant, provocative act.
She had a
strong urge to
grab Lucier and get the hell out of
there
.
Make some excuse
, Diana. I
’ve a stomach
virus
,
I feel a
migraine
coming on―something
.
A
nything.
Just get up and go
.

But
she’d committed to this reading.
They were trying to throw her off her game. This
was a job, nothing more.

She nodded to Reyes.
“I’ve read both ways. My act
is
geared
for
audience participation; my private clients prefer their readings to be
…
private.” She turned to Compton. “I don’t
recall
anything scandalous in your first reading
;
I doubt
you have anything to worry about now
.”
Which was true.
She didn’t
recall
a
ny
thing. “Even if you impart something you
don’t want to
, I always respect my client’s privacy.”

“I expect no less,” Compton said.

A conversation arose as to who would have the first reading. Fernando Reyes, drawing Diana’s attention back to his dexterous manipulation of his wife’s breast, decided to go first, Compton last.
This time, when she caught
Lucier’s
gaze, he furtively nodded
to
the
Reyes
es
’
exhibitionism
. She responded with an almost imperceptible raise of her brows.

“No reading for you, Mr. Crane
?
” Diana asked. He sat like a king on the throne, surveying his flock. The man was a perfect specimen. Paul Newman eyes that hinted amusement, a
face
chiseled
for
Mount Rushmore. He
wore no
jacket, as if formality were beneath him.

“No, no,” Crane said, waving her off. “I know where my life has been, and I’m old enough
not
to
care
where it’s taking me.”

“Surprising that none of the ladies are interested in a reading,” Diana said. “Most
of my clients are women. What about you, Mrs. Compton?
Game?”

“Oh, no
.
”
S
elene laughed
, with a firm hold on
Lucier’s arm. “I’m embarrassed to say
that
I don’t believe in psychics.
T
hey’re fine as entertainment, but I can’t imagine putting my future decisions in the hands of a seer.”

Seer, indeed.
An obvious put-down.
“I’ve heard the sentiments before,” Diana said.
“Many times, in fact.
Most
people
change their minds after one of my readings.”

“Go on, Selene.
Sign up,” her mother said. “I want to see what she says about you.”

“But not you, Mrs. Crane?”
Diana
asked
.

“I’m with Phillip, my dear.
Too old to care.”

“I’ll think about it
during dinner
,” Selene said. “Speaking of dinner, what do you say we eat?”

Everyone agreed, and Selene called her servants to set out the food. As if she expected Lucier and Diana to be cautious after Diana’s inference about the drink in Compton’s limo, Selene had directed her caterer to
arrange the
buffet on two sideboards in the huge dining room. A stack of fine china sat at
one
end, and everyone lined up to fill t
heir plates with the same food.

Appetizers of shrimp and caviar.
A salad bar section with dozens of items.
Roast beef and salmon.
Pork tenderloin and chicken breast.
Trays of vegetable casseroles, rice, and potatoes.
The presentation equaled those of expensive restaurants and grand hotels, rarely a private home.

She and Lucier exchanged almost imperceptible nods as they found their place cards at the table. This time, Diana sat between Phillip Crane and Jeremy Haynesworth, and Lucier’s dining
companions
were
Rhea
Haynesworth and Cybele Crane. The butler filled the water and wine glasses from the same pitchers and bottles.

Silas Compton
raised his glass.
“A toast
t
o our esteemed guests, Diana and Ernie.
I hope this will be the first of many celebrations.”

“Thank you, Silas,” Lucier said. Compton’s solicitous smile didn’t hide the tic in his cheek. They all lifted their glasses. Diana sipped her wine.
Delicious.
Well, why wouldn’t it be? Probably cost $200 a bottle. Before she knew, she had drunk half the glass and decided to sip or
it
mig
ht interfere with her readings.

“So, Diana,”
Rhea
Haynesworth said from across the table, “my husband has been so looking forward to this. He’s never had a fortune teller give him a reading before.”

First seer, now fortune teller
.
No sarcasm crept into
Rhea
’s tone, and Diana peered over her wine glass
for
any sign of condescension. She
saw none
.

“And he won’t tonight,
Rhea
, because I’m not a fortune teller.” Diana fought to keep her voice even at what she perceived an insult.
M
ost people
wouldn’t
distinguish
the nuances that separated the different psychic channels. “Fortune tellers and seers
predict
the future. I read psychic energy. Psychic phenomena can embrace the past, present,
or
future of a person’s life. I only absorb impressions the sitter transmits to me. Sometimes I
receive nothing
at all
, s
o I hope no one is disappointed if that happens.”

“Does one have to consciously transmit, or
does it happen
involuntar
il
y
?
”
Rhea
asked.

“Yes, do tell us,” Cybele said. “I’ve always found this sort of thing fascinating.”

Diana sipped more wine, gazed from woman to woman, noticing their resemblance. How could she have missed that at first? It was so obvious. Then,
as if she were looking at them under water
,
they all started to look wobbly. The voices in the room seemed to slow down, like a
sound track
on a lower speed. Even Lucier looked funny. He was acting funny too, his head drooping over his plate.
He
call
ed
her name, slowly, each syll
able reverberating
echo
like
in her head.

“Di
―
a
―
na.
”

S
ounds faded into the background. The glass in her hand felt heavy, weighted, and fell from her grasp onto the table. Everyone was looking at her, smiling. Her hand fell into her food as all sensation left her body.

Why couldn’t she keep her head up? It fell forward
, do
wn, into her plate of food. She smelled the salmon, the lemon too
, right by
her nose. Lucier
slumped lower
, his expression apologetic before he
fell
face first into his plate.
B
efore she blacked out, she remembered what she thought when watching the
Reyeses
. They didn’t care what her impressions were
about their inappropriate petting
, because she and
Lucier
weren’t going to leave here.

F
ear, the Consequence of Truth

B
eecher took Lucier’s call
on Sunday
morning
. Everything had gone well at the
Comptons
’ Saturday night, he said, and he’d fill Beecher in on Monday. Lucier’s voice sounded flat
,
his phrasing robotic
.
Beecher figured
he
was tired. Oh, to be young again
, drink, and stay up all night.