Lethal Outlook: A Psychic Eye Mystery (24 page)

Candice and I both stood. “That’s our cue,” she said, pocketing her phone before reaching out to shake Velkune’s hand. “Thank you so much for your cooperation, sir.” She then handed him her business card. “If there’s anything else you can think of to share with us, please don’t hesitate to call that number.”

Candice and I left him and followed Perky out the door and into the reception area. Standing there were two plainclothes detectives: a man and a woman both wearing that hard cop face I often saw on my fiancé.

Candice smiled politely as she passed, but they merely looked at her with that same hard expression. I made sure to wave at them as we left and comment loudly on the beautiful weather. What can I say? Cranky people bring out my sarcastic side.

Once we were in the car again, Candice said, “What was your take?”

I fished out the other half of my sandwich from the bag before answering. “Velkune’s telling the truth.”

Candice seemed irritated by the revelation that Kendra
had been afraid of her husband. “Did you get that vibe from him?” she asked. “Tristan, I mean.”

“Are you asking if—when we sat down with Tristan and had coffee—I felt then that he’d murdered his wife? No. No, I didn’t get that vibe, but then, he’s kind of difficult to read. There’s the weird alibi about forgetting his cell phone and missing the message from his client about the cancellation. It means he could have actually gotten the message and realized his opportunity to establish some reasonable doubt surrounding his whereabouts that day. So he either headed up to Dallas or he only pretended he did, and instead he abducted his wife from their home, murdered her, buried her remains in the woods, and stashed her car someplace. Either way, it’s a window of at least six and a half hours where his whereabouts can’t be confirmed.”

Candice frowned and stared out the windshield for several moments. I could practically see the gears in her head turning and turning. “I don’t buy it,” she said at last.

“Buy what?” I asked, peeling the wrapper away from my sandwich.

“The alibi. I think we need to keep looking at him as a major suspect, especially in light of what Jamie told us about Tristan and Bailey, which would mean that in order to fit the clues you pulled out of the ether, Bailey was in on Kendra’s murder.”

I set my sandwich down on the bag in my lap. “Yeah, except that if I’m being honest here, I don’t know that I figure Blondie for a murderer.”

Candice looked at me sideways. “I was afraid you were gonna say something like that.”

“Well, do
you
think she did it? I mean, okay, Tristan’s alibi is crazy flimsy, and we know that things between him and Kendra were bad enough for her to want to file for divorce, but I just can’t see Bailey going along with murder. She’s not smart enough not to crack if someone questions her about it, and the idea that she might have hired someone on her own doesn’t sit with me too well either.”

“Still,” Candice insisted, “we can’t rule her out. You said yourself that she’s hiding something.”

I closed my eyes and thought about our suspect pool with only two people in it. It didn’t seem big enough. “Fine,” I said as Candice started the car and pulled out of the parking slot. “Let’s keep our eye on Tristan, but let’s also consider looking at other people for the crime too. If we keep the focus too narrow, we may miss something that points us in the right direction.”

“Like a neighbor or another acquaintance?”

“Or a lover,” I said; then I realized what’d just come out of my mouth and I stared at Candice in surprise.

“A lover?” she asked me. “You think Kendra had a lover?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, I didn’t think she had one until it came out of my mouth, and now that it’s been said I can feel some weight to it in the ether.”

“What does all that mean?”

I chewed on a bit of sandwich for a minute, trying to think of a way to explain. “Sometimes my intuition sneaks up on me, and I say something without thinking, and the moment I hear myself say it, I get another feeling of truth that attaches to it. In this case, by saying the words ‘Kendra
had a lover,’ I can intuitively sense that I’m speaking the truth.”

Candice lowered her sunglasses with one finger to peer at me over the rim. “Innnnteresting,” she said.

“Very.”

“If it is in fact true—and knowing how freakishly accurate you are, it is—then it gives Tristan a motive if he knew about it too.”

“It also may give someone else a motive,” I countered. “What if her lover wanted to end things and was afraid that Kendra might make that process difficult? I mean, I did also say when we were talking through my diagram that Kendra was hiding a secret. I think the secret she may have been hiding was that she was having an affair.”

Candice seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Okay,” she said at last. “We’ll expand the list. You get through the rest of your readings while I do some digging, and we’ll regroup at five to talk about it.”

I almost told her okay, but then I remembered a previous appointment. “Oh, wait,” I said. “I can’t. Sorry. I’ve gotta meet with the exterminator tonight.”

“No worries,” Candice said. “We can regroup tomorrow morning. And, Abs?”

“Yeah?”

“Get your phone back, okay?”

I slapped my forehead. I’d almost forgotten.

I got my sister’s number from Dutch, who was kind enough to e-mail it to me, and called Cat from the office, making arrangements to meet her at the new house later that
evening so she could return my cell. Only after I hung up with her did I realize I’d just done the most stupid thing ever by giving her our new address.

I wondered if Dutch would go for putting in a security gate at our front entrance.

The other downside was that I didn’t really want to have Cat come to me, as it was easier to leave if I went to her, but I had the exterminator to meet and the pups to feed and I knew that Dutch would be late again so he probably wouldn’t be able to help out with any of that.

The rest of my readings from that day went well, and at four thirty on the dot I packed up my stuff and headed out the door. Candice was still in her office when I left, her nose hovering over her computer as she searched her spreadsheet for more possible suspects.

Before making my way to the new house, I swung by our rental to feed the pups and let them out. They looked at me with sad puppy eyes when I headed to the door again, and I had to vow to give them each an extra belly rub that night.

I got to the new house only just a little late and found Russ in his van happily reading a book. He was so engrossed, in fact, that he didn’t see me pull up, and he jumped when I tapped on his window. “Sorry!” he said, rolling down his window. I noticed that his front seat was littered with Jim Butcher novels.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” I told him. “I was late and my sister has my cell, so there was no way to call you. Want to come in?”

Russ set his book aside and got out of his truck carrying
a clipboard and a small canister of something I guessed (hoped) was lethal to scorpions.

We got inside and I was surprised at the progress Dave had made in the past several days since I’d been there. Already the wood flooring had been laid and several rooms had a fresh coat of paint gleaming softly in the late afternoon light. “Nice place,” Russ said when he entered.

“Thanks,” I replied, my gaze trying to take in all the new changes. “I think we’ll be very happy here.” Russ nodded and seemed to be waiting for me to say something else. “So!” I said, setting aside my purse. “The construction crew has had quite a few scorpion stings, and I got one myself just last week, so we’ll need you to kill them all. Quickly.”

I shifted uncomfortably, thinking about the dozens of scorpions likely crawling all through the house.

Russ chuckled. “Scorpions are actually pretty hard to kill,” he said.

That took me by surprise. “Wait, I thought you said you could kill them for us.”

The exterminator threaded the canister through a loop in his belt and attached a small pump and a hose. “I can,” he assured me. “I’ve got some pretty strong pesticide that’ll take out most of them.”

“Only
most
of them?” I asked, feeling less confident by the second.

Russ chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he said confidently. “Scorpions like to eat. And they like to eat bugs. I’ll add an extra pesticide today to take out all the other bugs the scorpions like to eat. Any critters that survive the first wave
will evacuate the area and go in search of more food elsewhere.”

“How far away will they go and how soon?” I asked.

Russ winked at me. “They’ll be out of your house within a few days, but until your grass comes in, you’ll definitely want to watch where you step in the backyard.”

I gulped. “What about my puppies?” I asked. “We have two dachshunds who’ll be moving in with us in the next few weeks.”

Russ moved to a wall and began to spray the baseboard. “Well, the liquid I’m using is completely safe for pets, but you’ll still want to watch your dogs in the backyard until your grass comes in and the construction stops. Scorpions like dry, dark spaces and they also like to crawl along packed earth, so as long as you keep your dogs in the yard and out in the open, they should be just fine.”

“Okay,” I said, still nervous about our chances to rid the house of creepy crawlies.

After a bit of silence, during which I watched Russ spray the walls, he said, “Are you friends with the Morenos?”

I shook my head a little. My mind had been in a completely different place. “I’m sorry?”

“I saw you come out of the Morenos’ house the other day. Remember? When you came to get my card?”

“Oh! Yeah…sorry, I remember now. And no, we’re not really friends with the Morenos per se. My partner and I were there to see if we could help with the investigation.”

Russ stopped spraying to look at me curiously. “Investigation? What investigation?”

“Mrs. Moreno’s gone missing,” I said, a little surprised he didn’t know. The story had been all over the news before the bombing at the mall in College Station took it over.

“She’s
missing
?” Russ gasped. “For how long?”

“About two weeks now. Didn’t you see the story on the news?”

Russ shook his head. “I work a lot and either read or watch movies in my off time. I almost never catch regular TV.”

“Ah,” I said. Then it occurred to me that he seemed to know the Morenos. “Are they clients of yours?” I asked. “The Morenos, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he said, still staring at me with a rather incredulous look. “She’s
really
missing? Like, no one’s seen or heard from her at all?”

“She is, and no one has seen or heard from her since late last month.”

Russ shifted on his feet, and I could tell he was thinking of something that made him uncomfortable.

“You know,” I said casually, “I
am
investigating the case, Russ. If there’s something you know, or maybe that you saw that seemed suspicious, it might be the clue we need to help find Mrs. Moreno and bring her home.”

“Are you a cop?” he asked me, and I could see he was only curious.

“No. I’m not. I’m a professional psychic, and my partner is a licensed PI.”

“You’re a psychic?” he said, his brows shooting up. “That’s so cool!”

I had a feeling we were about to get off track here, so I
gently eased the conversation back. “On cases like these it can come in handy. Now, do you maybe know something that could be relevant to Kendra’s disappearance?”

Russ turned back to the wall, and I had the distinct impression that I’d made him a little uncomfortable. “I don’t like to gossip about my customers.”

“I can totally respect that. But the fact that no one has seen or heard from Kendra since last month is a bad sign, Russ. If she’s in trouble, she might really need your help.”

Russ stopped spraying and seemed to consider the wall for a long moment. “Well,” he said at last, “it’s funny you should say that she’s been missing for about two weeks, because I saw something about two weeks ago when I was at the Crawleys’.”

“The whom?”

“The Morenos’ neighbors,” Russ explained. “I’ve got pretty much everybody on that block.”

“Okay, so what did you see?”

Russ turned to face me, his expression anxious. “Everybody on that block is on a different schedule. I don’t know what it is with that neighborhood, but every time I try to schedule my clients there for the same day to make it easier on me, they all call and move their appointments around, so I’m usually out there at least six times a month, if not more.”

I found myself nodding, encouraging him to go on and get to the relevant part.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m on that street a lot, so I see stuff. And one thing I’ve noticed is that lately there’s been this guy hanging out at the Morenos’ house. He’s always
there on a weekday around eleven thirty in the morning, and I’ve never seen his car. I first noticed him a couple months ago because he came walking down the street with his head down, like he didn’t want me to get a good look at his face. I see a lot of sneaking around in my line of work, and you kinda develop a sense of knowing when people are up to no good.”

I could feel my heart start to race, but I knew I had to play it cool or I’d spook Russ. Digging through my purse for a notepad and pen, I asked, “Any chance this guy hanging out at the Morenos’ could have been Kendra’s husband?”

Russ shook his head. “No. I’ve met Mr. Moreno a couple of times. It wasn’t him.”

“If he came on foot, do you think he could be one of the neighbors, maybe coming over to borrow some sugar or something?”

Russ frowned. “I know most of the people on that street but not everybody, so yeah, it’s possible.”

“Can you describe what this man looked like?”

Russ scratched his head. “He’s white, and both times I saw him in the same kind of clothes: jeans, T-shirt, ball cap, and sunglasses.”

“What color hair?” I asked, scribbling the description furiously as I pressed for more details.

Russ tugged on his mustache. “Brown, maybe?”

“Could you describe his face?”